THE AUTHORING AUCTIONEER

“Son of a bitch!”  He had prepared one cigarette already, anxious to light it up and enjoy its robust flavor, when his camera-owning friend had convinced him to roll another.  In mid-lick, the behatted man was told to “hold that pose for the next ten minutes.”  Hence, the 19th Century pre-smoking process was forever preserved, so future generations could be grateful for the mass production of tobacco products…

Tintypes (a.k.a. ferrotypes) were photographs developed on black enameled plates of iron, a process invented by Professor Hamilton Smith in 1856.  Durable and cheap to make, they became the most popular form of photo processing in the United States by the end of the Civil War.  That is until the modern process and the amateur reloadable camera were pioneered by Kodak.

Over the years, I’ve had dozens upon dozens of tintypes find their way onto the block at Rebecca’s Auction Gallery.  Oh, how they fascinate me!  Not for their innovation, but for their subject matter and the fact that those pictured within them had to remain in their poses anywhere from 3 to 15 minutes, depending upon the exposure.  Indeed, it was not like it is today, where one presses the shutter button and images are instantly captured.  Often times, when posing for a tintype, subjects had their heads placed in a metal, horseshoe-shaped clamp to keep their craniums from wavering.  Imagine the discomfort!  Perhaps torturetype would have been a more appropriate nomenclature.

The following images are actual tintypes that I have recently offered for bidding.  I have studied them closely and have endeavored to explain each scene and/or interpret what the people within them may have actually been feeling and thinking:

“When the local bachelors spy me peddling about on this fine mechanism,” she thought, “I can count on them to be perfect gentlemen, though my ankles will become visible from the locomotion.  I am positive, aroused as they surely may find themselves, they will not endeavor to divest me of my seven layers of undergarments and have me on the carpet.  Alas!  I do hope I come across some ruffians!”

One of the earliest athlete product endorsements: 

“What gets me vitalized for an afternoon’s worth of rough-and-tumble rugby?  Why Ruck & Maul Cigarettes, of course!  I never attempt a drop-kick before dropping threepence on a pack of these smooth, refreshing energy sticks.  Join the scrum!  Try Ruck & Maul Cigarettes today!”

“Pardon me, Mother.  You know I love you, and I have nothing but the deepest respect for you.  However, you seem to be laboring under the misapprehension that I am a girl.  Should your delerium continue to make me the effigy of your private disappointment, I may very well spend my post-adolescent years whoring myself to sailors under the name of Gigi in a Parisian opium den.”

The Civil War knew no soldier too young to bleed.  These two brothers signed up after their father had lost his life in the fight to preserve the Union.  The boy on the right, however, having had a certain flair for accessories, refused to wear the standard issue cap.  “Listen, big boy,” he had told the recruitment officer, “I may be willing to sacrifice my life, but I’m not willing to sacrifice my sense of style!”

It looks like a standard family photo featuring three sisters.  But look at the young lady all the way on the left: She’s not cross-eyed due to a birth defect or a kick from a mule.  Neither is her hand placed upon her lower abdomen because she thought it looked elegant.  No.  After lingering in this pose for many minutes, the sensation had become overwhelming.  “Oh, sweet Lord Jesus!  Please, please hurry up, Mr. Camera Man,” she was thinking.  “I must soon hasten to the outhouse, or my bowels will explode all over your lovely backdrop!”

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