travel – Page 5 – The Posted Past

Tempe in Time: A Journey through Places and Postcards

A set of postcards printed in the 1980s reflect Tempe’s history a century before. Now historical artifacts themselves, these images offer a window into the city’s past and future.

As we examine each postcard, we’ll uncover the story of Tempe’s development and explore how each generation has contributed to the city’s evolving landscape.

The Hackett House: Victorian Charm in the Desert

Today’s journey begins with a postcard depicting the Hackett House, a quaint building constructed in 1888. This red brick structure, Tempe’s oldest of its kind, stands as a testament to the city’s early days. With its distinctive turret and elegant design, it exemplifies the rare Arizona Territorial Victorian commercial style.

Originally built by German immigrant William Hilge as Tempe’s first bakery, the Hackett House’s location near the Hayden Flour Mill, the railroad, and the Territorial Normal School (now Arizona State University) nods to the earliest urban planning in Tempe. The postcard captures the building’s 1912 appearance, which was painstakingly restored in the 1970s.

The history of the Hackett House mirrors Tempe’s own evolution. After its days as a bakery, it served as a residence and later a boarding house. It earned its current name when Estelle Craig, Tempe’s first telephone operator, married Roy Hackett in the old bakery house. By the 1980s, when our postcards were likely printed, the Hackett House had already been recognized for its historical significance and placed on the National Register of Historic Places.

Tempe Depot: The Arrival of Progress

Our next stop is the Tempe Depot, captured in a postcard circa 1915. The image shows a steam locomotive at the station, a small group clustered for the photograph. This scene represents a pivotal moment in Tempe’s history, symbolizing the city’s connection to the wider world.

The arrival of the Maricopa and Phoenix Railroad in 1887 transformed Tempe from a small farming community into a thriving center of commerce. The depot, built in 1907, served as a vital link for both passengers and freight, fueling Tempe’s growth and prosperity. Though the original structure was lost to fire in 1923, this postcard preserves its memory and significance.

Arizona Mercantile: Commerce in Early Tempe

The next postcard features the Arizona Mercantile Co., a sturdy brick building constructed in 1898. With its large storefront and a horse-drawn carriage parked outside, this image encapsulates the commercial heart of early Tempe.

The Arizona Mercantile Co. played a crucial role in Tempe’s economy, providing essential goods and services to the growing community. The image itself, its preservation, and later reproduction underscores the importance of local businesses in shaping Tempe’s identity and meeting its residents’ needs.

Laird and Dines Drug Store: A Corner of History

Our final postcard depicts the Laird and Dines Drug Store, circa 1900. This Victorian-style corner building, with its prominent “DRUGS” signage, offers another glimpse into Tempe’s commercial past. The image shows the particulars of storefront business, with its ornate architecture, early signage, and shades to defend against the afternoon sun.

The building went on to serve as campaign HQ for Senator Carl Hayden and Governor Benjamin B. Moeur, as well as the first town hall and post office. Renovations reflected each successive era, including a few that were later reversed. Look closely today, and the old bones still show.

Preservation: Buildings vs. Postcards

As we explore Tempe’s history through these 1980s postcards, we encounter an interesting dichotomy in historical preservation. While some buildings depicted still stand today, others have long since disappeared from Tempe’s landscape.

The preservation of postcards offers a unique window into the past, allowing us to visually experience Tempe as it once was, even when the physical structures no longer exist. The Tempe Depot postcard, for instance, preserves the image and significance of a building lost to fire, serving as a tangible link to the city’s early railroad days.

On the other hand, the preservation of buildings like the Hackett House allows for a more immersive connection with history. Visitors can walk through the same spaces, touch the same walls, and experience the ambiance of a bygone era in a way that a two-dimensional image can’t replicate.

This dual approach to preservation provides a richer, more comprehensive understanding of Tempe’s history. The postcards fill in the gaps where physical preservation was lost, while the preserved buildings offer tactile and fertile connections to the past.

Hayden Flour Mill in operation, click for reference link

Tempe’s Historic Landscape

Tempe’s commitment to preserving its architectural heritage is evident in the numerous historic properties that dot its landscape. The Elias-Rodriguez House, built in 1882 using traditional adobe methods, stands as one of the oldest surviving buildings in Tempe, representing the early Hispanic influence on the city’s development.

The Niels Petersen House Museum, a Queen Anne Victorian style home built in 1892, offers visitors a glimpse into the life of a wealthy rancher in territorial Arizona. The Old Main building on Arizona State University’s campus, completed in 1898, continues to serve the university community while standing as a proud reminder of the institution’s long history.

These pristinely preserved buildings, along with others undergoing substantial redevelopment like the Hayden Flour Mill (1918) form a network of historical touchstones throughout Tempe. They create a physical timeline of the city’s development, allowing residents and visitors alike to trace Tempe’s growth from a small agricultural settlement to a thriving modern city.

Image courtesy of Jack D. Mount, click for reference link

Evolving Landscapes: Tempe Through the Decades

While our postcards capture Tempe’s early history, the city’s development didn’t stop in the early 20th century. Each subsequent generation has left its mark on Tempe’s landscape, contributing important and useful additions that have shaped the city we know today.

The 1960s saw the development of the Mid-Century Modern style that has since become iconic in Tempe. Grady Gammage Memorial Auditorium still defines Tempe’s landscape as a living example of Taliesin West design, inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright’s principles and aesthetic.

Another example, Shalimar Golf Course & Estates, built in 1961 combining a golf course with a mix of single-family and townhomes all featuring the golf lifestyle. This ambitious project represented a new approach to suburban living, offering residents a blend of recreational amenities and comfortable housing. The golf course continues to operate today, though its future faces the threat of redevelopment again in 2025.

As we consider the fate of mid-century developments like Shalimar, we’re confronted with a critical question: will these more recent historical landscapes be preserved in place or will they exist only as postcards, if at all? The answer may depend on how we value and interpret the architectural and cultural legacy of the mid-20th century, and how we balance preservation with the evolving needs of a growing city.

Generational Contributions to Tempe’s Landscape

These projects, spanning a century, demonstrate how each generation in Tempe has contributed something important and useful to the city’s landscape. Each of these developments responded to the needs and aspirations of its time while also shaping the future of Tempe. They’ve created new models for residential communities, transformed the city’s relationship with its natural environment, spurred economic growth, and positioned the city as a cultural hub in the region.

Moreover, these projects have often built upon or complemented earlier developments. For instance, Tempe Town Lake is a modern creation that in some ways echoes the water management innovations seen in earlier projects like the Roosevelt Dam. The Tempe Center for the Arts, with its lakeside location, takes advantage of the views and ambiance and extends the cultural campus of the city.

