Containers such as this Green Turtle cigar tin, circa the late 1800s, often doubled as a lunch pail, as they were light and sturdy.

The first lunch pails were simply wooden or tin buckets covered with a folded cloth on top to keep out road dirt and flies. Those buckets accompanied field hands, mill workers and school children for hundreds of years, usually filled with cold meat, rustic bread and chunks of cheese.

This changed in the 19th century when tobacco, coffee and candy tins appeared. They were plentiful, sturdy and re-usable. And best of all, they came with lids. Covered containers allowed coal miners to keep their food dust-free. And, the light-weight metal was easy for children to carry. So, these packaging tins, sporting designs and advertising logos, often doubled as colorful lunch pails. It is probably because they were in daily use that so many of these tins still survive today and they remain collectible, but examples that are in dent- and rust-free condition are hard to find. And, unfortunately, reproductions and counterfeits abound.

It was also in the 19th century when metal lunch pails evolved into containers with different chambers, lift-out trays and separate sections for liquids. Hungry miners often carried a heavy pail with a removable upper canteen for coffee or soup, a removable cup and a lower area large enough to carry a hearty meat pie. Called a Cornish pasty in England and simply a pastie in the United States, the crusted meat pies (containing diced beef, potato and onion) could be eaten with no utensils.

An example of a 19th-century miner’s lunch pail.

This model had a separate upper canteen for liquids and a removable cup on top.

In the early 20th century, small enameled lunch pails called gamelles carried soup in the bottom and had an upper tray that could keep other items dry, such as crackers, pâté and fruit. These graniteware “mess kits” had lids that latched firmly in place and came in a variety of colors. Mostly originating in France, they could also be found in Scandinavia and Eastern Europe. Vintage gamelles make a lovely display in a country cupboard, especially when grouped in varieties of green, red, blue, yellow, tan and black.

This small French enameled lunch pail, circa 1920, is called a gamelle.

Soup went in the bottom with a separate upper tray to keep bread dry.

Sandwiches as we know them today have Dutch origins and can be traced back to the 17th century, when taverns cut thin slices of meat and laid them on top of buttered bread. They began as bar food and slowly evolved into late night snacks. The actual word “sandwich” dates to around 1762, named after the Fourth Earl of Sandwich, John Montagu. Purportedly, he liked the fact that a piece of salt beef held between two slices of bread could keep his hands from getting greasy while he worked at his desk or played cards.

Sandwiches finally became a European lunch staple in the 19th century when the emerging working class needed fast, portable meals and bakers began to sell pre-sliced bread. A sandwich first appeared in an American cookbook in 1840.

Among the first lunch boxes to feature a commercial character is this 1935 Mickey Mouse tin lunch kit with wire handle.

The sandwich also resulted in an evolution of the lunch pail into a flatter lunch “kit” that was the forerunner of today’s lunch box. The first kit to advertise a popular commercial character was a 1935 oval tin featuring a lithograph of Mickey Mouse, along with other characters from Walt Disney’s “Silly Symphonies” cartoons. It had a removable section called a pie tray, where delicate desserts could be stored away from heavier items like apples and hard-boiled eggs. In good condition, this rare tin kit can sell today for $2,000.

Today’s vintage recipes include two lunch pail staples. One is the very first sandwich recipe to ever appear in an American cookbook. The second is a modern adaptation of the meat pie (or pastie) that continues to be found in miners’ lunches throughout England, Ireland and the United States.

Ham Sandwiches (from “Directions for Cookery,” by Elizabeth Leslie, 1840)

Cut some thin slices of bread very neatly, having slightly buttered them; and, if you choose, spread on a very little mustard. Have ready some very thin slices of cold boiled ham, and lay one between two slices of bread. You may either roll them up, or lay them flat on the plates. They are used at supper or luncheon.

Meat Pastie

2 refrigerated pie crusts
1 pound round steak
1 large onion, chopped fine
2 large potatoes, peeled and chopped
Salt, pepper, butter
1 egg, beaten

Divide each crust into two parts and roll each part into a round circle (making 4 circles)
Pound the round steak with a studded meat tenderizer. Cut into small cubes.
At one side of each circle, layer meat, then potatoes, then onions.
Add salt and pepper. Dot with butter.
Fold the empty side of the dough over the filling.
Wet the edges, crimp and seal tightly.
Brush the top of the dough with the beaten egg. Prick the top with a fork.
Bake in a 350 degree oven for 1 hour, or until crust is browned.

Makes 4 pasties. Great for picnic lunches.

Variation: Some old recipes add a chopped up rutabaga to the internal mixture of meat and vegetables.

Liz Holderman is a Worthologist who specializes in collectible books. “Dining with Antiques” is an ongoing feature in which she highlights usable collectible dinnerware, along with vintage recipes.

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WorthPoint—Discover Your Hidden Wealth

A 1914 Singer Model 66 Red Eye Treadle Sewing Machine. This one is on sale online. The owner is asking for $158.

The second item in this series of “Unloved Antiques” (the first edition is about Limited Edition Collectors Plates) is the Singer treadle sewing machine, an item that we receive inquires about virtually every week. The reason for the impression these machines have some great value is a mystery; one that’s often fueled by a well-publicized sale of a rare, early example or a the much-repeated family tale about “a dealer who offered Grandma $1,000 for it 10 years ago and she turned him down flat.”

Our best guess for this belief that these marvels of 19th century technology are of high value could be rooted in nostalgia and their vintage. Nearly everyone who has contacted us regarding these machines mentions a provenance to a great-grandmother or great aunt, who bought the machine, used, at the turn of the 19th century and lived to some great age, usually between 96 and 103. The impression in peoples’ minds being that the mathematics of all this breaks the magic 100-years-old “Antique Barrier.” The 100-year-mark, in many people’s minds, correctly puts things like treadle Singers into the “antique” category but, unfortunately, it also mistakenly makes the assumption that Antique = Valuable.

An original advertisement for a Singer model 66, dating to 1910, just one of some 80,000 model 66s made just that year.

With all things antique, items’ values are based on a number of things, but the basics being “demand & supply,” a reverse of the standard “supply and demand” equation used in the regular economy. The antique market differs from the regular economy for newly manufactured items because the supply of an individual antique item is always limited to how many were originally made. If demand and value for an antique item increases due to current decorating or collecting trends, there are no new factories put into production to create new antiques to fill demand; the only resupply are the forgotten pieces that turn up at auction or estate clearances. This is where the Singer machines fail the “valuable” test on both scores: the demand for all but the rarest examples is modest and the current supply is truly vast.

In the case of the Singer treadle sewing machines in general, production began in the early 1850s. Its introduction was deemed such a labor-saving breakthrough that any family that could afford to buy one did so. By the turn of the 19th century, production exceeded a million machines a year. The machine shown above, the Singer model 66, was introduced
about 1900 and remained in production until the 1950s. This one dates to 1910, just one of more than 80,000 model 66s made just that year. Its value? At auction, in “as found” condition, most comparable Singer treadles sell for less than $150.

Mike Wilcox, of Wilcox & Hall Appraisers, is a Worthologist who specializes in Art Nouveau and the Arts and Craft movement.

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WorthPoint—Discover Your Hidden Wealth

Having to downsize, Arthur M. wanted to know what this cobbler’s bench was worth before deciding what to do with it.

Arthur M. has an unusual piece he inherited 20 years ago. Downsizing, and not sure of his options, he engaged WorthPoint’s Ask a Worthologist service. The question was forwarded to me. Here’s his question:

“I inherited this bench along with a bunch of other items stored in a farm outbuilding about 20 years ago. I used as a decorator piece for a short while, but put it in storage when I changed the decor of the living room. I’m downsizing now to a smaller place and a lot of stuff must go, but don’t want to give something away without knowing what it’s worth. It’s about four feet long and sits about 20 inches high. There are no marks or signatures of any sort I can find on it anywhere.”

