Archive for the 'History' Category

The Mailbag: A Post-War Thayer

A visitor writes:

I found this orphan at a yard sale. As you can tell, I’m drawn to things nobody else wants. All I know about it is it’s old and it’s cool. Can you tell me what period this is from, or anything else about it? When I Google Thayer I get surprisingly little information. I’m inclined to guess 30’s – 40’s?

Here’s the “orphan” in question:

Actually, this is a post-WWII stroller from the early 1950s. It’s possible that it may have been sold in the late 1940s, but this style is not typical of Thayers sold immediately after WWII.  Thayer offered quite a few models like this one during the 1950s; it was an era which marked the transition from large carriages/prams to the much leaner strollers of the 1960s.

As you discovered, there’s little information about the company.  Thayer began life in 1874 as the Erie Chair Company in Erie, Pennsylvania,  which became the Downing Carriage Company in 1882.  H. N. Thayer was a principle in the Downing Carriage Company, which manufactured rattan and reed “sleeping coaches” (we’d call them baby carriages — these would have been the ones people usually describe as “wicker”) along with a host of other baby gear items.

Downing existed at least through 1894, but by 1903 H. N. Thayer was manufacturing baby carriages in Erie under his own name at the site of the former Downing plant.  The H. N. Thayer Company made children’s toys and vehicles, including baby carriages, wagons, velocipedes, and pedal cars.

The Thayer company existed in the early 1920s, but I’ve found very little documentation for the period which covers the era between WWI and WWII.  By 1929, of course, the country was spiraling deeply into depression, when more than a few companies were struggling, and there were fewer and fewer consumers with discretionary funds to spend.  It’s likely that Thayer continued during this time, to the extent possible, to produce “wicker” baby coaches, along with the sulkies they made in the ‘teens, and metal and canvas “go-kart” type strollers.

At some point during this period, Thayer relocated to Gardner, Massachusetts, which had become a huge manufacturing hub and was the home of a burgeoning baby carriage industry.  Thayer was in Gardner by 1940, but it is likely that the plant was diverted to essential wartime manufacturing during 1942-1945; production of less-critical goods like baby strollers was severely curtailed during the war years.

Thayer came back with a roar post-WWII, first with deep-bodied baby buggies with flexible synthetic bodies and hoods, and then with basic steel strollers.  Thayer strollers of the 1940s typically had simple metal bodies or frames with a minimum of upholstery; it wasn’t until the late 1940s and into the 1950s that “convertible” strollers like yours appeared with full hoods and the more finished look that the new vinyl-like fabrics allowed.

In the 1950s, Thayer was one of the best-known makers of baby carriages and strollers in the eastern USA, offering, too, a full line of doll buggies made to look just like the “real” thing.  By 1957, though, Thayer had discontinued at least one line of doll strollers made like this Thayer, and by the early 1960s these large and heavy strollers, with their full hoods and metal footwells, were history.

I’ve been unable to locate any information about Thayer in the 1960s, nor any signs that Thayer ever made the lighter, smaller strollers that rapidly took over the market during that decade.  I  haven’t been able to determine if the company closed its doors, or if it was bought-out by a competitor — not an uncommon scenario.  In the mid-1970s the old Thayer complex in Gardner was acquired by Simplex (since acquired by Tyco International), and, certainly by then, Thayer was no more.

The Mailbag: Salesman’s Sample

One of our favorite correspondents wrote regarding this beautiful little pram:

I have attached a photo of a small (8 inch) doll stroller that I unearthed at a sale recently but although it has a label (Red Brand) Made in France I can’t seem to come up with any info or dates.

This lovely thing is a salesman’s model.  In the heyday of prams, it made sense for salesmen to carry small versions; hauling even one full-size model around wasn’t really feasible, and what could evoke the charm of a full-size perambulator more than a miniature version?  This model’s design is very typical of post-WWII prams, and undoubtedly dates from the late 1940s-1950s.

