Doll collecting.

I've been collecting dolls since I was ten years old, give or take a few years. Long before the internet, I'd check out the latest edition of Doll World magazine, always skimming the fascinating articles, pictures and collector's stories of what inspired them to collect dolls. Shirley Temple didn't appeal to me, but do recall I read and noticed more pictures and stories of that particular doll than any other. She was a famous child star, and one that was way before my time. That's pretty much all I grasped about her as a kid growing up. Ever since my mom had told me about the dolls she had as a girl, which were quite impressive: Thumbelina, Suzy Smart and Chatty Cathy, I was on a mission to find those particular dolls. As luck would have it, mom and I stopped in a corner junk store late one evening. Rushed as usual mom reminded me, "Don't take forever in a day looking at stuff." Mom had worked all day long and she still needed to make supper, get a load of laundry in the wash, plus make sure we kids were tucked in on time during the school week. One man's junk is another man's treasure... I often heard the adage quite frequently. And there she was sitting on the shelf, a pitiful sight of a Chatty Cathy doll, circa 1950's and hardly any blonde hair left on its head. I pointed out the doll to my mom, who couldn't believe what I just discovered. The price was expensive. $10 for a non-working doll. Mom didn't want to tell me it would have been a waste of money and back in the late 80s, ten dollars was a considerable sum for an old doll. And why should I get a doll and leave out my other siblings? Did I do anything special to deserve this particular doll other than flash my puppy dog eyes? My mom glanced at the old lady behind the counter, who appeared as though she would chew iron and spit nails. And would she even consider doing any less on the doll? I prepared my little mind that the old lady would like snap at me like a grouch and holler, "No!" Instead, I was quite surprised when my mom haggled on the price and we got out of there with my first true "antique" doll for $5. I was overjoyed and have one photo of that very doll. The image is blurry. The doll in the green dress is unknown.

I pretty much gravitated to dolls that were banged up, well played with and so worn out that no collector could possibly want to proudly display them in their great ancestor's hand-me-down Curio cabinet. My young eyes saw potential, not in dollar signs so much, but from a personal restoration and appreciation stand point. With my eldest brother's help, he tried to fix the first Chatty Cathy doll in my collection and I looked on as his personal assistant. However, neither of us could make out the garbled messages the doll was suppose to rattle off. In fact, this remained a mystery to me until I purchased a third Cathy Cathy doll from a thrift store some twenty-five years later that still talks when the string is pulled. The first doll lot I won from an eBay seller was for $8. The dolls weren't antique, per se, just vintage or old by a few years and one in particular I adored. She wasn't very tall, maybe about fifteen inches, with pale white parian-like head, arms and legs, blue dress and long straight blonde hair. Her eyes were dark blue and I recall that it creeped out my better half, so I stored them in the garage. My doll collection grew, waned and I downsized considerably. My primary focus was on the dolls that came before the 1930's whenever possible, although a few of my bed dolls might date around that time frame. I seem to like the older antique dolls, circa 1890's-1900's the best. I don't have any celluloid-made dolls in my collection. The reason for this is because celluloid was comprised of camphor and nitrate, and if subjected to extremely high temperatures for long periods or heat, can combust. Here in the U.S., celluloid dolls were banned in the 1940's due to the volatile nature of the chemicals. Do I have anything against dolls post-1930s? None at all. They just don't appeal to me (collector-wise) too much nowadays. Oil cloth dolls; are they worth the investment? Sure. However, conditions vary from excellent, fair and poor condition due to their age. I have one Harold Lloyd oil cloth doll that was given the nickname, "small fry" and he's been out-beaten by a small and fragile rival: a ten-inch low brow China head doll. She's no bigger than a modern Barbie doll by comparison. I recently came upon another large China doll head for $4. I also snapped up a random 1970's bisque jointed, cloth-bodied doll and utilized that for my first doll repair. The bisque head from the other doll will go up for auction in the near future. And this is how my first large China head doll turned out:

