Hand in Hand, with Fairy Grace

“Do you ever wonder where the colour goes to when the flowers die? The fairies help’emselves to it.” - Mr. Digswell (from Joan in Flowerland)

While I was a huge fan of fairy tales growing up I never did develop a fine appreciation for fairies. It wasn't until high school that I got my first book relating to these enchanting little creatures. If you have read my blog up until this point it should be of no great surprise that my first fairy book was Lady Cottington’s Pressed Fairy Book by Terry Jones, first published in 1994 by Pavilion Books Limited in Great Britain. I have the U.S. edition published by Turner Publishing that same year.

The Publisher’s note begins “The RSPCF (The Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Fairies) has asked the publisher to make it clear that no fairies were injured or killed during the manufacturing of this book”. So rest assured the fairies depicted pressed between the pages suffered much less than the lead characters in most Edward Gorey stories. The book itself is presented as a pseudo antique book with padded covers made to look like worn half leather boards and imitation marbled endpapers inside. The illustrations by Brian Froud are fantastic and humorous. I still have the pressed fairy bookmark and the seal around the adult section for “protection of the innocent”.

Now, fourteen years later, I have acquired yet another wonderful fairy book, Joan in Flowerland by Margaret W. Tarrant and Lewis Dutton with illustrations by Tarrant. Little Joan travels through Fairyland with the help of the most popular elf, Tinkler. I envy those of you out there who have the first edition of this story, published by Frederick Warne & Co. in 1935. Although mine is a fine copy of an edition circa 1954 (I’ve seen similar ones listed as first editions from 1935 which I believe is an error), it doesn’t have the pictorial endpapers found in the original. The dust jacket has a few tears as well. The beautiful illustrations by Ms. Tarrant make up for it though.

Margaret Winifred Tarrant was born in 1888 in Battersea, (which, for my fellow geography challenged readers, is located in the London Borough of Wandsworth). Thank goodness she lacked the confidence to be a school teacher and instead trained with her father Percy, a professional illustrator[1]. Her depictions of fairies became very popular in the 1920s and 30s, both in books and postcards. As I am writing this I am already struggling to decide which color plate is my favorite. There’s the Forget-Me-Not, Moon Daisies, Rose Hips and more. But my favorites are the Hat Shop with foxgloves and the Lady’s Slipper.

This entry was supposed to be completed last week, but as a result of my procrastination I have a funny story from last night to add. My sister Colleen, friend Paige and myself were out having a bite to eat at our favorite local bar Muu-Muu’s (our waitress said it’s been around for eleven years). We were just getting our bill when a very enthusiastic drunk gentleman approached our booth and exclaimed to Paige, “Oh, my god you look like a Fairy!”

Paige, who does indeed have an ethereal beauty, smiled shyly, most likely wishing for a sprinkle of pixie dust to make him instantly disappear. The jolly fellow turned to me and announced, “I love your hair. You’re half fairy.” Okay, I guess. Colleen was next. I could sense her slowly shrinking into the booth, afraid of what might come out of this man’s mouth. “You’re the baby!” he declared. “You’re the baby fairy! I want a baby fairy.” He then made his way to the men’s room and was never heard from again. But seriously, how often does one get compared to a fairy in their lifetime?


[1] Cope, Dawn & Peter. Postcards from the Nursery. The Illustrators of children’s books and postcards 1900-1950. New Cavendish Books, 2000.

The Birth of the Tin Monkey

Little Cristina (Crissy) Berretta grew up in a Catholic household, not a strict one mind you but Catholic none the less. It stays with you. Perhaps that is why I must confess. I have an addiction to the past. The first signs may have been the bobbed haircut that I still refuse to style any other way. However, the evidence arose in a more concrete manner four years ago when I purchased Senor and Senorita, my 1930s composition dolls from Mexico, at a quaint antique shop in Aurora, Oregon. I also acquired a tin Ohio Art spinning top that day and have since found more toys than any healthy 32 year old needs.

The truest high came about six months ago when I found the Tin Monkey on a Bike. He was priced low at an unsuspecting thrift store in Tigard, Oregon. Of course, I did not realize at the time what I had found. All it took was picking him up, seeing his ears flap, and I knew I had to have him. Once I was home the real fun began, the investigation, the unraveling of the history behind this cute tin toy.

In order to make my addiction appear less silly and frivolous (as certain people have ascertained it is) I am now attempting to turn it into something meaningful and shared. Every little treasure I find will be documented here in the hopes that some other addict out there can either gain from or contribute to the information I accumulate.

Let’s start with Cristina’s Holy Grail of wind up toys:

My Tin Monkey, a beautifully lithographed circus monkey on a tricycle, has a “Made in Germany US Zone” stamp under his bike. A couple of light bulbs went off in my over stuffed amateur brain when I first read this. Could this Tin Monkey be circa (1945 – 1949) post World War II? After all that’s when the allied powers divided Germany into four zones right? Brushing up on ancient or recent history is never wasted time in my book. And FYI “Occupied Japan” works in a similar manner (circa 1945- 1952) but I’ll save all my Japanese treasures for another day.

The little bar that leads to the two handles on Tin Monkey’s bike reads “Arnold”. A basic online search informed me that the Arnold Toy Company is based out of Nuremberg, Germany and has existed since 1906 to date. A few eBay auctions later I learned that my little guy was produced circa 1945-1949 and highly desired. But this guy has a permanent home. Once he’s wound up and set free his arms move back and forth as he rides across the floor enticing my two cats. As I watch his joy ride I forget about his monetary value and think about the children that were lucky enough to play with him brand new. I think about how beautiful Germany is, especially the vibrant and art filled city of Berlin (more about Berlin later). Then my mind wanders to the monkeys at the San Francisco Zoo when I was a kid, who decided to take revenge on a life of captivity by flinging excrement towards the unsuspecting crowd, and then the mind goes on to one of (edit: sorry Jen!) my best childhood friends Jonathan riding his bike, falling and scraping his cheek.

That is why this addiction grows. My collection enables me to learn about history and culture and link it to my own life and memories. All of this after I thought I’d simply found a new toy.