This layering of infrastructure and development over time creates a rich urban tapestry that tells the story of Tempe’s growth and evolution. From the historic buildings captured in our 1980s postcards to the modern landmarks of today, each generation has added its own chapter to Tempe’s ongoing narrative.

Image from Tempe History Museum collection, click for full citation.

Civic Priorities Across Eras

Examining Tempe’s history reveals how certain civic priorities persist across generations, forming a thread of continuity. The establishment of the Territorial Normal School in 1885 reflects an ongoing commitment to education that continues to shape the city’s identity today. Infrastructure development demonstrates the community’s long-standing recognition of the importance of resource management and large-scale planning.

The presence of telephone services in early Tempe, including Estelle Craig’s role as the city’s first telephone operator, reminds us the community’s need to embrace new technologies. This spirit of innovation has persisted through the decades, manifesting today in Tempe’s adoption of smart city technologies and its support for tech industry growth.

The growth of local businesses and transportation networks demonstrates a consistent focus on economic development that remains a key priority for Tempe. From the early mercantile stores to the bustling mill, and from the first railroad to modern light rail systems, Tempe has always recognized the importance of commerce and connectivity in building a thriving community.

The Past Informing Future Plans

Understanding our history plays a crucial role in shaping the future of our cities, and Tempe is no exception. The walkable, mixed-use nature of early Tempe, where residences, businesses, and civic institutions coexisted in close proximity, still exists as a memory and a footprint within contemporary urban planning that prioritizes regional accessibility and global interaction.

Preserved buildings like the Hackett House do more than just remind us of the past; they actively influence contemporary architectural styles. By maintaining these historical structures, Tempe creates a sense of continuity in its urban landscape. Modern buildings often incorporate elements inspired by these historical designs, creating a blend of old and new that gives the city its unique character over time.

Historic buildings also make spaces for modern vision and mission, as seen with the Hackett House’s current role as headquarters for Tempe Sister Cities. This practice of adaptive reuse not only preserves historical structures but also breathes new life into them, making global connections, welcoming visitors and ensuring Tempe’s relevance for future generations.

History Today and Tempe’s Future

As we look at these 1980s postcards of even older Tempe landmarks, we’re reminded that the appreciation of history is itself a constant. Each generation recognizes the value of its heritage and works to preserve it for the future. In doing so, they contribute to the ongoing story of Tempe, creating a richer, more resilient urban fabric that honors the past while embracing the future.

The challenge – and opportunity – for Tempe and cities worldwide lies in maintaining this delicate balance between preservation and progress. By thoughtfully integrating historical elements into modern urban planning, we create spaces that are not only functional and innovative but also deeply rooted in the community’s unique identity and shared history.

Crucially, thinking about the past and future opens a window into creative solutions for present-day challenges. Some old ways of desert living offer valuable clues for sustainable life in modern Tempe. The walkable nature of early Tempe, for instance, provides inspiration for reducing car dependency. The adaptive reuse of buildings like the Hackett House demonstrates how we can minimize waste and preserve cultural heritage simultaneously. The large-scale water management projects of the past have to inform us in dealing with water scarcity in an era of climate change.

As Tempe faces new challenges and opportunities, these historical images and structures serve as both guideposts and inspirations. They remind us that every generation leaves its mark, and that by honoring our past, we can create a more meaningful and sustainable future. The story of Tempe, as told through these postcards and the buildings they depict, is about continuity amidst change and working together. It’s a story that continues to unfold, with each generation adding its own chapter.

In the end, Tempe’s effort to learn from its history while boldly innovating for the future reflects those shared concerns every community faces. It shows that progress and preservation are not mutually exclusive, Rather, they are complementary forces. When balanced thoughtfully, they can create vibrant, resilient, and deeply-rooted urban and suburban communities. As Tempe faces the future, it does so with the wisdom (and the failures!) of its history as a guide, each generation ensuring that the city’s unique character and community spirit will endure for the next.

Thread & Paper: A Century-Old Silk Embroidered Postcard

Imagine holding a piece of handmade history – a delicate blend of silk and paper that has traveled more than a century to tell its story.

This charming embroidered postcard from the early 20th century is a small and intricate greeting that speaks volumes about a bygone era. In the world of historical artifacts, sometimes a small stitch tells a rich story.

Burst of Blooms

The postcard we are examining today presents an interesting contrast to typical flat, printed cards. Its front features an embroidered design set within a scalloped, cream-colored frame. The embroidery displays a palette of purples, reds, blues, and greens against a light fabric background, forming a floral scene.

At the center is a red flower, its petals rendered in careful stitches to create a sense of depth. Blue blooms surround it, with green stems and leaves providing structure to the composition. Above the flowers, Rosa is embroidered in purple thread, while below, Feliz cumple años (Happy birthday in Spanish) completes the message.

The reverse side is more conventional, bearing the hallmarks of early 20th-century postcard design. “CARTE POSTALE” is printed at the top in both French and English, with the card divided for correspondence and address. A small line at the bottom reads “Printed in France « E.R. » Paris” – a clue to the card’s origins.

The card was produced by E. Rabus, a Parisian company founded in 1897. By the early 20th century, the company had become a leader in the French postcard industry, including active involvement in the Chambre Syndicale français des Editeurs de la Carte postale illustrée, the professional organization for French postcard publishers. In 1914, E. Rabus held the position of secretary-general in this organization, placing the company at the heart of the industry during a pivotal time.

Manufacturing Marvels

This particular postcard emerged during the postcard craze of the early 20th century, when millions of postcards of many great variety were produced and sent globally each year.

The postcard we’re examining likely dates between 1914 and 1920, a period that saw significant changes in the postcard industry. Creating this postcard involved a fascinating blend of traditional craftsmanship and industrial production techniques.

The silk thread may have been sourced from a renowned manufacturer like Dollfus-Mieg & Cie. DMC was a major producer of embroidery threads, founded in Mulhouse, Alsace in 1746. Thread may have also come from Lyon, France’s capital of silk, where workers known as Canuts supplied luxury goods markets. The use of high-quality silk thread indicates that this postcards was a premium product.

While hand embroidery was still practiced, the scale of postcard production in this era suggests that machine embroidery was more likely used. Skilled workers would have operated specialized machines manually set to create the intricate design.

Once complete, the embroidery needed to be affixed and sandwiched between two paper cards to create the final product. The distinctive scalloped edges on the front were created through embossing and die-cutting, a process using metal plates and a sharp blade to stamp and cut the card into its final shape, leaving a window for the fine fabric to show through. The reverse side was made using standard printing techniques of the era.

