Alan Mays' photos with the keyword: hammocks

A camping/tents photo for the Vintage Photos Theme Park. Judging by the banner hanging above the tents, Camp Chicken is the name of this encampment. Three women and a child pose in front of the three tents on the right. On the other side, a man is lying in a hammock, and behind him is a boy and another man, both of whom are sitting on chairs. A breeze blowing through the woods has blurred the large American flag flying above the kitchen tent, and some of the smaller flags hanging above the openings to the other tents are also blurred. Sunlight filtering down through the trees has formed a dappled pattern in the clearing. This is an unused real photo postcard with an Azo stamp box on the other side (four corner triangles pointing up) that indicates a date that may be as early as 1904 to 1918. For similarly in-tents scenes, see Tents at Raise 'ell Camp, Cooks Mill, Pennsylvania , Bob White Camp , and The Methodist Church Choir Camp, 1908 .

"What time is it down there?" "Just eleven." "It's twelve up here—you know eleven and twelve make 23." Handwritten: "Did this ever occur to you?" So what does the mother mean by yelling "eleven and twelve make 23" down at the couple hanging out on the hammock in the front yard at midnight? To understand the humor of this postcard from 1909, it helps to know that a fad about the meaning of the number "23" became wildly popular in the United States in the early twentieth century. Beginning around 1906 or 1907, "23"—along with "23 skidoo"—came to be used as a shorthand way of telling someone to "scram," "beat it," or "get lost," usually with a humorous or joking connotation. Referring to "23" in unexpected ways—as on this postcard or on a valentine —and even placing "23" in surprising places (like on the front of a painted automobile prop in a novelty photo) was a humorous way to let others in on the joke. So it's obvious that mom is keeping tabs on her daughter as she watches the couple from the second-floor window. And her reference to "23" makes it clear (to those in the know, at least) that she wants the guy to skedaddle. Postmark, address, and handwritten note on the other side of this postcard: Omaha & Ogden R.P.O. [ railway post office ], Apr 1, 1909. Miss Hazle Hainline, Grand Island, Neb., 222 W. 6th St. Hello Girlie, wish I could have had the pleasure to set and hear you sing and play tonight. How is mama and dad. Tonight is the first I have eaten since I left your place. Haven't been hungry. Mora. 113 Pub. by Keller Bros., Portland, Or.

"Travers American Hammock. Trademark. Patented July 29, 1879. New style, perfect in shape, beauty & strength; brass mounted, cardinal binding. Samples by mail, $3.00, postage, 50 cents. Hellerson." Vincent P. Travers, who was one of the officers in the company that manufactured Travers American Hammocks, held a number of hammock patents, but I haven't been able to locate one dated July 29, 1879. Perhaps the patent cited on this trade card was actually Improvement in Hammock-Supports (U.S. Patent no. 221,984), which the Patent Office approved a few months later on November 25, 1879.

"The Weary Farmer (Up to Date), designed & pub. by Frank W. Swallow, Exeter, N.H." I'm not sure why Frank W. Swallow of Exeter, New Hampshire, published this early twentieth-century postcard, which ridicules the "Weary Farmer," his family, and the hired help for living a life of luxury. One clue might be the well-off real estate dealer, who's standing in front of his office, where the sign says, "No deserted farms left. Fair farms, $5,000.00 to $50,000.00." Was there an economic downturn at some point that caused families to abandon their farms? Did Swallow feel that some farmers and real estate agents were profiting from the misfortune of others? I haven't solved this mystery yet, but in the meantime here's the cast of characters portrayed on the card: The Farmer is fanning himself while lying on a hammock and sipping sweet cider from a straw. The Hired Man is sitting beneath a tree as he smokes a cigarette and reads a dime novel ( Diamond Dick ) with his unused shovel and hoe by his side. The Son is out on the golf course. The Real Estate Dealer is wearing expensive clothing, including a diamond ring. An automobile is parked in front of his real estate office, where there's a sign that says, "No deserted farms left. Fair farms, $5,000.00 to $50,000.00." The Hired Girl is sitting in a rocking chair as she dries the dishes. The Wife and Daughter are dressed in fine clothes as they sip their tea. The Cow , however, is toiling away on a treadmill, supplying the power and the raw material--milk--for the butter and cheese machines, which apparently provide enough income to allow everyone else besides the cow to live a life of leisure.