Our correspondent’s pram is especially nice because it includes the apron – an accessory often lost, even when it belongs to a full-sized pram.  Here’s a close look at the hood arms and the apron attachment:

There are even little leather suspension straps on the chassis, just like the ones on a “real” pram:

The full-size version would have had buckles, of course, rather than a fixed strap; some concessions were necessary as a result of miniaturization.  In spite of that, the detailing is quite impressive.  Look at the piping on the hood, for example:

There were probably other models, from other companies, but, as of now, I haven’t seen any survivors that weren’t marked “Red” and “made in France”:

It’s interesting that this style of pram is utterly English, and, though the sample was made in France, the label is in English, suggesting that the salesmen in question were from Great Britain or the USA.

It’s likely that the actual prams delivered, once the sale was made, differed at least somewhat from the samples, as tends to happen once an order is placed.  That’s often due to manufacturing variances, but, of course, buyers — whether retail or private — may also have been given the option of choosing from a range of custom colors.   I do wonder, though, how many prospective customers fell in love with these tiny versions, and might have settled just as happily for them, rather than the full-sized ones.

Sulky, Redux. And Doubled.

The Pram Museum has a single-seat sulky, and a fair amount of documentation about sulkies in general, but nothing describing this sweet little vehicle, a two-baby transporter:

(Normally we obscure the faces of little ones on this blog, but it’s safe to say that the identity of these two cuties is not likely to be compromised by publishing this photo.  I suspect they are at least seventy years old now, and not readily identified by peering at this photo.)

The wooden armrests are a nice touch, and there may be some minimal padding along the seat backs (a nicety that our sulky lacks) .  The tires look as if they came off a classic tricycle, and it looks as if there are four of them — which makes one wonder:  Why is this a sulky, and pulled, instead of a stroller, and pushed?

Related:  Mailbag:  A Sulky

Mailbag: A Sulky

Sandra writes:

I acquired this pushchair but have no idea of the manufacturer or date it is  as it has no identifying marks at all. I have looked on the internet but have not found anything that looks like it. Thought you may have some idea it is very unusual having only two wheels and canvas seat with leather straps.

Here’s the vehicle in question:

This is a sulky — a small, light cart meant to transport a child.  Sulkies have been around, in some form or another, since the early 1900s.  This one, the simplest style possible, is probably from the 40s, but that’s only an educated guess, not an actual fact.  Although it is possible to push it, it was probably meant to be pulled backwards, once the stand was folded up.

This one is a very trimmed-down version, rather striking in its minimalism, with a beautiful curve below the seat.

Sulkies were one of a number of variations on the theme of “light folder” in the 1940s and 1950s.  Here’s an ad from 1950:

The text reads:

Give baby a smooth ride in this sophisticated sulky.  The adjustable top protects against wind and sun.  Folds easily to take baby in your car.

Along with the full seat and hood, this sulky has two tiny rear wheels, allowing it to be pulled at quite an angle, but preventing disaster if the angle gets too acute.  Sulkies typically didn’t have brakes; preventing that kind of disaster was strictly the obligation of whoever held the handle.  The ad also notes that folders with brakes begin at more than twice this price.

Ours, at The Pram Museum, is very similar to the sulky in this ad.  The seat and hood are a light weight denim — yes, just like modern (non-stretch) denim.  Most cloth strollers and prams were well-coated to make them waterproof, but this is plain cotton, as the ad notes, providing protection only against “wind and sun”.  This wouldn’t be a rainy day vehicle.

Note the black, swooping, fenders.  They are pressed metal, and thus rather cheaply made, but a touch of fashionable styling.

If Sandra’s is the trimmest and the sleekest of the mid-century sulkies, ours is the most bloated:  It really is smaller and more portable than most of the folding strollers of the era, but that advantage might have been erased by the necessity of pulling, rather than pushing, it.

Siebert Steering Carriage: Another Advert

The Siebert Steering Baby Carriage has been previously discussed here and here.  This ad,  from September, 1945, covers all the salient features of this unusual buggy in detail:

The sketch doesn’t look exactly like the real thing, but that’s not  surprising; ads of the time often bore only a passing resemblance to the actual product as shown in other ads, or to the one owned by the visitor who first wrote to us:

What is surprising is that the smaller drawings detail the mechanics very well.  The text extols the superior maneuverability the casters offer (it’s point no. 1 in the ad):

Swivel action wheels providing easy and tireless handling motion for going around curves and corners in the house or on the porch, or carriage will turn around in its own radius if necessary.  Such easy steering is very helpful outdoors in turning corners, backing up, reversing direction, etc.