Here’s my response.

This is something that takes me way back to my beginning in this business. This is a “cobbler’s bench.” Back in the early 1960s, when I was a mere observer in my family’s antique business, these cobbler’s benches were some of the hottest items around. Demand was so great for them at the time that magazines such as Popular Mechanics provided plans so dads everywhere could build one in the basement or garage for use as end tables or coffee tables.

Based on your images, this one is pretty typical of the type, constructed primarily of pine and dating from the second quarter of the 19th century. Pine cobbler’s benches of this type were once quite common, but largely discarded by the time factory-made shoes and mail-order catalogs made their appearance in the late 19th century. Most of these pieces were roughly built, simply functional examples made by rural cabinet makers, each tending to be unique in its construction details. We have seen very few that were marked or dated; any dated example should be considered suspect unless there is a provenance to back it up.

There is not as much demand for cobbler’s benches as there was in the early 1960s, but these pieces still do sell in the $250-$650 range, depending on condition, provenance and wood type used in construction. I’d recommend a replacement value in the $400-$500 range for this example.

Mike Wilcox, of Wilcox & Hall Appraisers, is a Worthologist who specializes in Art Nouveau and the Arts and Craft movement.

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WorthPoint—Discover Your Hidden Wealth

One of the most common sextant one sees is the Navy Mark II. In very good condition with all the accessories it retails for around $600. A rare, double-framed Troughton-made sextant went for $3,200 in an online auction in 2004.

Last May I went on the trip of a lifetime. The opportunity came about when friends asked me a year before if I would like to go to England with them. Without hesitation I said, “Yes!” During the preceding months I made a list of places I wanted to see. I wanted to see the textiles at the Victoria and Albert museum, the Greenwich Observatory holding the first chronometers, and Queen Mary’s dollhouse at Windsor Castle. Anything else would be gravy.

All the nautical and scientific instruments I saw in the National Maritime Museum and Royal Observatory in Greenwich, and in the British Museum in London were this antique dealer’s dream! My friends were very patient with me while I drooled and exclaimed “Ooooh, look at that, that’s what I was telling you about” (Often, when I looked around, they were either sitting down or had wandered off to another part of the museum). They were actually marvelous traveling companions and we had a wonderful time everywhere we went.

Why am I telling you this? Because the nautical instruments I saw were spectacular. And I have been working on articles on navigation instruments for months. And, of course, being at the place (i.e. Greenwich Observatory, the subject of a future article) where the hunt for longitude began was monumental. And, you all know Greenwich is the home of the prime meridian, thus one can actually straddle the line between east and west.

Yours truly (in the light blue coat) is straddling the line between East and West at the Greenwich Observatory.

Travel by sea has proven to be very important in the course of human endeavor. In the past it was much faster than land travel, so commerce and the exploration that increased commerce came to depend on it. The real problem with sea travel was reliable navigation once you got past the storm problem and the foundering on the rocks problem, which, really, was part of the navigation problem. Compasses, discussed in a previous article (Binnacles 101: Get Your Bearings with Nautical Collectibles), helped direct the navigator, but other instruments were used as well. These navigational tools, essential for any journey then, are lovely antiques for us to collect today. Astrolabes, quadrants, cross staves, octants and sextants— all of which I saw in England—are just some of the results of the navigator’s need and the instrument maker’s art. Of course, museums in the United States also have these instruments, but I haven’t been to them and Greenwich is found only in England.

Astronomers observed early on that the star Polaris appeared at a fixed altitude above the horizon at specific locations (in the Northern Hemisphere). Navigators used this fact to devise ways of measuring that altitude so they could know when they were on the latitude of any given port; then sail east or west to the port. Originally, navigators used their fingers held horizontally at arm’s length. Try it; the bottom finger is aligned with the horizon and the top with the star. You must look at both at once, and since you can’t, you must look back and forth quickly. If the mariner needs a “one finger” latitude but the star is at a multiple finger altitude, he must sail south, etc.

The Arabs developed the Kamal, a rectangular piece of wood or horn with a string attached to the center, which was much more accurate than fingers. The observer would line up the horizon on the bottom of the wood and the star on the top. A knot was tied in the string at this point measuring the distance from Kamal to mouth. As with the finger measure, this would indicate the desired latitude, so different knots indicated different ports. The Kamal was inexpensive and easy to use except for the inability to see the horizon and the star at the same time without moving the eye back and forth.

Once the earth was proved to be a globe, the concepts of latitude and longitude were fully realized and the race was on to develop better and more accurate means of measurement.

Author’s Note: Remember from school, latitude lines on the globe go around horizontally, like slicing onion rings. This gives the north/south component. Longitude lines on the globe go north to south like slicing apple wedges and give the east/west component. Because the earth turns on its axis there is a time component to measuring longitude accurately, and because the earth tilts on its axis there is a declination factor to consider in figuring latitude accurately. For a thorough discussion and full understanding of this subject, see books and Internet articles.

A number of instruments came along in a line. The quadrant was a quarter circle (pie shape) of wood or brass with sighting holes along one edge, a scale on the arc, and a plumb bob on string suspended from the apex to the arc; the string crossing the scale gave the altitude. The Portuguese, under King Henry the Navigator, used this instrument during their “expansion on the seas.” Columbus used one on his first voyage. Just think how difficult that plumb bob was to control on a pitching ship. The Greeks developed the astrolabe very early as an astronomical device and the Arabs further developed it to its height of usefulness and beauty.

A 19th century reproduction is not as fine as the early ones seen in museums and fine private collections. Retail for one like this is about $600. Fine early astrolabes go for tens of thousands.

King Henry’s sailors used one modified for marine use with just a simple scale and pivoted alidade (an alidade is just two sighting holes on a pivoted rod. Once Polaris is sighted, altitude is read from the scale). Columbus used one on a later voyage and the mariner’s astrolabe was in use until about 1700.

The mariner’s astrolabe was a simplified version of the astronomical astrolabe with a scale and alidade. The observer held up the astrolabe by the ring and sighted through the holes on the alidade to read the altitude of Polaris.

Next came the cross-staff with a sliding cross arm and scale along the long arm.

When using the cross staff, the cross piece was moved forward or back to line up the horizon on the bottom of the cross piece and the star on the top. The altitude was read on the scale on the shaft.

The observer must slide the cross arm until Polaris is sighted on the top of the cross arm and the horizon on the bottom. The scale is read for altitude. Again, the observer must look at two places at once. By the way, a man using a cross-staff looked similar in position to a man shooting a bow, and so the term “shooting the stars” came into use and is still used today. The measured altitudes were looked up in carefully compiled tables of latitudes so the navigator could calculate the ship’s location.

Longitude was determined by measuring the angle of the sun to the horizon at local noon and consulting tables for calculated locations. The instrument called a back-sight allowed the observer to make measurements with his back to the sun. This was a great improvement from the previous method of looking directly into the sun. The back-sight used shadows and later mirrors. The first half of the 18th century saw much competition among instrument makers to improve the back-sight. In Britain, an American shared the award for a design of a doubly reflecting instrument in the competition instituted by the English Board of Longitude. The mirrors were important because they allowed the observer to see the horizon and star at the same time, instead of looking back and forth, allowing for greater accuracy. This double reflecting instrument was first described by Galileo but was not developed in his time. The early doubly reflecting instrument gave rise to the back staff and eventually to Hadley’s quadrant, the first octant in 1731.

The back staff has two arcs with sliding vanes, the shadow vane A, and the sight vane, B. The two vanes are adjusted so that the shadow from the sun S, cast by vane A falls on the slit in the horizon vane, C, while the horizon is sighted through the sight vane and the slit in C. (hard to do while on a pitching ship while chewing gum!) The sum of the readings of the two scales gives the angle between the sun and the point directly overhead- the zenith distance. This was looked up in books of tables to determine longitude, kinda.

