These Things are Me: Marjorie Larmon's Fantastic Life
by Hyla Wults Fox ©
 Marjorie (Sackrider) Larmon remembers the 1920s when she roamed the countryside with her father, an Oxford County dairy farmer, buying cast-offs, antiques and other people's 'junk'.
Her first purchase, is as fresh in her memory as though it happened yesterday; took place when she was about six. "My father took me along when he visited a farmer and warned me to stay in the Democrat (the horse and buggy). But, you know, I saw an old chicken house that I had to explore."
She came out with a small sponge-decorated porcelain Port Neuf bowl. Although the farmer was happy to get rid of it, her father was upset that she had disobeyed him and, on top of that, had stolen something. Later, they all agreed that she could keep it if she paid the farmer ten cents. Even now she wonders "just what else was in that old hen house."
"That was the beginning of a wonderful life," said a then 70- year old Marjorie, in a 1983 interview that took place in her late parents' century-old farmhouse in Burgessville, amidst the treasures she inherited and acquired. "I always loved to scrummage around. Once I went in someone's attic looking for old green bottles. Instead, I spotted a wonderful old stove which I paid $10 for. Dad said I had better put it down in the furnace room because I might need it someday." When she and her husband built a new room on the house, 45 years later, they had it installed.
Because she started buying at such a young age Marjorie eventually realized that her bedroom would be impossible if she did not sell some of her collection. Besides, her mother was starting to throw stuff away. "The first thing I ever sold was a wheelbarrow wheel. I paid a quarter for it and sold it to Ely Bendo, the old blacksmith in town. He wanted to give me 50 cents but I needed a dollar so that I could buy something I had my eye on. I kept at him until he gave me that darn dollar."
At 15 she officially became a dealer—buying and selling— getting loans from her father, paying him off and starting again. When she finally left home to marry Clarence Larmon, a chartered accountant, and moved from Burgessville to Kingsville, she opened her first shop: Marjorie Larmon's Antiques. "I dealt in china and glass but my love for wood was always there." Some years later they moved to Thamesville and the shop became The Barn of Antiques and later to her final location, in Burgessville.
Today, recalling some of her experiences and adventures, from the retirement village she now calls home, she is just as animated and excited about antiques as she was two decades ago when we first met. "Let me tell you a story" she says, and off she goes. This one is about her last shop, known as The Pig 'n' Plow, located in the barn at the rear of her farmhouse. "Sixty-five year ago I bought a wooden pig, originally from a carousel, in a junkyard for two dollars. A neighbour gave me a splendid old plow and I had the name for my business."
At 93 years, having serious issues with arthritis and two hip replacements, she was forced to let go of her prized collection, in what would turn out to be a benchmark sale, netting a few dollars sort of one million. Clearly, during our four hour meeting a few days before the auction, the artifacts still generated powerful emotions. Did she have a hard time letting go? Yes, there were tears. "I'm never going back to that farm. It is being sold. My beautiful things are being sold. They will be gone soon. Yes, this is a very hard time for me." Even so, Marjorie cheered up just talking about her memories and oh, the stories she told!
She remembers attending a farm auction on land that was soon to be the site of the new Ford Plant. "It's where I bought that wonderful table that sat so long in my kitchen. (Featured on he front cover of the auction catalogue.) The dear old farmer said that his second wife didn't like the table so it had to go. I outbid a rich gentleman who bought antiques to decorate his shop. Years later, when I was shopping in St. Thomas, I bumped into him. He asked if I still had the table and would I consider selling it? I told him that he has lots of money and should have bought it then. 'Yes,' he answered. 'I have the money but you my dear, have the knowledge. I knew it was a lost cause so I let you have it.' "
As she held onto the auction catalogue, she dramatically tapped the cover. "These things", she said slowly, "are me. Just Look at this cat; (lot number 277) I had it as a child. Do you know what it is? Well, you hang it up in a cherry tree. The great big old glass eyes scare the birds away."
Talking about lot number 46 she got a bit misty. "That cutlery box, with the heart design cut into the handle, sat every day in my kitchen. Isn't it better to have something beautiful to look at, than money?" As suddenly as that thought flew out of her mouth she quipped: "I haven't got a great deal of formal education but I sure know the beauty of things, don't I?"
A moment later she was on to yet another item. What about this, she asked pointing to lot number 60? "Isn't that the most magnificent cupboard you've ever seen? And, have you noticed the Quebec Ceinture fléchée? I paid $500. for it and had it for years and years. Even though it was packed away in a box, so nothing would happen to it, it gave me so much pleasure."
More of her recollections are documented in her book Diamond Buckles on My Shoes which was published in January, 2005 because of a request made by Ina, Marjorie's late sister. "You have to promise to do something for me," recalls Marjorie, of one particular conversation that took place the last time they saw each other. "I want you to keep a record of your life. When you are gone no one will know about us. So, my friend Thelma and I worked on that book for a few years."