As the copywriter points out, this was

THE ONLY BABY CARRIAGE THAT REALLY STEERS

But that wasn’t its only important feature; Siebert also touts (point no. 4) the

Not-tip safety bar — this device ensures complete safety and prevents child from tipping over in carriage if left by himself or carriage is used as a bassinet.

At $37.95, this was not a cheap carriage.  Prices for standard soft-bodied pram-type buggies tended to hover around $30.00; $50.00 was high (although true luxury prams would be higher).

Sadly, those fantastic casters weren’t even mentioned in a 1951 advertisement illustrated by a picture of the Siebert Steering Carriage, and by 1952, the steering carriage profile seems to have disappeared, supplanted by that of more conventional buggies like the “famous Siebert Slumberland” carriage:

Standard wheels.  Sic transit gloria.

Related – Mailbag: New Tech, 1945-Style and  Siebert Steering Carriage: The Patent

Siebert Steering Carriage: The Patent

Pram Watch first took a look at the Siebert Steering Baby Carriage in an earlier post.  It’s a very unusual design from 1945, featuring a set of swivel wheels instead of the fixed ones normally found on  US baby carriages of that time.

In March of 1946, Donald W. Siebert applied for a patent, on behalf of the O. W. Siebert Company,  for a “running gear for baby carriages and the like” — a brand-new use for the over-sized casters that were common on wheelchairs.  Here’s a schematic from that filing:

Pretty cool, isn’t it?  The innovation was essentially the simple addition of large, ordinary, casters, but it was a revolutionary idea on a buggy.  There’s an interesting grille on the front (in the US, we might be tempted to call it a “cow catcher“) that guards the casters.  Here a complete sketch from the patent filing, showing the grille in detail :

And here’s a close-up on the carriage:

The metal work is substantial, and nothing like what you’d see today:

Those hard rubber tires are typical of US strollers and prams of the era; if they look like tricycle tires, there’s a good reason.  Like many other similar companies, Siebert also made tricycles, as well as other wheeled toys.

The patent, number 2,433,069, was granted on December 23, 1947 to Donald W. Siebert, the son of the company’s founder, and its president at the time of the grant.

This new and refreshing take on pram tech didn’t catch on.  Donald Siebert’s radical re-engineering was too distant from the elegant look of the British prams nearly every US mother dreamed of — and too far ahead of its time.  More’s the pity!

RelatedMailbag: New Tech, 1945-Style and Siebert Steering Carriage: Another Advert

Mailbag: New Tech, 1945-Style

A visitor writes:

I’ve  got a 50’s (?) pram from US and my question is if you know anything about it?  .  .  .  Do you know if it came originally with those front wheels or is it custom-made?

Why, yes, I do!  Here’s the pram in question:

You can see why our visitor wonders about the wheels.  And the answer is, yes, those front wheels are original.  Your pram is a “Siebert Steering Baby Carriage”:

The hottest value on the market — this is the fastest selling carriage in the country; beautifully styled in luxuriously heavy coated cloth with chrome metal gear including bumper. See it and You’ll buy it.

That’s what the ad guys said, anyway.  The claim of hot sales is undoubtedly over-blown; after the war, as before, mothers were acquiring prams as a matter of style as as much as practicality, and, in those heady days of conformist consumerism, most weren’t eager to push a buggy the neighbors might find peculiar.

Although I have loved this carriage from the moment I first saw it in an ad, this is not a model that captured either the hearts of mothers, nor of rival manufacturers, who, notably, did not rush to copy it.