So when you are antiquing, know that any mariner’s astrolabes you see are highly likely to be reproductions since very few survived. According to one source, only 34 originals are known. Original quadrants, cross staves and back-staves are ultra pricey if found.

The large, early octants are known as Hadley’s quadrant. (One sold in an online auction in ’08 for $15,000). By the middle of the 1700s, accurate ways to make scales of arc were devised, so as time went on, the arcs got smaller with increased accuracy, and so did the octant. The early octants were made of walnut or other native wood with the scale made of boxwood. By 1750, they were made of African mahogany, then ebony. In 1760 the scale was made of ivory, the index arm of brass, and a vernier scale was added.

Octant made by Isaac Bradford of Wapping Old Stairs, London. I have a picture taken from a boat on the Thames of Wapping Old Stairs during my recent trip. Retail price of octants with boxes depend on condition and maker can and range from $800 to $2,000 and up.

In 1780 the tangential screw for fine adjustment on the index arm was added. Sextants are mainly just an improvement on the octant in ease of use and accuracy. Modern materials such as brass with black paint to make the frames and index arms and silver for the scales became the norm. Today you can actually purchase a plastic sextant with brass articulating parts and scale if you so choose.

Sextants in keystone-shaped boxes are interesting to collectors. Retail prices vary due to condition and maker and start at around $500.

As of the end of the last century, the United States Naval Academy no longer offers a course on celestial navigation and the use of the sextant. Navigating is now accomplished by electronic devices. More than 2,000 years of navigating by the stars has effectively come to an end¹. So if you find yourself on the high seas and want to know where you are, “there is an app for that.”

Author’s Note: While researching details for this article, I came across a nifty little collection of navigation instruments at the Adler Planetarium in Chicago. If I ever get up that way I am going to visit. Of course other museums around the country have navigation instruments this collection seems quite elegant and direct.

¹ “Taking the Stars Celestial Navigation from Argonauts to Astronauts”, Ifland, P. Krieger Publishing Company Malabar, Florida. 1998.

Laura Collum is a Worthologist who specializes in decoys, nautical and scientific instruments.

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WorthPoint—Discover Your Hidden Wealth

Canvas for surgical wallets has been used for more than 100 years. And this style of wallet has been used for more than 200 years.

I was wandering around an antique mall in Tennessee one time a few years back and noticed some small tools and other oojahs in a display case. The attendant came over and pointed to several pocket kits and said, “I wouldn’t want to see a doctor coming at me with one of those!” I thought to myself, “Neither would I, since those are small pocket tool kits, not medical kits.” After he told me they were Civil War surgeon’s instruments I just smiled and moved on.

The “medical kit” did have a small saw, but also a hammer, screwdrivers, pliers, wrenches, etc., making it a nice little 1930s or ’40s circa tool kid, worth about $40. When people are very sure of what they have, I hesitate to enlighten them and did not with this nice man. So, when you are out looking for antiques, be sure that you look with your eyes, your hands and especially your brain. The screwdriver should have been a dead giveaway, if nothing else.

There were pocket medical kits of folding leather holding scalpels, scissors and other small instruments in use from about the 17th century until now. Over the years, the folding “wallet” changed from fine-quality, silk-lined leather to leather on cardboard about 1870s to canvas and then plastic. I’ll have to ask a medic what they carry now. I have a small, folding canvas pocket kit from the 1940s with the inscription “pocket case MD USN” stenciled on it.

Most sugar nippers have sharp nipping edges, a knuckle guard, a simple spring and a clip closure.

I have had more than one person mistakenly identify the purpose of a sugar nipper. When a little boy asked his father what that (sugar nipper) was, he was told, “it was for cutting off fingers in the Civil War.” I don’t correct parents in front of their children unless they ask for confirmation; I then can send them in to the other room to look at all the medical instruments. Another fellow was explaining, “They used to castrate bulls with those”. Well, I would love to watch (safely behind a very stout fence) when someone tried that (with 911 on speed dial)! I did explain to that fellow and his audience those were sugar nippers and, even though the bull probably thought sweet thoughts about his bull-hood, they were not used in that fashion. Everyone had a good laugh, even the fellow with the “information.” Antique bull castration instruments look similar in outline, but the details are obviously different.

Veterinary castration devices have a similar profile to the sugar nipper but the similarity ends there.

Sugar nippers were used in this country during colonial times to nip off a piece of sugar from a large cone shaped hunk, and then ground in the mortar and pestle to be used in baking or beverages. They range in price from $100 to $350. There are reproductions, so examine carefully. If you own a sugar chest, used in the south to store sugar, then you should have sugar nippers to go inside. The better nippers have a decorated knuckle guard, as well as a decorated area around the pivot. The British used nippers longer that we did; they continued to produce sugar in hunks they called “loaves.” Usually, the later a nipper, it will be plainer as well. That seems to be true of most antiques.

I had a man tell me he threw away knives like the ones in an amputation kit I had for sale in my shop. He said he thought they were carving knives and didn’t want them! Arrgghh! They came in their own box too. I sold a set of Charrier amputation knives in their own box for $350, so that was an expensive mistake.

Nineteenth-century amputation knives superficially resemble carving knives since they are performing a similar task. They are usually straighter and narrower in the blade. Depending on condition and maker, three matching knives retail for $350.

Another man looked at my amputation sets at a Civil War show and told me—to educate me, I presume—that the saws in the sets were miter saws for cutting wood.

A 19th-century amputation saw has similarities to a carpenters miter saw. This one retails for about $300.

He would not believe they were medical. Here is a good question then: “How do you know they are medical and not carpenterial?” The medical saws are similar in shape but are not quite as heavy as carpenter saws and not as large. A typical, mid-19th-century amputation saw measures about 13 inches. And if the saw is in a case, examine it to see how it fits into the case. Is the fabric the same all through and is it faded and worn in appropriate areas? This will tell you if the saw is original to the box, it will still most likely be a medical saw if it almost fits in the box.

I frequently display little medical etuis with the lid open. It does have the silhouette of an old cigarette lighter, but the differences are obvious after the second glance.

More than once an open etui holding thumb lancets has been mistaken for a cigarette lighter. If it has the general outline of a lighter, it must be a lighter, even though it has four tortoise shell thumb lancets in it and no striker, etc.

Mistakes can be costly when collecting antiques, as well as in other endeavors. Remember to look with your mind as well as your eyes and hands when antiquing. And don’t be afraid to ask questions of the dealer. We don’t know everything, by any means, but we will be more than glad to help. Have fun!

Laura Collum is a Worthologist who specializes in decoys, nautical and scientific instruments.

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WorthPoint—Discover Your Hidden Wealth

A five-piece carving set made and signed by Henckels and features stag handles with ornate Sterling mounts. The blades are steel and signed “Henckels Twin Works, Solingen, Germany.” In excellent condition, this set sold for $425 in 2008.

Items we see a great deal of that is often described as “having been in the family for five generations” are stag/bone-handled carving or cutlery sets. This, I suppose, is a result of people associating antler or bone handles with antiquity, their age increased by family tales about the origins of these pieces revisited every year at Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter.

After two generations, usually, after the people who originally received the sets as wedding gifts have passed on, the family lore often takes on a life of its own, leaving only half-remembered stories, the blank spots filled in with speculation. Contrary to most of these stories, very few of these sets we see today actually predate the 1870s. Stag- & bone-handled cutlery was popular from the mid-Victorian period through to about World War One, (1870-1918), but were made well into the 1930s.