For many who know and love Marjorie, the photograph of her as a young child on the cover, captures the essence of the book and the spirit of this great lady. Even then she had a presence and a sense of fashion, drama and play. The title of the book is a story in itself. "I would not buy a pair of shoes unless they had buckles on them. Even if they hurt my feet I had to have buckles. Dad said, when we went shopping once, he couldn't afford the shoes with buckles as they were five dollars more than the others. Finally, after a lot of dickering the man let Dad have them for them for the same price as the others. Afterwards he told us that one day I would have diamonds on my buckles."
Although excitement for the auction built up over the last week, some were privately concerned that Marjorie might have trouble watching her beloved collection disappear, however, she insisted on coming. Great planning went into her outfit. "I've got it all ready," she told me when I asked what she was wearing. "I bought it more than 35 years ago and only wore it two or three times. Scotts in London, Ontario was a very exclusive shop. Ina and I went in there one day and spotted this designer suit, made by Geiger in Sweden. It was $500 at that time. How outrageous of me to spend that kind of money on an outfit but I knew it was quality and would never go out of style. Doesn't the red blouse look lovely with it?" she asked as she held the suit up under her chin.
Sporting a lovely bright pink corsage, a jaunty black hat, and her favourite suit, Marjorie Larman was centre stage, in a comfy wing back chair looking like a queen. She was surrounded by friends and well wishers and had dozens of people asking for her autograph.
A week after the auction, she still felt the glow from the special day. Asked how it went she said : "It was the most wonderful event in the world. The compliments I got and the accolades were something. I'm so glad my treasures went to such high class collectors. I think I must have been quite a woman."
All of her family is gone: her parents, her sister Ina, with whom she was very close and Clarence, her beloved husband who must have been quite a man, too. Marjorie tells a story about Clarence that says a lot about their marriage and the respect they had for one another. "One day Clarence went up to a Government office and he didn't come home. Where was he? When he finally showed up he said that he went to the airport to watch the planes. He always wanted to fly but his father would not let him take lessons. If you really want to do something you need to do it, I told him." That was all the encouragement he needed. Not too long later he was a pilot. "He would fly every Sunday and I'd be out looking for antiques. You know what? He is up there flying around now, I'm sure of it. We had a beautiful relationship because we each had our own thing."
Sadly, the Larmons did not have any children, but one couple, Jim and Marie Sherman, turned out to be just like family. "Jim is the best of the best. Better than most relatives. You know, if I had children I would never have this kind of relationship with Jim and we would both have missed something special. I taught him tiny things but he taught me far more. Without him there would not have been a catalogue. Without him there would not have been an auction. Jim Sherman is the man."
Only her friends and family know about Marjorie Larmon's other great interest. Without shame and with much humility she flatly states that "I'm a natural born cook," Jim Sherman can attest to that too. Since plans for the auction were made public he says that almost everyone who knew Marjorie well, told him about their own particular favourite recipe.
Some of her creations, such as her Chili Sauce, German Mustard, Ginger Cookies, Stewed Rhubarb and Flour Pot Bread recipes are included in the last few pages of her book, but in my opinion it's missing a gem—her salmon mousse. Here, for the record is very likely the only surviving copy of Marjorie's heavenly Salmon Mousse; the very one she served me at lunch, that lovely summer day, so long ago.
Marjorie's Salmon Mousse
Ingredients:
- • one can salmon
- • one envelope gelatin
- • 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
- • 1/2 chopped celery
- • 1/2 cup low fat mayonnaise
- • 1/2 cup light sour cream (I use yogurt)
I replace the sour cream with yogurt and sometimes throw in a few tablespoons of chopped green onions.
Drain salmon but save juice and pour into measuring cup. Add enough water to make 1/2 cup of liquid and dissolve the contents of the gelatin envelope into the mixture. Dump everything into bowl, mix gently and place into a mold.
Marjorie served the mousse on lettuce and each individual portion had a quarter of the mold, along with salad and bread. I have adapted the recipe a little by turning it into an appetizer. When set, and just before serving, I carefully remove it from the mold and place on a plate, surrounded with crackers and a sprinkle of greenery such as basil leaves. Whichever way you serve this mousse it is divine.
There is only one way to conclude this article about one of Canada's most gracious and colourful antique dealers, and that is with Marjorie Larmon's own words spoken at the end of my visit with her, days before the auction: "I have had one of the most fantastic lives. How lucky am I?" ©
Glitz & Glamour of Sherman
by Hyla Wults Fox ©
 What would you grab if your house caught on fire? Your family photographs? Heirlooms? That dazzling piece that holds pride-of-place on your mantle? For Terry Delany, the answer is a no-brainer. "That's easy, I'd grab my collection of Sherman bracelets and run."
