Category Archives: World War I

“Service Suits” for Girls, Boys, and Women in 1917

Military uniform for boys aged 6 to 16. Butterick pattern 8070, August 1917.

“In these times, boys of all ages like to be ready for service.” He is “ready to do ‘his bit.’ “

Butterick pattern 8070 for a boy’s “military suit” from 1917 was part of a trend: “service suits” and military dress for civilians.

Butterick 9334 for girls, September 1917. Delineator. This girl has long, “Mary Pickford” curls.

Right, Ladies’ Home Journal “military dress” pattern 1067 for girls 6 to 14, October 1917.

Butterick “military suit” pattern 9365, September 1917. For girls 10 to 15 years old.

Butterick coat pattern 9315 from August, 1917. Delineator. Sized for young girls  and adult women, it was “sometimes called the trench or military coat….” For “active  service.”

“Service suits” and a military dress for women from Butterick patterns, August 1917. Delineator. For more information about these patterns, click here. The blue and tan dress, like the tan suit, has “service pockets.”

Butterick offered so many variations on “Service uniforms” for adult women, I worry that some women spent more time making an outfit to wear while volunteering than they actually spent doing war work.

Three out of four patterns on this page are “uniforms” for civilian women aged 14 to 19. August 1917, Delineator, page 50. “When Johnny comes marching home he will find his sister all turned out in a new military suit.”

The phrases used to describe these outfits use plenty of military jargon.

It’s not surprising that young women heading off to college expected that they would spend time aiding the war effort in some way.

A traveling suit that is also a service suit, for college-bound women. Butterick coat 9324 with skirt 9374. Delineator, Sept. 1917. Pleated “service pockets” came in large, practical sizes and in sizes that were purely “fashion.”

“So many women are doing relief work of all kinds, and they drop into restaurants for tea and luncheons in this type of suit.”

Right, a Butterick military-influenced suit uses coat pattern 9324 with skirt 9309. August 1917.

Left, Ladies’ Home Journal patterns 1059 (jacket) and 1099 (skirt), November 1917. The majority of patterns were less military looking.

The military look was a new fashion option, among more traditionally feminine styles for women. Left, Ladies Home Journal pattern 1061; right, LHJ pattern 1050. October 1917.

Even Chanel showed a service suit:

A service suit designed by Gabrielle Chanel, illustrated in Butterick’s Delineator in October 1917.

That is not to say that women were just playing dress-up. The “women’s magazines” were an important channel of communication for official government notices, from food conservation to Red Cross needs and instructions for volunteers.

Knitting for sailors; a form from Delineator, August 1917. Those who could knit — or learn to knit — were asked to do so; those who couldn’t were asked to donate money to buy wool yarn.

Knit Your Bit for the Navy. Delineator, August 1917.

From a Red Cross article about knitting for servicemen. It appeared in Delineator, November 1917. The Ladies’ Home Journal printed similar articles by the Red Cross so that readers could volunteer to make everything from “comfort kits” to hospital gowns, bandages, and hot water bottle covers.

EDIT 9/10/17: Synchronicity/serendipity brought me this link via Two Nerdy History Girls to a fine article at “Behind Their Lines” about women knitting for the war effort.

The Butterick Publishing Company received such an outpouring of knitting for the troops that it briefly became a problem, before standardization of size and color was imposed.

Sweater pattern 9355 from Butterick, August 1917. It was sized for boys or men. A short time later, the Red Cross issued standardized patterns for the military.

Nevertheless, the patterns for “service uniforms” for children seem to me to be a little silly. (I certainly didn’t wear my Girl Scout uniform every minute I spent earning badges….) On the other hand, now that even young children carry a cell phone to school, some big “service pockets” on school clothes would come in handy!

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Filed under 1900s to 1920s, Accessory Patterns, Children's Vintage styles, Menswear, Musings, Old Advertisements & Popular Culture, Uniforms and Work Clothes, Vintage Couture Designs, World War I

World War I Paper Dolls, 1917

A little while ago I wrote about a series of paper dolls based on silent movies.

Another set of paper dolls based on popular actors in silent films, Delineator, June 1917.

Later in 1917, after the U.S. entered World War I, Delineator magazine gave children a new set of heroes.

Paper dolls of U.S. Naval uniforms, Delineator, September, 1917.

This change of emphasis extended to clothing patterns for children:

Butterick pattern 8383 for boys 4 to 12. Delineator, September, 1917, page 63.

In November, pilots were featured. The illustrations are by Corwin Knapp Linson.

Paper Dolls based on Naval Air Force Uniforms. Delineator, Nov. 19217, p. 25. “A Naval Airplane With Its Daring Crew.”

The illustrator crammed as many drawings as possible on each page,  including a battleship and an airplane — and the Navy Mascot.

U.S. Navy uniforms illustrated as paper dolls, Delineator, September 1917.

U.S. Navy uniform illustrated as paper doll, Delineator, September 1917.

U.S. Navy uniforms illustrated as paper dolls, Delineator, September 1917.

U.S. Navy uniforms illustrated as paper dolls, Delineator, September 1917.

The pilots include one woman:

U.S. Naval air pilots illustrated as paper dolls, Delineator, November 1917, p. 25.