All of these processes – embroidery, backing, embossing, die-cutting, and printing – would have taken place at the E. Rabus factory in Nanterre, a suburb of Paris. The company’s ability to combine these various techniques in-house speaks to its sophistication as a manufacturer and helps explain its prominent position in the industry.

Messages for Global Markets

While this postcard was produced in France, its Spanish text hints at a broader marketplace and larger international relations. E. Rabus, like many successful companies of its time, was looking beyond French borders to sell its products.

The most likely target market for this Spanish-language card would have been Spain itself. Geographic proximity and cultural ties between France and Spain made this a natural choice. Spanish tourists visiting France might have purchased such cards as souvenirs, or French customers might have bought them to send to Spanish friends or relatives.

Another strong possibility is Argentina. In the early 20th century, Argentina had a significant French immigrant population and strong cultural ties with France. The Argentine upper classes, in particular, had an affinity for French culture and products. Or perhaps Cuba, a popular tourist destination for Europeans at the time.

It’s worth noting that World War I (1914-1918) had a significant impact on these global markets. The war disrupted trade routes and changed economic relationships. However, it also created new demands for postcards as a means of communication between soldiers and their loved ones. Spanish neutrality during WWI might have made Spain an even more important market for French postcard producers during this time.

Grand Greetings

Perhaps the most charming aspect of this postcard is the way it personalizes a mass-produced item. The name Rosa embroidered at the top of the card transforms it from a generic greeting to a personal message. We can appreciate the care in choosing this specific card with the recipient’s name woven into the birthday wish.

Postcards marry the universal with the personal. Paper and thread become a bridge – between industrial spaces and private life, between France and the Spanish-speaking world, and between the early 20th century and our own time. Human desire is to connect, to send our good wishes across distances, and to make even mass-produced items feel special and individual.

Feliz cumple años – in Spanish – reminds us that birthdays are celebrated across cultures and languages, and the wish for a happy birthday transcends borders and time.

As we examine this postcard today, we sense so many stories – the mysteriously named publisher, the factory workers in Nanterre, a birthday celebration, the joy of both the sender and the intended recipient. Every historical artifact, no matter how small, carries with it a web of human connections.

We send greetings with the tap of a screen today, and still we can appreciate the thought and effort that went into creating and choosing such a card. It invites us to consider how we express our good wishes today, and how modern methods carry the traditions forward from this centenarian birthday card.

This delicate embroidered postcard, with its silk threads and scalloped edges, its French origin and Spanish text, is a testament to human creativity, industrial ingenuity, and the enduring power of a simple wish for happiness, stitched in colored thread, preserved through time, and able to transcend borders.

Buy OR GIFT this rare Silk Postcard!

Life in Large Letter Postcards

Among all our favorite postcard styles, large letter postcards stand out as evocative artifacts of memory, place, and time. What drives us to collect these small works of design, and what do they reveal about the places we’ve been—or dream of going?

In an age of digital communication and instant photo sharing, there’s something uniquely captivating about large letter postcards. These brightly colored, design-driven place markers have been carrying snippets of the world from person to person – and into collections – for over a century.

Postcard collecting, or deltiology, has been a popular hobby since the late 19th century. What makes postcards so appealing to collectors? For one, they’re relatively affordable and easy to store, making them accessible to collectors of all ages and means. But more than that, postcards offer a unique blend of visual appeal, historical significance, and personal connection.

To Collect is Human

Humans have been collectors for as long as we know. From prehistoric shells and stones to modern stamps and coins, the act of gathering and preserving token objects is a constant across cultures and eras. But why do we collect?

For collectors of large letter postcards one might choose to focus on cards from a particular state or region, tracing how the depiction of that place changed over time. It’s an exploration of how places have marketed themselves to tourists, of changing aesthetic tastes, and of the evolution of printing technology. Each card is a time capsule, preserving a particular vision of a place at a specific moment in history.

Alternatively, a collector might concentrate on the output of a specific publisher, such as Curt Teich & Co. or Tichnor Brothers, each of which had its own distinctive style. Serious collectors have checklists and databases, and keenly search for highly-prized cards that are known but still not found.

One part of collecting is about finding a comforting order in a sometimes chaotic world. By curating a set of objects, we apply our own structures and meanings onto a small corner of the universe. It’s a way of making sense of the world around us, and also of understanding, exploring, and appreciating our experiences.

Moreover, collections often serve as tangible links to our memories and experiences. Each item in a collection can evoke a specific moment in time, a particular place, or a cherished memory. In this way, our collections become autobiographies of sorts, telling the story of our lives through carefully curated objects.

Collecting also taps into our innate desire for completion. There’s a profound satisfaction in filling gaps in a collection, in finding that elusive item that will make our set whole. This pursuit in itself can become a lifelong passion, providing a sense of purpose and achievement.

Vicarious Views

Large letter postcards are miniature ambassadors from distant lands, carrying with them not just images but also the tangible evidence of their journey—postmarks, stamps, and handwritten messages.

The hunt for these postcards take collectors to antique shops, flea markets, and specialized postcard shows. Online marketplaces have made it easier to find specific cards, but for many collectors, the thrill of the hunt remains an important part of the hobby.

Each postcard is a snapshot of a particular place at a specific moment, and a unique chance to travel in time. From architecture and fashion to social customs and technological advancements, postcards provide valuable insights into the evolution of society.

The messages scrawled on their backs offer intimate glimpses into personal histories. A hurried “Wish you were here!” or a detailed account of a traveler’s adventures can be just as fascinating as the picture on the front.

Personal Place Holders

At the heart of collecting large letter postcards is our connections to place. Whether we’re collecting postcards from places we’ve visited or from far-flung locales we hope to see someday, each card in our collection represents a connection to a specific geographical location.

This connection to place is a fundamental aspect of human psychology. We are, by nature, territorial creatures, and we form strong emotional bonds with the places that are significant to us. These bonds can be with our hometowns, favorite vacation spots, or even places we’ve only ever dreamed of visiting.

Postcards allow us to carry a piece of these places with us. They serve as physical reminders of our travels, tangible links to the memories we’ve made in different corners of the world. For places we haven’t yet visited, postcards can fuel our wanderlust, providing glimpses of distant lands and cultures.

But our relationship with place isn’t always straightforward. In our increasingly globalized world, many of us find ourselves with multiple place affinities. We might have roots in one city, work in another, and care for family in a third. Postcards offer a way to express and explore these multiple connections to place. A collection might include cards from one’s birthplace, current home, ancestral homeland, and favorite travel destinations, reflecting the complex geography of one’s life and identity.

