Furniture Answers!

Remember this little post about this little table? I knew you might. In addition to asking you about its origins, I thought I’d ask the historians at Stickley about it as well and they had an answer I hadn’t expected:

Bob,

Your table was made in Grand Rapids, Michigan at the factory of Albert

Stickley who was one of the five Stickley brothers who were involved in

manufacturing mission style furniture at the turn of the 20th century.

However, it is not a Stickley table. Read on.

Albert began his operations in 1891, aided by his younger brother John

George who, after staying on a while, returned to Fayetteville, NY to work

with his other brother Leopold. The result of that long lasting

relationship is our present day L. & J. G. Stickley Co. Albert, Leopold

and John George also had two other brothers. Gustav, considered by many to

be the father of the Arts and Crafts Movement, [who] had his factory in Eastwood

N. Y. and Charles, whose factory was in Binghamton, N. Y.

However, your table was made in 1940 twenty years after the heyday of the

Arts and Crafts Movement brought Stickley’s mission oak furniture to

prominence. As a matter of fact, these tables were designed and built by

the Western Table Co. of Selma, Alabama who purchased Albert’s company in

the late 1930s. Albert died in 1928. Unfortunately I have no catalogs of

the items made during this period, only newspaper advertisements and

descriptions in trade journals. The trademark brand is well documented,

however, as being used illegally by that company.

Leopold Stickley, who sued them and won, hotly contested Western Table

Company’s use of the Stickley name in 1940. He argued that the use of the

Stickley name was a violation of his brothers’ rights and was not sold to

the Western Table Co. when they purchased the factory. However many pieces

had already been sold with the Stickley name branded into the bottom as

yours is.

There is no active collector interest in this particular line of furniture

because Albert Stickley did not design these tables nor are they actually

considered to be Stickley in the collector’s view. If a collector market

emerges only pieces in excellent original condition will be valuable. Value

on these items is arbitrary and I have no prior sale information to base an

accurate appraisal other than an occasional sale on internet web sites [sic]

indicating value [of] $20-$40 for end tables.

Sincerely,

Michael [withheld – ed]

Corporate Historian

I think that story is better than the boring “do you have any idea what it’s worth” Antiques Roadshow spiel if it was a “real” Stickley table. This one is a fascinating tale in my opinion, and one that I don’t think you hear very often. I certainly wasn’t looking for big bucks by selling, and I certainly enjoy the description of the making of this fine piece of furniture much more. I’d have to say that I’m a little richer today (just because I love this stuff).

Your pal,

bob

BTW, I used the contents of the gentleman’s email, and provided minor edits for clarity, without permission, but I found it interesting enough to post anyway. If you have a question about Stickley, they seem (mostly, but that’s another story) happy to oblige.

Day One (A Quick Note)

– or –

How To Feel Stupid

In a perfect world, I should have remembered everything I purged from the tiny nugget I call my mind when I restarted work for the local Omnipresent Charitable Organization. All of the server configuration bits, all of the names, indeed, even how to work Windows XP.

Sadly, that was not the case.

I found myself casting about for answers to the simplest questions, overwhelmed by the flurry of information. Sure I’m being a little overdramatic (gee, just a tad. – ed), but I had few other thoughts than “I should know this already.”

Of course, that’s not how the entire day went, but it’s getting late and I’d like to start tomorrow earlier, so I’ll be brief. My first day back at work went how your last first day at work went. Frenzied, chaotic, and satisfying.

Your relieved pal,

bob

Re: Big Interview This Morning Part IV

– or –

The Eagle Has Landed

I got it!

Your pal,

bob

P.S. I’ll update this post throughout the day with additions as they come to me (and if I can phrase them in a employment-sensitive way). – bob

UPDATE? HA! Well, the updates sure didn’t happen, did they? It’s Saturday and I originally posted this thing on Thursday. Guess I couldn’t think of anything “employment-sensitive” to say. I think I can describe the job though (because you’ve asked!). I’ll be responsible for maintaining fifty or so client computers, a hundred or so phones, some PDAs, a bunch of mobile phones, and other sundry gizmos.

Even though I’ll be working at the big Omnipresent Charitable Organization I don’t think that I’ll actually be helping people, but I’ll be helping the people who help people! That should count for something on my karmic balance sheet, shouldn’t it?

Oh yeah, I get an office too. Pretty neat, don’t you think?

Home Depot Parking Lot/Petri Dish

Lileks has Target, I have Home Depot. The one closest to The 1912 House may not be the best in the county (it was actually called the worst by the guy ahead of me in line for self-damn-checkout) but it’s ours and it’s convenient, and they’ve started to carry things to fix houses as old as ours in the neighborhood.

I go there nearly every day, sometimes multiple times a day. It’s not so uncommon for a lot of people, but if I can get a couple of bits out of it, what’s the harm?