U.S. Naval air pilots illustrated as paper dolls, Delineator, November 1917, p. 25. “This aviatrice is dressed in a serviceable uniform similar to that worn by Ruth Law.”

U.S. Naval air pilots illustrated as paper dolls, Delineator, November 1917, p. 25. Left, “a lieutenant of aviation in service uniform;” right, “his flight suit of light leather or waterproof cloth.”

U.S. Naval air pilots illustrated as paper dolls, Delineator, November 1917, p. 25. Left, the leather coat and hood of a lieutenant of aviation.

U.S. Naval air pilots illustrated as paper dolls, Delineator, November 1917, p. 25.

Delineator was a “woman’s magazine,” but it had been running articles about the valiant French and English for a long time.

“Women of France: What They Have Done in the Great War” by Gertrude Atherton. Delineator, February 1917, p. 5. Illustration by W. T. Benda.

Much of the fashion coverage used military terms, like “over the top,” and “holding the line.”  Illustrations of little boys used to show them engaged in peacetime activities; now they were shown “playing war.”

Boys imitating soldiers in a fashion illustration. Delineator, September 1917.

Did anyone really make this uniform, complete with puttees, for a little boy?

Butterick pattern 9383 for boys aged 4 to 12. September, 1917, page 63.

Butterick patterns for boys, September 1917. Left, sailor suit 9171; right, a toddler so young that he is still in a dress  (No. 8867) waves a wooden sword. (In some eras it was customary for boys to wear dresses until they were out of diapers.)

(Did the writer really understand that allusion? “The paths of glory lead but to the grave.” — Elegy in a Country Churchyard, by Thomas Gray, published in 1751.)

Butterick patterns for boys, Delineator, September 1917. Left, a sporty suit with Norfolk jacket, No. 8553; right, suit No. 8381 has a naval flavor. Sailor suits for boys were an established tradition. Even girls wore middy blouses (from “midshipman.”)

Butterick patterns for boys, Delineator, 1917.

It’s almost a relief to see this “manly looking” — but civilian — overcoat for boys aged 4 to sixteen.

Butterick overcoat 9030 for boys, 1917. “… It is just the type that Dad wears.”

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Filed under 1900s to 1920s, Children's Vintage styles, Musings, Old Advertisements & Popular Culture, Sportswear, World War I

Paper Dolls from Silent Movies, 1917

“Who Are They?” paper dolls of movie stars with costumes from their roles. Illustrated by Corwin Knapp-Linson for Delineator magazine, April 1917.

I’m sorry I didn’t photograph the first in this series, which combines paper dolls (in color) with a “Name the Actors” contest. Of course, the silent films of 1916 and 1917 would have been black and white [although sometimes the whole image was tinted:  yellow for day, or blue for night, etc.] so the colors of the doll costumes are sometimes just the illustrator’s “colorization.”

Patten Beard Presents Peter Pan’s Movie Contest, Delineator, April 1917. “The dolls on this page represent two of the most popular moving-picture actors. Who Are They and in What Plays Are They Shown Here?” Note that the films are called “plays.” And the prizes are quite generous, for a children’s contest.

If you are interested in silent films, as I am, trying to name the actors in these monthly contests is quite a challenge. The majority of silent films have been lost, some leaving not even still photos behind. A knowledge of costume history does supply some hints to the period represented in the film — Renaissance, modern dress, fantasy, 18th century, etc., which suggests (or at least eliminates) some movie titles from 1915-1917.  If you want to play — no prizes, I’m afraid — please contribute your comments! You can find lists of film titles, by year, in several places, including wikipedia: 1917  1916  and  1915 MoviesSilently is currently running many centenary articles about 1917 films.

Delineator, which ran this contest, was a large format magazine, so showing a whole page on this blog doesn’t provide enough detail; I’ve isolated some images for improved visibility.

One actor, three costumes. Can you identify the man and his movies?

Who is this “popular moving picture actor?” Delineator, April 1917.

Around 1917, he played an academic, a man of the Renaissance, and a 20th century soldier.

He wore both renaissance costumes and modern dress.

Reader suggestion [8/22/17:]  Francis X. Bushman played Romeo in 1916.

The very petite young lady beside him (who sometimes seems to be dressed as a boy) may or may not have shared a wedding scene with him:

Center bottom of page, Delineator, 1917. Wedding dress or Confirmation dress?

She also seems to have worn a sort of Titania/Queen of the Fairies costume, a wild child of the woods costume, and to have filled the boots of a Renaissance boy.

Who is this changeling?

Reader suggestion: Marguerite Clark, who played Prince Edward in The Prince and the Pauper in 1915. She also played Snow White in 1916. [added 8/22/17]

I was half-way successful with the paper dolls from May, 1917.

The Patten Beard Peter Pan Paper Doll movie contest from Delineator, May 1917. The lady at right is Geraldine Farrar.

The costumes clearly representing Joan of Arc led me to Joan the Woman, a Cecil B. DeMille silent released in 1915. Geraldine Farrar was a very successful opera singer who made several silent (!) movies between 1915 and 1920.

Geraldine Farrar’s costumes for Joan the Woman include a suit of armor, with helmet, and a short, crudely cropped wig for her execution. What modern dress movie did she make between 1915 and 1917?

