FROM
THE DESK OF OUR EDITOR
Well,
hello again everybody! If it seems a while since our last issue, you’re right –
it has been! Due to unforeseen circumstances, your Editor (that would be me,
D-B J) was recently hospitalized, which meant a Spring edition of “CAS
Collectors Quarterly” was not in the cards. Fortunately, I’m now up and at ‘em again (knock on wood), thanks to a great medical team,
the ever-patient at-home ministrations of Nurse Hank, and even a Care Package filled
with cheese-flavored goodies sent to me courtesy of our club mascot, Mr.
Mouse (And there were no teethmarks. I checked.)
All
of which means your Summer issue has finally arrived,
ready to help you while away these lazy, hazy, crazy days. On tap: a preview of
our August 22nd “Informal Dinner” and its wonderful Door Prize. .
.all the details on “Millie’s Treasures”. . .on the hunt for “Betty’s
Critters”. . .hints on how to keep those CAS shelf-sitters sittin’
pretty. . .a “Curious Collector” exploration of the relationship between Betty
Harrington’s “modern” designs, and the stylings of pioneer choreographer Martha
Graham, whose dance company turns 100 this year. . .the latest exploits of the
irrepressible Mr. M.. . .and tributes, in the form of vintage newsletter
article reprints, to several much-loved members of our “CAS “Collectors Family”
who are unfortunately no longer with us. . . .
GONE,
BUT NOT FORGOTTEN
The passage
of time inevitably brings with it the passing of friends. Joining the sky
parade:
- CAS decorator Marlys
Wilkinson was quite possibly our last link to the Studio’s heyday.
Convention-goers were always charmed by Marlys’ lively memories and warm
personality, (plus all those delicious recipes which graced our
newsletter!)
- Former CAS Collectors
Board members Shawn Slotten and Kathy Plehn.
Our club owes much to the tireless and always cheerful efforts of Shawn and
Kathy, who were instrumental in our development and continued growth.
- Longtime CAS Collector George
Wm. Holland brightened many of our Conventions, with his
imaginative displays, revealing his consummate knowledge and deep
appreciation for all things CAS.
- Betty’s good friend Arlene
Landsness Brunsell was with us until the age of 105! Arlene
graciously shared memories of that friendship, and memories of Studio days
spent with her husband, CAS exhibit designer Clarence Landsness.
You’ll be able to take a trip down memory lane with these
unforgettable folk, thanks to the vintage interviews included elsewhere in this
newsletter. We know you join us in extending our condolences to their families.
. .and we’re pretty sure that at her heavenly ceramic kiln, Betty has been
coming up with special creations for each of them!
AND
THE WINNER WAS. . .
In
the
There’s got to be water SOMEPLACE. It seems like I’ve been
lugging this jug around for ages! Where’s a well when you really need one?”
And the first correct answer came courtesy of. . .hmmm,
let’s see. . .NOBODY! That’s right, there were no correct answers this time. So we’re giving it another try.
Remember: the solution is included somewhere within the articles of the
FROM
A DECORATOR’S KITCHEN
<This
is the very first installment of this popular “CAS Collectors Quarterly”
feature, which made its debut in November, 2011.>
As almost
everyone who worked there will tell you, Ceramic Arts Studio was “one big happy
family”. And what’s a family without family parties, everyone bringing their
favorite “dish” to pass?
At
this year’s Convention, former decorator Marlys Wilkinson mentioned that CAS
workers loved to swap recipes. Marlys had kept these recipes over the years in
her “ceramics file”, and was kind enough to share them
with us. Says Marlys, “I’m sending a few of my favorites, and hope you will enjoy
them. I do remember all the girls who gave them to me (and I’m a better cook
now than I was at 19!)”
This
issue’s mouth-watering
concoction comes courtesy of Marlys herself!
“Lemon
Ice Cream Pie”
1/2
cup lemonade
1
qt. vanilla ice cream
Whip
together, and put in cornflake crust.
Top
with hot sauce:
Shred
lemon rind, and cut small. Put in 1/2 cup water, and cook 10 minutes covered. Then add 2/3 cup sugar,
and boil 10
minutes, uncovered. The sauce is thin, but delicious on the pie!
--
Just the thing to cool us off during sweltering summer days.
Thanks, Marlys! Speaking of cooling off, the time is right to pour yourself a
tall glass of your favorite summer cooler, settle back, and enjoy your Summer edition of CAS Collectors Quarterly! Hope to
see you in
Donald-Brian Johnson
Editor
REMEMBERING REUBEN
By Donald-Brian
Johnson
Reuben Sand, founder of Ceramic Arts Studio, died on October 21, 2005 of double pneumonia. As per his wishes, Mr. Sand’s ashes were distributed in Half Moon Bay, near his San Mateo, California home. On November 4th, Reuben Sand would have celebrated his 90th birthday.
The story of Mr. Sand and the Studio has, over the years, been told so many times that it has assumed the status of familiar legend. How, in 1940, Reuben and potter Lawrence Rabbitt teamed up to turn a deserted lean-to on Madison’s Blount Street into the loftily-named “Ceramic Arts Studio”. How the Studio’s early hand-thrown pots met with little success (and how many of them leaked!) How a chance meeting in 1941 with the amazing designer Betty Harrington led Reuben and the Studio in an entirely new direction—the creation of figural ceramics. And how, thanks to Betty’s talent for design, and Reuben’s talent for production and marketing, the little lean-to in Madison soon became the nation’s top supplier of decorative ceramics.