Here’s the scary observation du jour; I was standing by the Jeep after loading up my purchases, and some guy comes marching out of Home Depot with his own purchase. What’s so odd about that? Well, he was wearing a Nike swimming cap (on his head? – ed That’s cute. – bob) and swim goggles.

So I’m thinking, was this guy doing laps, made the turn and suddenly thought “Gee! I need to pick something up at Home Depot! No, right now!” That’s the only scenario I could come up with. Except for the problem that if he had a sudden shopping urge while swimming, shouldn’t he have been wet? Is this merely an extension of the guys-wearing-bike-shorts-while-not-on-a-bike phenomenon?

Was he hoping that the gals would peer over the tops of their designer sunglasses and purr, “Look at the skull on that guy!”

Maybe he was simply a freak.

Your patient observer,

bob

INJURY UPDATE: As soon as I got done typing the final “b” above, I was stung in the neck by a wasp. I will take that as a sign from the Powers That Be to stop making fun of the retarded kids (or whatever that guy’s story is). Point taken.

INJURY UPDATE II: I don’t recall having ever been stung by a wasp before. I wonder if I’m allergic. The left side of my neck is kinda tingly. Does that mean anything?

Re: Big Interview This Morning Part III

– or –

An Open Letter To My Telephone

Why won’t you ring?

Your best friend ever,

bob

P.S. No, I’m not talking about the pre-recorded messages from “Account Executives” hoping beyond hope to lower my mortgage interest rates. It’s the other call I’m looking for. I think you know what I mean. – bob

News Alert! Administration Full Of Liars!

By now you’ve heard of Secretary Of State Colin Powell’s “Pottery Barn Rule” regarding Iraq. In Bob Woodward’s new book, he quotes Powell advising the President “you break it, you own it.”

Turns out though that Pottery Barn is plenty upset about the misrepresentation of their return policy. Actually, I’ve had good luck with Pottery Barn.

We ordered a couple mirrors from them for the bathroom remodel and one arrived with a little chip. The guy on the phone said “okay, just throw it away or donate it or something and we’ll send you a new one.” That was it. No extra charge, no grief, painless.

So hey! Cut Pottery Barn some slack. This is scandalous!

Your pal,

bob

(via Wonkette)

I Can’t Drive 65.1!

Here in San Diego, there’s been a big push to crack down on speeding over the last few weeks. “Zero Tolerance,” they say. It’s to make us safer, right? The California Highway Patrol, the County Sheriff, and local police are every-freaking-where. I haven’t seen this level of police presence on the freeways since, well, never (not even during two Super Bowls, presidential visits, or after 9-11? -ed I guess by “never” I meant, well, never ever. – bob)

So what spurred the change? An inkling comes today from a new initiative from the state to crack down on cars registered out of state. Apparently, California is asking you to snitch on people because we’re losing “millions of dollars in revenue a year.”

Wasn’t the mission of the California Highway Patrol to be primarily responsible for keeping the highways safe, not revenue generation. We knew that this was bogus, but now the Highway Patrol has actually come out and said it. The state needs the cash and the CHP is going to collect it.

I can’t help but wonder if “Zero Tolerance” for speeders was undertaken along those same lines of thought. But that would be cynical of me, wouldn’t it? (maybe a secret war waged by the ninnies of the Anti-Destination League? – ed Or an evil fuel conservation cabal! Oh, wait, that’s a good thing. Crap. – bob)

Your conspiratorial pal,

bob

Furniture Blogging!

So, I have this table that I’d like to find out some information on. It’s a Stickley Model 3582 and was produced in Grand Rapids, MI. Beyond the leather faces on the top, I know nothing about it. I’ve posted a little album with more pictures here. If you know anything, I’d appreciate all the information you can send (including what this kind of table is called!). I may try to get rid of it, I may hold on to it. Who can really say?

Thanks for the help,

bob

UPDATE: Yes Virginia, those are actual pictures of the inside of my garage. And yes dear, Santa is real and has been bestowing all manner of toys, trinkets and tchochkes upon us. Yes sweetheart, we do put them all in the garage. What’s that? Oh, no… we hold on to all of those things forever. Good night dear.

Re: Big Interview This Morning Part II

– or –

Makin’ With The Pretty

I think aesthetics are important to emotional well-being and elegant engineering can almost seem like jewelry. From an “ideal cut” diamond to the perfect cupholder, I agree with many others that good design improves our society, sometimes imperceptibly, sometimes by greatly elevating our quality of life.

So as an example, I ask you which design makes you happier? This?

or this?

Discuss.

Your pal,

bob

UPDATE: Note the small children on the screen shots. I think this evens out the competition. Also note that I didn’t attempt to skew the results by adding puppies to one and not the other. You’re welcome.

UPDATE II: More discussion of aesthetics.

Is Them Fellers Really Liberals?