Design Dazzle

Large letter postcards hold a special place in the hearts of many collectors. These distinctive cards, which feature the name of a place spelled out in oversized letters filled with local scenes, represent a perfect marriage of place celebration and graphic design.

The heyday of large letter postcards was the mid-20th century, particularly in the United States. This was the era of automobile tourism, when families would pile into their cars for cross-country road trips. Large letter postcards became popular souvenirs, offering a bold, eye-catching way to say “I was here!”

What makes large letter postcards so appealing is their clever integration of text and image. The large letters dominate the card, immediately identifying the location. But within these letters, we find a series of miniature scenes—local landmarks, natural wonders, or typical activities associated with the place. It’s like a visual summary of a destination, condensed into a single, striking image.

From a design perspective, large letter postcards are a triumph of commercial art. They required considerable skill to create, with artists needing to balance the demands of legibility (the place name had to be easily readable) with the desire to include as many local scenes as possible. The result was often a masterpiece of composition and color, with every inch of the card put to effective use.

The style of these postcards evolved over time. Early examples from the 1930s often featured more space between the letters, with scenes depicted in a realistic style. By the 1950s, the letters had typically grown to fill the entire card, with more stylized, graphic representations of local scenes. This evolution reflects broader trends in graphic design and commercial art of the period.

Postcards in the Digital Age

In our era of smartphones and social media, one might expect the appeal of postcards to have diminished. Yet postcards, including modern versions of large letter designs, continue to be produced and collected. Why do these physical artifacts still resonate in a digital world?

Part of the answer lies in their tangibility. In a world where so much of our communication is ephemeral—tweets and status updates that scroll away into oblivion—there’s something deeply satisfying about holding a physical object that has traveled across distance to reach us.

Moreover, the very characteristics that might make postcards seem outdated—their slowness, their limitations—can be seen as virtues. In a world of information overload, the postcard’s constrained format can be refreshing.

For collectors, physical postcards offer a connection to history that digital images can’t quite match. The ability to hold a card that was printed decades ago, to see the handwriting of someone long gone, provides a visceral link to the past that resonates deeply with many people.

Passionate Postal Pursuits

Whether we’re talking about vintage large letter postcards or their modern equivalents, these small rectangular pieces of card stock are far more than just souvenirs. They are repositories of memory, snapshots of place, and artifacts of design history.

For collectors, each postcard is a thread in a complex tapestry of place, time, and personal experience. A large letter postcard from Miami might evoke memories of a childhood vacation, appreciation for mid-century graphic design, and curiosity about how the city has changed since the card was printed.

In a world where our connections to place are increasingly complex and multi-layered, postcard collections allow us to map our personal geographies. They give tangible form to our memories, our travels, and our dreams of future journeys.

Moreover, in their celebration of specific places, postcards—and large letter postcards in particular—remind us of the rich diversity of the world. In an era of globalization, where many fear a homogenization of culture, these cards stand as colorful testimony to the unique character of different locations.

So the next time you come across a rack of postcards in a gift shop, or spot a vintage large letter card in an antique store, take a moment to appreciate these small works of design. They are more than just pretty pictures or quaint relics. In their own small way, they help us make sense of our place in the world—and isn’t that, after all, what collecting is all about?

Road to Renewal

In the fading light of day, a solitary road cuts through a rugged landscape, winding its way towards a majestic mountain looming in the distance. This haunting black and white image, captured on a vintage real photo postcard, speaks volumes about the human spirit’s eternal quest for meaning, adventure, and self-discovery.

Unlike typical postcards that showcase famous landmarks or bustling cityscapes, this image offers a mystery. There are no identifying features, no tourist attractions, no clues as to its specific location. It’s a departure from the usual, instead inviting the viewer to project their own interpretations and desires onto the scene. This anonymity makes the unsent postcard all the more powerful, transforming it from a specific place into a universal symbol of journey and possibility.

The mountain silhouette ahead, is its conical shape a barrier or a beacon? The viewer decides. The road leading to this natural monument becomes a metaphor for life’s journey – full of twists and turns, all leading towards some distant, often unclear destination.

In a word, it’s wanderlust, that inexplicable urge to explore the unknown. In our modern world, where much of the globe has been mapped and catalogued, this image from the past reminds us that there are always frontiers to be explored – if not in the physical realm, then certainly within ourselves.

Traveling Companions

The open road has long been a symbol of freedom and possibility in literature, music, and popular culture. It represents escape from the mundane, a chance to shed the skin of our daily lives and reinvent ourselves. On the road, we are no longer defined by our jobs, our relationships, or our past mistakes. We become travelers, observers, seekers – each mile putting distance between who we were and who we might become.

In Robert Frost’s 1916 poem “The Road Not Taken,” the diverging paths in a yellow wood become a powerful metaphor for life choices and the allure of the less traveled route. Moving beyond familiar literary references like Kerouac, Steinbeck, and films like Easy Rider, we can find the open road in many stories across different eras.

Zora Neale Hurston’s 1937 novel Their Eyes Were Watching God uses the road as a symbol of Janie’s journey towards self-discovery and independence, as she travels through Florida in search of her own voice and identity.

Cheryl Strayed’s 2012 memoir Wild chronicles her solo hike along the Pacific Crest Trail, using the physical journey as a means to process grief and reclaim her life after personal tragedy.

Tracy Chapman’s 1988 song “Fast Car” portrays the open road as both an escape from poverty and a path to a better life, highlighting the complex relationship between freedom and responsibility. The recent popular cover proves our point about the enduring metaphor (and Chapman’s empathetic genius).

Chloé Zhao’s 2020 film “Nomadland” explores the lives of modern nomads traversing America’s highways, presenting the open road as both a refuge from economic hardship and a space for forming unconventional communities.

The open road represents more than just physical movement in these examples. It’s a space of possibility, where identities can be shed and remade, where the constraints of society fall away, and where one can confront the self in all its complexity. These works, created by diverse voices across different time periods, show the enduring power of the road as a symbol of freedom, self-discovery, and transformation.

Heading Inward

This photograph also hints at the solitude and introspection that often accompany such journeys. There are no people visible, no signs of civilization beyond the road itself. It’s a reminder that true exploration – whether of the world or of oneself – often requires a willingness to be alone with one’s thoughts, to embrace the silence and see what emerges from within.

In that silence, in the space between heartbeats, we find the opportunity to think differently. Away from the noise and distractions of our usual environments, our minds are free to wander new paths, to make connections we might never have seen before. The mountain and the road challenge us to question our assumptions, to look at problems from new angles, to dream bigger dreams.