Perhaps her skirt and blouse outfit is from The Devil-Stone (1917.) Farrar played a “fishermaid” who finds a cursed emerald….

Her paper-doll costume for Carmen includes a fan (but no cigarette…. Do click to see this image!)

Left, a costume for Carmen (1915); right, St. Joan as a peasant girl.

The movie poster shows Joan’s dress as scarlet, but blue worked better for this illustration, since Carmen wears red.

Delineator explained that “these pictures are based upon photographs supplied by courtesy of the motion-picture producers….”

Movie contest actors for May 1917, Delineator. He looks sooooo familiar…

I have not identified this actor:

Can you name this actor? He played a 16th c. soldier and also worked in modern dress by May, 1917.

It’s possible that the 16th century costumes are from the St. Bartholomew’s Day massacre (1572) scenes in Intolerance: Love’s Struggle Through the Ages  (1916). I did see it once, but I’m not willing to sit through it again this week….

The same actor can be found under that beard; he seems to be an explorer dressed in a dustcoat & solar topee (and spats,) and wearing a holster for the pistol at his left. On the far left, a swashbuckling 16th c. costume with round hose and wide-brimmed hat. From Intolerance?

From the July issue, I was able to identify William Farnum (Dustin Farnum was his brother) in A Tale of Two Cities (1917) and in one of his many westerns. The actress pictured with him does not have a matching 18th century wardrobe, so she’s probably not his frequent leading lady, Jewel Carmen.

Paper Doll “name these actors” contest, Delineator, July 1917. Top of page 18.

Paper Dolls from bottom of page 18, Delineator, July 1917.

Actor William Farnum and an actress who is still a mystery to me. Does anyone recognize her?

Reader suggestion [8/22/17:] Pauline Frederick. Only 15 of her 65 movies survive. She was an established stage star when she made her first film in 1915, and was still making movies in the 1930’s.

The 18th century costumes for this actor led me to A Tale of Two Cities. Here he is wearing the dark costume, with the buckle-banded hat, although the doll instructions say it goes with the yellow coat.

William Farnum made many westerns; he seems to be wearing this suit in at least two of them. It’s tan in the movie poster.

Here is a color poster for The Man from Bitter Roots (1916). He seems to have worn the same costume in True Blue (1918.)

The actress drawn in a green evening gown also wore these costumes:

A Civil War era costume and a sort of female Uncle Sam outfit.

Any costume with a Civil War flavor suggests Birth of A Nation (1915), but that was not the only pre-1918 film set in that era. (And she doesn’t resemble its female star, Lillian Gish.) She also wears a green brocade evening gown and a “peasant-ish” red ensemble.

Evening dress and peasant attire. Paper Doll costumes from the movies, 1917.

In August, there were three actors to identify: child actors.

Paper dolls based on three child stars of 1917. Delineator, August 1917, p. 18.

“The paper dolls on this page represent three of the most popular moving-picture actors. The costumes are those they wore while being filmed in their latest plays. Who are they?”

Three silent film stars from 1917.

Children were often the stars of shorter films, which makes finding their titles less likely. The boy seems to have played both princes and peasants — but were they in the same movie?

A child star in an elaborate uniform, plus two less exalted costumes. August 1917.

This character stands next to a sword:

Does the sword go with this gray costume, or the white uniform? If we saw the movies, we’d know.

Sometimes child stars were filmed in parodies of well-known films, in which they mimicked adult actors. That may explain the pink evening gown worn by this young actress:

One costume for this child actor is a lavish, pink, adult evening gown. August  1917. She has a rather impish look in the image at right.

A simple, possibly 19th-century dress for the young star with bobbed hair. Delineator, August 1917.

Baby Marie Osborne had this hairstyle; famous for playing Little Mary Sunshine (1916), she was earning $1000 a week and made about 28 films before retiring at age 8. Unfortunately, her parents mis-spent her earnings; she made a second career for herself as a movie costumer, including The Godfather, Part II. I can’ t confirm her identification using these costume illustrations — can you?

The curly-haired child star at the upper left of the page carries a doll that evokes another of her costumes:

Left, the young star, barefoot, in a simple, shift-like dress; center, a more prosperous look, probably intended for the mid-1800s; right, an up-to-date dress, trimmed with lace and accompanied by a matching hair bow. Delineator, August 1917.

A visit to the Young Hollywood Hall of Fame shows how many young actors there were; some even grew up to be adult actors, like Dolores Costello,  Bebe Daniels, and Mary Miles Minter.

Please comment if you recognize any of these actors & costumes from a film you’ve seen!

Added: August 22, 2017: Fritzi Kramer (via  MoviesSilently.com) suggested some answers: “Very cool collection! The first unidentified gentleman is Francis X. Bushman, who made Romeo and Juliet around this time. My guess for the brunette changeling is Marguerite Clark. I believe the woman in the green dress next to William Farnum is Pauline Frederick. Hope this helps! [It certainly does, especially since Marguerite Clark played a boy in Prince and the Pauper.]

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Filed under 1900s to 1920s, Costumes for the 16th century, Costumes for the 18th Century, Costumes for the 19th century, Old Advertisements & Popular Culture, World War I

Paris Fashions, September 1917

“Fashions as Usual” from wartime Paris — from World War I, that is. Delineator, September 1917.

