Who’s Morrissey? Investigating a Mysterious Flasher Pin
For the diligent conservator of political memorabilia, identification of vanquished local candidates’ campaign items is often a bit analogous to a sunken shipwreck: they exhibit an annoying proclivity to end up interred in a proverbial sea of oblivion. The passage of time and the absence of the candidate’s prolonged political buoyancy often serve to submerse and erode prior knowledge about them which might otherwise be perpetuated, and the ultimate consequence, unfortunate although not unforeseen, is that like ships on a treacherous reef, subsequent investigation attempts can quite simply “run aground”. Another more encouraging side of a shipwreck, however, is that revealing treasures tend to “surface” in the end . For myself, an enigmatic flasher or lenticular button which had sunken into an amnesic abyss after a 1960’s mayoral race, constituted just the latest of this sort of treasure which I wished to rescue from the murky depths of neglect and whose hermetic chest of memories I sought to unlock.
A mysterious “Morrissey for Mayor” flasher button
This particular button resurfaced in a manner similar to that of many legendary “Ghost ships” devoid of crew, and likewise, it exhibited a patently-pronounced paucity of clues relative to its provenance. Housed in a blue plastic case, it promotes the candidacy of one Morrissey for mayor; an initial uncertainty of mine involved the button’s manufacturer and in an attempt to dissipate uncertainties surrounding it, I sought the expertise of other flasher fanatics like myself; renowned flasher collector Melyssa Fratkin theorized that the button was created by the Cine-Vue Company of Yonkers, New York. If so, It likely constituted yet another stage of a systematic evolution of button types which had previously included flasher discs housed in clear and red-rimmed soft plastic cases, and which one could easily speculate were not extremely durable. Don Rosen, another preeminent enthusiast in the field, dissented, however, speculating that the button, whose reverse case showed no markings, and whose obverse featured a pair of distinguishing, miniscule “pegs” or “nodes” to maintain its inner and outer components in place, probably comprised one of a series produced by a relatively obscure and unidentified company which had operated in New York in the early to mid 1960’s. I, myself was also dubitative with regard to the Cine-vue’s qualification to lenticular lineage, since that manufacturer’s next rung of evolution subsequent to its pliable plastic cases consisted specifically of metal cases, not hard plastic ones.
Given that this same undisclosed company had once constituted a prolific progenitor of such paraphernalia which literally and figuratively plasticized the political landscape, an important inquiry arose – that regarding the apparent dematerialization of its identity. To provide the reader a somewhat more-encompassing perspective of the extensive reach of this precise variety of buttons, the author can indicate their utilization in such far-flung campaigns as those of of Senator Karl Mundt of South Dakota , Walter Mondale of Minnesota, and Matt Welsh of Indiana, as well as the far more conspicuous ones of Lyndon Johnson and Barry Goldwater, and possibly as late as 1970 for the Connecticut U.S. senate candidacy of Democrat Joseph Duffey. How then, could the name, and indeed the entirety of the historical legacy bequeathed by such an enterprise have seemingly so completely dissolved like a grain of salt in the ocean of posterity?
A flasher or lenticular button of the same manufacture for South Dakota Senator Karl Mundt
But who exactly was Morrissey, himself?, I queried, as the candidate’s own blue-tinged countenance seemed to beam back at me from behind the ribbed plastic veneer, as if silently imploring for resuscitation of his identity. As I investigated, my disillusionment grew – alas, as in pirate lore, dead men truly seem to tell no tales, and somewhat akin to those whose mortal remains have been consecrated to the voracious inhabitants of Davey Jones’ s locker, the venerable Mr. Morrissey did not even seem to enjoy a virtual tombstone on www.politicalgraveyard.com! Since the piece had been discovered along with another red-plastic button of similar manufacture promoting Richardson Dilworth from the 1962 Pennsylvania gubernatorial race, could it be another Pennsylvania local item?, I enquired. One particularly mollifying consideration in my sleuthing was that given the elevated cost of flasher button production, only a well-funded candidate’s campaign could afford an expenditure for such items; logical deduction led me to conclude that just as the turbid muck of the ocean floor can on occasion so diaphanously reveal barnacle-encrusted relics of yesteryear, the mystery candidate must have at least produced some additional lasting impressions in the malleable mass of the historical record, which still awaited discovery.
The Richardson Dilworth flasher with which my Morrissey flasher was found.
For me, just like Mel Fisher and his arduous quest for the Atocha, the thrill of the hunt would most certainly climax and could eventually be eclipsed by the gratifying sense of fulfillment and accomplishment which accompany the final discovery, and ultimately with the exhumation of the an unknown politician’s identity being successfully consummated! Can anyone assist me in unlocking these secrets?
Notice: the hopeful salvage operation undertaken to unlock the cryptic ark of treasures of my "Morrissey for Mayor" lenticular button has recently proven fruitful. Buoyed by the assistance of fellow collector Carl Fisher, who engaged in some ventures of "subaquatic" archival exploration, the mysterious candidate's identity, although a bit waterlogged, has effervesced to the surface; the Morrissey in question is Gregory Morrissey; A Democrat who became the first Mayor of West Haven Connecticut in 1962 after that area's initial incorporation as a city (perhaps why his campaign indulged in the purchase of flasher buttons), Mr. Morrissey was swept away in a bit of a Republican undercurrent by Alexander Zarnowski in 1965 after two terms occupying the proverbial helm, and although he did occupy other municipal positions, he, like a fabled "piece of eight", was thereafter left somewhat sunken in the sedimentary "silt" which so often accompanies the tides of history until his recent rediscovery. Having cleared the temporal "encrustation" from one aspect of this pin, another still remains - that of its manufacturer. I thus revisit my previous refrain of "Can anyone assist me ?"!