Saturday Morning, January 4, 2025
Below is a taste for what next week will bring. Photos will appear as we work around the holidays.
Tales of the South Pacific
The scientist dropped to his knees on the sand of the deserted island. Reaching into the bank of brush, he noticed several broken twigs and, with his fingers, flicked their exposed ends. Fresh, he whispered. To his eye, a tale was unfolding. To the men behind him, their impatience was impertinent. Such is the behavior of an explorer, he reasoned. Rush ahead, sans plans. A better approach would be a very careful consideration for each step taken.
Vanuatu helmet mask, island of Malakula, South Pacific, 14" H. plus fronds & feathers. These masks were worn in rituals defining one's social hierarchy in their male secret societies.
Ricky Boscarino beetle pin, from his Luna Parc studio.
He pushed farther into the undergrowth, elbowing aside the bramble. He looked down and stopped. His eyes widened. Human, he announced. What? Are you sure? responded the ship's captain. Positive, said the scientist. There's no fur on the twig ends. An animal would have left some behind. And something else.
The men walking behind him hesitated and lifting their muskets, checked their loaded locks. Look for yourself. The scientist stepped aside. Several men pushed forward, jabbing at the vegetation. There, before them, was a human footprint. They hesitated, glancing around, their fingers on the triggers. What's worse, said one, the toes are pointing towards us.
Vanuatu mask, palm fronds & boar tusks, 5' H.
Vanuatu secret society mask, 19" H.
The explorers backed onto the beach towards their landing boat. An uneasiness, a dread, flooded their senses. They felt they were being watched. It's so quiet. Not a bird call. The breeze even seemed to stop. As they reached the boat, a hoard of screaming natives descended upon them. Shots were fired. Spears thrown. Their rowing gained a quickened pace. Now just yards into safety, they sat back. The entire beach was filled with angry seething people. On this trip, the explorers had seen enough coral and coconuts on these remote South Pacific islands, and so far, far too much cannibalism.
Lord of the Flies
Vanuatu , Malakula Island rod puppet, 43" H.
Welcome to the Vanuatu Island chain, an archipelago of outcrops in the South Pacific Sea. Located halfway between Samoa and Australia and below the Solomon Islands, these islands and their inhabitants have suffered the world's intrusion. First the arrival of explorers, then carpet baggers, settlers, and the most dangerous, the do-gooders. For centuries, these violators were kept at bay by the threat of a soup pot. Cannibalism was a common occurrence among many isolated tribes, and the opportunity these visitors offered was difficult to refuse. But time and man steam ahead and ancient customs are lost. It would be the arrival of the American GI in World War II balancing the equation. They brought work and a full kitchen. The Vanuatu Islands never saw military action although a large base with 50,000 men was located there. One officer stood out. Doylestown native James Michener. From this perch, he wrote his Pulitzer Prize winning Tales of the South Pacific.
No Man is an Island
Bigamist! Adulterer! The insults fell like rain. With the crowd's fervor running high, Rachel Jackson ducked into her open door. The tide of anger reached the threshold where a slammed door stopped its advance. Safe inside, she dropped into a parlor chair. Exhausted from Andrew's campaign, her health was faltering.
Broadside announcing the Delegate Election for President of the United States, York County, Pennsylvania, 1828. Spring Mill, scripted on the reverse, is located in Franklin Township. This would be a bitter battle between John Quincy Adams and Andrew Jackson with personal attacks integrated into the campaigns.
Mud-slinging had entered the political world, 11" x 8 ½".
Civil War pass, Gettysburg, June 29th, 1863, two days before the battle began. Authorized by Confederate General Jubel Early and signed by Brigadier General William W. Kirkland, this pass allowed Union citizens to travel between Campbell's Station and York. At this time, the southern army had seized York.
Murderer! Tyrant! Street noise rose up to the second-floor window. Inside, Andrew Jackson was dressing for an evening speech. Blood on your hands! Relentless screeching numbed his senses. Hate may not have a home here, but it sure saturates a country. Unperturbed, he continued campaigning and, in 1828, won the White House. The price was the loss of his wife Rachel. Within one month of his inauguration she passed, mentally destroyed by the election experience. President Jackson and his opponent John Quincy Adams faced one of America's dirtiest elections.
Beneath the surface much was at stake. Adams represented the political stranglehold of the Colonial Northeast power block. Andrew Jackson, from Tennessee, was a newcomer, an invader, an outsider. His victory infused the importance of the younger states into America's political system. Jackson was a populist, a Democrat, a voice of the people. He and Rachel had been married before Rachel's first divorce was finalized through no fault of her own. General Jackson had executed deserting soldiers in the War of 1812. A necessary horror to keep his soldiers inline. This, all the ammunition his opponents needed.
March 16, 1820. Martin Spangler, York County. This Saturday we return to Spangler's Spring, so to speak, with an wide and interesting assortment of books & ephemera.
A Brown Bros. Bouillabaisse
Saturday, two far different worlds collide. Books, broadsides, and ephemera from York, Pennsylvania's early nineteenth century period and masks from an isolated culture so far away in time and distance. But are they really that far apart? One wears loin, the other leather. Humans are human. Whether we eat people or cattle, it's still meat. And crowd discord? No one has a monopoly on this. The primal scream our common denominator. The key is keeping a society balanced. Functioning and living together has never been easy, nor will it ever be. But there are oases where our basic drives can be channeled. In fact, there is one in Buckingham, Pennsylvania, just along Durham Road.
Doors open at 8 AM. Auction starts at 9 AM. PA AU 1265L [bb]