During World War I, Butterick’s Delineator magazine, which had an office in Paris, continued to publish sketches of French designer fashions. Some of the ten design houses featured in this article, such as Worth, Paquin, Doeuillet, Doucet and Poiret are still fairly well-known today; others (like Jenny, Beer, Margaine-LaCroix and Buzenet)  are not so well remembered.

A glittering black satin evening dress by Doeuillet, 1917. Doeuillet opened his fashion house in 1900.

“Among the jet sequins on the bodice and hem, Doeuillet uses a few of silver, making the motives of the embroidery shadowy, phantom-like, lovely. The dress is of black satin with argent [silver] roses at the waist. The train is black satin like the dress.”

A dress by Margaine-LaCroix with a criss-cross sash that is typical of 1917.

“Silk jersey in a faint shade of reddish pink which Margaine-LaCroix calls rust color, with sash and collar of sand-colored silk. The skirt is cut wider at the top and the cascades end in heavy tassels.”

Both of the dresses below use navy colored fabric, and one also uses “flag blue.” The colors of the French flag are bleu, blanc, et rouge, which patriotically appear in several of these fashions.

Left, an ensemble by Jenny: “navy serge with a rose-red collar and dog-leash belt;” right, a navy, black and “flag blue” pleated dress with tunic by Premet. 1917.

Delineator, a “woman’s magazine,” was jingoistic and used many military terms in its fashion writing in 1917-1918. Jenny’s “not strictly submersible” dress is a reference to submarines  (submersibles.)

This “pale prune-colored” Paris suit by Beer has a cream satin vest (“gilet”) embroidered to match. 1917.

This was the era of the “Tonneau” or barrel skirt, and the width of women’s hips is deliberately exaggerated, as in the skirt below, which is “narrower at the hem than at the hip,” like the dress by Margaine La-Croix.

This dress from Paris, by Buzenet, in blue serge and satin has an organdy collar embroidered in gold. 1917.

Paul Poiret showed a loose-fitting red jersey dress, embroidered in blue and ochre yellow, with big pockets. 1917.

Famous for his exotic designs in the 1910’s, Poiret was still very active in the 1920’s. His 1924 “Brique” dress at the V & A Museum is still charming.

French designer Jenny showed this pale gray dress with a sleeveless coat embroidered in fine lines of green stitching. 1917.

Jenny was also a very well known designer in the 1920’s.

An afternoon dress by Paquin, 1917, “has all the hallmarks of its era.” The “tablier” [apron] hangs from the shoulders

The House of Worth showed a gray redingote [overdress open down the front] with a peculiar, stiff collar, worn here with a very wide, bird-winged hat. 1917.

Doucet‘s “Russian Blouse” is trimmed with rows of stitching and features a cuff-like pocket, matching the actual sleeve cuffs, that goes all the way around its front hem. 1917. The “double” criss-crossing belt is very characteristic of this period.

Jacques Doucet was included in “Ten Influential Fashion Designers You’ve Probably Never Heard Of”  and Gustave Beer was included in its sequel, “Ten (More) ….” 

Jenny (born Jeanne-Adele Bernard, married name Jenny Sacerdote) was profiled here. (The designer Augusta Bernard, who called her fashion house Augustabernard to avoid confusion with other designers named Bernard, was apparently no relation.) The Costume Gallery  does an excellent job of profiling designers in brief histories, with lots of thumbnail illustrations. You can find Beer, Doeuillet, Doucet, Jenny, Paquin, Poiret, Premet, Worth and many more famous designers at The Costume Gallery. To make full use of its extensive research library and photo collections, a small subscription is required, but even using the public access part of The Costume Gallery site is wonderful. I’ve added it to my “Sites with Great Information” sidebar.

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Filed under 1900s to 1920s, 1920s, Hairstyles, Hats, Vintage Couture Designs, World War I

100 Years Ago: Women’s Bathing Suits for 1917

The knit bathing suit illustrated in this ad for Luxite Hose is considerably more revealing than the suits that could be made from Butterick patterns in 1917. Delineator, June 1917, page 50.

A friend once gave me a bathing suit as a birthday gift, with the explanation, “The swimsuit isn’t the real present. The real present is that now you don’t have to go through the agony of shopping for a swimsuit.” She was right. Getting a glimpse of my aged,  fish-belly white thighs in a department store’s three-way mirror is never the highlight of my summer.

Butterick bathing suits for June, 1917. Top of page 64, Delineator magazine.

On the other hand, even though these bathing suits from one hundred years ago would cover my thighs, I doubt that they would be flattering in any other way.

Butterick bathing suit patterns from Delineator, July 1917, p. 53.

I always enjoy seeing multiple versions of a pattern; most of these suits were illustrated in two ways in June of 1917 and in another two ways in July. They are all Butterick patterns from Delineator magazine. It’s also interesting to see the line drawings that show alternate views and the under-layer, which is often lost in vintage bathing suits.

Butterick 9201, a bathing suit for 1917

One version of Butterick 9201 from June 1917.

A sleeveless version of Butterick bathing suit 9201. Delineator, June 1917, p. 64.

