Non-sensical is how a childhood friend of mine described Friday’s shooting rampage at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut which claimed the lives of 26 souls: 20 first-grade students and another six, educators who worked there.

He had come to know the school’s psychologist, a victim of the shooting who occasionally gave my friend rides to school because of proximity of residence. The news was equally devastating for me, because some of my happiest memories as a child and teen were spent in Newtown, a place very close to where I grew up. I often went to the Edmond Town Hall movie theater there with my dad and brother. It cost only $1.00 to get in back in the 70’s and 80’s and I’m sure it was front page news in the local newspaper–the wonderfully named Newtown Bee– when the price shot up to the current admission of $2.00.

The town landmark,  however,  is the large flagpole dating to America’s first centennial in 1876 just down the street from the theater. Along with picture-perfect 18th century colonial homes flanking main street leading up to it, this beacon with Old Glory now at half-mast is their version of Grand Central’s famous clock. With great restraint, foresight, and deliberate zoning keeping the fast-food joints far away, the town fathers and mothers have thankfully preserved their past and home, founded in 1705 and incorporated in 1711. Dating to before our Republic’s founding, it’s possible an American president has been through this neck of the woods before; perhaps just not in recent memory. Besides standing in solidarity with Newtown’s surviving families and helping to bring closure to our national collective grief from this most incomprehensible tragedy, let’s hope his visit there tonight spurs definite action and realistic solutions to our long-running conversation on gun regulation. We owe our children nothing less.

Recognize the face? A teen model aiming her Kodak in a sheep field? If yes, please do tell. With her mystery my acknowledgment, I can say without hesitation it’s a snap getting sucked into the world of early Kodak advertising.

As noted in this site’s previous post of their colorization of an early 1908 advertising contest winner by Marian Pearce of Waukegan, IL, Kodak’s marketing genius often took the form of “candid” views of models using cameras in the field: children taking pictures with a Brownie box variety, in the case of the Pearce winning photograph, or this silver gelatin print in the PhotoSeed Archive featuring a fashionably-dressed girl releasing the bulb shutter of what appears to be a model 3A Folding Pocket Kodak.  (1.)

Similar to my discovery of the Pearce image used later in an advertisement, I’ve spent more than a few hours trying to decipher if this girl with chapeau was also published, but with no luck. Among multiple sources in the search process, I’ve come across a few notable online sites including the smile-inducing KodakGirl Collection (German publishing house Steidl releases this month their marvelous addition to Kodak scholarship: Kodak Girl: from the Martha Cooper Collection ) and revisited many pages from Duke University Libraries resource Emergence of Advertising in America currently showing 550 early Kodak advertisements.

But getting back to that face. I’ve tentatively dated this photograph from 1900-1920, and the commercial nature of the image suggests deliberate posing, with the model seen in profile holding  her Kodak camera to nice effect. The carrying case is also stylishly displayed-consistent with vintage advertisements from this era- slung over her shoulder and resting on her hip. I may of course be wrong, but in addition to this young lady sharing a striking resemblance to very early known photos of her, (2.) and the intriguing abbreviated reference to the city of Philadelphia on the back of the photograph, Kodak Girl in Sheep Field may very well show American silent film actress and Philadelphia native Eleanor Boardman. (1898-1991)

The photographer, as I decipher on the back of the photo, was Edwin H. Fait. (see detail above) Boardman is acknowledged to have been one of the famous Kodak Girls, appearing in color on the cover of the 1921 Kodak catalogue, but perhaps not surprisingly when it comes to celebrity, research inconsistencies are rife. She is first believed to have begun modeling in 1913-1914, when she would have been 15 or 16 years of age-consistent with the dating for this photograph. A 1931 newspaper account stated:  

About the time she finished art school, Miss Boardman began posing for commercial photographers. She became famous as the Kodak Girl and was the central figure in an advertising campaign which portrayed her snapping pictures in many localities.  (3.)

Whatever her mysterious identity, this Kodak girl undoubtedly inspired others from the era to pick up a camera of their own.

1. The 3A Folding Pocket Kodak was first introduced in 1903. Another possibility is that she holds a model 1A Special Kodak, which first came out in 1912.
2. Due to copyright considerations, I’ve elected not to show these here, although early portraits of Eleanor Boardman can be found doing common search engine image searches.
3. “Eleanor Boardman was Kodak Girl“: from: The Lewiston (ME) Daily Sun: October 15, 1931

It is always a pleasure to run across vintage advertising featuring photographs from this archive. Marian Pearce, an amateur from Waukegan, IL, was the grand prize winner in 1908 for this original platinum photograph in the Eastman Kodak Company’s annual advertising contest. Her winning entry, featuring a young girl snapping a photo of her (presumed) younger sister with a Brownie camera appeared in the Ladies Home Journal the following year.

What was unexpected was seeing the photograph in the ad published in color. Eastman Kodak advertising manager L.B. Jones oversaw this campaign, with the theme of  “Let the Children Kodak.” The three-color halftone process used to reproduce the photo in the June, 1909 issue of the magazine may have been the result of a hand-colored version of the Pearce photograph.

Sadly, Mrs. Pearce is not given credit for the photo in the ad, which is of course still common today, although her grand prize of $300.00 she earned in the amateur category of the 1908 contest was a king’s ransom for the time.

Ok, I admit it. I found the little bugger opposite the page containing the engraving of this fashionably-dressed gentleman focusing and peering into his elegant camera. When I recently opened a parcel containing several European volumes from the late 1890’s-you know-the photo kind-I was not prepared for the disaster waiting inside. Misbound, with the bindings perished and outer paper covers secured with copious amounts of glue on the inner signatures upside down, I deemed the volumes immediately breakable in order to separate and archivally preserve the very fine gravure plates within.

As a lover and caretaker of fine books, this is always the last resort. But occasionally, it is vital. Short of placing everything into a deep freeze, photographic material from any vintage, especially the old stuff, needs to be properly conserved for future generations. As for breaking a book, I’m sure many professionals would take exception to my approach, and I respect that. Certainly, all photographic conservation should be done on a case-by-case basis, and when in doubt, consult someone in the know. My own golden rules starts with wise advice I received from a George Eastman House curator many years ago: the first best defense for preservation is sometimes to do nothing at all. My own conscience however dictates intervention whenever I find photographic media in contact with the bad stuff. This usually takes the form of acidic materials in the shape of mat boards, backing boards made from real wood and other types of non-archival paper-pulp coming into direct contact with the front surface (recto) or rear support (verso) of fine photographs.

And the Silverfish about to have its picture taken? Possibly as old as the book, with its exoskeleton complimentary in color to the amber-colored adhesive used in the binding. He, she, or it probably had a good fill of the stuff before mercifully turning and playing dead for the next century or so.