There’s a healing quality to such landscapes. The vastness of nature has a way of putting our problems into perspective, of reminding us that we are part of something much larger than ourselves. In geological time, up against that ancient mountain, our individual worries can seem trivial. But this realization can be profoundly liberating, too. It puts us in sync with our time here on earth, and gives us permission to let go of the things that no longer serve us, to forgive ourselves and others, and to keep going.

The road in the image doesn’t reveal its final destination. It curves out of sight, leaving us to wonder what lies beyond. This uncertainty is both thrilling and terrifying – much like life itself. It’s an invitation to embrace the unknown, to find joy in the journey rather than fixating on the destination.

As we contemplate this scene, we might feel our hearts stirring with a mixture of emotions: longing, excitement, perhaps a touch of fear. The world is full of beauty and mystery, waiting to be discovered by those brave enough to venture beyond their comfort zones.

It challenges us to ask ourselves: What mountains do we need to climb? What roads are we yearning to explore? What parts of ourselves have we left unexplored, and what might we find if we dare to look?

Outbound Imagination

In the end, the power of this image lies in its ability to spark our imagination, to awaken the dormant adventurer within each of us. It reminds us that every day is an opportunity to begin anew, to set out on a journey of discovery – whether that journey takes us to distant lands or deeper into our own hearts and minds.

As the sun sets behind the mountain, casting long shadows across the landscape, we are left with room to wonder and wander. The road awaits, ready to carry us towards new horizons, new understandings, and perhaps, towards unexpected versions of ourselves.

Ikebana, Cultural Exchange, and the 1970 Osaka Expo

Explores the pivotal events and cultural shifts surrounding a humble set of Ikebana postcards, taking us on a journey from ancient Japanese traditions to the futuristic visions of the 1970 Osaka Expo, and beyond.

In the late 1960s, a set of postcards made its way from Tokyo to Hawaii, and then onto the American mainland. At first glance, these look like simple instructional cards about flower arranging. But a deeper dive reveals a fascinating story of cultural exchange, artistic tradition, and a pivotal moment in post-war Japanese history.

A Window into Cultural Exchange

Our story begins with a set of twenty postcards, published in 1969 by Shufunotomo Co., Ltd. in Tokyo and distributed by M. Dacal Enterprises in Hawaii. Titled in bold IKEBANA OF JAPAN, these cards weren’t only pretty pictures. They were a practical guide to Moribana, a style of Ikebana (Japanese flower arranging) developed by the Ohara School. Each card provided detailed instructions and diagrams, allowing anyone to try their hand at this ancient Japanese art form.

The very existence of these postcards tells us much about the cultural climate of the time. That a Japanese publisher would create such a set, and an American company would distribute it, speaks volumes about the growing Western fascination with Japanese culture in the post-war era. But why was this happening, and why then?

Post-War Cultural Curiosity

Let’s step back and look at the broader picture of US-Japan relations in the decades after World War II. The war had left deep scars on both sides, but the post-war years saw a remarkable transformation in the relationship between these former enemies.

As Japan rebuilt and its economy began to grow at an astounding rate (the so-called “Japanese economic miracle”), Americans became increasingly curious about this nation that was rapidly becoming an economic powerhouse. This curiosity extended beyond economics to encompass Japanese culture, arts, and traditions.

Rise of Japanese Cultural Influence

By the 1960s, various aspects of Japanese culture were gaining traction in the United States. The first anime series broadcast in the US, “Astro Boy,” aired in 1963, marking the beginning of what would become a major cultural import. Traditional Japanese arts like Ikebana, the tea ceremony, and martial arts were also gaining popularity among Americans interested in Eastern philosophy and aesthetics.

This interest was part of a broader trend. The counterculture movement of the 1960s often looked to Eastern philosophies and practices as alternatives to mainstream Western culture. Zen Buddhism, in particular, captured the imagination of many Americans, bringing with it an appreciation for Japanese aesthetics and art forms.

In academia, American universities were expanding their Asian Studies programs, fostering scholarly exchange and increased understanding of Japanese culture. This academic interest helped to deepen and contextualize the growing popular fascination with Japan.

Ikebana: More Than Just Flower Arranging

At the heart of our postcard set is Ikebana, an art form that encapsulates much of what attracted Westerners to Japanese culture. Ikebana is not merely decorative; it’s a profound artistic practice deeply rooted in Japanese aesthetics and philosophy.

Originating in the 6th century as a Buddhist ritual of offering flowers to the spirits of the dead, Ikebana evolved over centuries into a highly refined art form. It emphasizes the beauty of simplicity, the importance of space and form, and a deep appreciation for the impermanence of nature.

The Moribana style featured in our postcard set is particularly significant. Developed in the late 19th century by Unshin Ohara, founder of the Ohara School, Moribana represented a significant departure from more rigid traditional styles. The name “Moribana” translates to “piled-up flowers,” referring to its more naturalistic, abundant appearance compared to earlier styles.

Moribana was a response to the introduction of Western flowers to Japan and the influence of Western floral arrangement concepts. It uses a shallow, flat container called a suiban, which allows for more freedom in the arrangement and can include water as a visible element. This style aims to recreate natural landscapes or garden scenes in miniature, allowing for a wider variety of materials and a three-dimensional approach that can be viewed from all angles.

The development of Moribana reflects the broader changes happening in Japan during the Meiji era (1868-1912), a time of rapid modernization and Western influence. Just as Japan was finding ways to blend traditional culture with Western influences in politics, economics, and social structures, Moribana represented a similar synthesis in the world of art.

1970 Osaka Expo: Japan’s Global Coming Out Party

As our postcards were making their way across the Pacific, Japan was preparing for an event that would mark its definitive re-emergence on the global stage: the 1970 World Expo in Osaka.

The choice of Japan as the host for the 1970 World Expo was significant. It was the first World Expo to be held in Asia, symbolizing Japan’s reintegration into the international community and its new status as an economic powerhouse. The theme of the Expo, “Progress and Harmony for Mankind,” reflected an optimistic vision of technology and international cooperation that resonated in the post-war era.

The Osaka Expo was a massive undertaking and a resounding success. It attracted over 64 million visitors, making it the most attended expo in history at that time. The event showcased Japan’s technological advancements and cultural heritage side-by-side, presenting a vision of a country that had successfully modernized while maintaining its unique cultural identity.

It would take more research to learn about Ikebana displays at the Expo, but it’s highly likely that this traditional art form was featured prominently. The Expo was, after all, Japan’s opportunity to show its best face to the world, and traditional arts like Ikebana would have been important in representing Japan’s cultural heritage alongside its technological achievements.