A stag-handled carving set of carving knife, fork and sharpener with sterling silver detail. The satin lining is imprinted “By Royal Appointment, Harrison Bros. & Howson, Sheffield, England, Cutlers to His Majesty.” Due to numbers of these kinds of sets available, this particular package sold for a mere $122 in 2008.

Most of these carving sets are English or German examples made after 1900, and it’s relatively easy to tell if you have a 19th- or 20th-century set by the markings, particularly if there is a country of origin marking, such as “Germany” or “England” stamped anywhere on each piece. Country of origin marks were not much in use until 1891, the year after the McKinley Tariff Act was passed in the U.S. The McKinley Act of 1890 limited all imports into the USA to be those marked with their country of origin and, as the American market being the fastest growing at the time, most exporters quickly adapted to the new law. The pre-1891 sets tend to have local address markings, indicating the city, the largest centers being “Sheffield” for English sets and “Solingen” for German examples.

This set is of a late Victorian vintage, with sterling silver mounts by the British maker Francis Newton & Son, which operated in Sheffield from 1838 until circa 1920.

Currently, values still tend to be rather modest for these Stag handled sets like these, largely due to large numbers of them coming from Estate clearances of the World War Two generation flooding the market. In most cases, sets in good condition now sell in the $225- $300 range.

Mike Wilcox, of Wilcox & Hall Appraisers, is a Worthologist who specializes in Art Nouveau and the Arts and Craft movement.

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WorthPoint—Discover Your Hidden Wealth

A tintype of a mid-19th-century fireman, complete with the sitter's silver belt plate. Note the fire hat and fire horn in the background. There is currently a surge of interest in antique firefighting equipment.

Fathers, ask your sons today what they want to be when they grow up. The answer isn’t the same as it was when you were a kid, when the answer was reliable: a fireman. Today, however, he may say “rescue hero,” considering our ever-growing regard for the brave New York City firefighters since 9/11.

More than 150 years ago, having created an entirely new system of firefighting, it was the Cincinnati Fire Department that was world-renowned. And it was large American cities like St. Louis, Louisville, Chicago, Boston, Nashville and Philadelphia that were copying Cincinnati’s leading innovations.

Among these innovations are three firsts in firefighting history:

This nickel-plated brass fireman's trumpet would sell for about $700.

1. First, Full-Time, Paid Firemen: While still subject to debate 157 years after the fact, on April 1, 1853, Cincinnati created the first paid, full-time fire department. As early as 1837 Boston had established a paid force but, similar to being contract employees, the firemen earned only a small fee for each fire they attended. In the early 1850s, the city of Boston began paying its part-time firemen an annual salary. Still, these Boston firemen maintained other conventional occupations, unlike the full-time fireman who were earning a set salary in Cincinnati.

2. First to Use Steam to Operate Fire Engine Pumps: In 1852, with the co-operation of city fire engineer Robert Bray, three Cincinnatians—Abel Shawk and Alexander and Edminston Latta of the Latta Brothers Company—perfected the first steam engine pump for putting out fires. It was designed as a working model of a steam fire engine that took very little time to generate sufficient power for pumping water with force. Named “Uncle Joe Ross” after the city council member who appropriated $5,000 for its inception, its first recorded use was in Cincinnati on Feb. 8, 1853. (While there had been a steam fire engine used in New York, it performed poorly compared to the Cincinnati machine.) By 1863, Cincinnati had replaced all of its hand-engines with steamers. The American Fire Engine Company, owned by Christopher Aherns, purchased control of the Latta Brothers Company in 1877 and became the oldest and largest manufacturer of steam fire engines in the world. It had locations in Seneca Falls, N.Y., and Cincinnati, Ohio. Every Ahren’s fire engine sold around the world had a “Made in Cincinnati” plaque on it—a great source of civic pride for Cincinnatians.

3. First to Use Horses to Pull Fire Engines. Cincinnati also boasts the first recorded use of horses to pull fire engines. Cities began to compete for impressive, matching black, white, dapple grey or chestnut teams. Fire horses were amazingly alert and well-trained. They were kept in box stalls facing out and when the fire alarms went off they were released. They would head towards the ladder wagon or pumper to the exact positions they were trained to stand. The horses were also trained to stand quietly undaunted by smoke debris, and scorching heat.

With such great history, there is a wide choice of firefighting memorabilia for collectors, including lanterns and fire marks. Some fire lanterns served as “headlights” for the engines before the days of street lights. Others, carried by firemen, helped them see through dense smoke. Fire marks, metal plaques mounted on the outside of buildings indicated that buildings were insured and the company they were insured with. These fire marks actually became advertisements for the insurance companies. Individual homeowners were issued certificates and some owners who gave more money were given “Life Memberships.”

This exceptional painted fireman's parade hat from 1833 has a value of $25,000. Its “stove pipe” design is a good example of the popular eagle image.

Also popular among collectors are the first “Stove Pipe” hats in America, specifically designed for firefighters and introduced in New York City in 1740. Parade hats were used at picnics, holiday parades, county fairs and militia musters. Their design was often influenced by religious, ethnic, geographical, political or occupational considerations, or to honor heroic personages such as William Penn, Ben Franklin, George Washington, Thomas Jefferson and Steven Decatur. The eagle, a symbol of American pride, often appears on parade helmets.

A leather fireman's helmet from the Union Fire Company is an example of the traditional fireman's hat with a rounded crown and extended rear brim.

In the 1830s another hat style developed that had a rounded crown with an extended brim in the rear. These fire helmets resembled an ancient Roman helmet with crowns constructed in four separate sections, since their crowns lasted longer than one-piece helmets. The crown was placed on a huge brim and through skillful scoring and crimping the hat became one integral unit. These seams provided extra strength. The tin had to be soft enough to bend a little or the helmet would make an awful bang when falling debris struck it. The brims were very strong and some firemen used the brims to break glass in a door or window. Brims were about four inches wide in the back to keep the water draining off instead of down the fireman’s neck and back. The hats were often worn with the tail section in the front in order to shield the fireman’s eyes from heat and falling debris.

Hats of different colors distinguished firemen of different units: red for engine companies and black for ladder companies. A fire marshal’s helmet and rubber coat were both white.

With the current surge of interest in antique firefighting equipment this is an excellent time to be keeping a sharp eye out for these collectibles.

Dr. Wes Cowan is founder and owner of Cowan’s Auctions, Inc. in Cincinnati, Ohio. An internationally recognized expert in historic Americana, Wes stars in the PBS television series “History Detectives” and is a featured appraiser on “Antiques Roadshow.” He can be reached via email at info [at] historicamericana [dot] com.

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It’s often very hard to find a large-wheeled chemical-cart fire extinguisher today, as most were scrapped for the metal during the Second World War.

“Chemical Cart” extinguishers were used in factories and towns all over the United States from the late 19th century onward. This one depicted in the advertisement was made by the Badger Fire Extinguisher Company in Boston, Mass. Most late-19th- to early-20th-century pieces like this were obsolete by the 1930s and few survived the scrap drives of the Second World War.

In the case of this example, its design was patented in 1900, at which time patents ran for 17 years, meaning this extinguisher could have been produced circa 1900-1917. The ones that did survive tended to be pieces owned by rural fire departments that tended to retain older equipment due to budget restraints of the Great Depression.

The big selling-point for these chemical cart extinguishers was that companies received reductions in their insurance if they had such fire-fighting equipment on hand and some workers trained in its use. In an era of horse-drawn fire wagons and volunteer local fire departments located miles away from industrial centers, having an onsite fire crew was an important consideration. Modern versions are still in production, but use more advanced methods of pressurized delivery and a wider range of fire-dousing chemicals.

An advertisement for a 40-gallon Badger Chemical Cart Fire Extinguisher. If you can find one day, it would be worth, depending on condition, $800-$1,500.

