Written by Tom Peeling

From the APIC National

At the APIC National convention in Buffalo, N.Y., button collectors took to the streets this morning to raise awareness of the event and organization by drawing campaign buttons in colored chalk on the sidewalk in front of the Hyatt Regency show hotel.

In the words of Jack Dixey, creator of the event, "You can talk the talk, but can you chalk the walk?"

Apparently they could as collectors from 20 states kneeled on the paver stone sidewalk for an hour and drew their favorite buttons. The winners of the competition were:

1st place: Tom and Becky Peeling, TR Hat's in the Ring button.
2nd place: Wendy Davis, Ike "Don't Let this Happen to You" pin.
3rd place: John Gingerich, a collection of liberal/cause pin drawings

Show co-organizer Mark Evans made sure event participants and artists were kept orderly during the event, some bringing boos from the crowd when they would accidentally step on the artwork.

Hours after the event, passersby the hotel were admiring the artwork and noticing the sign for the show this week, drawing great publicity  for the event.

But, as everyone knows, as soon as the first rain arrives, the artwork will be gone.

Check out more photos from the event here: Chalk and Awe Sidewalk Event Photos

Written by Harvey Sullivan

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 ?"!

Written by HARVEY GOLDBERG

By Harvey Goldberg

This year marks the 50th anniversary of the 1960 Kennedy-Nixon Campaign. Hard to believe it was actually that long ago. At the time it was the closest Presidential election in history, decided by less than 220,000 votes nationwide out of over 69,000,000 cast (49.72% versus 49.55%).

The Electoral College gave Kennedy 303 to Nixon’s 219 which was the closest in any presidential election since 1916. That remained the closest election until the 2000 campaign. This was the first presidential election in which Alaska and Hawaii participated, having been granted statehood the previous year.

The key turning points of the campaign were the four Kennedy-Nixon debates; they were the first presidential debates held on television, and thus attracted enormous publicity. Nixon insisted on campaigning until just a few hours before the first debate started; he had not completely recovered from his hospital stay and thus looked pale, sickly, underweight, and tired. He also refused makeup for the first debate, and as a result his beard stubble showed prominently on the era's black-and-white TV screens.

Nixon's poor appearance on television in the first debate is reflected by the fact that his mother called him immediately following the debate to ask if he was sick. Kennedy, by contrast, rested before the first debate and appeared tanned, confident, and relaxed during the debate. An estimated 80 million viewers watched the first debate.

Most people who watched the debate on TV believed Kennedy had won while radio listeners (a smaller audience) believed Nixon had won. After it had ended, polls showed Kennedy moving from a slight deficit into a slight lead over Nixon. For the remaining three debates, Nixon regained his lost weight, wore television makeup, and appeared more forceful than his initial appearance. However, up to 20 million fewer viewers watched the three remaining debates than the first debate.

Political observers at the time believed that Kennedy won the first debate,[10] Nixon won the second[11] and third debates,[12] and that the fourth debate,[13] which was seen as the strongest performance by both men, was a draw.

Kennedy won the state of Illinois by 9,000 votes and Texas by 46,000 votes. A total of 15 electors - eight from Mississippi, six from Alabama, and one from Oklahoma - refused to vote for either Kennedy or Nixon. Instead, they cast their votes for Senator Harry Byrd, Sr. of Virginia, a conservative Democrat, even though Byrd had not been a candidate for President.

KPIC – The Kennedy Chapter of APIC – published two reference catalogs on the campaign items of John F. Kennedy; Book I in 1981 and Book II in 1993 were done in black and white. Work is beginning on a 50th ANNIVERSARY EDITION in Full Color, which will include all of these references plus items that have turned up since the original books were published.

We are asking all collectors to please submit COLOR IMAGES of any JFK Campaign Items in their collections for inclusion in this new reference. (color photos, digital photos, color photocopies, etc). Thank you.

Written by Andrew Peeling

The last Saturday in February means snow, or at least cold weather, in much of the country. In South Florida, it averages 78 degrees on that date.

Combine political collectibles, warm weather and some good-hearted fun, and  it’s little wonder the South Florida Political Collectibles Show in West Palm Beach continues to thrive, heading for its 19th annual rendition come February 27, 2010.

Dealers from at least 10 states begin gathering at the Best Western Palm Beach Lakes hotel along Interstate 95 in West Palm Beach the Thursday of show week for some room hopping and afternoons by the pool at the resort-style hotel. Regularly attending dealers have included Mark Evans, Bren Price, Bob and Jeannine Coup, Jack Dixey, Tony Atkiss, Ken and Cathy Hosner, Tom Dunn, and many more. The show itself is held at the West Palm Beach Elks Club, 6188 Belvedere Road.

