history


Here’s our first guest post from Mindy, the librarian for the CMA …

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I’m always excited when someone asks me a research question that takes me deep into the archives. I love any excuse to spend a few hours carefully turning the pages of The Hub and The Carriage Monthly. The articles are gold mines of information, and I never fail to learn something new. But the pages before and after the articles might be my favorite part. I love looking at old advertisements – reading the claims made by competing companies, questioning the way they boast, finding accessories I’ve never seen before and wondering exactly how they work. These ads can often teach us a lot.

Sometimes the advertisements just make me smile. Like this one, for the varnish maker Valentine & Company. Check out this form of “Rapid Transit” envisioned for 1900 – an “aerial dog cart” …

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Valentine & Company was a frequent advertiser in The Hub. This particular ad was published on September 1, 1877 (Vol. 19, No. 6). Looking through Valentine advertisements and catalogs, I’ve noticed that carriage word-play was a common theme throughout their marketing materials. We’ll be sharing more of their entertaining prints in future posts!

Stimson & Valentine was formed in 1832 as a merger of a paint dealership and a commercial varnish producer. Around 1860, Valentine brothers Lawson and Henry became sole partners in the business and renamed it Valentine & Company. They soon made the decision to hire a chemist, Charles Homer, who worked to perfect their product.

Valentine & Company relocated to New York City in 1870, and began specializing in varnishes for vehicle finishing. By the turn of the century, Valentine & Company had branch offices throughout the country, and had won dozens of international medals for its high-quality varnish.

L. Valentine Pulsifer joined the company in 1903, putting his Harvard University chemistry degree to work. In 1907, Pulsifer produced a new product called Valspar, the first clear varnish. In 1932, Valentine & Company began to operate as a subsidiary of the newly formed Valspar Corporation, which is still in business today. 

I was doing a bit of online research this afternoon and came across a fascinating video, celebrating last year’s 300th anniversary of the Treaty of Utrecht.

If you’re a history buff or a fan of old prints and artwork, you’ll no doubt appreciate the beautiful views … and if you’re a regular reader of the blog, you should certainly appreciate the “carriage ride” aspect of the visit.

Enjoy!

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If the embedded video won’t play on your computer, you can see it on YouTube.

I’ve noticed on Facebook lately that “throwback Thursday” is now a thing. The idea being to post an old photo of yourself, I suppose.

Here on the blog, for this Thursday, let’s take a look back at Hidden Valley Farm (location unknown). The farm bred Percherons, Belgians, Tennessess Walking Horses, and Kentucky Saddlebreds. The draft horses were also used for the farm work.

Enjoy the views of the farm, the work harness, the foals, and the very impressive Percheron stallion …

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If the embedded video won’t work on your computer, you can view it directly on YouTube.

It would seem that I left you hanging last week, wondering whether Mr. Johnson would be able to cross the river

“On the morning of the 19th, instead of river being lower, it had risen two feet. Just across the river, not more than four rods, was the railroad. As the water was higher, I concluded to turn back to a road that led to a railroad station, which I had noticed the day before. I had just got ready to return when I noticed a hand-car coming up the railroad track, with several men on it. I signaled them to stop, which they did, and inquired the distance to the station. They answered, ‘About four miles.’ ‘I came here yesterday and finding the river high, I dared not cross it.’ ‘It is very high; never saw it so high before, you had better go back to the station and take the road to Fort Bridges, you there cross the same river over a bridge, about a mile from the station,’ one of the men answered.

“I went back to the station, and on my way I came to a small village. The first building I came to was a store and post office. I introduced myself to a woman who proved to be the postmistress, relating my travels from California to this place, and telling her that ‘yesterday I came to a river about four miles below, but finding it very high, dared not cross and remained overnight, hoping that the waters would be lower in the morning, but instead they were higher, and so I was advised to take this road to Fort Bridges.’ ‘Well, but I don’t know but the bridge on this road has been carried away. I will take my horse and carriage and we will go see,’ said the postmistress. We went to the river and found the bridge all right, but the road had been washed away and the river had made a new bed. Just above the bridge there is a bend in the river which was full and overflowing, so that the waters washed out a new passage. We turned back and reported the condition of the road, and that it looked as if several days would pass before travel could be renewed. When we got back, the postmistress told me to take my horse from my carriage and put her and the cow in the barn and give them some hay, as I might have to stop several days.”

Except for the ringing phone and all the work we have to do in the CAA office, it’s a pretty quiet day here at the Kentucky Horse Park.

This photo, taken c. 1914 in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, seems to fit that mood … with a driving horse just hanging out … standing by the curb, tied to an electrical pole, and looking at the camera.

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