To Delany, her treasures, festooned with brilliantly coloured Swarovski stones, are lovingly arranged and stored in specially designed boxes so that they can be separated by colour. Explaining her passion, she says that they are the most distinctive type of jewelry Sherman did. What she doesn't say; however, is that she isn't merely attracted to the bracelets. Delany loves it all—bracelets, brooches, earrings and his famous, sock-you-in-the-eye, glitzy, bib necklaces. To her, Sherman jewelry is the best ever produced in Canada.
Writing in VINTAGE: FASHION AND COSTUME JEWELRY, Delany explains that Sherman jewelry, manufactured from 1947 to 1981 in Montreal, has become a real Canadian symbol in the jewelry world. "Sherman jewelry," she states, "is to Canadian costume jewelry what Gretsky is to Canadian hockey and Celine Dion is to Canadian music. Sherman is the most recognized and collectible costume jewelry in Canada."
For fifteen years Delany bought and sold vintage jewelry, including Sherman, but she left the business when she realized that she couldn't sell any more Sherman. She wanted to keep the best pieces for herself. Instead, she concentrated on finding Sherman for her personal collection, which now boasts more than 2,000 examples.
So, who is the man that Delany says dominated the Canadian jewelry scene and is the focus of her research which may eventually result in a book? Gustave Sherman was the son of first generation immigrants who fled persecution in Eastern Europe. When he was eighteen-years-old, Gus, as he was called by family and friends, hitchhiked to Texas where he joined the army. Predictably, army life wasn't for him. With his poker winnings he managed to buy his way out and scamper back to Canada as fast as his thumb could get him home.
Somehow, according to Delany, he ended up buying and selling jewelry. Apparently he "paired with a friend and traveled throughout the countryside in Quebec and Ontario buying jewelry from farmers in small towns and selling it when they returned to Montreal." Not to his liking, he changed paths again, becoming, first a navigator for the Royal Canadian Air force and later, a life insurance salesman.
Still restless but finally realizing he excelled in sales, Sherman began representing Jay Kel and Jay Flex jewelry—mostly rhodium-plated sterling silver set with rhinestones—owned, according to Delany, by a New York wholesaler. When his friend Hy Mendelson purchased a Canadian franchise of the same firm, Gus drifted into the jewelry manufacturing business and was employed by Mendelson. This short-lived arrangement ended twelve months later when Sherman launched his own business, along with one employee, Jimmy Koretza, a Hungarian jeweler. Delany thinks that Sherman was the lead designer and that "Jimmy may well have been able to carry out Sherman's wishes because of his formal jewelry background."
To say that Sherman's new venture was an immediate success is an understatement. His jewelry, created from the late 1940s through the 70s frequently copied the look of fine or 'real' pieces. They were geared to those who wanted to buy and wear high quality, beautifully designed, fun accessories. According to Delany, "his jewelry was designed to be recognized as costume, but expensive, quality costume." Prices, ranging up to $50. a piece, was definitely pricey, for the era.....Sherman only sold one price range of jewelry and that was expensive."
Beyond that, his "mantra was top quality everything. He insisted on top quality workmanship and top quality Swarovski stones. He would pay up to one third more than their market price to get the best. Then, he used them just like a colour palette, sometimes working with five different shades of the same colour." As well, she feels that Swarovski sold trade stones and fancy stones. "More than 98% of the stones Sherman used were the fancy ones." He paid top dollar and charged accordingly for the finished product.
Once Delany put seventy-three pieces of blue Sherman jewelry on a table. Of those, she was only able to pair five pieces that had the same colour combinations and blue tones. She has "counted over a thousand different colour combinations in Sherman jewelry. Many of his colour combinations were offbeat and non-traditional, and were only produced for one season. Delany says they were too dramatic for the average customer.
Marketing was part of Sherman's strength. Not only were his pieces sold in the leading shops such as Birks, but in small local boutiques, in every region of Canada. According to the lecture Delany gave at COLLECTING THE 20TH CENTURY, April 6th, 2002, at the Royal Ontario Museum, he sold his modest designs in large department stores and "saved the huge, ultra glamorous pieces for the small jewelry shops." She also said that Sherman was one of the first designers in Canada to have a brand name.
While the business flourished for more than three decades, its decline began in the mid 1970s. The very reason it became so popular—the quality of the product—was the reason the enterprise ended. According to Delany, "Sherman's insistence on not compromising the quality of jewelry or abandoning his beloved rhinestones or crystal beads as the basis of his jewelry when current fashion of the seventies was switching to the minimalist faux gold and silver look, signaled the beginning of the end. Ironically, his business ended because Sherman decided to start producing quality gem jewelry in large quantities, with precious metals. He converted his plant just at the time that the price of gold was over three hundred dollars an ounce and he was forced to close his doors."
She says that the rarest Sherman colours and therefore the most coveted, are deep clear purple, black, fuchsia, yellow and red. The pieces which have "black japanned plating with red, white , blue, green stones or fashion pearls and the jewelry with five or six totally different colours in one item are also very collectible and rare. One example of these special stones was the pale lavender stones called Alexandrite that changed to light blue in different lights."