Through the years, some great walk-ins have come through the doors from show visitors. These items, which were auctioned off on the floor via Seattle Rules auction, include a Truman for Eastern District Judge pin, Lincoln ferrotype, rare Third Party pins, Grant Stanhope and many more items from Northeast retirees who brought the items with them when they retired to Florida.

Tables are $50 for show dealers, and admission is $3 for the public. The show opens at 8 a.m. for dealers and 9 a.m. for the public, closing at 4 p.m.

On Saturday night after the show, dealers and friends take in dinner at a local restaurant and then go back to the Peeling house for Becky’s famous key lime pie, and bread pudding,  and a chance to look at Tom’s Theodore Roosevelt collection and Becky’s Fostoria glass collection.

For information about the show, contact Tom Peeling at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it or 561-707-3090 (evenings). For hotel reservations, call the Best Western Palm Beach Lakes Inn, 1800 Palm Beach Lakes Blvd., West Palm Beach, at 561-683-8810  and ask for Rosalie in sales in order to get the special $105 a night room rate. Be sure to mention the show to get this rate.

Written by Harvey Sullivan

The intermittent contemplation of the assortment of items in my political collection habitually engenders  a  plethora of queries on my part.  From this same process of  “immaculate conception”  arose yet another regarding a series of campaign wall plaques by the Ames Sword Company, promoting candidates from the 1884 Presidential campaign, and especially Benjamin Franklin Butler.  Specifically, what incentive could the nation’s most prominent manufacturer of swords, military attire and cannon possibly possess so as to produce such decorative figural art for the campaign of this third party political candidate and others?  Persistent probing served  lend a bit more clarity to this seemingly paradoxical pairing. In fact, the two entities were not mutually exclusive, but rather exhibited a preponderance  of nexuses  which related them, and in all veracity, brought a new significance  to the term “military industrial complex”!

     Among the legion of military personages from the War between the States who subsequently  gained renown in the political arena, Benjamin Butler attained a conspicuous profile analogous to that which projects outward on my trio of three dimensional bas-relief plaques from his 1884 presidential run. Butler harbored a past more checkered than many tablecloths and was perhaps as consummately  histrionic as John Wilkes Booth.   Accustomed to interpreting supporting roles in both the military theater as well as the political stage,  he not only gained  notoriety  (and exhibited notorious ineptitude) in his performance as a Union general, but he also rivaled any self-respecting metronome in his  vacillations as a politician.

       A Massachusetts native, Butler, a Democrat in days of antebellum, opted to wholeheartedly buttress the candidacy of Southern Democrat s(and later ardent Confederates ) Jefferson Davis and John C. Breckenridge.  By the outbreak  of hostilities between the North and the South, however, he had undergone a marked shift in loyalties, and largely due to political connections, ascended with all deliberate speed the rungs of the military scale to the rank of general in the Union Army.  The politically-peripatetic fellow thereafter distinguished himself as the head of the Union occupation of New Orleans, where his draconian & reputedly -rapacious tactics earned him the alternate epithets of “Beast Butler” and “Spoons Butler” (for supposedly absconding  with argentine tableware of households in which he took repast).  Relieved of his new Orleans command, probably as a result of an edict equating  southern belles contemptuous of Union soldiers to “women of the street plying their trade”, Butler later participated with notable incompetence in further botched martial maneuvers  in the conflict’s Eastern Campaign, in which one of his more notable enterprises seems is his employment of personal funds to purchase a dozen of the latest battlefield novelties, Gatling guns, which probably bestowed less terms of military practicality than as nourishment of his own narcissistic albeit pusillanimous ego.

           In the post-war period, politics seemed to fit this portly – moustache-adorned individual with a penchant for self-indulgence like a pair of kid gloves. Butler simply exchanged one set of campaigns, military ones, for another, and rather than a uniform, he donned   the civilian garb of  a man who lived  and died not by the sword, but  by the copious, coveted coffers  of  his congressional constituents.  Politically speaking, Butler indeed seemed preoccupied with what suit correlated best with his ability to “dress for success”, and since the time after the War Between the States was one of Republican domination, Butler outfitted himself  accordingly, serving as a Massachusetts congressman and as a distinguished member of the Radical Republicans, antagonistic of the readmission of formerly secessionist states to the Union; for Republicans of  this time period, the hat did not represent the sole vestment to be tossed into the proverbial “ring” – it was “ the bloody shirt” which constituted a the most prominent piece of political apparel, “waved” when convenient to remind the nation of the tragic conflagration in which the Democrats had embroiled it in days of yore.  His store of bellicosity undiminished by the aforementioned conflict, Butler redirected it toward then-President Andrew Johnson, acquiring fame as one of the House Managers for the impeachment trial of the seventeenth President.

