A friend and I found a cast iron urn at an abandoned house which was about to be razed, which we "liberated" and placed behind the Senior Center between some benches. You should take a look, DD. The bottom is very like the bottom part of the illustrated urn. It was at an older Italianate house way out Michigan Ave -- I wonder how many founderies an area could support? The house is probably about the same age as Allie's diary, so the urn we found could be from McCullough's.
Deep in a scholarly analysis of, uh, 1940s comic strips, Dusty D could not go see-but she promptly telegraphed her Historical Authenticity Lightning Forensics-Wielding Investigative Team to scrutinize, analyze, and categorize.
The team roared over to Recreation Park at the historically accurate speed of ten miles an hour, and instantly targeted the object in question. After securing the perimeter against inquisitive and possibly dangerous seniors, the team advanced upon the object, moving from tree to tree for concealment. At last Team Member Alpha broke cover and ran towards the target, photographing on the run as the other team members covered him.
Alpha sprinted around the target, obtaining some nice detail shots. The team unsecured the perimeter, briefly mulled over a nearby mound garden festooned with signs about Native American gardening, and then peeled out at top speed on the Emergency Response Vehicle (pictured in background).
You can tell the urn has been painted so many times that the sharpness of detail has softened. But are the gorgeous rococo swirls, scrolls, and leaflike patterns festooning the urn consonant with the cast-iron urn depicted in the old McCullough Foundry ad?
Could this graceful object have been cast in the McCullough foundry? If so, perhaps it was touched by William L. himself. Or imagine Allie bringing William L. his lunch, walking just across Michigan Ave. to the foundry.
Perhaps she admired the cast urn, or even ran a finger along the curling scrolls, as, in an unguarded moment, the Investigative Team did today, quiet and mesmerized.
8 comments :
Isn't it beautiful??? You can see why we had to share this incredible urn with the park, rather than keep it. The poor old house where it was located is falling down, basement filled with water, open to the weather, with the majority of the property returning to swamp. But OUR reconnaissance team checked in the outbuildings and found old accounting books saying that the property once was a plant nursery and, indeed, many beautiful and unusual trees remain on the site.
Lisele: You show your good nature in sharing, instead of keeping, the exquisite urn so that all can enjoy it, as I did today. It is lovely.
That is utterly fascinating about the nursery. Was it by chance the famous 19th-century Lay nursery just east of town? He was known for his amazing nursery of trees. May I ask, did you save and preserve those wonderful old account books, I hope and pray? Oh, how I wish I could have seen what you saw there! So cool and interesting!
Is there any remnant of the site left? It almost physically pains me to hear the Italianate house was...razed, good heavens.
What a beautiful urn. I am glad someone like Lisele found it.
Love the emergency team's response. I can tell they have been well trained by a true professional.
:)
Jen: My crack emergency team is on 24-hour alert for just such historical finds as these.
A small yet highly functional radar dish may be seen on the top of Dusty Diary's modest house, constantly revolving and scanning the city in the hopes of receiving alerts to historical gems such as Lisele's.
I too am glad the lovely urn was found by the right person.
I wonder if this kind of casting had trade marks of some sort on them. I have know knowledge either way. But it seems like the kind of thing that might have been done.
Dusty D's Investigative Team longed to upend this urn, carefully and temporarily extract the geraniums, and scour the bottom for a trademark or patent or the like.
But the team feared the wrath of seniors. So they just withdrew quietly.
The urn is in two *HEAVY* pieces -- you could separate the stand and look underneath for casting trademarks.
The place was owned by Paul F. & Mary K. Herig. That much I know. My friend took a couple of shooting match programs from 1930 & 31, a landscaping bulletin, a Wayne phone book from 1940 and a Westchester Trading Post catalog. But no records. They may still be out there.
The saddest part was the room behind the kitchen, which had two broken windows open to the weather. There was a sliding garage type door on a track, but it couldn't be opened. In this room was a huge mass of stuff that seemed to have belonged to the original family, including items that might have been among Mary's treasures: tea cups and silverware, tablecloths and books, possibly even a scrap book, too mildewed to open. Much of it, I could see from outside, was priced as for a yard sale, I guess, then whatever didn't sell tossed in this room and abandoned. It was eerie and sad being there.
Lisele: You have no idea how much I long to have been at this house before it was destroyed. (Er, it **was** razed, wasn't it?)
The room you describe is so sad. It sounds like an unwanted relative's lifetime of possessions were just "priced to move" and then heaved in that room when they didn't. So sad!
I would have loved to have seen it, melancholy as it must have been.
I might have to reexamine the urn under cover of darkness, for safety. Don't want to be arrested for unlawful urn-separation. I'll dust off my night-vision goggles and put my ninja suit in the wash.
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