The Color of Money

You might have noticed that all my recent posts about warmth and coziness focused on images that are from the distant past. Hmm, whaddaya know. Anyway, here is an item that bridges the past with the present for warm and cozy feelings.

Monopoly, as we know it, has a history going back to 1935 as a Parker Bros game, and has a pre-history beyond that to around 1904. Yet it's a game that every generation since has cherished as a social encounter, with spirited and sometimes epic proportions. I have warm memories, as a young lad, playing with my family—and now warm memories are in the making, as we play with our daughter. And it probably will be for her and her kids someday.

The color of money! I have vivid memories, as a very little guy, of the enjoyment I had from just seeing the multi-colored Monopoly money. Every time we opened the set I had to fan out the money and just enjoy the harmony of the hues. Every time I made a financial transaction with someone I enjoyed the aesthetic experience of the exchanging of the bills, just because of the colors.

The deeds were likewise fascinating because of their color coding. The ones without colors didn't seem as enticing to own.

My favorite part of the game was passing GO, just to always receive that stipend of $200. We should have that in real life. Everytime we pass GO, um, let's say every January 1, every man woman and child should receive a stipend, and with cost of living increases, that should be oh I dunno, $7500? Wouldn't that be a lovely way to begin each year? Or to spread it out, it could be on each of our birthdays. Wouldn't that make older people appreciate their birthdays more?

When I play, many times I'll draw the above Chance card, and inevitably most of the time it's when somebody else owns it and has a dozen hotels on it. Then the memory isn't quite so warm. Oh well, it's only Monopoly money, ey?

And oh, I feel like I constantly draw the above Chance card in real life. Car repairs, a crown for my tooth, every g--d--- tax season. Just can't get ahead.

And in the game I end up in Jail all the time, but hardly ever draw the above card. One day I found an extra one of these cards in some old papers, and I put it in my wallet. I figure it may or may not be valid if I end up in Jail in real life, but at least it'll be worth a laugh to the arresting officer.

Radio Fairy

Yes, I'm still on the warm and cozy kick. Who's it hurtin' anyway?

This ad from 1929 touts the magic of radio in the warmth and coziness of a little home with the radio fairy anointing her blessings. I'd like to think there's a computer fairy waving her wand at me every night in the warmth and coziness of my little studio.

Hey E.G., that radio cabinet is a nice piece of vintage furniture! And doesn't it look all warm and cozy?

Wouldn't it be Loverly?

Mucha's work, in general, is cozy and warm to look at. Wouldn't it be loverly to take in a cuppa tea with this young lady? Perhaps there's a tincture of absinthe in the brew.

Alphonse Mucha — untitled watercolor

Nouveau Sort of Way

And, oh, I could live and work in a place designed by Mucha. It would be warm and cozy as well, in a nouveau sort of way.

Alphonse Mucha — Design for Documents décoratifs — 1902

At the Baker Street Flat

Another warm and cozy thing to do is to curl up next to the fire and READ Sherlock Holmes. Especially because much of what Holmes and Watson do is hang out at the Baker Street flat, being all warm and cozy themselves — smokin' pipes and sittin' in their comfy cozy chairs.

Illustrations below by Sidney Paget, from 1892.

"The pipe was still between his lips."

"Then he stood before the fire."

"I found Sherlock Holmes half asleep."

"His eyes bent upon the glow of the fire."

"Taking up a glowing cinder with the tongs."

Holmes

Don't you feel warm and cozy watching Rathbone as Holmes?

Basil Rathbone as Sherlock Holmes

The House of Fear — 1945

Russian Art & Design

Golden age Russian art and design make me feel warm and cozy.

Ivan Bilibin — The Feast — 1905

Ivan Bilibin — Fairy Tales — 1899

A Bachelor's Room

It's been so long since I was a bachelor that I can't even remember the fun of being single . . . oh, wait a minute, yes I do.

Talkin' about warm 'n' cozy, here's some designs of a bachelor's room circa 1900. An excerpt from a description of the time:

'There are bachelors and bachelors, and it would be a task of some little difficulty to decide upon the type thereof for whom the typical bachelor's room should be designed, decorated and furnished. Mr. G.M. Ellwood, designer of A Bachelor's Room, has evidently had in mind that sort of bachelor whom even married men may be allowed at times to envy.