Since the least expensive pieces created are items easily found today, reasonable buys can still be located. In this category are items made with clear rhinestones, aurora borealis, topaz, gold and blue shades. Delany recommends them for beginning collectors. "I think the Marilyn Monroe faux diamond look and the appeal of the aurora borealis stones that can be worn with all colours and the return to favour of the earth tones and blues will bring these pieces of Sherman jewelry back into popularity."
Besides all this, Delany is fascinated by the fact that "Sherman did not have a jewelry background." What he had; however, was a love and real feel for jewelry. Sherman died in 1984 in Montreal. Besides his devotion to his business, Gus Sherman was married, had two children "loved fishing and he liked his drink," says Delany.
Former employee, Jack Harutunyan, adds other details about Sherman. "He was a tough man. He used to come to work around 10 a.m., check everyone to see if they were O.K. and working hard. He didn't talk much to the employees, just management" recalls Harutunyan. Asked about his appearance he said that Sherman always wore a white shirt with rolled up sleeves, was a quiet individual who didn't speak English very well, was about 5'9", "bald, white hair and kind of chubby."
Long after this article was published and appeared on this web site, I received a number of e-mails, from the son of the late Gus Sherman, demanding that I remove all information from my site, supplied by Haruntuyan. In part, this is what the writer said:
"I have no idea who this guy is or how long he worked for my father but...Sherman's mother tongue was English. He spoke perfect English and read extensively, was quite educated. I myself worked in the factory and in shipping for several years during the summer. Sherman talked to all the employees and they loved him and were very loyal and devoted to him and to the quality of work that he expected from them. He was definitely not the type to go into work at 10 a.m. he was there very morning at 8, his brother in law, Harry, would indeed open up, but as he was an early riser this was often before 7.a.m. Sherman worked often past 9 p.m. in the evenings. I object to this fool describing him as something other than a hard worker, he would be offended. I have never before heard him described as tough, if anything he was the type of person who often was too nice. " He adds that "Harutunyan's babble simply is not true, a fabrication."
Since we have two distinct memories of Gus Sherman—an employees recollections and a close family member— both will stand here. On the other hand, Delany did say that Sherman was the son of first generation immigrants which probably indicates he was born in Canada and therefore, likely did speak English as his first language. Perhaps Harutunyan memories regarding this point were incorrect. None-the-less, Sherman's son did add one interesting detail: "contrary to conventional collector wisdom, every piece, every piece that left the factory was signed, everything else is copies. There is no 'unsigned Sherman jewellery."
Harutunyan was stunned to find out that Sherman jewelry was now so collectible. "My wife saw an article in the paper and we decided to come to the identification clinic today at Harbourfront, just to see if it was really true. I wanted to meet Delany and see some of the jewelry that people brought in to her. " Clearly he was overwhelmed. "All of these pieces bring back memories. So many."
Hard work was expected by management. Sherman's brother-in-law opened the shop, before 8 in the morning. They had two breaks, one at 10 and the other at 3 and a half hour for lunch. They finished at 4:30. The building where the factory was located is still standing. Globe Chain bought and renovated the premises after Sherman & Co. folded. Interestingly, they too are in the jewelry business.
Located on the second floor, their space was flooded with light from the many windows. About 3,000 square feet held a plating room and a polishing section. "Six people worked in the soldering department, dealing only rhinestone settings. Four girls assembled the settings and there were 12 stations for polishing. We also had a casting room for white metal and a shipping room."
Harutunyan has very few Sherman pieces; just a few cufflinks. "When we, as employees wanted to buy, we didn't get much of a discount and we had to pay taxes."
Trained as a jeweler in Turkey, Harutunyan came to Canada and got work at the Sherman factory. Wages were low. "I was always having trouble to get a raise. In 1967 I was paid $1.40 an hour. Then, I got a ten-cent raise once a year, every October. To make ends meet I did homework. I used to do settings, finishing and put bracelets together." In this way he was able to make between $10 and $15 extra a week. And yes, he still has some stones at home.
While wages were low, the working atmosphere seems to have been pleasant. "People who worked there for a long time were happy. It wasn't a good paying job but it was a good environment to work in. You know, the person who worked there the longest was making $2.70 an hour. I was stunned. He was a polisher." Two people were responsible for the design work. An older gentleman worked in the shop and another designer, working outside, did some designing in his own shop." Unfortunately, he could not remember their names.
Still in shock when interviewed, memories kept flooding back. Harutunyan watched the identification clinic with wonder. "I didn't know this jewelry was in such demand. Look at all these people bringing jewelry out of their bags and purses." And they did. Collector after collector. Some with two or three items, others with backpacks stuffed with carefully wrapped treasures.
