I was looking through the vintage postcard collection archived in the Lauderdale Library (presently closed to the public), and I came across these two cards showing Gaston Park.
They're nice views. I can't complain about that. The photographer apparently persuaded some neighborhood kids to sit on the ground in front of the park's foliage, and then managed to find two gentlemen (I'm just assuming that; they could be ruffians for all I know) to sit on a bench, while two other boys sat nearby.
It's a well-composed shot. I have no beef with the photography.
What bothers me — as a self-proclaimed "historian" — however, is what happened to that image once it got back to the postcard printing company, where the artists there took considerable liberties with the photograph.
First of all, notice how they labeled the card. The top card is rather clever. "GASTON PARK" is painted across the soles of the shoes of the boys. The other card displays considerably less imagination, with "Gaston Park, Memphis, Tenn." just printed in red in the only blank space available, which was on the walkway.
Now, I think we can assume that the boys didn't actually paint those letters on their shoes, and then arrange themselves so they spelled out the name of the park.
But what bothers me is the liberties taken with the colors here.
The first kid (sitting on the ground, at the left) seems to be wearing some kind of dark-blue sailor outfit in both cards. Okay, that's fine. Very spiffy! But look at the second kid. In that first card he's wearing a blue shirt and dark-blue (or even black) cap. In the other card, the shirt is tan (or orange) and the cap is red (or rust-colored).
One of the other boys is definitely wearing a red jacket in one card, but in the other card, that same jacket is blue.
Other details have also been enhanced by the artist, who decided to add a nice sunset to one of the images; the other just has a clear blue sky.
Okay, I know what you're thinking: Why does this matter, Vance? The photograph was black-and-white, and the artist — who wasn't there, and wasn't provided with detailed notes about the color of the clothing — decorated the card the way he wanted to.
But don't you see, that's why old postcards aren't accurate. It doesn't really make a lot of difference with this particular postcard (assuming that this IS Gaston Park in Memphis — if not for the label, it could be anywhere). But if you are trying to use vintage postcards for historical research on landscapes, buildings, skylines, and street views, you have to be very careful.
Postcard artists tended to embellish their views with flagpoles and trees — sometimes entire buildings — that were never there. They might take away unsightly signs or telephone poles that marred the view. They might completely change the colors of building, just as they have changed the colors of the kids' clothing here.
Old postcards are fun to collect, and looking though the 375,000+ cards in my own collection has certainly kept me occupied while I've been sheltering at home. Just don't always rely on them as your primary source for accurate information about "the good old days."
And that concludes my lesson for today. Thank you for attending.