The big low brow China head doll donning a fashionable 1970's brown dress. The other China head doll is unmarked as well. Most of these China head dolls were produced in Germany. Some had marks: "Pat. Applied for... Germany". Other had "Germany 6 ", for example and others, like mine, have no identifiable maker's mark other than the pock-marked appearance of the glaze, rosy apple cheeks, painted on imperfections on the China head, etc. The blonde-haired "pet name" China Head doll, "Helen" was likely produced in 1905, give or take a few years. As far as I know, neither doll has its original cloth body or limbs, which makes them special, in my opinion. The "girls" are crowded. I didn't want these bed dolls to be accidentally knocked off the sofa, bed or any other everyday furniture. Sure, it means more to dust and work to tend to these beauties, but they're worth it. As my late Great-Grandmother told me, "Do you want my bed doll? She's old and very beautiful." Indeed, she is!

And she scared the pants off me when I received her in person. I didn't know what a bed doll was at the time. All I remember seeing were Great Grandmother's Kewpie dolls donning crocheted doll dresses. It took me some time to alculmate to the bed doll, during which time it didn't long for the composition to crack like an eggshell. I didn't bother to restore her nor do I intend to. Some dolls were meant to be left undisturbed by "miracle" do-it-yourself composition repair that was, for a while, a hot commodity. I've since learned that the composition material is highly sensitive to temperature fluctuations. If its too dry or too humid, this reeks havoc on composition dolls. I've since acquired a few more bed dolls from other relatives. The composition material crazing varies from each doll, which is to be expected, given over time where (and how) these dolls might have been stored. And I'm well aware that basements and attics are no-no's for composition dolls. This will do harm to their features. However, sometimes people just have to make do where they live; be it basement dwelling or a glorious attic room. I've been asked, How do you sleep at night with these dolls in the same room? I'm not spooked by the bed doll anymore nor any of the other dolls in my collection. I have heard stories (be true or embellished) of the all-too-familiar, "Haunted doll" being sold on online auction sites. However, the market has been over-saturated with so many haunted dolls that it's lost its luster. So, how much is too many dolls? Dolls can over-run a small space in no time like anything else and I'd recommend no more than can be displayed in a single curio cabinet; two or three if one has enough room for that many cabinets. And I did save the best doll for last. (Drum roll, please)...

What is it? It's a tin head doll, produced anywhere from 1800s-1930, by Buschow & Beck, a German company. These dolls are also known as "Minerva" or tin head dolls. They were more durable that China head dolls and bisque. However, since these doll heads were made from pressed tin, most of their painted features have flaked and chipped over time. One interesting thing about these particular tin head dolls were their body styles. Think of it like designing your own car. The tin head could vary in style with painted on features, glass eyes, or a mohair wig. Other features also included a custom-made body. These dolls were also sold through Sears Roebuck mail order catalogs, too. What makes them fragile: the paint and when it was applied didn't fair well over time. Some of the faces have rust, missing almost all their original paint and this was the first tin head doll I had ever laid eyes on. What's with its oven-mitt sized hands? The all cloth body was likely custom-designed back in the day. And don't ask what child wanted their doll to have large cloth hands. As far as I can tell through a visual inspection, the doll appears to be complete with no added Frankenstein limbs. The head is stamped in front and back. However, due to the chipped paint, it is difficult to tell if this tin head doll was produced by Buschow & Beck. The shoes are definitely fragile and the leather soles are paper consistency. The black stockings are excellent for their age and the gray jumper is in good condition (appears to be machine sewed). It was attached with a tiny brass antique doll safety pin with an etched design. I removed the pin and put it away. It sure gives a new name to "metal head".

The Sonora phonograph; it's a far cry from sounding clear as a bell.

