The Filson Historical Society Blog

I loved chewing gum as a child. Big League Chew was a favorite, as well as Bubble Yum (watermelon – especially if it had the green outer ring and pink center). I patiently put up with Trident and Dentyne when they were the only sticks around (typically grandparent-provided). For a few years, my parents kept me supplied with boxes of Bazooka Joe when I was trying to collect the comics (for the uninformed, each piece of gum was individually wrapped with a short comic about the antics of Bazooka Joe and his pals).

One of the “Wonderful Playset” images, with colored parts pasted on to a backboard. This image promotes the Kis-Me Factory in Louisville, Kentucky

I was reminded of my passion for chewing gum, and especially the Bazooka Joe comics, while working on a small collection of Kis-Me Gum Company materials. This gum manufacturer (headquartered in Louisville, Kentucky) gave prizes with its gum as well – the “Wonderful Playset,” a full-color page that had to be carefully cut apart and pasted onto an outlined sheet to create a color picture. I was impressed – an interactive gum prize, from the 1890s, no less!

Another “Wonderful Playset” piece, again with colored parts pasted onto a backboard. This image promotes Kis-Me Gum as an appetizer or after-dinner digestive!

My research on the collection led me to discover that not only did Kis-Me Gum give out cutesy cut-out pictures, but also collector’s cards for famous Confederate figures! The portraits were given away in packs of Kis-Me gum, and one could send away for the album by sending in 100 Kis-Me wrappers and 25 cents. The album held 141 images, along with a group shot of Jefferson Davis and Confederate commanders that was to be pasted into the front cover.

Millard Filmore seems a bit smug about being featured on the presidential coin I won in a cereal box.

I can image an excited child, opening up her latest Kis-Me gum pack, hoping for that coveted Robert E. Lee or J.E.B. Stuart image, and wailing, “Aaawwww, P.G.T. Beauregard….” [No offense to the oft-overlooked General Beauregard is intended by such a comment. I had a similar experience as a child, when the excitement of a presidential coin was offered in a cereal box. I was sure I’d get a founding father, or perhaps Lincoln...but Millard Fillmore rolled out of the bottom of the box. MILLARD FILLMORE. I still glare at his portrait  at The Filson.]

While I was excited by the existence of gum prizes in the 1890s, I was also a bit surprised by the presence and publicity of gum in that era, leading me to do a bit of historical hunting. It turns out that “chewing” for reasons other than actual nutritional consumption has a history that goes back thousands of years – our ancestors chewed tree resins, grasses, leaves, and waxes. The first commercial gum in the United States was derived from spruce resin and was sold in the eastern U.S. during the early-to-mid nineteenth century. When the spruce resin supply dwindled, paraffin wax, sweetened with vanilla or licorice, was used as a substitute.

Today’s chewing gum had its start in the late 1860s, when chicle, a gummy substance extracted from sapodilla or chicozapote trees in Mexico, was brought to the United States. Thomas Adams and his sons made the first chicle gum in the U.S. (Adams New York No. 1), an enterprising invention after their failed attempts to blend chicle with rubber to make a cheaper carriage tire. (Supposedly the idea came from Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, of Alamo fame, who met Adams on Staten Island during his exile – I wonder if the Adams gum company gave away “famous Alamo figures” collector portraits? Alas, I found no evidence to support this supposition.)

"Sex appeal" in early chewing gum advertising.

The modernization of gum continued in the 1880s, with the addition of flavors (initially by John Colgan, a druggist in Louisville, but improved upon by Cleveland popcorn salesman William J. White, who gave gum its first peppermint flavoring). Jonathan P. Primley, creator of the first fruit-flavored gum (and perhaps originator of the idea of prizes with gum, as described above), also used sex appeal to market gum to men and women with his“Kis-Me” brand and his slogan “Far better than a kiss.” Advertisements included catchy (and corny) rhymes such as, “He asked her with a tender glance, which gum she most preferred, “Oh Kis-Me!” she replied at once, and he took her at her word.”

At that time, the act of chewing gum by women and men was seen as inelegant, and perhaps unhealthy. The Columbus Medical Journal, A Medical Magazine for the Home, Volume 33 (September 1909) includes a segment on “Physical Objections to Chewing Gum,” which mainly consist of overworking the salivary glands before meals and “unduly stimulating the mucus membranes” due to too much flavoring in the gum. The writer did recommend gum for “women who are subject to hysterics or fits of bad temper” as “it might be the best sort of remedy.” He also recommended, “It should not be chewed in public. At least, not in public places such as street cars, theaters, churches. Upon the public thoroughfare it might be admissible.”

Gum became more widely accepted as the twentieth century progressed, and also diversified with the development of bubble gum and marketing strategies such as packaging with baseball cards. Today’s youth (and adults) can find dozens, if not hundreds, of brands, styles, and flavors of gum at the local grocery, drug store, convenience mart, coffee shop, book store – almost everywhere. I have a pack of Orbit Sweetmint with me.