Today few of these early 20th century vintage large-wheeled extinguishers come up for auction or are offered for sale, but demand for them is modest, except among collectors of vintage fire-fighting equipment.

In the current market, values for them vary depending on condition. Most, in good condition, sell in the $800-$1,500 range.

Mike Wilcox, of Wilcox & Hall Appraisers, is a Worthologist who specializes in Art Nouveau and the Arts and Craft movement.

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An early 20th-century barber’s chair, made by Theo A. Koch.

Jeff S. is trying to sell a barber’s chair he had purchased a few years ago. The prices dealers are offering are leaving him flat. So engaged WorthPoint’s “Ask a Worthologist” service, and it was forwarded to me. Here is Jeff’s question:

“I paid $1,600 for this Koch Barber chair at an auction in 2006. I’ve moved to a smaller place and I no longer have room for it. I’ve called some dealers who have informed me they can’t get even sell them for that now retail. All the offers were all less than $500. I know dealers have a mark up and have to make a profit, but I feel I’m being ripped off.”

Unfortunately, I had to tell Jeff that if he was determined to sell the chair, he’d have to resign himself to taking a haircut:

“Jeff, in the antique & collectibles market, there are often great changes in values for certain items. Depending on the economy, decorating trends and demographics, values do not always go up. Such is the case with this barber chair. Things such as brass cash registers, general store paraphernalia and barbers’ chairs tend to be “nostalgia items,” and as such, have a great appeal to a certain generation. This tends to drive dramatic increases in value that are often followed by a gradual drop or leveling-off when that collecting or decorating trend runs its course. In the case of barbers’ chairs, they were in great demand until the late 1990s, which along with other items that appealed to Baby Boomers—such as Coca Cola collectibles, juke boxes and pin ball machines—have had a bumpy downward trend in values since then.

“This particular chair dates from the first quarter of the 20th century, made by Theo A. Koch, a well respected manufacturer that had been making barber chairs since the 1890s. Values for these 20th-century chairs depend a lot on the condition of the chrome plating on the metal frame work and the upholstery. Examples like this chair, on which the chrome plating and the upholstery is in good condition, have sold for less than $600 at auction this past year; quite a drop from pre-sale estimates in the $800-$1,400 range it would have garnered in the previous couple of years. So, in answer to your question, what you are being offered would be in the ball park for what dealers are willing to pay for barber chairs like yours in the current market.”

Mike Wilcox, of Wilcox & Hall Appraisers, is a Worthologist who specializes in Art Nouveau and the Arts and Craft movement.

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The parts of a spring-loaded lancet include the cocking mechanism (a), the trigger (b), and the blade (c), as seen on this highly engraved spring-loaded lancet by Kolb from Furth, Germany

My father and I participated in the Civil War Show at the North Georgia Trade Center in Dalton, Ga., during the first weekend of February this year. Participants exhibited items ranging from firearms, swords, dug relics, glassware, flags and medical items to household items used during the period. Wandering the show, looking for something to buy—which is half the reason for doing a show (the other half being selling your items at the show)—I found a little gem of a medical item: a spring-loaded lancet with fantastic engraving on the body. I haven’t seen one this old and nice in at least 15 years.

Bloodletting, as you recall from my article, Horn Bleeding Cups, was a very important procedure of the 18th- and 19th-century physician. It was believed bloodletting balanced the “humors” in the body and let out the “bad” blood. Not only were the multi-bladed scarificators discussed in that article used, but also fleams, thumb lancets and spring-loaded lancets.

A group of bloodletting instruments including (from left to right, top to bottom): a spring-loaded lancet in box, ($225), a multi-bladed scarificator ($525), a multi-bladed fleam in horn cover ($95), a shagreen-covered etui with four thumb lancets, one exposed ($1,025), and a single fleam with ivory handle ($65).

Fleams are leaf shaped blades, sharp at the point and down both sides. Multi-bladed fleams fold like a pocketknife, with the blades at right angles, most often covered with horn or brass, sometimes with silver or other fine material. The blade was pushed directly into the vein. Larger ones were meant for veterinary use, very small ones for humans. They range in price from $40 to $200, depending on type and condition.

Thumb lancets are pointed, double-sided blades in protective tortoiseshell covers. They could be purchased singly or in sets. The sets came in pressed paper containers ($100), leather or very fancy etuis made from silver, shagreen, tortoiseshell, etc. Depending on age, condition and the material the etui is made from, thumb lancets can be quite pricey, ($900-plus). Interesting provenance will also add to the price, such as military medical history or proof it was owned by a doctor of note.

The interior of the spring-loaded lancet is shown with iron spring mechanism evident.

Spring-loaded lancets are small devices made of steel or brass with an enclosed iron spring, a cocking mechanism, a trigger and a sharp blade. The idea of the spring was to help the patients experience less trauma, so instead of the physician pushing the blade into the vein, a “snap” of the trigger, releasing the spring, was supposed to be quicker and less painful. These instruments usually came in a leather-covered wooden box with a chamois lining; some boxes were more elaborate than others. I recently sold a Weigand and Snowdon-made spring-loaded lancet in a very nice box covered in red book leather with an embossed gold eagle on the center of the lid, for $350 (Weigand and Snowdon were in business in Philadelphia from 1821 to 1855). Normally, the boxes are subject to so much wear that the leather erodes, especially on the ends of the box. Plain lancets in plain boxes or lancets without boxes sell for $250 and less.

The makers mark Kolb is evident among the engraved flowers and leaves on the back of the spring-loaded lancet.

Now to my little gem. It is 2 ¼-inches long and is covered in the most exquisite engraving of flowers, leaves and vines, and has the name Kolb on the back as part of the engraving. Kolb was most probably Heinrich Theodor Kolb, who was known in Furth (Bavaria, Germany) in 1844. In 1845, he is mentioned in a German text as a manufacturer of surgical instruments of Furth . . . had several scarificators of new silver and brass . . . priced 6 Fl. 15 Kr, the latter 4 ½ to 5 Fl. per dozen. (I don’t know what new silver refers to and neither did my translator; perhaps it is what we refer to as German silver, a grade of silver alloy. If anybody does know I would love to hear from you). The engraving of lancets tend to be an earlier practice, with plainer ones made later.

The iron trigger is also of earlier date than the brass. I have not discovered how long Kolb was in business, whether it was a multigenerational business or when it was started. But, this type of engraving could indicate a date as early as 1750.

So, keep your eyes open at the various shows you attend. You never know what you are going to find.

My thanks to Mr. Weber-Unger for finding information on the maker Kolb and to Ms. Wildrick for translating German to English.

Laura Collum is a Worthologist who specializes in decoys, nautical and scientific instruments.

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This Wimshurst Machine is an electrostatic device for generating high voltages developed between 1880 and 1883.

This old looking reject from a science fiction/monster movie is in fact not the result of the mind of an overactive Hollywood script writer, nor is it a perpetual motion machine. It is actually a legitimate demonstration device used a great deal during the late-19th- to early 20th-century in universities all over the world called a “Wimshurst Machine.” The Wimshurst Machine is an electrostatic device for generating high voltages developed between 1880 and 1883 by British inventor James Wimshurst (1832-1903).

There is a purpose to all the odd-looking components. The two large plates rotate in opposite directions when the handle is cranked. The metallic brushes pick up the static charge from the disks—much like shuffling across a carpet with wool socks, which, as we know, creates quite a spark when you reach for the brass door knob. The two cylinders act as accumulators, storing the charge until it is strong enough to jump the gap between the two metal balls, in some cases the gap being more than six inches across. Cranking the machine will create a series of sharp cracks of miniature thunder and lightning, filling the air with a fresh Ozone scent.