On my brother’s recommendation (and his lamentation on the shutdown in Chicago today) I decided to spend the day with Air America Radio. They don’t broadcast in San Diego (which is a shame, because I think this town could use them) so I’ve been streaming their programming over the Innernut through the gizmos in The 1912 House.

I caught the end of Fanken’s show (the co-host is insufferable, he seems kind of lost) and listened to all three hours of the Randi Rhodes Show (gee! she’s kinda cranky but accessible, like a younger Ann Richards). Now it’s time for Marty Kaplan’s show (late of Marketplace on PRI).

Certainly, there’s a left-wing bent to the whole endeavor. You know, picking on Bush and lately “what did he know and when did he know it” discussions, but there’s kind of a libertarian side as well (note the small “L”). This is kind of surprising to me. Can this potentially mean that the liberals can look beyond the election toward how we can perhaps cut down the scale of government while protecting the people who can’t protect themselves?

That doesn’t seem to be the agenda at present over there. Sure there have been noises today in that direction, but right now it’s “anybody but Bush.” Will the big stars leave after the election? I suspect so. That leaves Air America with Marty, Randi, and perhaps Chuck D in 2005. Good luck with that.

Who knows if the utility players on the squad can hold up the team in the shadow of Limbaugh, Liddy, and the rest. Let’s face it, a syndicated radio show can’t hold up against (at least in Southern California) John and Ken on KFI in L.A. but they have a chance against former Mayor Roger Hedgecock on KOGO in San Diego. People listen to Hedgecock for the OUTRAGE, so maybe Air America can do okay here. Oh, except that they’re not local. Ooops.

Okay, I guess what I’m saying is that perhaps AM stations should option the Air America content for, maybe, morning drivetime or middays, but afternoon drivetime? Leave that to the locals.

Hey look! Now I’m a radio programming genius!

Your pal,

bob

Let’s Look At The Logs! – Snotty Edition

The hilarious Achoo! post from a couple days ago has yielded some interesting results. Sure, I’ve received email suggesting different allergy medications, homeopathic cures, and one response lauding me for the onomatopoeia. Without knowing, however, I seem to have tapped into some weird Latin American cult that I can’t really explain (based on the language barrier).

Readers from Mexico as well as Uruguay have searched, strangely, for “SNKXXX.” Was it some pop culture indie reference that I wasn’t aware of? Would it make Michael Powell blush if translated?

What is this thing?

The sniffle heard ’round the world!

Your best pal,

bob

I Was Pretty Good With Math

From Koblogikawa (via Wonkette)

P.S. Leave your politics at the door with this one. Don’t read anything into it but the images. That’s it. No over-analyzing. Stop it!

Easter 101: For Agnostics!

The pagans (of many stripes) had a neat idea for a springtime celebration long ago that included symbols of rebirth like eggs and chocolate (chocolate? -ed everyone knows that chocolate is an aphrodisiac! -bob). The Church (you pick, as long as it’s Christian) added a certain bit about the resurrection of their star player, than voila! Easter was, um, born!

As a recovering Catholic, I haven’t attended a mass in nearly a decade, but Dad’s in town, is unfamiliar with the landscape, and I was hoping for something a little special for his Sunday observance. I settled on the oldest Catholic church in California (gee, what a stretch! -ed) which happens to be five minutes from The 1912 House. Mom declined the invitation for the 7:00 a.m. service, so Dad and I went this morning.

Sure, I would’ve loved to spend more time in the old hall, but the first (of ten!) services for the day was held in the newer chapel with broad windows that faced East overlooking Mission Gorge. This, combined with the padre’s thick Irish brogue, lent a certain atmosphere to the proceedings. A sunrise service without being outside, albeit with the side doors open, parishoners could take in the new daylight through the misty San Diego morning and Torrey Pines while listening to at least fifty birds wake up.

Oh yeah, there was a Catholic mass too.

I had enough respect for the institution to stand up when called upon, and sit down when that order was given. Kneeling? No thanks. “The Lord be with you…” was greeted by my silence (even though I knew the keyphrase to respond with). Like a test subject, I was champing at the bit at times to reply, but I knew that I shouldn’t. So I didn’t. Hell, I’ve been out of the religion biz for a good long time, why wake up that monster now?

Dad enjoyed the service, the historical bits of the mission compound and, I think, that I went with him. What he and my Mom enjoyed more though, was being around my nephew. That kid’s full of exuberance, there’s no better way to put it. He loves Grandma and Grandpa. He was a little bit freaked out about Dad’s new lack of facial hair (“Mustache OFF! Grandpa!”), but got over that quickly. Naptime seemed a little less important to him. Sticks, balls, and leaves became immensely entertaining. He even developed a little in-joke by placing a finger under his nose (“Mustache OFF! Ha!”).

The weekend worked out much better than expected (even though I overcooked the asparagus last night). We had a good time together and to coin a phrase, I feel blessed.

by whom?

who cares!

Your best pal,

bob