It's a Sonora antique phonograph, currently still in the soon-to-be-repaired process, I hope. What very little information I could find on this particular machine, other than the company's existence and who manufactured them, was a man named John Herzog. The Sonora phonograph company was founded in 1913 and closed in 1930. Sonora was a Swiss-American company that jumped on the phonograph bandwagon when these mechanical phonographs were still in their infancy. Slogans such as "Clear as a bell" was one such trademark on their phonographs and 78 records. On the phonograph lid is stenciled with a water slide decal: "Panama-Pacific International Exposition 1915". However, this is extremely vague information to go on. I did research on the information found on the tag affixed to the phonograph located under the turntable and ran into a dead end since there were literally tons of different Sonora phonograph models in production. The most common to see are the "baby grand" style with bulging sides and intricate wood grille. Those particular phonographs are more desirable in my opinion, but nothing like the one I turned up by happenstance. So, for a trade and $27; this Sonora found a new home in the garage for the present time.

The critical issues:
The double mainsprings. These are imperative to get repaired by a professional, of which, I'm not and don't claim to be, either. Until these are repaired, this phonograph won't spin any 78's.
The reproducer or "sound box", the mica diaphragm will need to be replaced and a new gasket o-ring installed to achieve maximum sound quality.

The important little items: The cabinet screws. I'm not complaining that I potentially got myself into a project that will take months perhaps to complete, but for the life of this little phonograph; what became of those tiny screws and main board bolts? This might take a trip to my nearest hardware store to find replacement screws.

Oh, and the lid will require a hinge, screws and bracket arm to hold the lid in place when its raised. I'll get on that as soon as humanly possible.

So was the trade worth it? The main components are present, so yeah. The rest, I believe, will be easy to put back together.

What are those marks on the turntable felt? They appear to be mud dauber residue. In fact, the machine was covered on the inside with similar residue in the speaker as well. Well, given this little phonograph's extremely vague provenance, and the state of this cabinet, it required a good thorough cleaning with a gentle solution of bleach, mild dish soap and water. The turntable felt wasn't cleaned. The main components of this phonograph are nickle-plated and polished up good considering the age of the phonograph. The "After pictures" will be posted as soon as this project is complete.

Update: Well, it's bad. The teeth are cupped in. The fibre gears are damaged, the mainsprings were jammed and one of them does appear to be broke. Will I decide to keep this particular phonograph? I will have to hear how it plays, and if it plays "clear as a bell" as the advertisement proclaims, then yes, I might consider keeping it even though its a low end model. After all that gets done, then the hard part comes in: how to recreate a wood grill like it once originally had. That's another project saved for another day. Oct. 7, 2013- No two Sonora phonographs are alike I'm finding out and its frustrating. I have found no other low end model like mine (pictured above)anywhere on the Internet. I have seen some that 'appear' to be a close runner up. And what I erroneously thought were two screw holes for a metal plate where the lid support goes might be inaccurate. So what, if anything, do those screw holes represent? Likely nothing more than decoration that serves no actual purpose. After this fiasco with Sonora, no more foreign antiques. Trying to find the correct part for them is like cramming an engine from a 76' Datsun into a 58' Ford Edsel, for example. This is still a work in progress, by the way. Oct. 24, 2013- The Sonora motor and parts had quite a journey! They traveled to the wrong address, and then re-routed to my current location. It's still a work in progress. Nov. 1, 2013- I fought, fussed, and gave it my all. But... The Sonora does not meet (or even exceed) my strict standards of quality. It doesn't even hold up to its slogan, 'Clear as a bell', either. Well, now if it wasn't for the flimsy design to play French Pathe 78's, it might have played a normal thin 78 Victor. Alas, I had to support the tone arm and the reproducer just to hear a whisper-quiet playback... uh-- nope. That just won't do. The reproducer will need to be professionally rebuilt, which can run into a sum of money. The reproducer had no way to support its own weight and down it struck the thin shellac record's surface and wobbled... and then skittered across the very beautiful "Hand in Hand Again" by Albert Campbell. Am I out what I sunk into it? Not entirely, but I won't blame anybody that doesn't want a cobbled together-- err, I mean, a fine Frankenstein sitting in their parlor just for looks. It does play, but it has to be one of the strangest phonographs I had ever tackled. I did give it my best effort, but the rest I will leave for some other time.