A third version of Butterick 9201, July 1917, Delineator, page 53.

A fourth, striped, version of Butterick 9201, from Delineator, July 1917, p. 53.

This view from June 1917 shows the bloomers attached to an underbodice, or underbody,  which was worn under the “blouse” of Butterick 9201.

All four versions have ruffled pockets. I won’t show descriptions of all four versions, but the basic information is contained in this one.

The fabrics and colors only apply to the sleeveless, square-necked version. Other versions suggested were purple, navy, scarlet, or green, in wool jersey, satin, or taffeta. The pattern was available in sizes 30 to 44 inches bust measure.

Butterick 9219, a bathing suit from 1917

The striped bathing outfit is Butterick pattern 9219 as shown in Delineator, June 1917, p. 64.

A sleeveless version of Butterick 9219. “You can have it show jaunty bloomers underneath or have it cover them…. The bloomers are sewed to an underbody so there is no danger of accidents.”

Butterick 9291 pictured in Delineator, July 1917, p. 53.

Another version of Butterick 9219, July 1917. She wears black stockings and bathing shoes; the “unusual and becoming cap” was included.

Other views of Butterick 9219.

This view of Butterick 9219 shows the yoked bloomers attached to an underbody.

Various wool or silk fabrics were suggested. Although serge and silk poplin are mentioned, cotton is not, with the exception of “brilliantine,” a wool-and-cotton or mohair-and-cotton blend.

Butterick 9237, a “bathing-suit” from 1917

Butterick bathing suit pattern 9237, June 1917. This is the shorter version. Note her rolled stockings.

Butterick 9237 shown with a striped skirt long enough to cover the bloomers, Delineator, June 1917, p. 64.

Coin-sized dots and white lattice on the sleeves are unique details for this blue and white version of No. 9237. Butterick pattern from 1917. Cap pattern included.

Alternate views of Butterick 9237.

Girls’ bathing costume,  Butterick 9240, from 1917.

This bathing suit pattern, Butterick 9240, was available for girls 2 to 14 years old. Delineator, June 1917.

“If the child is very small the gathered or plaited straight skirt need not be worn.”

Butterick 9240 illustrated on an older girl. Delineator, July, 1917, p. 53.

Bathing suit for girls 2 to 14, Butterick 9240, from 1917.

Description of Butterick child’s bathing suit No. 9240, July 1917. Delineator.

How anyone, much less a child, was expected to swim in one of these bathing suits once it was wet and waterlogged is a mystery to me. The pockets must have been great for collecting seashells — or filling with sand and water and dragging you down ….

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Filed under 1900s to 1920s, Bathing Suits, Children's Vintage styles, Hosiery, Old Advertisements & Popular Culture, Shoes, Sportswear, Swimsuits, Vintage patterns, Vintage Styles in Larger Sizes, World War I

100 Year Old Kodak Camera Ads from World War I

“The Parting Gift — A Vest Pocket Kodak.” Ad in Ladies’ Home Journal, August 1917.

We take small, portable cameras for granted. But one hundred years ago, Kodak was putting pocket sized cameras into the hands of people who never had them before — including the men and boys who volunteered to fight in World War I.

Kodak Vest Pocket camera ad, Ladies’ Home Journal, August 1917, p. 51. “It is monotony, not bullets, that our soldiers dread…. In the training camps and during the days of forced inaction there are going to be some tedious, home-sick days — days the Kodak can make more cheerful…. There’s room for a little Vest Pocket Kodak in every soldiers’ and sailor’s kit.”

When the United States entered the war in April of 1917, training camps were still being built — including Camp Fremont, in what is now Menlo Park, California. For teen-aged girls like my mother’s older sister and her friends, it was both a patriotic duty and a pleasure to meet homesick young men from all over the country. And, judging from the photos I inherited from my aunt, “the boys” did enjoy sending pictures of their daily activities to family and friends.

My aunt, in her school uniform, with Walter van Alyne. The back of the photo says, “aged 20 years,” and it was apparently mailed to her when Walter was “Somewhere in Fra …. chelles.” [writing not legible]

Here she is with Wentworth Prescott  Gann, in 1918:

Wentworth Prescott Gann and my aunt, 1918.

Pictures reassured soldiers’ families, and were also a pretext for corresponding with new friends. (“I’d love a copy of that photo with you….” or “Here’s a copy of that picture we took at the beach….”)

Wentworth Prescott Gann, posing with artillery and a friendly dog, 1918.

Three soldiers posing for a picture to send home — or to sweethearts. The one on the left is Gaston Popescul; “Columbus (?) GA”

Clarence Turpening, probably at Camp Fremont, 1918. Sitting on two garbage cans, he is the picture of military camp tedium.

Because Camp Fremont was still under construction in 1917,  many of the soldiers who trained there did not get sent overseas. However, some unfortunate members of the 8th Division were sent to Siberia after the Russian Revolution of 1917. They were on active duty for months after World War I came to an end.

This photo of a luckier group was made into a postcard — probably everyone in it sent a copy home. I believe it is a group of bakers, with my uncle Holt (the soldier my aunt eventually married) leaning against a post in the center. I’m sure a picture like this would reassure worried families that their menfolk were safe and well. And perhaps, a bit bored….