The Expo is known for its architectural marvels, including Kenzo Tange’s Festival Plaza and the iconic Tower of the Sun by Taro Okamoto. These structures embodied the futuristic optimism of the event while also incorporating elements of traditional Japanese aesthetics. In this context, traditional arts like Ikebana would have provided a counterpoint to the futuristic exhibits, demonstrating the continuity of Japanese culture amidst rapid change.

Legacy of the Osaka Expo

The 1970 Osaka Expo left a lasting impact on Japan and its relationship with the world. It cemented Japan’s image as a technologically advanced nation while also showcasing its rich cultural heritage. The event contributed to the growing global interest in Japanese culture, arts, and design philosophy.

In the years after the Expo, Japan’s cultural exports increased dramatically. Japanese electronics became synonymous with high quality and cutting-edge technology. Japanese management practices were studied and emulated around the world. And Japanese popular culture, from anime and manga to fashion and cuisine, began to exert a growing influence globally.

This was the context in which our Ikebana postcards were circulating. They were part of a larger wave of Japanese cultural influence that was washing over the Western world, particularly the United States. The postcards represented more than just a guide to flower arranging; they were a tangible connection to a culture that was increasingly capturing the American imagination.

Ikebana in the Modern World

Today, Ikebana continues to be practiced both in Japan and around the world, though like many traditional arts, it faces challenges in the modern era.

In Japan, Ikebana remains an important part of cultural education. Many schools and universities offer Ikebana courses, and other schools like Ikenobo, Ohara, and Sogetsu have headquarters and branches throughout the country. Regular exhibitions showcase both traditional and contemporary Ikebana, and the art form is often featured in cultural festivals and events.

Internationally, organizations like Ikebana International, which has many chapters in the U.S., play a crucial role in promoting and preserving the art form. These groups organize exhibitions, workshops, and lectures, helping to keep the tradition alive and introduce it to new audiences.

Many cities with significant Japanese-American populations have cultural centers that offer Ikebana classes. Botanical gardens and art museums occasionally host Ikebana exhibitions, providing broader exposure to the art form. Some cities have local Ikebana clubs or study groups, creating communities of practitioners and enthusiasts.

The COVID-19 pandemic accelerated the trend of online Ikebana classes and virtual exhibitions, making the art form more accessible to people around the world. Social media platforms like Instagram have also provided new ways for Ikebana practitioners to share their work and connect with others, helping to popularize the art form among younger generations.

Challenges and Evolutions

Despite its enduring appeal, Ikebana faces challenges in the modern world. In both Japan and internationally, there’s concern about attracting younger generations to the art. The meditative, time-consuming nature of Ikebana can be at odds with the fast-paced, digital-first lifestyles of many young people.

There’s also an ongoing discussion within the Ikebana community about how to balance tradition and innovation. While some practitioners strictly adhere to traditional forms and rules, others are exploring new approaches, blending Ikebana with contemporary art concepts or fusing it with other cultural flower-arranging traditions.

Environmental concerns are also influencing the practice of Ikebana. There’s a growing emphasis on sustainable practices, with some practitioners focusing on using local, seasonal materials or incorporating found objects and recycled materials into their arrangements.

Enduring Appeal of Ikebana

Despite these challenges, the core principles of Ikebana continue to resonate with many people around the world. In an era of constant digital stimulation and environmental anxiety, the practice offers a way to slow down, connect with nature, and create beauty with one’s own hands.

The philosophy behind Ikebana – with its emphasis on simplicity, asymmetry, and the appreciation of natural forms – aligns well with contemporary interests in mindfulness and sustainability. As a meditative practice, Ikebana offers a form of stress relief and a way to cultivate presence and attention to detail.

Moreover, as our lives become increasingly virtual, there’s a growing appreciation for tangible, physical arts like Ikebana. The act of carefully selecting and arranging natural materials provides a tactile, sensory experience that many find grounding and rejuvenating.

From Postcards to the Present

Our journey began with a set of postcards – a modest gesture to bridge cultures through careful examples and explanations of the art of flower arranging. These cards, with their detailed instructions and diagrams, were more than just a guide to Ikebana. They were ambassadors of Japanese culture, part of a broader wave of cultural exchange that helped reshape the relationship between Japan and the West in the post-war era. It’s a story of how art can transcend cultural boundaries, fostering understanding and appreciation between formerly adversarial nations.

Today, as we face global challenges that need international cooperation and mutual understanding, the lessons of this cultural exchange are still relevant. The practice of Ikebana, with its focus on harmony, balance, and the appreciation of nature, offers not just aesthetic pleasure but a philosophy that resonates with contemporary concerns.

From those mid-century postcards to today’s Instagram posts, Ikebana continues to evolve while remaining true to its core principles. It stands as a testament to the enduring power of art to connect people across cultures and generations, inviting us all to pause, observe, and create beauty in our own corners of the world.

As we look to the future, the story of Ikebana reminds us of the importance of preserving traditional arts while remaining open to innovation and cross-cultural exchange. In a world that often seems chaotic and divided, perhaps we can all learn something from the thoughtful, harmonious approach of Ikebana – arranging the elements of our lives and our global community with care, respect, and an eye for beauty.

Gabriel Moulin and San Francisco’s Postcard Past

City by the Bay captured by a beloved photographer and made into jumbo postcards. Cherished memories for tourists and now valuable historical documents.

In the mid-20th century, San Francisco stood as a beacon of the American West, a city of hills and fog, of cable cars and sourdough bread. It was a place where the Gold Rush era’s pioneering spirit met the post-war optimism of a nation on the rise. Tourism, conservation, and a changing cultural landscape were among the mix of motivations for depicting the city in these jumbo postcards. At the heart of these images was a man whose name has become synonymous with San Francisco photography: Gabriel Moulin.

Gabriel Moulin: The Studio Behind the Lens

Gabriel Moulin (1872-1945) was more than just a photographer; he was a visual historian of San Francisco. Born in San Jose, California, Moulin moved to San Francisco as a young man and established his photography studio in 1892. For over five decades, his keen eye and steady hand documented the city’s growth, its triumphs, and its tragedies.

Moulin’s career spanned a period of immense change in San Francisco. He witnessed and recorded the aftermath of the devastating 1906 earthquake and fire, capturing images that would become iconic representations of the city’s resilience. As San Francisco rebuilt and expanded, Moulin was there, his camera at the ready, to document the rising skyline and the engineering marvels that would come to define the city’s landscape.

One of Moulin’s most significant contributions was his documentation of major construction projects. His photographs of the Golden Gate Bridge and the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge, from their groundbreaking ceremonies to their final completion, provided a visual narrative of these monumental undertakings. These images not only served as historical records but also as symbols of American ingenuity and determination during the Great Depression era.