Wimshurst was not the first to make such machines. Earlier machines in this type were developed by Wilhelm Holtz (1865 and 1867), August Toepler (1865) and J. Robert Voss (1880). As Wimshurst’s design was the most advanced and more widely produced, his name has become generic for electrostatic machines of this type.

Values for these electrostatic generators vary by size, condition and vintage. The vast majority of these machines appear far older than they really are—even though they look like a prop from a Jules Verne story—and most, like above example, date from the turn of the 19th century to World War One. In the current market, comparable machines have a replacement value in the $1,000 to $1,500 range.

Mike Wilcox, of Wilcox & Hall Appraisers, is a Worthologist who specializes in Art Nouveau and the Arts and Craft movement.

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However we come to it, we all love the things we specialize in and get a thrill buying, researching, coveting, rubbing our hands together and the “heh, heh, heh” in the back room; well, you get the idea. Hopefully, on a regular basis, we get “neat” stuff into our shops through pickers who know what we want or through that constant search through everyone else’s stuff. “Neat” is what we love and love to talk about; it has style, is unusual, beautiful, odd, rare, cool, well made, and sometimes can make the heart pound.

Elmer Crowell female Goldeneye decoy I sold for $900 15 years ago at the Holiday Antique Show in Williamsburg, Va. It is one of his working decoys and in rough shape, with paint rubbed off at the breast. Even so, it’s a lovely decoy.

Elmer Crowell’s decoys are neat. I had a few I wish I’d kept (valued from $900 to $1,200 15 years ago). I had a walnut pie safe/meat keeper with fancy oval decorated doors, two drawers with carved fish pulls and a painting of meat on the inside back. I wish I had kept it, ($1,500 18 years ago). The horn bleeding cups I wrote about recently were neat. I wish I had kept them. A scrimshawed powder horn with a map of a river system with several forts on it sold at a Civil War show in Savannah, Ga. ($3,500). Selling is a necessary evil in the antique business.

Walnut pie safe with carved fish pulls and the drawer fronts are made from figured walnut that looks like water. There is canvas covering the inside of the back where the painting of the meats is lined up with the removable shelves. Ultra Neat!

This is a close-up photo of a map horn carved into a Civil War-era scrimshawed powder horn showing a river course with towns and forts I sold in Savannah, Ga.

A set of apothecaries measures came into my shop recently and I would call it neat. It is a lovely box holding eight brass measures, each labeled as to fluid capacity in ounces and drachms. The box also holds eight glass discs with a hole in the center of each matched to each measure. The cover of the box has a prominent brass plaque, which reads: “West Riding of Yorkshire Standard Apothecaries Measures 1879 DeGrave Short and Co. London.” The box is mahogany with green felt cushioning. There is an oblong vacancy that probably held a thermometer. So, what makes this neat? It is beautiful and extremely well made and I had to do a bit of research to find out about it.

DeGrave started business in England in the 18th century. What is unusual is that a woman, Mary DeGrave, owned and ran the business with her son after 1799, and they were probably the DeGrave and Son listed from 1799 to 1844. DeGrave and Short came into being in 1845 and lasted at least until 1879. W & T Avery bought the company in the 1920s and the DeGrave name disappears after 1962. The company made scales—including postal scales—and standard weights and measures for the British and other governments, Australia being one of them.

DeGrave Short and Co. apothecaries measures in their mahogany box.

This set was made to measure the liquids dispensed from apothecary shops to ensure they met with the standardization of the time. The liquid medicine to be tested was poured into the brass container and the glass lid carefully placed on top. Excess would run out the hole. The temperature of the liquids would need to be uniform and indeed a temperature of 62 degrees is marked on the measures (thus, the empty slot would hold a thermometer). This process would determine if the measures the apothecary was using to dispense were accurate. The brass containers have stamps on them with crowns and dates to indicate when they were tested for accuracy. The first date was 1879 and the last date was 1949.

Close up of the marks on the apothecaries measures. The dates range from 1879 to 1949.

Here is an instrument made to do an important job that is beautiful, well made, and interesting; the very definition of a “neat” antique.

Laura Collum is a Worthologist who specializes in decoys, nautical and scientific instruments.

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Two methods were used for amputation. Knives from the Revolutionary War period and before were curved like a big sickle and used in circular amputations. An original knife of this time period should go for $400-plus as seen at Civil War shows, however rarely. Straight knives were used in the flap method, which is fast and safer for the patient and used today. Dr. Liston and Dr. Syme, circa 1825, encouraged the use of this method and Liston developed large straight knives the style of which bears his name. A third knife, the double-edged Catlin knife, was used for cutting between bones.

The handles of amputation knives were wood, ivory and, rarely, horn or gutta percha—a tropical wood native to Southeast Asia—with checkered or smooth grips. In the 1870s, manufacturers began making these instruments with metal handles for ease of sterilization; however wood-handled instruments were still sold in catalogues early into the 20th century. I sold a set of two amputation knives in their own chamois-lined box by Charrier, circa 1860, for $350 a few years ago. Auction house prices, over the years, are comparable.

These amputation knives by Favre have ebony checkered handles with the maker’s name on the knife near the handle. A set like this should sell for around $300.

Scalpels have a long history and have remained remarkably similar down through the ages: The ancient Egyptians used sharpened obsidian; there is a bas-relief of a set of scalpels on the Temple of Asclepius at Athens in Greece (the temple was founded in 420 BC); and the Romans used a bronze scalpellus, a small light knife, in several blade forms—leaf (which was double edged), straight, bellied, and curved. The Romans also had some double-ended scalpels that must have taken a careful surgeon to use. All the single-ended forms have survived until today except the leaf shape. Roman scalpels have gone for $90 to $400 in online-auctions.

The blades of these two scalpels demonstrate the leaf shape of ancient (circa 300 B.C.) scalpels. Their wood or bone handles have long since disappeared.

The fixed-blad scalpels had handles of bone, ivory, horn or wood until the 1870s, when all-metal medical instruments began to be made. Today, only the blade of the scalpel is metal; the handles now are plastic and are made to be thrown away. Antique fixed-blade scalpels are very low priced in online auctions at $5 to $15 each, but occasionally a popular maker’s name will drive up the price nearer $40.

These four fixed-blade scalpels all have wood handles. The scalpel at the top has a blunt metal end used for blunt tissue dissection.

The folding or pocket scalpel came into its own in the 15th century. It fit in the pocket and because it folded, it stayed sharp and didn’t tear up the physicians’ clothes. These blades fold into tortoise or horn handles. 19th century scalpels have blade stops at 180 degrees and many lock open. They were very finely made.

Folding or roll-up leather wallets were created to carry a number of these and other instruments in the 17th to the 19th century. Early leather wallets are not common and go for $400 or more. And, of course, many surgical sets, including amputation sets, carried folding as well as fixed-blade scalpels. Nineteenth century folding scalpels fetch $45 to $80 each in online auctions. Folding scalpels disappeared at the end of the 19th century.

This style of folding scalpel was in use throughout the 19th century. The curved one at the top is an earlier curved-style with horn handle, while the tortoiseshell-handled scalpels are of a later, straight design. The double scalpel at the bottom is actually two bistouries. Bistouries are scalpels with longer, thinner blades that can be curved or straight.

With these loose instruments, you can fill out an amputation set, a surgical wallet or create a display of “scalpels down through the ages.” Have fun.

Laura Collum is a Worthologist who specializes in decoys, nautical and scientific instruments.

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Finding a display case that meets these concerns is not impossible. One collector friend has a mid Victorian shop display cabinet he uses. It is later than most of his antiques but is very effective for protection and good looks. Ultra-modern cabinets such as Danish modern are effective since their simple lines do not distract from the antiques and many have built-in lighting. I have several old college chemical cabinets I use, as well as a 1940s medical dispensing cabinet for my instruments in my shop. Cabinets will keep out the dust and fingers, so part of the problem is solved.