A group of Army bakers or cooks, military camp in U.S.A., World War I photo.

“Snap-shots from Home” enhance morale for soldiers in World War I. Kodak ad, Ladies’ Home Journal, September 1917, p. 91.

Text of “Snap-shots from Home” ad, Kodak, Sept. 1917. Ladies’ HOme Journal.

Even schoolgirls like my aunt took (and sometimes printed) their own photos.

This typical photo from 1917-1918 fits easily in my hand. It’s about three inches high. The soldier’s name is Philip Wilson.

I was always puzzled by how tiny (about 2″ by 3″) many of these old photos are.  Finally, I found a full page ad in the Ladies Home Journal that gave me a hint: to save money, many people used their contact prints — made directly from the negative — but never bought enlargements. (In my aunt’s case, she made her own duplicate contact prints for friends.)

[Not Actual Size] Top of a full-page ad for Kodak, showing Vest Pocket photos in two sizes. July 1917, LHJ, page 79.

The contact prints, made by putting the negative directly on the photo paper without using an enlarger, were actually about two by three inches. The paper used for contacts feels flimsier than normal photo prints.

Bottom of full-page Kodak Vest Pocket camera ad, July 1917, page 79. Not actual size. “You don’t carry a Vest Pocket Kodak, you wear it, like your watch.”

I was not able to photograph the magazine page at actual size, so I took a photo of the whole page and then made this “relative size” image of the contact print and the enlargement.

Relative size of a contact print and an enlargement, 1917. The small contact prints — the same size as the film — were meant to be used for selecting the enlargements you ordered, but people who couldn’t afford 15 cents per enlargement made do with the contact prints themselves. And duplicate contact-sized pictures could be made by amateurs who didn’t own an enlarger.

Different cameras used different sized film, so those little contact prints came in a range of sizes.  A roll of film for the Vest Pocket Kodak cost twenty cents in 1917 and made eight exposures.

Although most people on the home front, especially in the U.S.,  had no idea of the horrors of the First World War, a tone of sadness, or at least, of solemnity, affected even Kodak’s Christmas season advertising  in wartime.

“Kodak knows no dark days.” Top of a full -page ad for Kodak cameras, December 1917. Ladies Home Journal, p. 104.

The ad was referring to taking pictures indoors, but a reference to “its allies” in the text is a reminder of the war.

Text of a Kodak ad, Ladies’ Home Journal, December 1917, page 104.

“With its allies, the Kodak flash sheets and a Kodak flash sheet holder….” As in fashion writing, allusions to the war crept in everywhere, even when it wasn’t mentioned specifically.

And here, as our dessert, is that lovely pink silk dress in better detail:

A young woman poses in a party dress in this Kodak ad from 1917. Ladies’ Home Journal, Dec. 1917, p. 104. It’s not a full color ad, which would have been more expensive, but probably printed using just black and red ink.

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Filed under 1900s to 1920s, Musings, Old Advertisements & Popular Culture, Uniforms and Work Clothes, vintage photographs, World War I

German Spies Pictured in Fashion Magazine, 1918

Images from an article in Butterick's Delineator magazine, July 1918.

Images from an article in Butterick’s Delineator magazine, July 1918.

In high school, history was my least favorite subject. Now that I am older, I wish we had been encouraged to study history in a different way; I have always been interested in people and their daily lives. The faces of these women  intrigued me. [Caution: I may be guilty of doing superficial research — TLDR–while trying to find out more about these “Huns,” “spies, and “traitors.”]

My point is that more research might be rewarding, that starting with a face and a name might be a way into the past for people who think history is boring,  and that “women’s magazines” or “fashion magazines” should not be disdained by historians.

Historians may find more than they expect in “women’s magazines.” Especially in wartime,  Ladies’ Home Companion, Delineator, McCalls’ Magazine and several other “fashion” periodicals presented a ready platform for communicating with women across the country. During World War I,  Ladies’ Home Journal and McCall’s Magazine had over a million subscribers each. [Magazines in the Twentieth Century.]

"Huns, Here There, and Everywhere," a page from Butterick's Delineator magazine, July 1918.

“Huns, Here, There, and Everywhere,” a page from Butterick’s Delineator magazine, July 1918. Detail: top of page. “These are in jail, but other spies and traitors are at work for the Kaiser … WATCH FOR THEM.” Calling the enemy by a pejorative nickname (e.g., “Huns”) is a propaganda device, which made me want to learn more about these people.

When I leaf through a women’s magazine from 1925, or 1917, such as Ladies’ Home Journal, or Butterick’s Delineator, I find more than fashion — I get a little social insight into the era. The editors wanted to sell magazines, so the articles that surrounded the patterns for sale had to be of interest to readers, too. Often they are short stories, or serialized novels. But the magazines are not always about creating a fantasy world. “Real world” topics impinge.

How much money does a young married couple need, and how should they budget it? (1920’s)  What are the jobs open to a college girl? How much will they pay? Can she live on $18 a week? (1930’s) Why does one out of seven babies born in America die? (1917 Delineator series) Should doctors administer anesthetics to a woman in childbirth? (Delineator, September 1934.)

