Wild West Show Rides Again....

Annie Oakley bottle

On March 4, I published a blog post about my father's collection of Wild West whiskey decanters, many of which he designed himself.

Since my parents' house was for sale and, in fact, three days later, on March 7, I signed the paperwork that placed the house in escrow, I was desperate to find a home for these bottles. There were thirty-three of them -- too many for me to display at my house, too many for me to even store at my house. I was hoping to find a place, a museum of some sort, preferably, where the decanters would forever be safe, and still be able to be seen by the public.

Thanks to Cory Doctorow, my blog post was cross-posted on BoingBoing.net -- and between the two posts, the response from readers was overwhelming, with suggestions of possible resources both in and outside the state. I was elated. I contacted the Autry National Center (formerly the Autry Museum of Western Heritage) and the Santa Clarita Historical Society, among others, and I even visited Walker '47 -- a Western-themed gun store in Anaheim only three and a half miles from my parents' house, with quite the historical display throughout the shop, and chatted briefly with owner Andy Cauble.

Within a couple weeks I had actually found a home for the bottle collection, but I haven't been able to say anything until now: the official "Deed of Gift" forms have finally arrived.

My father's collection of Wild West whiskey bottles have been acquired by the Autry National Center (Twitter: @TheAutry); from their website:

The Autry is an intercultural history center dedicated to exploring and sharing the stories, experiences, and perceptions of the diverse peoples of the American West. Located in Griffith Park, the Autry’s collection of over 500,000 pieces of art and artifacts, which includes the collection of the Southwest Museum of the American Indian, is one of the largest and most significant in the United States....

My initial email communications were with Jeffrey Richardson, Gamble Curator of Western History, Popular Culture, and Firearms at the Autry National Center. I provided him with a link to my March 4 blog post, and then provided whatever additional information I was able to in response to his many questions. After expressing an interest in the collection, Jeffrey introduced me, virtually speaking, that is, to Steven Walsh, Registrar & Project Manager at the Autry National Center. There were some telephone calls along the way as well. Steven arranged a meeting at the house on Thursday morning, March 22, to pack up all the bottles and transport them to the Autry.

Steven arrived on schedule, along with a couple dozen or more bankers boxes, a ton of styrofoam packing peanuts, plastic bags, bubble wrap -- and a car that I thought was far too small to hold everything -- but it did!

Even though the collection was now in the Autry's possession, it was still not a done deal. On Wednesday, April 4, the Accession Committee was to meet to review my donation of the ceramic decanter collection. The final decision was up to this committee. Later that day I received a telephone call from Jeffrey Richardson, informing me that the collection donation had been accepted by the Autry. But, it still wasn't official just yet: I had to wait to receive the "Deed of Gift" forms, which, as I have already said, are now in my hands. These forms consist of thirty-one pages (two pages contain two entries) describing each of the thirty-three decanters, with a place at the bottom of each page for my signature and date. The letter that accompanied the "Deed of Gift" forms states in part:

It is with great pleasure that the Autry National Center accepts your donation for the museum. The Accession Committee, whose members review each donation to ensure that it meets our acceptance criteria, were delighted with the donation and feel that it will make an important and lasting addition to the museum's collection.

[...]

Please accept our thanks for your gift to the Autry National Center. Your interest and support is greatly valued, and your generosity in making this donation is sincerely appreciated.

[signed] Steven Walsh, Acquisitions Registrar

I, in turn, wish to thank all the readers -- both here and at BoingBoing.net -- for their support, and especially their suggestions. I didn't know there were so many speciality museums! I particularly want to thank Pamela Kruse-Buckingham, who went the extra step with some additional suggestions on museum donations.

Jeffrey Richardson has informed me that the museum plans a special exhibit in 2013 that will focus on the Wild West in American pop culture, which will include my father's decanter collection.

Thanks again, everyone!

Wild West Show Closing Down....

Wells Fargo Agent

  

This blog post is not about books; it's not about publishing or editing or any such related topic. So I'll understand if you click on the Back button, or some other fave link, and go elsewhere at this time. This blog post is about my father... Well, not exactly about my father, but rather about the product of one of his creative endeavors.

I spent two of the past four weeks in February staying at my parents' house in Southern California, cleaning the place up so that the house can be sold, while trying to come to terms with the detritus of the nearly 50 years that my parents -- together, and then my mother alone -- lived in that house.

I filled two 80-cubic-feet (each) dumpsters; I made three trips (carloads) to Goodwill, with a fourth trip already set aside which the realtors have promised me they will take care of, because a pickup truck is required; I made two trips to the hazardous waste disposal center; I filled two city-provided recycle bins and one trash bin four times each (with special thanks to the neighbor across the street who graciously hauls the bins to the street for me, and then returns them to the backyard after they are emptied the following day). And yet still there is more to do....

This also explains why there have been few blog posts this month; I wish that my time in SoCal was all that was required of me, but even when I'm home there are phone calls to be made, forms to complete, and, alas, bills to be paid.

My father, Al Halpern, had many hobbies; one might say "passions" rather than hobbies because he often went over the top in his pursuit of these hobbies -- even, occasionally, to the point of what I would call craziness. If you had seen the house right after he passed away -- and the backyard shed that I just emptied a week ago -- you would have understood.

Pictured at the top of this blog post is an example of the fruits of one of his passions. This is a full-size whiskey bottle -- or, to be fancy, decanter -- which depicts in authentic detail a Wells Fargo agent from ye olde Wild West. Note the liquor tax stamp on the back: the agent's head is actually the top of the cork. My father designed these bottles in the '70s for Lionstone Distilleries in Kentucky. The "Wells Fargo Agent" bottle is just one of about thirty or so bottles that I need to find a home for now that their home for the past forty years will soon be sold.

My father was a resident of Anaheim at the time, and the Orange County Register ran a full-page article on his work in Section B (the "Local" news section) in the November 21, 1972, issue. I've scanned the article as best I could and will include it here with your indulgence; since it's a full-page spread, it took four scans to capture all the photos and text. If you click on each section, that section will appear in a larger form in a separate window, and thus should be easier to read. The Register will do a more succinct job explaining my father's hobby than I ever could.

The triptych of bottles pictured at the beginning of the article -- and showcased at the end of the article in my father's hand design -- is the "Shootout at the OK Corral." When I lived at home, I was totally taken with this set: the detail was mind-boggling, particularly the horses on the middle bottle. But I haven't seen these in years and years, decades actually; they weren't stored anywhere at the house, so I assume at some point my father (or possibly my mother, after his passing) sold them.