The adventures and various works of a photographer, road tripper, former patron of the local arts, aspiring app developer, and late night coffee drinker and conversationalist.
Antique postal covers, letterheads, and business cards provide fascinating glimpses into the commerce, politics, and correspondence of earlier eras, so they make interesting collectibles for those of us who appreciate history from a more intimate perspective. Some time ago I acquired an old postal cover for an obscure business concern on Elm Street. This particular envelope bears postmarks of early October with no year, and the logo and return address of J.G. Robinson, manufacturer of decorative art needlework. Dallas has had its share of well known craft and apparel fabricators, but lurking quietly among them were many smaller, more modest outfits whose stories have been forgotten. What was the story of J.S. Robinson Needlework, and of the man behind it?
Two months ago I came across an unusual find while browsing through online auctions. That find was an antique wedding invitation, originating from my hometown of Dallas and dating to the late 19th century. A quick look at the card showed the location for the upcoming ceremony to be 334 Elm Street, an address familiar to me as the site of a well-established 1800s photography studio downtown. A second, closer look revealed the advertised bride to be the daughter of W. Wirt Williams, a name associated with nineteenth century Dallas photography and whose most well known studio was located at the 334 Elm address. I immediately recognized the wedding invitation as an item of interest as part of my ongoing early Dallas photography blog series.
A couple of weeks ago, whilst making my usual rounds at some area antique stores, I came upon a collection of interesting historical oddities. These were a decent-sized stack of old nineteenth-century letters, carefully unfolded and presented with their original envelopes inside sealed plastic Ziplock bags. The correspondence varied, consisting mostly of everyday life updates, but there were also business-related items and even some love letters included in the mix. Most were from senders inside the state of Texas, and a few were even addressed to recipients located right here in Dallas. I thumbed through the stack, looking at each item in turn, and ultimately decided I would buy one with a Wood Street address. Within the correspondence I saw references to what seemed to be the State Fair of Texas, and I was intrigued.
I picked up these ticket stubs inside a Fort Worth antique store a few months ago. The original theater operated from 1922 until sometime in the 1970s, eventually being demolished to make way for a 20-story office building. The theater opened in 1922 as the Hope Theatre and underwent multiple name changes until being christened The Capri in 1960.
Continue reading "Capri Theatre ticket stubs"
Among the local memorabilia I've collected have been a few matchbook covers. Essentially an extinct means of advertising as of in the twenty-first century, vintage matchbooks can serve as an easy and inexpensive way to get a peek into the establishments and hangouts of the previous century. In most cases, these places are now long gone, but once in a while you come across the rare business that's still operating today in some form. One of these establishments is the old Valhalla of Dallas motel. Once I'd gotten my hands on the matchbook cover and confirmed the motel's continued existence in 2024, I took a trip down to South Dallas for a look.
From what I've found researching historical newspaper archives and city directories, the Valhalla was constructed in 1952 off what was then (and technically still is today) U.S. Highway 77. Located some six miles' driving distance from Downtown Dallas, the motel boasted a total of twenty* air-conditioned units and a swimming pool, and a total of 1.9 acres of land. Electric heat and in-room telephones and televisions were among the advertised conveniences. The long gone A. Harris shopping center, converted by the Dallas Independent School District into Nolan Estes Educational Plaza in 1978 and today the site of Maya Angelou High School, was situated behind the motel, adding yet another draw for travelers who opted to make the Valhalla their home for the night. The overall picture painted is a rosy one of great accommodations and area conveniences. But as demographics changed and money and investment began to leave the neighborhood, it appears that the complex, in keeping with the rest of the area, fell upon less prosperous times. An early 1960s postcard depicts a nice, clean motel with the swimming pool being enjoyed by apparently relaxed and happy patrons. It seems that even by then, the Valhalla was becoming a bit more of a seedier establishment. "It was a great motel for those of us who went to South Oak Cliff High School to have drinking parties on weekends. It was cheap and no one asked questions," remembered one commenter on a 2011 Flickr posting. "It was called The Valhalla back then & was probably a "no tell" motel even back in the 60's," recalled another.
Among the local memorabilia I've collected have been a few matchbook covers. Essentially an extinct means of advertising as of in the twenty-first century, vintage matchbooks can serve as an easy and inexpensive way to get a peek into the establishments and hangouts of the previous century. In most cases, these places are now long gone, but once in a while you come across the rare business that's still operating today in some form. One of these establishments is the old Valhalla of Dallas motel. Once I'd gotten my hands on the matchbook cover and confirmed the motel's continued existence in 2024, I took a trip down to South Dallas for a look.