Those wheels were definitely odd for the time.  They are this buggy’s claim to fame:  In every other respect, it’s very much like standard USA coaches from this era. It wasn’t until the advent of the Dutch Bugaboo in 1999 that kooky, over-sized swivel wheels became chic.  Bugaboo made over-sized casters iconic; although the chassis is very different, you can see how modern the 1945 wheel alignment looks, immortalized here on a 2007 Netherlands stamp:

Bugaboo showed its own genius when they named their creation the “Frog”, which made a quirky virtue out of a silhouette that had no established market.

Otto W. Siebert founded the  O. W. Siebert company, a manufacturer of baby carriages and velocipedes, in 1921 after an early association with H.N. Thayer in Erie, Pennsylvania, which also manufactured baby strollers and carriages.

Donald W. Siebert, the inventor of the steering baby carriage, was Otto’s son, and president of the company after his father’s retirement in 1946.  O.W. Siebert was located in Gardner, Massachusetts, a heavy  manufacturing area in the northeastern USA, from the late 1800s through the middle of the 20th century; this carriage was made there.

There’s more to learn about this Siebert; additional posts forthcoming.

Stamp image from Bugaboo

Related:  Siebert Steering Carriage: The Patent and Siebert Steering Carriage:  Another Advert

Mailbag: Children’s Coaches, etc.

By email:

Well this query is a bit of a longshot but here goes:  I live in England and have just bought a miniature Victoria carriage (ie an exact replica of a full size Victoria carriage as used by the well to do in the 19th century but on a much smaller scale and designed for a child).  It is an original and was designed to be pulled by a small pony (or possibly even a goat or large dog).  It has the usual driven carriage amenities – whip holder, coach lamps, underseat storeage etc and there is (as on the traditional Victoria) a small driver’s seat for the coachman as well as the passenger seat.

I’ve been trying to find out about the history of children’s coaches and find the similarity between the coach and early prams really interesting.   There is very little information out there about children’s coaches (well, I suppose it is a pretty obscure subject in the general scheme of things!) and I wondered if by any chance you knew anything about them – I suppose my main curiosity is about at what age did a child go from using a pram to using a coach (if indeed that is what happened).  There’s a story that Queen Victoria’s children rode in miniature coaches around one of the estates but I can’t find any facts to substantiate this.

The link between horse-drawn carriages, coaches and prams is no accident, of course. Just as prams were heavily influenced by automobile styling in the latter half of the 20th century, so were early prams designed with adult coaches in mind. A sure-fire quality endorsement for a traditional perambulator was to call it “coach-built”, implying that it was made by hand by true craftsmen. (And, yes, they were men!)

When  horses were abundant, coaches were a practical means of travel for people of all economic levels, and it’s quite possible that Queen Victoria’s children gallivanted about in child-scale versions – an excess of wealth often leads to this sort of extravagance. In line with the idea that a picture is worth a thousand words, this charming children’s coach illustrates the point (it sold, according to the auction house, for £1,880):

auct-carrWhen automobiles were new, early designs owed a lot to the old-style, equine-driven buggies.  Here’s a photo of Lord Howard de Walden in his horseless carriage (a Panhard, I think, late 19th, early 20th century). It’s obvious that these two buggies are cousins, if not outright siblings:

hs-lsAs the 20th century lumbered onward and prams acquired steel bodies, baby carriage design was often influenced by what was going on in the automotive world.  But that’s a post for another day .  .  .

Your question about “what age a child [went] from using a pram to using a coach” isn’t entirely simple. Prams became ubiquitous in the late 19th and early to mid 20th centuries (at least in England), but proper children’s coaches were mostly playthings of the wealthy, as were other elaborate wheeled toys.

Jack Hampshire’s book, Prams Mail Carts & Bassinets, has a photograph of two of Queen Victoria’s children, not in a coach, but in an elaborate carriage with two pretend horses prancing ahead.  There’s a pushbar at the back, but this may have been more of a plaything than serious transportation. Certainly, a toddler would not be sleeping in it.