Leaving this Civil War era amputation kit open all the time will not affect the metal instruments but will impact the fabric lining. But if the fabric lining of the kit is exposured to light for any extended period of time, the fabric can fade and become brittle.

Many medical instruments of the past came in beautiful, fine-wood boxes with fabric linings. Leaving the box open all the time will not affect the metal instruments but will impact the fabric lining. For example, purple velveteen linings in many amputation sets have faded to a pale green where the inside was constantly exposed to light. To avoid this, keep the box closed most of the time and showcase some of the more interesting instruments beside the box or keep lights low most of the time in the room your display inhabits. A closed cabinet, such as an armoire, is a good solution when you only want to display your treasures when guests are over.

When you first bring home your amputation set or dental forceps, oil the metal with a paper towel or lint less cloth to remove surface rust and keep more from forming. Make sure you remove excess oil from the instruments before returning them to their fabric-lined box. The oil will ruin the fabric. Then avoid touching the metal with bare hands, the moisture and salt on your skin is damaging.

Some collectors and dealers believe metal instruments, such as this amputation saw, should be polished back to their original “factory” finish. Others believe instruments should be kept in stasis, i.e. no more degradation but no artificial restoration.

Some collectors and dealers believe metal instruments should be polished back to their original “factory” finish. Others believe instruments should be kept in stasis, i.e. no more degradation but no artificial restoration. This goes for the polishing of brass in instruments as well. This is a matter of taste. However, brass polish is corrosive, and needs to be completely cleaned off!

If the fabric lining is dusty, brushing with a clean artist brush will help. (Artist brushes are good for dusting many different kinds of antiques in your collection). And if the fabric looks sturdy enough, and the dust or debris is difficult to remove, very carefully tap small areas with a piece of tape.

Many fabric-lined instrument boxes have makers labels attached to the fabric. If the label is loose, a good-quality fabric glue in very small amounts applied with a toothpick or other small instrument will solve that problem.

The boxes themselves can be polished with a good quality furniture wax. If it is a spray product, spray the cloth not the box. Some boxes have brass strapping and escutcheons. Leaving the original varnished finish on these is preferred. If the varnish has been completely removed, you can polish the brass, but remember, brass polish can be very destructive to wood surfaces, so be very careful.

There is one part of medical instruments that invariably degrades and is rarely found whole. That is old rubber. I have not heard of a solution to keep rubber from degrading except by keeping it out of the light.

Now that you have a cabinet, solved the lighting problem and cleaned your collection, the next step—the fun part—begins: how to arrange your treasures. A display that showcases the use of your instruments, with old pictures or engravings, would be interesting and educational to your visitors. If you don’t collect or have access to pictures and engravings, good copies can be effective. (Remember to respect copyrights when making copies). Showing the evolution of a particular type of instrument—such as the scalpel—through time is another way to display. Just remember not to display your full-size wax models of organ pathologies in the dining room! And as always, have fun.

Laura Collum is a Worthologist who specializes in decoys, nautical and scientific instruments.

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For example, mortar and pestles ground up herbs and other dry chemicals that made up medicine. Mortar and pestles were made from iron, glass, brass or bronze, porcelain or ceramic, marble and wood. The wood used was usually dense, such as maple, walnut and lignum vitae. Large iron or bronze mortar and pestles were seen in the shop on the counter and many apothecary chests used by a doctor had small, glass mortar and pestles nestled in a drawer.

The large, iron pedestal mortar and pestle on the left was one used on the counter of an apothecary. Current auction prices range from (left to right) $95 for large cast iron pedestal, $50-100 for the small brass, $20 for the tiny 18th-century glass, $50 for the medium cast iron, $175 for the brass, and $85 for the lignum vitae.

Pill tiles and shapers, rollers and silverers were used in the making of pills. Pill tiles are what they sound like, ceramic or stoneware glazed tile shapes for forming pills on. Sometimes they had blue under-glaze scales for sizing hand-made pills; some even had decorative motifs. Shapers were used on the tile to shape the pills, one at a time to keep them round. Rollers were an update on the tile and used to shape the pill mass to size and make more than one pill at a time. Silverers were used to coat the pills with powdered silver. It was believed that precious metals were medically beneficial, and so both silver- and gold-covered pills were available to the wealthy. I sold a manor house chest mentioned in a previous article, with bottles filled with silver-coated pills.

The pill shaper is the 3-inch wooden disc like object on the white pill tile. Antique tiles priced at $85 to $120 in on-line auctions depend on age and condition. I found no shapers; mine is priced with the tile at $250. The pill silverer is the boxwood treen on the left. One pill silverer sold recently for $340.The pill roller is leaning up in the back of the photo. Pill rollers sell from $155 on-line to $900 for a marked American one on GoAntiques.

Medicines were also dispensed in powder form. The medicine was folded into an envelope-shaped paper with the medicine type and dosage directions written on the outside. Since the chemist’s helper might make up many medicines in a day and placed them in drawers for storage, uniformity of the envelope size was desired. The powder paper folders helped create many folded envelops of medicine all the same size by providing edges to crease the papers. The folders were usually brass of different forms, some fixed and some movable. The fixed ones creased paper all the same size and the movable ones allowed papers of different sizes to be made. A pharmacist recently came in the shop and said one of his tests at college was to fold powdered charcoal into a paper and seal it up without any black smudges on the outside of the paper folder. He said it was quite difficult.

When medicine was dispensed in bottles, cork presses were used to size the corks to fit the bottle. They were usually made of iron and were often painted or gilded and pressed three or four sizes of cork. They could be plain while others were very decorative, with some even shaped like animals. Obviously, the more decorative the press, the more valuable it is.

This cork press had gilding on the floral decoration and sold for $200 in 1999. Recent examples in on-line auctions sell for considerably less. The brass paper folder sold for $90.

Bottles in the apothecary ranged in size from the huge show globes and carboys to the small dispensing bottle. Apothecary chests full of bottles all fitted to their individual cubbyhole are a sight to see. It is also an incredible feat of accomplishment when you consider that until the mid 19th-century, bottles were still mouth-blown. Shelves in the apothecary were lined with rows and rows of bottles labeled with medicines, liquid and powder. Labels consisted of paint on glass, reverse paint on glass and paper. Apothecaries also had highly decorated porcelain and ceramic jars for medicine storage, as well. Bottles and jars of the apothecary are complex subjects too detailed to cover in this one article.

This is a sample of apothecary glass bottles and porcelain jars. Prices range from $25 to $750, with dates ranging from the 1720s to the 1930s.

There are many other collectibles of the apothecary; small utensils, large furniture and advertising, just to name a few. Then, when the apothecary evolved into the drug store—with the soda fountain attached to it—the number of collectibles became almost infinite.

Laura Collum is a Worthologist who specializes in decoys, nautical and scientific instruments.

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EDITOR’S NOTE: Brimfield, Mass., is a small New England town with a population of about 5,000 or so. Settled in 1706, it shows its traditional New England quaintness rather well. It has its large, steepled church, and with the leaves of autumn or the snow of winter, looks the part in any Norman Rockwell painting. And then for one week every spring, fall, and summer, the population doubles with 5,000 antique dealers converging on Brimfield to create the “Antique Capital of the United States.”

I had the most unique opportunity to go antique hunting with Will Seippel, CEO and founder of WorthPoint.com to learn about furniture and other things that caught his eye. Will is quite the collector himself and he finds the most fascinating items.

We wandered to the original show that started it all back in 1959; J&J Promotions. There are 20 different shows now at Brimfield, and Will was glad to be back to the place where he himself was a dealer about 20 years ago.