Moulin’s studio, located in the heart of San Francisco, became a hub for both commercial and artistic photography. While he was renowned for his architectural and landscape work, Moulin also excelled in portrait photography. His subjects ranged from everyday San Franciscans to visiting celebrities and dignitaries, creating a diverse portfolio that painted a comprehensive picture of the city’s social fabric.

The longevity and success of Moulin Studios spoke to the photographer’s skill and business acumen. Even after Gabriel’s death in 1945, his sons continued to operate the studio until 2000, maintaining the high standards set by their father. This continuity allowed the Moulin name to remain synonymous with quality San Francisco photography for over a century.

Today, the legacy of Gabriel Moulin lives on through the vast archive of his work. Over 500,000 negatives from Moulin Studios are now held by the San Francisco Public Library, a treasure trove of visual history that continues to provide insights into the city’s past. Researchers, historians, and photography enthusiasts alike pore over these images, each one a window into a moment in San Francisco’s rich history.

The Birth of the Jumbo Postcards

The set of jumbo postcards that we’re examining today represents a fascinating intersection of Moulin’s artistry, the booming post-war tourism industry, and the changing face of San Francisco. But how did these specific images come to be immortalized on oversized cardstock, ready to be sent across the country or tucked away as souvenirs?

The story likely begins in the late 1940s or early 1950s. World War II had ended, and America was entering a period of unprecedented prosperity. The rise of automobile culture and the expansion of the middle class meant more Americans than ever before were able to travel for leisure. San Francisco, with its iconic bridges, historic neighborhoods, and stunning natural beauty, was a prime destination for these new tourists.

Gabriel Moulin, or more likely his sons Irving and Raymond who were running the studio at this time, recognized the opportunity to capitalize on this tourism boom. They had a vast archive of high-quality images showcasing San Francisco’s most famous landmarks and neighborhoods. These images, some possibly dating back to Gabriel’s own work in the 1930s and 1940s, were perfect for reproduction as postcards.

Enter Smith’s News Company, a San Francisco-based publisher and distributor located on Ninth Street. Specializing in postcards and other printed materials, Smith’s News Company was well-positioned to turn Moulin’s photographs into sought-after souvenirs. The collaboration between Moulin Studios and Smith’s News Company was a natural fit – Moulin provided the artistic vision and photographic expertise, while Smith’s handled the printing, distribution, and sales.

The decision to produce these postcards in a “jumbo” 6×9 inch format was likely a strategic one. Larger than standard postcards, these jumbo versions allowed for more detail and visual impact, making them stand out in souvenir shops and newsstands. The bigger size also aligned with the grandiose, larger-than-life image that San Francisco sought to project to visitors.

The sepia tone of the postcards was another deliberate choice. Even if these images were taken in the 1940s or early 1950s, the sepia printing gave them a vintage feel, evoking a sense of history and timelessness. This aesthetic choice appealed to tourists’ desire for authentic, historical experiences, even as they engaged in modern travel.

San Francisco Through Moulin’s Lens

Let’s take a closer look at each of the images in this set of jumbo postcards, exploring what they reveal about San Francisco in the mid-20th century and how Moulin’s photographic style captured the essence of the city.

Chinatown: A Community in Transition

The image of Chinatown is perhaps the most intriguing of the set, offering a glimpse into the neighborhood’s complex social dynamics in the post-war period. The photograph was likely taken between 1946 and 1952, as evidenced by the styles of automobiles visible on the street.

In the foreground, we see a well-dressed Asian man, his dapper appearance speaking to the modernization and Americanization of the younger generation in Chinatown. Behind him, two men in military uniforms casually stroll in the opposite direction. This juxtaposition is rich with meaning, highlighting the multifaceted identity of Chinatown in the post-war era.

The presence of military personnel in Chinatown is significant. Following World War II, many Chinese Americans who had served in the U.S. military returned home with new skills, broader perspectives, and a strengthened sense of American identity. Their visible presence in the neighborhood symbolizes the increasing integration of Chinese Americans into mainstream society, a process accelerated by their wartime service.

The street itself is a vibrant scene of activity. Cars line the road, indicating the prosperity and mobility of the post-war period. The distinctive architecture of Chinatown is on full display, with pagoda-style roofs and Chinese signage creating a unique urban landscape. Lanterns hang across the street, likely in preparation for a festival or celebration, hinting at the community’s efforts to maintain cultural traditions.

This image captures Chinatown at a pivotal moment in its history. The repeal of the Chinese Exclusion Act in 1943 and the War Brides Act of 1945 had opened the doors to new immigrants, changing the demographic makeup of the community. The neighborhood was experiencing a population boom, with new arrivals from China joining established families and returning veterans.

The economic revival of the post-war years is evident in the bustling street scene. Many businesses in Chinatown were thriving, catering not only to the local community but increasingly to curious tourists drawn by the neighborhood’s exotic appeal. This tourism boom brought both opportunities and challenges, as the community navigated the commodification of their culture while striving to maintain authentic traditions.

Moulin’s composition of this photograph is masterful. By capturing both the traditional elements of Chinatown and signs of modernization and integration, he presents a nuanced view of the neighborhood. This image goes beyond the often stereotypical depictions of Chinatown common in tourist materials of the time, offering instead a glimpse of a dynamic community in the process of redefining itself in post-war America.

The Bay Bridge: A Symbol of Progress

The postcard featuring the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge showcases one of the engineering marvels that transformed the Bay Area in the 1930s. Completed in 1936, the bridge was still a relatively new and awe-inspiring structure when this photograph was likely taken in the 1940s or early 1950s.

Moulin’s composition emphasizes the bridge’s grandeur and its impact on the San Francisco skyline. The photograph is taken from a vantage point that captures the entire span of the bridge, with San Francisco’s growing downtown visible in the background. This perspective underscores the bridge’s role in connecting the East Bay to San Francisco, a link that was crucial for the region’s economic development and urban growth.

The image also captures a moment of tranquility on the bay. A small boat, possibly a ferry, can be seen in the foreground, a reminder of the bay’s maritime history and the transportation methods that the bridge had largely superseded. The calm waters and soft light create a sense of serenity, contrasting with the industrial strength of the bridge itself.

In the context of the post-war era, this image of the Bay Bridge represented more than just an architectural achievement. It symbolized American ingenuity, the ability to overcome natural obstacles, and the promise of progress. For tourists visiting San Francisco, the bridge was a must-see attraction, a physical manifestation of the city’s modernity and its crucial role in connecting the various communities of the Bay Area.

