250 Years of George Washington Merchandise
A quick update and a blast from the past
I hope you enjoyed our series on the rivers of the world, which concluded last week with a look at the geography and history of the Danube. This week, there’s no new Sunday post, but I’ve been hard at work on a new series that I’m very excited about.
After a few months of environmental history, we’re going to change direction next Sunday and look at the art and material culture that have defined the memory of one of the world’s most consequential events: the French Revolution.
To whet your appetites a little bit, I’m re-running something I published last year on a similar, albeit American, subject: the memory of George Washington (I should note that the Trump flag I mention in the original post below disappeared a few months ago).
If you didn’t catch the post back then, I hope you enjoy it now. See you next Sunday!
One of the most heartwrenching moments in Ken Burns’ Dust Bowl documentary comes when he focuses on women who had to keep their homes clean despite the constant onslaught of dirt. They’d spend all day sweeping the floors, washing the sheets, and cleaning the dishes, but they were engaged in a Sisyphean task. The dirt snuck back into their homes, getting inside through the gaps in the windows or on the shoes of people coming in from the fields. It was an impossible situation: women were expected to keep their homes clean, but they lived in a place where the dirt would always win.
There’s one quick bit of footage in the film in which a woman takes a portrait off of her wall and vigorously brushes it free of dust. This is a routine that she must have repeated over and over again, several times a day. It would have been so easy to take the picture down and save herself a few minutes of grief, but she decided it was worth the effort to keep this particular picture on the wall.
You might expect a picture this important to feature a beloved family member or a religious figure, but this one didn’t. It was a portrait of Franklin Roosevelt.
I’ve always been struck by the fact that American families once put pictures of the president in places of honor in their homes. Not every president got this treatment, of course (sorry, William Howard Taft), but presidents like FDR or John F. Kennedy, men who really struck a chord with the public, found a place in on the walls of many Americans.
Most people I know would never dream of hanging a picture of the president — even those, like Reagan or Obama, who seemed to spark something in the American public. I’ve often had mixed feelings about the decline of this practice. In some ways, it’s good (we probably shouldn’t be uncritically reverent of our leaders); in others, it seems bad (have we lost a measure of faith in politics?).
But, then again, there’s a giant Trump flag billowing in the breeze down the street from my house, which makes me wonder whether the practice has declined after all. I don’t know how many fervent Trump supporters have put framed portraits of him on the wall, but they are certainly snapping up his merchandise and putting it on display for all to see. Is the giant TRUMP: NO MORE BULLSHIT! flag I have to see every day (next to a bespoke image of Trump dressed in a superhero cape) the modern equivalent of the FDR portrait?
If so, these Trump supporters have decided they’re not interested in private displays of reverence and respect. They’re more interested in broadcasting their preference to the world — in this case, with an in-your-face obscenity to signal that this particular homeowner doesn’t care much for social niceties.
So maybe the practice of presidential reverence is alive and well after all. But no matter how many giant, profane flags people buy from the universe of vendors who sell Trump merchandise, Trump can’t claim to be the king of presidential merch. Neither can FDR.
That distinction belongs to George Washington, who inspired a wild array of collectibles, portraits, and more. Washington’s reputation as the father of the country was cemented with each vase, medallion, and badge that featured his likeness. And the mania for stuff with Washington’s face on it lasted a long time — a century later, there was still strong demand for George Washington merch.
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People in the newly-independent United States were excited about their new nation, and they especially admired the man who symbolized the independence struggle. Americans revered Washington for his steadfast morality and perseverance in the fight against British imperialism.
Manufacturers realized this early — at his inauguration, they sold a variety of buttons to people who wanted a physical reminder of the historic day. But it was really in the wake of his death — just two years after he established himself as an American Cincinnatus by voluntarily giving up his office — that the market got going.
Americans wanted images of Washington that they could hang in their homes as a source of inspiration or a gesture of respect. This painted plaster bust rendered Washington in three dimensions:
As did this bronze portrait:
Or you could carry George around in your coat pocket so that you could take an inspirational peek at his face anytime you wanted:
One interesting thing about Washington memorabilia is that much of it was produced abroad. Manufacturers and artists in other countries must have realized that Americans couldn’t get enough George Washington in their homes. French artists made this faience portrait:
While a German created this one:
Washington’s image wasn’t just for hanging on the wall. You might purchase a medallion commemorating his death, like this one:
Or buy this British-made medallion (it seems that British manufacturers quickly got over any resentment they may have had about the Revolution once they realized they could make some cash):
You could put this French-made clock on your mantle:
Or this British-made statuette:
I quite like this rosy-cheeked little statue (also British-made for the American market). It kind of looks like George let his seven-year-old daughter do his makeup:
And what better commemoration of a great man’s life than to serve a beverage out of a pitcher bearing his (somewhat lumpy) likeness? This toddy jug was made in China for export to the United States, showing that Washington’s fame (or at least the knowledge that Americans loved Washington merch) was global:
If you wanted a beverage that told a story, you could get this British-made pitcher that depicted Washington, a map of Revolutionary War battlegrounds, and an angel trumpeting the good news:
Or if you wanted to mix religion, politics, and drinking, you could buy this jug adorned with a scene of Washington’s apotheosis — here, he’s bathed in holy light, resting among the angels.
The mania for Washington memorabilia died down a bit in the middle of the nineteenth century — but it accelerated again during the Civil War. Washington was an inspirational figure for Union troops, and his image adorned envelopes:
And the occasional commemorative plate:
But it was really a few years later, during the centennial celebrations of 1876, that Americans became most eager to buy stuff with Washington’s face on it. Washington was a powerful symbol of American unity and resilience in these celebrations. The Civil War still loomed in living memory during the centennial, and Washington must have reminded Americans of better times.
Some of the Washington merchandise was associated with centennial festivals, like this wooden medallion that I think is quite stunning (much cooler than the metal ones):
Other medals made Washington out to be a kind of Roman consul, complete with fasces, Latin inscriptions, and Roman-looking typefaces:
But a medal is a little basic, don’t you think? Wouldn’t you rather wear a badge commemorating the father of the country?
Or a cameo with his silhouette?
You could use George’s face to mark your place in a book:
Or put some flowers in this extravagantly-decorated vase (I love the bison heads that serve as handles):
Perhaps my favorite commemorative items from this period, though, are the textiles. They’re a little bit playful, contrasting George Washington’s impassive face with complicated patterns. They’re kind of trippy if you look at them for a long time:
This fabric, from a commemoration of Columbus’ voyage, situates Washington in the larger history of the continent:
And this bedcover would let you enjoy the most patriotic possible sleep, snuggled up under countless George Washingtons:
After looking at all of these images of George Washington, I think I have less of an understanding of what he looked like than I did before. You may have noticed that the images above don’t actually match up very well with each other. Some of the George Washingtons are puffy and jowly, some seem fit and trim. The size of George’s nose and the jut of his jaw vary widely between the various depictions. The only things the images tend to have in common are his hairdo and a stoic expression.
All of this merchandise was part of the process by which Americans turned Washington from a living, breathing person into a symbol. He came to represent the American values of self-sacrifice, dignity, and patriotism. But the more often his face got stamped onto pitchers and bedsheets, the more the connection between those images and the human being named George Washington became attenuated. The country lost a little bit of the real Washington in this avalanche of stuff, but it gained a powerful unifying symbol.
'People in the newly-independent United States were excited about their new nation . . . '
The late Canadian journalist Alan Fotheringham, writing in Maclean's magazine, often referred to our southern neighbour as 'The Excited States'.