A pram used to walk a baby, or to put the baby out into the garden, might have been used from birth to five or six years, especially if Mother did her marketing in the village, and had to lug baby, toddler and slightly older child all home along with the day’s haul from the butcher and the greengrocer. Utility, rather than age, often defined “use” in the case of the old “nanny prams”

However, simpler carts like this one, from an 1886 newspaper ad, were used by children generally, as noted, from four to twelve (as the ad claims):

mlct-1886Similar carts (“mailcart” style), as noted by Jack Hampshire, were pulled by goats or donkeys (and probably a pet pony or two), commonly at the seashore, where even non-coach owning children could enjoy the novelty of lurching along behind a pretend horse.  Here’s a fictional rendering of little Harry in his goat cart (1894):

go-ct-1894-gutI can’t be sure exactly how your “Victoria carriage” fits into the scheme of these things, though, and not just because this is out of my area of expertise. It sounds as if yours is a marvelous miniaturized version of an elegant full-sized coach, which would be rather different from what Jack Hampshire defined as a “Victoria” style perambulator. Here is, for example, is Prince Charles in his “Victoria”, which is definitely a pram, not a small coach:

ch-vct-300The phrases “Victorian” and even “Victoria” have become so imprecise as to be essentially  meaningless; often people just mean “something old and quaint-looking”.  Hampshire uses it quite specifically, though, to refer to this style, which developed from invalid chairs (early versions of what we call “wheelchairs” now), rather than from coaches or carts, though there’s obviously some borrowing here and there.

Prams Mail Carts & Bassinets, a marvelous book, has been reprinted, and a limited number of copies have recently been available from the Jack Hampshire Trust; however it seems to be off-line now.  I’m investigating, and will post when I learn what’s happened to the site.

Grepa: Of Prams and Ovens

A fellow pram collector in Sweden sent me this photo of her Grepa pram:

li-grp-400

Grepa was not a name I’d seen before.  A little research turned up a bit of information about the company, which made kitchen appliances until June, 2008, when, according to the website, the factory closed its doors for the last time.

There’s a history of the company on the website, but it’s somewhat short of detail when it comes to dates.  (And it’s written in Norwegian, so everything you read here has been run through a translation filter  Thanks, Google!)  Grepa, in its more-or-less modern iteration, began in 1907, and endured its share of tribulations along the way.  Initial production apparently depended on a steady electrical supply, assured steam ship passage, and guaranteed water for the fire hydrant.  (And you were tearing your hair out over that silly little  SBA loan!)

Stoves and household appliances were the company’s mainstay.  Grepa’s pram production began around 1932 as part of an attempt to develop product lines (including children’s cars – probably ride-ons toys? – and doll carriages) to take up the seasonal slack during months when ovens did not sell well.  That worked for about 50 years, but then

[I]n 1982 elected Grepa to concentrate on only a stove manufacturing. They stood over for a selection of what was most profitable, what the future will earn money for and production of prams and other equipment was made down.

The issue appears to have been the mutability of parental taste:

Motane changed all the time, and the year before had been a state of the art, could already next year be completely obsolete.

That was probably a sensible call:   In 1980s traditional prams, even those that had been substantially modernized over the years, virtually disappeared.  (I’m just guessing on the translation of “motane” – isn’t alternative language fun?)

Liina’s Grepa is difficult to date without more information, but clearly it is one of the more modern ones, likely from the 1970s or among the last few made in the early 80s.

Here’s a charming picture of two prams from 1959, just about mid-way through Grepa’s pram production:

gp-kvs-400

The Grepa on the right looks very much like The Pram Museum’s Italian Giordani, though the Giordani is on a higher chassis.  (More information about these two, including the names of the passengers and their care-takers, on the original page.)

So, you’re asking yourself, what does “grep” mean, exactly?  The website says

“Grepa” står for tilitsverdig og førsteklasse.

Google translates this phrase as ‘

“grep” stands for tilitsverdig and first grade.

“Grep” translates, separately, as “grip”, and    “tillitsverdig” translates, separately,  as “on its worthy” so we get the idea here.  First-rate stuff!  (Grep does not appear to be the name of any principal of the company.)

10/2/09  Corrected to show Liina’s true country (my apologies, Liina!), and to add Liina’s note indicating that she thinks “tilitsverdig” means “trustworthy”, which is consistent with Google’s version, but much more graceful.