Moulin’s photograph, reproduced as a postcard, allowed visitors to take home a piece of this marvel. The image likely resonated with the optimism of the post-war years, when large-scale infrastructure projects were seen as key to America’s continued growth and prosperity.

Cliff House: A San Francisco Institution

The postcard depicting Cliff House offers a view of one of San Francisco’s most enduring landmarks. Perched on the cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean, Cliff House has been a San Francisco institution since the 19th century, though the building in this image is not the original structure.

Moulin’s photograph captures the Cliff House in its mid-20th century incarnation. This version of the building, with its clean, modernist lines, was a stark contrast to the ornate Victorian structure that had previously occupied the site. The new Cliff House, opened in 1909 and remodeled in the 1930s, reflected changing architectural tastes and the city’s forward-looking attitude.

In the foreground of the image, we can see the rocky shoreline and the famous Seal Rocks. These natural features had long made this area a popular destination for San Franciscans and tourists alike. The juxtaposition of the sleek, modern building against the rugged natural landscape creates a compelling visual contrast.

The photograph also shows several automobiles parked near the Cliff House, indicating its popularity as a destination. In the post-war period, the Cliff House continued to be a beloved spot for dining, socializing, and enjoying spectacular ocean views. Its inclusion in this set of postcards speaks to its significance in the tourist imagination of San Francisco.

Moulin’s composition emphasizes the Cliff House’s dramatic setting. The building seems to rise organically from the rocky cliffs, a man-made extension of the natural landscape. This image likely appealed to tourists as a representation of San Francisco’s unique blend of urban sophistication and natural beauty.

Fisherman’s Wharf: The Heart of Maritime Heritage

The postcard of Fisherman’s Wharf offers a glimpse into one of San Francisco’s most iconic neighborhoods. This image captures the working waterfront that has long been central to the city’s identity and economy.

In Moulin’s photograph, we see a forest of masts belonging to fishing boats docked in the harbor. The image conveys the bustling activity of the wharf, with boats of various sizes crowding the water. In the background, we can make out the buildings of the waterfront, including what appears to be a fish processing plant or warehouse.

This view of Fisherman’s Wharf represents a moment in time when the area was transitioning from a primarily industrial zone to a major tourist attraction. In the post-war years, while commercial fishing remained an important industry, the wharf was increasingly drawing visitors eager to experience its maritime atmosphere, fresh seafood, and picturesque views.

The image on the postcard is complemented by text on the reverse side, which provides context for the scene. It describes Fisherman’s Wharf as a “famous tourist center” where visitors can enjoy fresh seafood like crabs, bass, salmon, and shrimp. This description highlights how the working waterfront was being marketed as a unique cultural experience for tourists.

Interestingly, the text on the postcard also mentions that this view shows “a few of the many small fishing craft engaged in commercial fishing activities along the Pacific Coast.” This statement underscores the dual nature of Fisherman’s Wharf at this time – both a working port and a tourist destination.

The postcard credits the Redwood Empire Association for the photograph, indicating a collaborative effort between different organizations to promote San Francisco’s attractions. The Redwood Empire Association, founded in 1925, was primarily focused on promoting tourism in the coastal regions of Northern California. Their involvement in producing this postcard demonstrates the growing importance of tourism to San Francisco’s economy in the post-war period.

A Changing San Francisco

Taken together, these postcards offer a multifaceted view of San Francisco in the mid-20th century. From the cultural enclave of Chinatown to the engineering marvel of the Bay Bridge, from the storied Cliff House to the working waterfront of Fisherman’s Wharf, each image captures a different aspect of the city’s identity.

These postcards represent more than just tourist souvenirs; they are windows into a particular moment in San Francisco’s history. They show a city in transition, balancing its historical roots with post-war modernization and growth. The images capture the optimism and energy of the era, when San Francisco was cementing its place as a major American city and an international tourist destination.

The Art of Postcard Photography

Gabriel Moulin’s approach to photographing San Francisco for these postcards reveals much about the art of postcard photography in the mid-20th century. Each image is carefully composed to showcase the subject in its best light while also conveying a sense of place and atmosphere.

In the Chinatown image, Moulin (or his sons) made the deliberate choice to include people in the scene, unlike the other, more architecturally focused postcards. This human element brings the street to life, offering viewers a sense of the neighborhood’s vibrant culture and daily activities. The inclusion of both traditionally dressed individuals and those in more Western attire subtly communicates the neighborhood’s cultural complexity.

The Bay Bridge photograph demonstrates Moulin’s skill in capturing large-scale structures. The composition emphasizes the bridge’s sweeping lines and monumental scale, with the city skyline providing context and contrast. The small boat in the foreground adds a sense of scale and a touch of maritime romance.

The Cliff House image showcases Moulin’s ability to capture the interplay between natural and man-made environments. The framing of the building, perched on the edge of the continent, emphasizes its unique location and architectural drama.

In the Fisherman’s Wharf postcard, the photographer chose a viewpoint that emphasizes the dense forest of masts, creating a strong visual impression of a busy, thriving port. This image captures both the industrial nature of the area and its picturesque qualities that appealed to tourists.

Across all these images, we can see a consistent aesthetic that defines the postcard genre of this era. The compositions are clean and direct, presenting each subject clearly and attractively. The use of sepia toning adds a sense of nostalgia and timelessness, even to relatively modern scenes. This technique helped to present San Francisco as a city with a rich history, even as it embraced post-war modernity.

The production and distribution of these postcards represent a fascinating aspect of mid-20th century tourism and printing industries. The collaboration between Moulin Studios and Smith’s News Company exemplifies the specialized roles that developed in the postcard business.

Moulin Studios, with its vast archive of high-quality images and reputation for excellence in photography, was the ideal source for postcard imagery. The studio’s deep connection to San Francisco meant that it could provide not just beautiful pictures, but images that truly captured the essence of the city.

Smith’s News Company, as the publisher and distributor, played a crucial role in bringing these images to the public. Located on Ninth Street in San Francisco, Smith’s would have handled the technical aspects of postcard production, including printing, cutting, and distributing the cards to various retail outlets throughout the city.

The choice to produce these as jumbo postcards, larger than the standard size, was likely a marketing decision. The larger format allowed for more detail in the images and made the postcards stand out among other souvenir options. This size also aligned with the general trend towards “bigger and better” that characterized much of American consumer culture in the post-war years.

The postcards were more than just souvenirs; they were also a form of advertising for San Francisco. Tourists who bought and sent these postcards were essentially becoming ambassadors for the city, sharing enticing images of San Francisco with friends and family across the country and around the world.