He is evidently a man of means in the first place, of excellent taste in the second. He is probably, indeed, an artist or designer, and his room has to serve as studio and living-room combined. A very charming combination it makes.'

The description goes on to say how the features are such that 'on some chilly winter's night a party of bachelors would find the perfection of cozy comfort." Now really, it may be decades since I was a bachelor, but I remember enough to know that it would not be other bachelors that would keep me cozy on a winter's night.

Never the less, yes, this is a place I could be comfy cozy in.

Above, the inglenook, or chimney corner, a lovely warm recess.

Above, entrance door from the hall, with figures of knights which support the brackets to the shelf and are considered as sentinels, 'appropriate for an entrance'.

Above, windows and writing table—function and character.

Above, manly oak and mahogany. Below, a tidy book collection flanking decorative peacocks. We do not see a bed among these designs, but let us use our vivid imaginations that it would be the coziest comfort that a bachelor could want for on a chilly winter's night.

Illustrations by G.M. Ellwood — 1899

Early November

I'm going to see if I can't come up with a few posts that make me feel warm and cozy for early November. In fact, this lovely print was originally a Vogue cover from early November 1920.

Helen Dryden — 1920

Even though it looks chilly enough in this image, seeing the young miss all bundled up is a cozy feeling for me.

From the Haunted to the Horrible

I am amazed at how our traditions of Halloween have morphed from being 'spooky' to being an extravaganza of 'blood and gore'. We've gone from the haunted to the horrible.

At a time when we are assailed by terrorism, unrestrained violence and sudden horrible deaths, I am buffaloed by displays of bloody skulls, dismemberment, and rotting bodies—and that's just in the aisles of Walgreen's . With innumerable Halloween stores catering to the bloody extremes of the trend, I prefer the supernatural thrill of moonlit cemeteries and icy fingers on the back of my neck, rather than celebrating horrible people doing horrible things.

Below, in the midst of World War II, when the outcome of the war was in question and even when most people knew nothing of the holocaust—people didn't need to make up scary stories, they read them in the daily paper. Different faces and crimes, it's really no different now.

Rea Irvin — The New Yorker — October 31, 1942

Hallowe'en

Eric Kincaid — Hallowe'en

This is the night when witches fly

On their whizzing broomsticks through the wintry sky;

Steering up the pathway where the stars are strewn,

They stretch skinny fingers to the waking moon.

This is the night when old wives tell

Strange and creepy stories, tales of charm and spell;

Peering at the pictures flaming in the fire

They wait for whispers from a ghostly choir.

This is the night when angels go

In and out of houses, winging o'er the snow;

Clearing out the demons from the countryside

They make it new and ready for Christmastide.

—Leonard Clark

The Dark Dark House

Of course you know how to tell this old standby to kids who are in the right spooky mood gathered round you in the darkness with a flashlight under your chin—slowly and ominously until you suddenly shriek out the last two words . . .

Eric Kincaid — The Dark Dark House

In a dark, dark wood, there was a dark, dark house,

In that dark, dark house, there was a dark, dark room,

And in that dark, dark room, there was a dark, dark cupboard,

And in that dark, dark cupboard, there was a dark, dark shelf,

And in that dark, dark shelf, there was a dark, dark box,

And in that dark, dark box, there was a GHOST!

Chamber of Horrors

This is one of those kinds of graphics where the imagination supplies more detail than the eyes, especially when you know the title.

František Bilek — Chamber of Horrors — 1912

Our Lady of the Broom

We can't leave out J.C. Leyendecker's vision of our lady of the broom.

J.C. Leyendecker — Saturday Evening Post — October 27, 1923

Grand Tradition

The grand tradition of Trick-or-Treating is given a grand treatment here in a set of promotional graphics for Cricket Magazine, way back in the '80s. Fritz Wenner, working in a style that is reminiscent of Ronald Searle and/or Sergio Aragonés, brings superb detail to his art.

Above and the two below, Fritz Wenner — 1984

All above, copyright ©1984 Cricket Magazine

Lighten the Mood

I know this image is not unique to the internet, but I felt that, keeping to the seasonal theme, we had to lighten the mood SOMEwhat from rotting corpses, skulls and v-v-vampires.