But the most dramatic moment came when a woman walked into the area wearing a drop-dead, red bib necklace. Delany, surrounded by people, saw her immediately. "Is if for sale? " She yelled out. I'll write a check for $2,000 now. Never mind, make it $3,000."
"It's not for sale", said the woman who asked to remain anonymous. "I'm a collector and just put it on at the last moment, before I walked out the door. I had no idea it was worth so much. You know, I bought it here at Harbourfront fifteen years ago." While she didn't remember exactly how much she paid, she thought it was somewhere around $100.
Most pieces don't fetch anywhere near a thousand dollars, although there are exceptions. Not too long ago a matching set, consisting of a necklace and earrings, sold at a Toronto shop for $600, and another fetched $2,000 U.S. on eBay. But bargains can still be had. Check your mother, your grandmother and in-laws jewelry boxes. You might find long-forgotten treasures waiting to be rediscovered.©
Hooked on Newfoundland Rugs
by Hyla Wults Fox ©
(Originally published in the spring, 2000)
 When Robin Moore bought her first Grenfell hooked rug, more than twenty years ago, she could not have imagined that she would eventually own one of the largest collections in the country and that many of her treasures would appear in international exhibitions, reference books and museum catalogues. Yet that is exactly what happened.
In only two decades Moore, a former folk art dealer, has found more than 120 rugs that are, to her, spectacular works of art. "I am captivated by the graphics, the creative aspect and their historical and social importance. "
Scholars obviously agree. The prestigious Museum of American Folk Art in New York City, for example, held a benchmark exhibition, that ran from 1993 to1994 and in the spring, 2000 The Museum for Textiles in Toronto held their own, equally exciting event. Both have borrowed dozens of treasures from Moore, including mats, books, letters, vintage photographs, correspondence, pamphlets and even dolls, so that others might learn from Moore's research, insights and passion.
Now, just as awareness and interest in the Grenfell era is on the rise, one lucky collector is about to experience an unprecedented windfall. Moore has gone through a change in life style , which has convinced her to dispose of the collection. "It's exciting but it is also sad, because it means that I won't be able to live with them anymore, but then, " she adds almost as an afterthought, "everything we have is on loan anyway, and this is the right time to let them go."
Moore has engaged Carol Telfer, Canada's foremost antique textile dealer, who is based in Stratford, Ontario, to help with the job of selling the collection. Telfer meticulously catalogued, documented and studied each artifact one weekend in February. "I've never seen a collection of this magnitude, depth and variety," states Telfer.
In a very unusual move, Telfer and Moore have decided to sell the collection 'en masse'— not via the auction route, as is typical, but at the prestigious Bowmanville Antiques & Folk Art Show in Bowmanville, Ontario, so that they will have complete control. The price tag? $300,000—no deals, no dickering, no discounts. $300,000. Period.
"Yes, its a gamble", agrees Telfer in a telephone interview, "No one has ever done anything like this before in Canada but I'm certain it is the right thing to do." Disposing of it this way, instead of at auction, says Moore, means it has a better chance of staying in Canada, something she is adamant about.
All the hoopla is about rugs and mats that date from the mid 1890s, when twenty-seven year-old British medical missionary, Wilfred Thompson Grenfell, Superintendent of England's Royal National Mission to Deep Sea Fishermen, went to Newfoundland and Labrador. A charismatic man who saw an opportunity for 'good works,' he built hospitals, nursing stations, schools and orphanages. He also established the Industrial, a cottage industry in St. Anthony, on the northeastern tip of Newfoundland, which flourished from about 1908 until the mid-1940s. The co-operative made and sold craft items throughout North America and England. They helped alleviate the region's economic misery and proved to be the mission's most enduring commodity. Beyond all that, they document an almost forgotten way of life. Polar bears, dog sled teams, hunting scenes, geese and ducks, seagulls, lighthouses, sailing ships, buildings and sometimes people are the recurring themes.
According to the catalogue, THE HOOKED MATS OF THE GRENFELL MISSION, by Paula Laverty, produced by the Museum of American Folk Art for their exhibition, Grenfell came up with the idea of "standardizing and refining the hooked mat industry to suit the marketplace." The materials were given out like kits. "Patterns were marked on burlap and given with the materials for the hooking to be worked on at home; color samples were carefully pinned to each part of the design to indicate with color to use."
Although many of the mats have a paint-by-number look, some of them shine with unique personalities reflective of their creators. Rhoda Dawson, a designer for the mission from 1930-1935, created many outstanding rugs, a few of which are in the Moore collection and others are available for study at The Textile Museum's exhibition. A letter Dawson wrote her father, in 1931 gives some indication that all was not rosy at the Industrial. " I'm afraid the regular customers won't like my new mats, they're too sophisticated. I'm sure Grenfell won't but the old original charm was lost and they were just getting so bad, one had to do something." Her abstract designs did not suit the average taste. Some mat hookers who preferred bright tones, found her colour scheme too subdued. But it is these very rugs that today's collectors covet. Dawson's Fish on Flake, depicts split cod drying on a wooden platform atop a high stage. It was designed to be hooked entirely from undyed stocking material. Dawson's masterpieces frequently relied on intricate, subtle shading.