In wartime, women’s magazines cooperated with the federal government in spreading information.

How can you feed your family and understand wartime food restrictions?

Wartime food restrictions, form Ladies' Hme Journal, August 1917, p. 16.

Explaining wartime food restrictions, from Ladies’ Home Journal, August 1917, p. 16.

Herbert Hoover's Food Administration answers women's questions. Ladies Home Journal, September 1917.

Herbert Hoover’s Food Administration answers women’s questions. Ladies’ Home Journal, September 1917. So many articles appeared in more than one magazine source that I stopped photographing duplicates.

What garments can you sew for the Red Cross?

Official Red Cross garments to be made by volunteers. A surgical gown, and two kinds of pajamas -- one which can be easily opened while treating wounded men. Delineator, November 1917. P. 77.

Official Red Cross garments to be made by volunteers. A surgical gown, and two kinds of pajamas — one of which can be easily opened while treating wounded men. Delineator, November 1917, p. 77.

From an article on sewing for the Red Cross, Delineator, September 1917, p. 77.

From an article on sewing for the Red Cross, Delineator, September 1917, p. 77.

In December, the same information appeared in Ladies’ Home Journal, illustrated with photos instead of line drawings.

Hospital garments to sew for the Red Cross, Ladies' Home Journal, December 1917., p. 25/

Hospital garments to sew for the Red Cross, Ladies’ Home Journal, December 1917., p. 25.

What can you expect when your son goes off to war?

From an article in Ladies' Home Journal, August 1917. "If he is the right kind of boy?" This is heartbreaking -- and it is propaganda.

From an article in Ladies’ Home Journal, August 1917. “If he is the right kind of a boy… Nothing will happen to him.” — If he is “the right kind of a boy?” This is heartbreaking — and it is morale-building propaganda.

In this case, the topic was watching out for German Spies. (July 1918)

Top of "Spies and LIes" article, Delineator, July 1918, page 38/

Top of “Spies and Lies” article, Delineator, July 1918, page 38.  The women are oblivious of the eavesdropper.

More of "Spies and LIes, Delneator, July 1918, p. 38. I regret that I didn't photograph the entire article.

More of “Spies and Lies, Delineator, July 1918, p. 38. In World War II, the equivalent message was “loose lips sink ships.” But readers should also “Report the man who spreads pessimistic stories [or] … cries for peace.” I regret that I didn’t photograph the last few lines of the “Spies and Lies” article from this fashion magazine.

Huns, Spies and Traitors, 1918

Delineator, July 1918.

A gallery of German “spies” — or is it? Delineator, July 1918.

This set of “mug shots” has been on my mind recently, especially since the San Francisco Chronicle published two 100th anniversary articles about the prosecutions following the “Preparedness Day Parade” bombing that occurred in San Francisco on July 23, 1916.  One 2016 article, by Carl Nolte, had the title “Bombing Centennial: Blast in July 1916 killed 10, left 2 innocent men in jail for decades.

“Juries convicted two labor union organizers, Tom Mooney, 33, and Warren Billings, 22, … although, as it turned out, the convictions were based on perjured testimony and doctored evidence. The real bombers were never caught.

“Investigations later showed that Mooney and Billings had been framed by San Francisco District Attorney Charles Fickert, who was acting on behalf of the city’s business establishment, anxious to strike a blow at labor unions and what they saw as dangerous leftists and anarchists. “

Thanks to a crusading newspaper man  — editor Fremont Older — Mooney and Billings were finally freed — in 1939.

” ‘ It is impossible to know what really happened that day in 1916,” said Chris Carlsson, a local historian. ‘But for sure, it was not Mooney and Billings who planted that bomb.” — Carl Nolte, SF Chronicle, July 17, 2016.

If you want to read Nolte’s entire article, (the online version has a different title,)  click here. (And who doesn’t want to read about a newspaper man who lost his job — and got another– because of his investigation, but never stopped trying to free two innocent men?)

After reading about this incident,  I remembered Delineator’s gallery of convicted German spies, and I wondered about them –especially these two women. (It’s important to remember that activities which are lawful in times of peace — like organizing a strike, or opposing the draft — may be illegal in times of war. It can happen very quickly.)

Who Were These People?

They were all convicted. They were not all “Huns” or German agents.

Left, Missouri's Kate Richards O'Hare; Right, California's Mrs. Margaret Cornell. Images from Delineator July 1917.

Left, Missouri’s Kate Richards O’Hare, convicted of espionage and sentenced to five years. Right, California’s Mrs. Margaret Cornell, convicted of conspiracy. Images from Delineator July 1917.

In 1916,  Kate Richards O’Hare was the Socialist Party candidate for U.S. Senate from Missouri. She opposed America’s entry into the war.  O’Hare was arrested in July, 1917 because she gave a speech “deemed to be anti-war.”  (By this time, the U.S. was officially at war with Germany.) When sentenced to five years in prison, she said, “[if] it is necessary for me to become a convict among criminals in order that I may serve my country there, then I am perfectly willing to perform my service there.” She was guilty of “espionage”  because she violated the Espionage Act of 1917. She later devoted many years to prison reform; according to Britannica.com, “in 1924–26 she conducted a national survey of the contract-labour practice of prisons.” [A topic still of interest today.] A great deal has been written by and about her.

