A violent toddler with dishevelled hair is shaving himself in front of a mirror, blood dripping from the razor; another little boy is about to decapitate a doll while a frenzied young girl tries to stop him; there are cows selling suet, pigeons selling cooking oils with images of roasted birds, and so on. These are not images designed to act as a warning. Welcome to the early days of advertising, featuring trade cards.
Back in the day, these cards played a big part in helping businesses in the U.S., U.K. and Europe reach customers. As historian Elizabeth Kim points out: “Like print ads today, trade cards played an important role in business operations, providing customers with a carefully constructed impression of a shopkeeper and his business while also serving as a kind of mnemonic device for new customers.” They were circulated widely, and often used as handbills and discount coupons.
Today, trade cards serve as valuable signifiers of the era they were circulated in. They are quite easily accessible since many libraries have large digitised collections that they have put in the public domain. Private ephemera collectors have also digitised their collections and often sell them at nominal prices.
Scholarly works on trade cards have largely focused on cataloguing them and analysing issues like gender and race, but these cards are also an excellent storytelling device, using pictorial tales with global appeal. For instance, the image of the toddler shaving himself was commissioned in the 1880s by Tefft and Esmay Fine Clothing of 42 Genesee Street, Utica, New York. One can’t help but wonder what made the store owners consider this a suitable portrayal of their brand. Was it for shock value? The card has nothing to do with clothing, but it is impactful. On the one hand, it’s a cautionary tale of a child playing with dangerous household objects. On the other, it is a powerful image of a fiendish kid, perhaps making one curious about the store.
Each trade card has a long history, and many stories to tell. They were created for universal appeal, but they have now also become an invaluable commentary on the social and cultural mores of the time.
Evil children clearly had an appeal. This is not art where children have a creepy or diabolic expression; these are young people doing terrible things. The trade card with a little boy about to decapitate a doll was commissioned by The American Piano and Exchange Company. The boy looks shockingly well-prepared for what is clearly a premeditated plan. British firm J&P Coats often featured children with nonchalant expressions torturing their dolls in manual washers. Of course, it made the thread look strong and reliable since the dolls survived the onslaught. But even otherwise, hurting younger children, torturing animals, and destroying things — considered very politically incorrect today — were fairly popular advertising themes then.
The peak of the trade card era in the U.S. was from the 1870s to 1890s, although the tradition had started a long time ago in Europe. Academics Maxine Berg and Helen Clifford trace the history back to 1622, to a French card that belonged to George Marceau, “a master hatter, Paris 1622.” Many renowned engravers like William Hogarth and George Cruikshank also designed trade cards. In fact, some of the artworks bear the artist’s signature style. But more than anything else, these cards reflected day-to-day living — the everyday toil of polishing stoves, baking perfect bread, healing livers and darning socks. In 1918, when the Spanish flu was ravaging the globe, leading American newspapers prioritised war news and anti-German propaganda, while the flu got space only in the inside pages. So advertisements for tonics and other flu medicines became a major source for information about the epidemic.
Similarly, Victorian apothecary cards are not just an excellent source of historical data but also reflect the ambivalence between galenic ideas and new clinical practices. Interestingly, these cards seldom displayed containers of the ointment or syrup itself but showed idyllic settings, with happy children, flowers, young women and scenes from mythology. The soothing images were meant to convey overall good health. Of course, not all of them followed this rule. Merchant’s Gargling Oil, for instance, used a rather evil-looking gorilla to sell the liniment. Of course, that was also because it was supposed to be good “for man and beast”.
Animal themes were hugely popular too. While there are endless motifs of animals going to school, playing sports, dancing, cooking, fencing, drinking and marrying, some images are decidedly morbid. For instance, Magnolia Ham, the “king of hams”, used the image of a dead pig dressed in king’s attire, sitting on a throne. Although, weirdly enough, there’s also the card with a naked baby riding a tortoise. Then there are the cats. They sell either musical instruments or other products with their musical skills. Evidently, Victorians valued good meowing.
It would be impossible to escape racial stereotypes when talking of trade cards. The most common stereotypes were of Asians and black people. For instance, one card has Gen. Ulysses Grant rejecting a fat rat offered by the Chinese when he was on tour there because he “always carries Magnolia Ham”.
Ironically, these cards were created with the hope of gaining Asians and black people as customers. Soap companies, for example, featured the most racial images. Yet, soaps were a multipurpose product used for washing clothes, cleaning and bathing, and it was the household help, who were mostly black during this period, who bought the most soap. Besides soap companies, stove polishes, boot polishes and baking powders also often featured black people on their trade cards.
The writer is a historian based at Queen’s University, Canada. Watching old Bollywood films keeps her going.