HELPING OURSELVES; CRAFTS OF THE GRENFELL MISSION, is a catalogue written by Colleen Lynch for a 1985 exhibit at the Newfoundland Museum, that explains Grenfell's marketing methods. "In addition to sales centers on the Coast, local Grenfell Committees in many cities in the States, Britain, Scotland and Canada conducted sales through church groups or by invitation in private homes. During the 1930s, public sales were held at Jay's department store and in the ballroom of the Copley Plaza Hotel in Boston. Volunteers trucked goods to private schools and fashionable resorts in New England where they gave talks and set up sales tables, sometimes grossing $1,000. in one day." As well, retail shops were opened in New York City, Philadelphia, Vermont, Connecticut and London, England.
As the Second World War approached, the business took a slide downwards. Materials became more expensive. Old silk stockings which were used almost exclusively were not available. Then too, inspiration died in 1940, when then Sir Wilfred Grenfell passed away
The market potential of these rugs is unique. It would be safe to say that there isn't a great market for Canadian made art or antiques outside of Canada. In this case, however, many countries claim ownership. We say the rugs are Canadian because they were made here. Americans consider that they were done for their taste since so many were sold there, and the British, who also collect them, hold that they are really theirs insofar as Newfoundland was a British colony until joining Confederation in 1949. All of this means there are vast numbers of collectors, in many parts of the world, anxious to find and acquire pieces. It also means that there are lots of wonderful examples yet to be discovered.
If your relatives travelled or lived in any of the places mentioned, during the heyday of the Industrial, they might have brought back some souvenirs. Check your cottages, attics and basements. That rug you always wipe your muddy boots on, might just be a Grenfell and you could possibly have a small fortune—anywhere between $3,000 and $8,000, plus; depending on condition, size and design—languishing in some dark corner of your world.©
Crazy About Chenille
by Hyla Wults Fox ©
 There aren't thousands of chenille bedspread collectors. Yet there are thousands of individuals who have to own at least one. "It's not something people generally know they want" says vintage dealer Marilyn Hartley, proprietor of Rozaneh, a Toronto shop, "but they sure realize it the second they see a spread that tugs at their heart." The appeal, according to Hartley, is that many remember them fondly from their parents' —or, depending on their ages, grandparents'—homes.
"People are recreating their homes with what they had when they were children. Its such a nostalgic trip" says Barb Griffin, a dealer who specializes in vintage textiles. She thinks that chenille is one of the fastest growing collectibles today. "Right now, they're hot and are difficult to keep in stock. They just seem to walk out of the door," says Griffin, who is a participant in three, dealer co-op shops, including The Sunday Market Store, tucked along the side of the St. Lawrence Market, North, in Toronto.
Nostalgia aside, Griffin says that "once they've been washed for thirty or forty years they have a soft glow that is just gorgeous with either modern or country furniture." Agreeing, Kelly Stapleton, who shares the space in The Sunday Market Store with Griffin and one other dealer, suggests that part of the appeal is the variety of looks decorators can achieve according to the season or the mood.
"The designs are fun", Stapleton relates with a chuckle, "ranging from peacocks and cowboys such as Hopalong Cassidy and Roy Rogers on Trigger in really wild, garish colours. Others have baskets of flowers, floral motifs and hearts, in soft, muted, romantic shades which can be charming and sometimes even elegant". Texture is another collecting element. In Stapleton's experience some buyers like fluffy, heavy pieces with lots of relief work, to very light, thin, chenille which sells best in the summer when people naturally gravitate to white and light, especially for cottages.
Beyond all that, some people are 'doing' period rooms. According to Cece Scriver, who has sold a lot of chenille to decorators, out of her shop, Courage My Love on Kensington Ave. in Toronto, "If you have 40s lamps and 40s drapes, you need to put chenille on the bed. Nothing else will work as well."
Chenille, which means 'caterpillar' in French, has been around since the early 18th century. But it wasn't really popular or used to any great extent until the late 1920s when it was the focus of a cottage industry around Dalton, Georgia, where cotton was the major crop. Workers, inevitably women, created the trademark look by using a running stitch of yarn, which was sewn onto a base sheet. Afterward they cut between the stitches to form tufts, washed it in hot water, which created its recognizable fluffy trademark appearance.
From 1933 to the early 60s—when manufacturers switched from cotton to polyester, a substance which turned buyers away— the manufacturing of chenille was a giant textile industry employing tens of thousands of people. Bedspreads, rugs and other accessories such as bathrobes and rugs, were mass-market items for tourists and were sold all over the United States and exported to Canada. The spreads—originally ranging in price from $4.98 to about $10.00 —were inexpensive, even during the Depression and World War 11.