But Cornell is another story. Mrs. Margaret Cornell of San Francisco might be a rewarding subject for more research.  Was she a low-level office worker trying to keep her job at the German Consulate, or a willing participant in her boss’ plot to disrupt British shipping?  She was the only woman was among many workers at the German Consulate in San Francisco convicted in the Indo-German-Irish plot: “Just a few months into World War I, an Indo-German-Irish plot was established to ship American weapons to India for a revolt against the Raj with the intention of reducing Britain’s ability to wage war on Germany and Irish nationalism. ” See British Intelligence Station in San Francisco during the First World War.  (Yes, in the neutral U.S.A., spies of many nations were at work.)

Cornell received a relatively light prison sentence, and no fine. I found the record of her admission to San Quentin Prison, on Feb. 8, 1917, through Ancestry.com. Although newspapers sometimes refer to her as Margaret W. Cornell, there she is listed as Margaret E. Cornell; Cornell is presumably her husband’s name. Her occupation is “office clerk,” her age is 52, and her birthplace is Ireland. She was convicted of espionage (Sections 37 and 13 of the U.S. criminal code) because she passed coded messages between her boss (the German Consul-General) and Charles Crowley, another member of the “Hindu Conspiracy,” as the press called it. Was she a dupe? Was she suspected of having anti-British, Irish Republican sympathies? (The Easter Rising of 1916 was a rebellion against British rule in Ireland.) At one point in the trial, she said, “I am now a woman without a country.” She is mentioned — and quoted — in newspaper accounts of the trial;  in 1917, San Francisco had several competing major newspapers, so there is plenty of material for a student of history to explore. Cornell claimed to have TB, and feared that she would die in jail. What happened to her?

Here are brief descriptions of some of the other “huns” and traitors who were pictured.

Olivereau and Schmidt, Delineator, 1918.

Left, Louise Olivereau of Seattle, Washington,  and Carl Schmidt of Detroit, Delineator, 1918.

Louise Olivereau worked as a stenographer for the Industrial Workers of the World (a labor organization popularly known as the Wobblies) — but she was also an anarchist, and she distributed anti-war circulars which she had printed at her own expense, for which she was convicted under the Espionage Act of June 1917.

Wilhelm von Brinken of San Francisco, and Jacobsen

Left, German “Baron” Wilhelm von Brinken of San Francisco, and Gustave H. Jacobsen of Chicago.

If Wilhelm von Brinken (who looks as if he usually wore a monocle) seems familiar, it is because he became an American citizen in 1920 and had a long career playing Germans in 92 Hollywood war films (WW I and WW II.)

Von Brinken was indicted along with his boss,  Franz Bopp, the German Consul-General in San Francisco, Baron E.H. von Schack (the Vice-Consul)  and Charles C. Crowley.    Like Margaret Cornell, Crowley worked for the German Consulate.  [San Francisco Chronicle, Feb. 9, 1917.] A well-known detective hired by the German Consul-General, Crowley was accused of trying to plant bombs in Canadian munition ships and elsewhere; Crowley and Bopp communicated — in “coded messages” — that were sent to Cornell. (Did she understand what they were about?)

Left, von Schack, right Crowley.

Left, Baron von Schack; right, Charles C. Crowley. Von Schrack looks jaunty in a straw boater hat. Crowley was a private detective hired by the German Consulate.

Left, Bopp, and right, von Rintalen. Delineator, 1917.

Left, Franz Bopp, German Consul-General in San Francisco, who was convicted of violating U.S. neutrality as part of  the “Hindu Conspiracy,” among other charges.  Right, Captain Franz von Rintelen was chief of the German Secret Service in the U.S. during WW I. Delineator, 1917.

Somer C. Spence and LAmar in Delineator, 1917.

Homer C. Spence of Oklahoma (“sedition and anti-draft riots,) and David Lamar of New York (“planned munition delay through strike plots,”) pictured in Delineator, 1917.

David Lamar, who “planned munition delay through strike plots” and German spy-chief Captain Von Rintelen (pictured earlier) were convicted in a munition strike conspiracy.

“Anti-draft rioter” Homer C. Spence of Oklahoma — who looks like he stepped out of the pages of Time-Life’s “The Pioneers” —  was implicated in the “Green Corn Rebellion,” which was subject of a 1937 novel of that name by William Cunningham. The  inter-racial (white, black, and Native American) “Working Class Union” (WCU) of mostly young tenant farmers was involved. (The idea that rural Oklahoma was once a hotbed of Socialism was certainly news to me!)

I knew nothing about this part of American History, and I have not read every word of all the links I cited — some are book-length. (They are there for anyone to pursue.)

But it just goes to show what surprises you find while reading old “women’s magazines.” If you know any history students in search of material, you might want to steer them toward browsing old “fashion” periodicals. What a lot of questions they raise!

Since many of these “Huns” were arrested and tried in San Francisco, I used some news items from the San Francisco Chronicle archives for 1917 and 1918, accessed through my public library.

(For other ways World War I was reflected in women’s magazines, see “Up Like Little Soldiers,”  WW I Fabric Shortages , and “New Clothes from Old.”)

 

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