George Petty — Halloween — 1947

Triggering of the Mind's Eye

In the last post, Larry made a comment that is pertinent to the degree of enjoyment one can have from excellent images: the triggering of the mind's eye in wanting to explore beyond the two dimensional surface of a picture — to awaken curiosity so as to imagine what the environment is like beyond the walls, through the gates and doors and windows of a magnificent structure — to imagine who might live here and what their lives might be like.

To imagine the unfolding of human drama to explain how and why a person hangs from a gibbet, the rotting corpse attracting carrion, punishing beyond death an enemy of the people.

detail of a late 1800s magazine halftone of a German knight's castle

Witch Hut

Gustave Doré — Witch Hut

Haunted Castle

In a wild and craggy chasm

Deep with shadows in the night,

The Moon slips up above the rocks

And casts an eerie light.

The stones seem to slide and melt

As they suddenly swell and grow,

To rise up as a haunted castle

With its windows all aglow.

Ghostly figures leave their dungeons,

Vampires leave their coffin lair,

To fly among the bats,

With cobwebs in their hair.

Clouds twist into misty faces,

As spectres swirl their capes;

Now the night is filled with fear,

And haunting shadowy shapes.

Illustrations: Eric Kincaid

Verse: Gil Davies

The Enchanted Ring

Rendered by the great illustrator of Edgar Rice Burroughs tales:

J. Allen St. John — A Tale of Halloween — The Delineator — 1900

Annnd the tale goes on, by Edith M. Thomas. It's way too long to post it here, but if you google it, it will come up for your reading.

Anatomic Study

A chilling anatomic study double exposure from early 2oth century.

D-d-d-racula

Yes, more Lugosi. It just seems right this time of year. A number of actors have played and will play Dracula, but Lugosi will always BE Dracula.

Above, this picture should be next to the word malevolence in the dictionary. Below, it's nice to see that SOMEthing makes him happy.

Above and below, Helen Chandler's date is turning out so well.

Magical Mystery Tour

Magicians were huge in the 1930s and 40s, with cult followings (usually other magicians), and are regarded even now as legendary showmen, having cultivated an aura of ancient dark wisdom.

As we are reminded in the last post's comments by Britt Reid (I was getting to it, Britt ; ) ) , Dr. Neff was a real-life magician with a real-life magical mystery tour. Bill Neff (1905-1967) was famous for his Madhouse of Mystery show—a 2 ton stage extravaganza, requiring 13 assistants!

Besides his comic book adventures (in his own title and also featured in the 1940s Red Dragon series) there is an interesting book about him, as Mr. Reid points out, called Pleasant Nightmares—Dr. Neff and His Madhouse of Mystery by William Rauscher.

You can see that Dr. Neff had legendary help in his stage shows.

Bela Lugosi with Bill Neff, 1947

Interested in pop culture? While you're online, check out some of Mr. Reid's blogs here, here and here.

Dr. Neff — Ghost Breaker

Before there were Ghost Busters, there were the 1948 Ghost Breakers, featuring Dr. Neff. This is a sliced off cover that's been rattling around in my morgue, and every time I see it, I think of the actor John Noble, who portrays our beloved Walter on Fringe.

Bob Powell — Ghost Breakers #1 — 1948

Personally I think the resemblance is spooky. What's even spookier: John Noble was BORN in 1948! Coincidence? You decide . . .

John Noble

Spooky

I love this time of year.

Donn P. Crane — Spooky House — 1930s

Hobble Them Goblins Dept.

With only a week 'til Halloween, you better brush up on tactics:

"There are three methods of taking care of trick-or-treat pranksters on Halloween. The first method is to give them what they want, which is cowardly. The second method is to go to a movie and leave the house dark, which is even more cowardly. The third method is to refuse to answer the doorbell, which is downright stupid because they'll wreck the place.

Here, MAD proposes a fourth method, a new way of dealing with Halloween pranksters. Instead of falling for the old trick-or-treat bit, you surprise them with . . ."

Mort Drucker — Mad Magazine —mid 1960s