        In the eventual exodus of the storied warrior and legislator from Washington in 1879 resides the genesis of   at least part of the history my political plaques;  Butler returned to his home state of Massachusetts to seek political fortunes, aspiring to the governorship twice, before successfully obtaining it, in his customarily capricious manner, as a Democrat, in 1883.  Significant is the fact that this same state, which had earlier hosted the industrious metalworking craft of Paul Revere, was at that point, also the site of the Ames Sword Company, which had initiated its operations in 1791 in Chelmsford, Massachusetts. As it turns out,  the wares of this  establishment  were not merely limited to implements employed in belligerent undertakings , but were vastly more diverse in nature: in fact,   they included a multitude of utilitarian and decorative wares, such as regalia for the Knights Templar and the Freemasons. Moreover,  in the process of my investigation, I discovered that not only  did the company have a terrestrial site, but enjoyed a virtual one as well on the worldwide web. From this webpage I gleaned that,  in addition to being the largest former and current fabricant of swords and military regalia, Ames  also  operated a prolific brass and bronze foundry  responsible for, among other laudable contributions, a statue of Paul Revere in Lexington Massachusetts, and  the bronze doors of the United States Capitol!

       At this point I could begin to comprehend how the prolific metallic masterworks of Ames intersected none too serendipitously with the political exploits of Ben Butler. As a favorite son of the State of Massachusetts, Butler basked in a degree of acclaim which few other candidates could hope to achieve there, and moreover ,  what better luck than that of having at one’s expedient disposal in that same state a  preeminent manufacturer of an invaluable form of contemporary campaign material, the wall plaque? Prominently displayed in homes, this sort of durable decorative piece could easily disseminate knowledge and a memorable image of a candidate, at a time when there existed relatively few other means to do so apart from ferrotype image clothing buttons and ephemera.  Again, the stage was set for Butler to interpret a definitive role.

                This opportunity presented itself in 1884, when Butler ,  an acrimonious opponent of the Democratic nominee, Stephen Grover Cleveland, sought to Impede the latter’s election to the U.S. Presidency. The Former Massachusetts Governor desired to  wrest Massachusetts and New York electoral votes from Cleveland, and thus assure Maine Senator James Blaine of victory, and hence he precipitously plunged into the Presidential melee as pugilistic standard-bearer of the Greenback and Anti-Monopoly Parties. It was at this time that someone at the Ames Sword Company  propounded some propitious punditry of its own, through the elaboration of political plaques. These were produced for all of the candidates and their Vice Presidential running-mates in golden-coated metal in two distinct forms – five inch cut-out-style frontal-view high reliefs of the respective candidates and also 5 ¾ by 4 1/2 inch oval encased profile versions. I currently possess a possibly unique set of bookends made by uniting  a pair of plaques of the first variety , one of Butler with another promoting the man he hoped to elect, James Blaine, along with four hanging wall plaques of the second style, including three for Butler and one for  Thomas Hendricks , the Vice –Presidential candidate of Grover Cleveland, (for which I am still seeking a Cleveland mate) and whose  untimely decease scarcely nine months into his post recalls that Butler did not meet with success in his attempts to thwart Cleveland’s election. A similar set of these plaques (Butler, Cleveland and Hendricks) can be viewed in the Susan H. Douglas Political Americana Collection of Cornell University. The 1884 production run of plaques includes  a number of possible imitations in varied metals such as cast iron which do not bear the Ames foundry mark. Since Butler was endowed with the status as a favorite son of the very state which produced these pieces, it is of little surprise that pieces promoting his candidacy are far more common than those of the other candidates. Perhaps one of my more intriguing discoveries whilst engaged in biographical research of Butler was that like the very foundry which produced his plaques, many of his relatives bore the surname “Ames”. Could this, I inquired, provide additional incentive for the business to produce plaques bearing his likeness? This represented another unresolved enigma.

In the end, like him or not, Benjamin Butler is undoubtedly  an individual meriting of consecration to high-relief metallic memorial. Although many questions do remain concerning the status of the plaques representing the slate of 1884 Presidential and Vice-Presidential candidates, including that of Butler, one thing is incontrovertible; these pieces represent an attractive bit of the legacy of the Ames Sword Company whose relatively - modest price will, as a whole, neither seriously wound the purchaser nor his financial standing!