**For a more serious look at the history of gum, and more information on the gum enterprise in the twentieth century, see Michael Redclift’s Chewing Gum: The Fortunes of Taste (New York: Routledge, 2004).

This month The Filson is celebrating the publication of a new portrait book by Estill Curtis Pennington, Lessons in Likeness: Portrait Painters in Kentucky and the Ohio River Valley, 1802-1920. This book is a comprehensive overview, encompassing both a cultural chronology and biographies of significant portrait artists. For anyone deeply affected by either art, history, or both, Lessons in Likeness offers fascinating insights.

One notable practice mentioned in this book was that of commissioning a portrait artist to paint a picture of a deceased loved one. The painter would usually rely on previous likenesses, such as a daguerreotype, although in some cases the subject’s abandoned earthly coil would function as the artist’s model.

"Interior with Portraits" by Thomas LeClear

One example of this method is the painting “Interior with Portraits” by Thomas LeClear, done in 1865 (hung in the Smithsonian American Art Museum). This painting was commissioned by an elder brother for two of his departed siblings. As Pennington notes, “there are as many layers to the painting as there is clutter in the studio.” The figures of the two deceased subjects are posed in the middle of the composition in front of a painted landscape, so that their photograph may be taken by the photographer on the right. Portraits hung on the wall peek out over the landscape backdrop, playful reminders that this painting, too, is only a likeness. The photographer carefully focuses the camera, intent on capturing the best image of these two children. The painting is both a vivid rendering of the two deceased children and a lively meditation on the juxtaposition of photography and portrait painting.

Another painting of this type is “Marie Jane Andrew” by Joseph Mason, done in 1841 (hung in the Indianapolis Museum of Art). This portrait was commissioned by Marie’s parents after her sudden death and offers striking details. Apparently Mason’s father was a bookseller, so the textbooks included in the painting may be an allusion to this. Also, the book on top of the stack bears the title “Birds with Coloured Engravings,” an apparent reference to Audubon. A mysterious boy looks out from his own portrait, on the left. Marie herself is brought back to glowing life, her almond eyes steadily assessing the viewer.

"Marie Jane Andrew" by Joseph Mason

Pennington offers many more insights into portrait painting in Lessons in Likeness. The Filson is holding a reception honoring the book’s publication on Thursday, November 11, which all are welcome to attend. There are other events as well, including Gallery Tours of portraits included in the book. Check www.filsonhistorical.org for more details.

John Sneed (1755-1855), painted 1855 by unknown artist.

On the third floor landing, just outside the door to the curator’s office, hangs a very unusual portrait: Mr. John Sneed.

Nearly all of the Filson visitors who reach the third floor, without fail, pause to marvel at this unusual image of the elderly man. Perhaps it’s his no-nonsense expression that captures the imagination? Sneed was 100 years old when he sat for this portrait. Who wouldn’t be cranky at having to sit still for long stretches at such an age! Perhaps it’s the starkness and honesty of his old age that compels the viewer? There are few comparisons for Sneed’s portrait in American 19^th-century portraiture, as historical portraiture of elderly people is rare.

John Sneed was born in 1755 Albemarle, Co., Virginia where his father worked as Thomas Jefferson’s first teacher. At the age of 14, Sneed was said to have been employed as Thomas Jefferson’s personal secretary. In February 1778 he enlisted in the army and fought in the Revolutionary War, serving until January 1782. During the Battle of Guilford, Sneed was taken prisoner and did not return to his regiment until after the Battle of Eutaw, some six months later. Sneed married Sarah Johnson; together they settled in Boyle County and had ten children. Family tradition asserts that Sneed was so frugal that he was known to walk from his home in Danville all the way to Lexington to collect his veteran’s pension several times a year.  He did this even in his elderly years, as opposed to paying for a carriage or a courier service. At the age of 100, Sneed passed away in 1855, only a few months after this portrait was painted by an unknown artist.

This entry marks the beginning of a new series of posts on the Filson blog: the Mystery Item.  From time to time, a Filson staff member will choose an item from the society’s collections and challenge the blog readers to identify the item.  The first person to give the correct answer will win an item from the Filson’s bookstore.  Today, Sarah-Jane Poindexter, Assistant Curator of Special Collections, presents a portrait of a famous Kentuckian.

Who is this mysterious individual?

Clue #1:  He was a U.S. soldier and statesman that once held the title of Senior Officer of the United State Army.

Clue#2: After his death in 1825, it was discovered that this mystery person was a paid secret agent for Spain and had sworn alliegence to the country’s King.

Please submit your guess in the comments field below.  If the mystery item is not correctly identified, the answer will be posted one week from today.