The first stop was the RCA, Edison Electric booth. We were greeted by an oversized Nipper, the original RCA Victor logo and mascot—you remember, the perplexed black and white dog looking into the new fangled Victrola that played the original 78 rpm records. Will found quite a stack of original Edison wax cylinders used for the original phonograph or gramophone. “The thing you have to be careful for is that they don’t end up with a mold on them. When that happens, no more sound.” Will says. These cylinders are very plentiful and the WorthPoint Worthopedia has many auctions where similar cylinders sold on average of $3 to $5 each.

Interestingly, Will walked into a trailer displaying early phonograph cabinets and noticed one from the Sonora Phonograph Company of New York, N.Y.

“It actually belonged to my great-grandfather and that was his record company,” Will says. The company produced phonographs from about 1907 and later also distributed radios until the company closed in 1930. Will tells the story of his grandfather locking the plant after a union strike which bankrupted the firm, all while his father, the true owner of the company, was on vacation. Still, a well preserved Sonora phonograph has been sold at auction for $200 to $300.

I pulled a surprise on Will that day. As the Worthologist recruiter for WorthPoint then, I passed a box full of old license plates and informed Will that we just brought on our own Worthologist for license plates, a very collectible item these days. We found plates for Massachusetts 1966, California 1974, New Hampshire, Kentucky 1970, and Michigan 1976 still in its wrappers.

“I always like to see the ones from Washington, D.C. with ‘No Taxation Without Representation,’” Will says. To get a good idea as to the value of any early license plates visit WorthPoint’s Worthologist Andy Bernstein. Some very early license plates have values into the thousands if you know what to look for.

As always, antiquing with Will Seippel is a great educational experience. Will’s stories, knowledge and the practiced eye made me a better collector. Everyone should go antiquing with Will at least once. It was a great treat.

To watch a video of Will Seippel’s tour of Brimfield, click here.

To see an example of an Editon gramaphone, click here.

To see an example of an Sonora phonograph, click here.

To visit Andy Bernstein’s Worthologist home page, click here.

Tom Carrier is a general Worthologist, with an expertise in a wide variety of subjects, including vexillology, or the study of flags.

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“Hey, I got 10, now, can I get 20. Bid a little more, it’s only money. I got 20, am lookin’ for 30. Thirty and a half, could I get 40. Borrow a ten from your friend Jordy.” That’s the chant of auctioneer Walt Kolenda of Walt Kolenda Auctions, located in New England, who is popularly known as Auction Wally.

Curious as to what is involved with a Yankee auction, WorthPoint spent a day visiting with Auction Wally to preview the items being offered in the Duncklee Dairy Farm auction. All of the items belong to the household of the Duncklee family, dairy farmers in Chelford, Mass., for several generations. They include utilitarian items such as buckboards, milk cans, a Victorian sleigh and farm equipment, but more personal items such as a Victorian piano chair and the family dining room table, too. There are even unusual items such as several large, oversized enameled advertising signs for Cape Cod cookies and Toasterette crackers found in the barn.

Having several generations worth of personal items auctioned off to perfect strangers would be traumatic for the family, you would think. Not necessarily. “Many times family members look upon the proceedings with delight as they witness a fresh enthusiasm for the things they grew up with,” Kolenda says. He would hear family members say things like, “I used to push my sister around in that wheelbarrow. I’m so glad someone else is going to enjoy it.” “I love that,” Kolenda says.

“As an auctioneer, I think of estate auctions as a new chapter in that family’s story. Done right, with respect, a well built auction pays reverence to the family through its accumulated property,” says Kolenda.

Auctions have a long history of its own, dating back to at least 500 B.C. in Babylon, when woman of marriageable age were auctioned annually. To raise capital for some venture or other by the wealthy early on, an auction was usually held. The largest auction on record may be the one held in 193 A.D. When the Emperor Pertinax was assassinated, his Praetorian Guard put the entire Roman Empire up for auction. The winner was Didius Julianus, sort of. Septimius Severus had him beheaded two months later in a “no bid” auction, otherwise known today as a coup.

While a “no bid” auction is rare, the Duncklee Farm auction is considered an “English” auction, the most common type of auction. Bids are accepted for an item in ascending order, in other words, from lower to higher, until the bidding stops. The last bid wins. Other typical auction types are: the “Dutch” auction, where a base price is announced by the auctioneer and lowered until someone accepts the final bid; “Sealed First Price” auction, in which sealed bids are submitted without the participants aware of each other’s bid. The lowest bid, in the case of government contracts, or the highest sealed bid wins, like mining contracts; “Vickery” auctions, in which the winner pays the second highest bid, not their own; “Silent” auctions, bids are written and collected at a certain pre-arranged time. The winner is the last bid.

The Duncklee Farm auction was held on Oct. 4, 2008 in pretty good weather. The buckboard wagons sold for $600 and $825 each, the Victorian sleigh went for $770. The great ceramic advertising signs, 16 of them altogether, sold for $75 and $360, depending on condition. All-in-all, a great Yankee auction. Visit all of Kolanda’s past auctions and educational information at http://www.auctionwally.com anytime.

Watch a video featuring items from the Duncklee Farm auction here.

Tom Carrier is a general Worthologist, with an expertise in a wide variety of subjects.

WorthPoint—Discover Your Hidden Wealth

The earliest known amputation saw is about 4,000 years old and was used by the Egyptians. It was made of flint chips imbedded wood. Later, saws were made of bronze. It wasn’t until in about 200 B.C. that the Romans developed the precursor of the modern saw. It was made of iron and had two shapes: a bow saw that looks like today’s hacksaw; and the tenon saw, much like a carpenter’s saw. Both styles, with little change, were used into the late 20th century.

This is a mid-19th-century medical chain saw with checkered ebony handles.

Chain saws were developed in the 18th century, and also used well into the 20th century. Chain saws are what they sound like; a chain with T-shaped detachable handles that made it possible for the chain can be introduced around the bone, it is reattached and the bone quickly sawed through.

This small bow, or metacarpal saw, has a smooth ebony handle.

This is an unusual tenon-style amputation saw with a very decorative brass handle and spine, circa.1850.

The following examples are from the mid nineteenth century and later: The small bow saw, a metacarpal saw, is for fingers and toes, (maker unknown). The fancy saw with the brass handle and spine is unusual for this time since the saw handles were almost always wood, (maker unknown).

This amputation saw was found with the tin "scabbard" protecting the blade, circa 1860.

William Ford, of New York, who was in business from about 1850 to 1900, made this saw that came with a tin scabbard. Inside the sheath is a piece of wood the saw slips into so it doesn’t rattle around. It is only speculation, but it is possible the surgeon lost his box in the confusion of a field hospital and threw all of his remaining instruments into a bag. The tin sheath would protect the saw while it tumbled about in the bag. It is fun to speculate but we will never know.

This is an all metal amputation saw made circa1874 with a brass handle.

Down Brothers, of London, circa. 1874, made the all-metal brass and steel saw with the knurled screw at the handle end. It was designed to take apart for sterilization.

This is an all-steel amputation saw made circa1900.

The final saw is all steel and has relinquished all pretenses at beauty to strict functionality. It was made by Truax Greene and Co., about 1900 in Chicago.

As to values, the chain saw can sell between $450 and $900. The metacarpal saw for about $200, and the brass-mounted tenon saw from $400 to 700. The large bow saw is valued between $250 to $350, the saw with tin scabbard about $300, the Down Brothers saw about $175, and the all-steel saw from $40 to 80. These saws are available at shops, shows and online. Keep your eyes open and good hunting.

WorthPoint: Get the Most from Your Antiques and Collectibles

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Worthologist Thom Pattie examines and evaluates an antique Carl Zeiss telescope at Treasures from the Attic, a fund raising event held at the Metz Middle School in Manassas, Virginia. Proceeds from the event support the Manassas Musuem.

WorthPoint – Get the Most from your Antiques and Collectibles.