 Affordability is still a major factor for today's buyers. Although neither Scriver nor Hartley have any chenille currently in stock, they sell plain examples around $30. each. Barb Griffin, retails them from a low of $45. to about $l95. for one of those kitchy peacock spreads and slightly more for an example with double peacocks, especially if it has fuchsia and purple feathers. Besides having a lot of mint chenille bedspreads on hand now, Griffin also often has crib-sized chenilles for babies which sometimes have nursery rhyme characters or cute, little animals such as rabbits, lambs or kittens. "People," recalls Griffin, "even buy them for their cats." Clowns and cowboys frequently were used on spreads meant for older children.
In addition, Griffin, who in other lives was an illustrator and later, a theatre wardrobe dresser, has a great number of pillows in various sizes which sell between $35. to $50. each. "When I buy damaged or heavily stained bedspreads I cut them up and turn them into pillows," says Griffin, who would never recommend destroying a spread in good condition, just to turn it into something else.
When you decide to purchase a chenille bedspread there are a few things you should know. First and most important is condition. If the design and colour combination please you, check the wrong side of the piece carefully because it is often easier to see stains, rips or tears this way. Look at the base cloth to make sure it is thick, especially if you want a cozy, comfy spread. As well, see that the top side is dense, with few open spaces.
Also, it's important to know that vintage spreads came in three sizes only: crib, twin, or double; however, most double spreads are about 108 inches wide and can work on larger sized beds provided a dust ruffle is used. If you find a spread that reaches the floor of King or Queen size beds, you are likely dealing with a brand new product. Check the Internet. Go to Metacrawler or Yahoo and type in the key search words: Vintage Chenille Bedspreads. Not only will you come up with some companies selling new products but you'll also discover some vintage dealers who sell chenille but remember, most of them are dealing from the U.S. in American dollars, where prices are generally higher than in Canada.
Another wonderful feature of chenille is that they are, as Marilyn Hartley says, "low maintenance and made to be used and enjoyed every day." Just pop them in the washing machine with Tide, advises Griffin, and wash on delicate. "If not, their weight could tear them apart. " If they have sun damage or stains, Griffin says she "often gets good results by adding AMAZE, a laundry detergent booster. I put it in with Tide, agitate for a bit and let it soak overnight in the machine." Throw them in the dryer and remove them as soon as the buzzer sounds so they'll be fluffy. Then you'll be all set to spend a rainy afternoon curled up under a spread with an Ella CD softly playing in the backgorund, a glass of merlot at hand and comfort food simmering on the stove. Chenille, for many people is the cozy fabric alternative to chicken soup.©
From Glass and Brass to Collector Jewelry
by Hyla Wults Fox ©
(Originally published in 1991)
 Each year, Rafael jewelry—handmade brass, copper or sterling silver, usually bearing a large, bezel-set stone—grows more popular. And as interest has grown, so has a mystique surrounding it. Very few people seem to know much about the jewelry or the man who created it. Some say Rafael made and lost his fortune through drugs and is rotting away somewhere in Mexico. Many believe he is dead. Still others feel that his working period is long over. Not true. Rafael Alfandary, 53, is living in Austin, Texas, where he recently closed his traditional-jewelry (gold, platinum, diamonds) business "to seek new directions."
During his Canadian hey-day, everyone loved his jewelry. Margaret Trudeau wore one of his necklaces to the opening of Parliament, and Betty Kennedy, a local celebrity, was wearing one when her portrait appeared on the cover of Starweek magazine. The late Lorne Green, Redd Roxx, Mrs. Ernest Borgnine, Muhamad Ali, Paul Anka and even the late Liberace wore or bought his pieces. He worked closely with Marilyn Brooks, designing pieces to co-ordinate with her clothing and participated in her major fashion shows. He even created the 1973 Miss Canada Crown. His pieces are still worn today by those with a sense of flare.
Why was his jewelry so popular? His timing was perfect. Until Rafael made his appearance, most jewelry was small and dainty (remember pearl stud earrings?). People immediately responded to the bold, large sizes. In addition, his jewelry came on the scene when there was a new patriotic awareness. The fact that his pieces were Canadian made was a bonus. Then too, his prices were always realistic. Says Rafael, "I wanted the jewelry to be inexpensive so anyone could afford it." This was important to him so that "every woman in Canada would own and wear at least one piece of my jewelry."
His personal story sounds like movie material. All the ingredient are there: war, sex, rags to riches. Rafael (he uses only his first name professionally) was born in Belgrade, Yugoslavia into a wealthy Jewish family. Of all his relatives, only his mother and he survived the bombings and concentration camps. Sadly, however, even she was lost to him, through illness, when he was 11 years old. Although he lived for a short time with his stepfather, a Greek student his mother married along the way, he was on his own when he was 12, attending school and earning pennies at odd jobs.
In 1960, he and his young wife emigrated to Israel where he obtained a bachelor's degree in mechanical engineering at Haifa University. While he was earning a top salary managing 400 workers in a metal manufacturing company, he realized "I would never be able to earn any more, even if I stayed there 200 years." Tired of the high taxes and the frustrations of not achieving his financial goals, he sold his belongings and moved his family, including two young daughters, to Toronto in 1970.
Instead of seeking work quickly, he enrolled at George Brown College to learn English. Always a ladies' man, Rafael decided to make a gift for his teacher. With some borrowed copper wire from his plumber-landlord, he created a large necklace; the first piece of jewelry he ever made in his life. No one was more surprised than he, when the teacher came back in a few days, with orders for more.
Two months later, after adding earrings, bracelets, rings and belts to his line, he was making more than $200 a day selling wholesale to two local stores. Only one year after producing that auspicious first piece, he moved from his kitchen table to a small factory employing 40 production people and was well on his way to becoming the millionaire he used to fantasize about. He chuckles now at his audacity. "My life was a dream. I grew a beard and became an artist. He divorced, became a swinging bachelor with 'a pad' on the 48th floor of the Manulife Centre. In his own mind, he was an established designer even thought it took him three years to find out every finger was a different size.
By 1976, he had six boutiques in Toronto, as well as major outlets across Canada carrying his jewelry, including Eaton's, Simpson's, the Bay and Cara Operations Ltd. Prestigious shops in the United States, Australia, Japan, Spain, Mexico and the Caribbean also offered his wares.
It didn't take long before he became a local celebrity appearing on television talk shows and his name appearing in newspapers in society, fashion and gossip columns. Although he wasn't yet completely fluent in English, Colleen Riley Roberts, his former public relations consultant, recalls, "Rafael was a publicist's dream come true. He was good-looking, bright, adventurous, unpredictable and flamboyant. He sold himself."
In the late 1970s he married a Texan, whom he met in a California 'fat farm'. Together they set up housekeeping in Austin. Their home, complete with swimming pool and a guest house (where his first wife lived) was big enough to hold their five daughters, children of their previous marriages, along with servants, fancy cars and dozens of pets, including a pig. After everyone was settled in, the couple opened a jewelry business that carried on where the Canadian line stopped. It was only after he was again divorced, about four years ago, that he stopped making jewelry and took a sabbatical from business.
Although Rafael didn't make all his own pieces after the first few years he was in business in Canada, he originated all the designs. What made his jewelry so striking—and what became his trademark 'look'—was the innovative way he combined large, bright glass stones and base metals of copper and brass. With his background in mechanical engineering, motion intrigued him and inspired creations which often housed smaller free-moving segments. These were particularly evident in the way he designed necklaces and dangling pendants.
His complete line included casual and dressy necklaces, chokers, chains, bracelets, bangles, upper arm bands, belts, earrings, brooches, hairpins, keychains, money clips, cuff links, bridge tally cases and religious symbols. Whimsically eccentric, he also made chastity belts.
"The methods I used to make the large jewelry designs were the opposite of those used by most manufacturers. I started with the stone and then built the metal around it." Most of the stones used in his early pieces were glass, which, when melted and polished, assumed a brilliant hue. He searched all over the world for the special glass he needed, even using children's marbles if the colours were impressive. In 1974, he added sterling silver to his line of brass and copper. With silver, he started to make settings using semi-precious stones such as tiger eye, jasper and jade.
Vintage jewelry dealers started handling Rafael pieces in the mid-1980s, but it has only been in the past two years that the market has taken a noticeable swing upward as collectors begin to scramble for the choice examples. Wayne Peters, who exhibits at some shows, has found that today's collectors span several generations. The 18 to 25-year-olds collect either because "they want big chunky pieces to fit into the Madonna image or because they discovered a piece while scrounging through their mother's jewelry stash and are eager for more." Certainly, teenagers caught up in the retro hippie-style are intrigued by the down-to-earth quality. As well, Peters often finds that middle-aged women nostalgically respond to the pieces in his showcases if they remember coveting or owning such an itemin their youth.
Mary Fallic, 24, an art director at a local radio station, acquired her first piece from a jewelry designer friend and then found herself permanently hooked. "I love this jewelry because it's very simple; because it's affordable. I've never spent more than $30 on a piece, but I guess that's because I've bought from people who don't know what they have. Also, everything is signed and stamped 'made in Canada,' which is very important to me."
Today, prices fluctuate widely. Peters has one or two cases loaded with Rafael jewelry at every show in which he participates. He sells brass rings from $35 to $45, sterling silver rings for around $100, necklaces from $55 to $125 and bracelets around $65; however, Rafael jewelry can be found for much less at garage sales, flea markets and church bazaars. It just takes some searching and patience to locate the bargains.
What does the future hold for Rafael? "All my life I was looking outside, chasing money and power. Now I'm trying to look inside. Maybe I'll come back to Toronto, where my heart is."©
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