What’s often forgotten is just how young Reuben Sand was when he embarked on his CAS venture—only 25. And, while collectors see the Studio years—from 1940 until 1955—as an endless source of study and enjoyment, for Reuben Sand this was just one stop along the way, in a long and successful life and career.
That may be why, for many years, Mr. Sand resisted the urge to reminisce about Studio days—he had, after all, done so much more! Collectors were overjoyed when, in 1993, Reuben agreed to travel to Madison for the first-ever comprehensive Ceramic Arts Studio exhibit, sponsored by the Wisconsin Pottery Association. A touching, final reunion between entrepreneur Reuben and designer Betty was a highlight of the occasion. Then it was back to California, and on with life.
When it came time to begin work on our book Ceramic Arts Studio: The Legacy of Betty Harrington, my co-authors and I felt it was extremely important to include current commentary by the man who started it all—Reuben Sand. We already had, thanks to Betty Harrington’s diligence, and the generosity of her family, extensive materials documenting her part of the story. Thanks to CAS researcher Roseann Lindner, we also had detailed recollections by Lawrence Rabbitt. We’d spoken with many past Studio workers. What we needed was Reuben.
Every several weeks, I called and left a message at the contact number I’d been given. For months there was no response. Then one morning, the phone rang. I picked it up, and a deep, somewhat gravelly voice said, “This is Reuben Sand. Why do you keep calling me?”
I explained who I was, and the project I was working on. There was a pause, then Reuben began to express his doubts. He’d “been interviewed before”; they “always got it wrong”; they “never asked the right questions” and “never let him read it first”.
This went on for awhile. When there was a lull, I assured him that we had something different in mind. We planned on using his comments in the first person, just as he conveyed them, editing only for length or repetition. He would see the material before it went to print, and would have the right to correct (or delete) anything inaccurate.
Another pause. I could tell he was considering the idea. Then he continued: “What if my comments don’t agree with what other people say?”
“Well,” I replied, “folks will have the opportunity to read both, and can make up their own minds.”
Whether that did the trick (or whether he was just tired of talking to me), Mr. Sand agreed. I was to send him a list of the questions I would be asking. He would call me at a set date and time, and answer those (and only those) questions. “And I want a transcript.”
“No problem,”, I said, (instantly hoping to avail myself of Roseann Lindner’s transcription talents).
And so it began. On the set day, at the set time, the phone rang. I switched on the recorder. “Hello. This is Reuben Sand. Question number one---Donald-Brian Johnson asks. . . . Question number one---Reuben Sand replies. . . .”
Oh boy, I thought. Is this going to be tedious. But I’d put together what I felt were some pretty good questions, and at least we’d have those first-person responses, even if they were being read from a carefully prepared script.
I tuned back in, just as Reuben was intoning a very lengthy explanation of how he met Larry Rabbitt, and determined to start a business. “We found an empty lean-to at 12 North Blount Street that was 50 feet long by 25 feet wide, and at the time was used for storing rebars. . .”
“What are rebars?” I interrupted, in spite of myself.
“That’s not on the question list,” said Reuben, and continued: “Lawrence wanted the name of the pottery to be called the ‘Ceramic Arts Studio’. . .”
“Why?”
“I answer that in question number 5.”
“Oh”.
There was a pause. “But I suppose I might as well talk about it now. Larry had been making a few items such as ashtrays and bowls and little pots, and fashioned himself to be working in a ‘studio’—had sort of a nice ring to it—an ‘arts studio’. I simply said, ‘if you think that is a good name, OK’. Later on, people wondered how this ‘arts studio’ was kicking out thousands of pieces—there must have been a lot of artists hard at work!”
He chuckled, off script, and enjoying the recollection. From that moment on, the question-and answer list was forgotten, and the memories poured forth fast and furious.
This was just the first of many wonderful phone conversations I had with Reuben Sand. Over the next several years, we’d talk on a regular basis. Sometimes I’d call, to make sure I was explaining a particular facet of Studio life correctly. Sometimes he’d call, to clarify or expand on a previous response, or to tell me to look for “a package on its way” (thanks to Reuben, original Studio catalogs, copyrights, photos, and the like soon added to our treasure trove of research material.)
Sometimes, one or the other of us would call “just to talk”. And, true to my word, I always kept a transcript.
When our book was ready for print, I sent Reuben’s sections to him, as promised, for his approval. He was effusive in his praise, offering few corrections, and asking only for the elimination of one brief anecdote. (An early CAS worker had an unhealthy fondness for knives and other sharp objects. Reuben had found the story amusing when he first told it to me, but now thought it might be best removed. “Who knows?”, he said, “that girl may still be around. And she may still have those knives!”)
Basking in Mr. Sand’s praise, I couldn’t resist adding, “and your words are just as you said them—I’m sure you checked the transcripts.”
“Oh”, replied Reuben, “I never read those. I just wanted to see if you would keep your promise.”
Reuben Sand was easily one of the most fascinating, entertaining people I’ve met in my life—and I never even had the opportunity to meet him in person! Imagine the response he must have evoked in those who knew him and worked with him first-hand. Over and over in my research for our book, I would encounter former Studio workers who would describe Reuben as “the best boss”, and CAS as “the best job ever”. Somebody was doing something right—and that somebody was Reuben Sand.
I once asked Reuben if he ever gave much thought to the Studio “legacy”. A moment or two went by, and then he said, “You know, one of my biggest worries used to be that two thousand years from now some geologist would be digging, and nothing could be found but Ceramic Arts Studio figurines. And the pundits of the time would say, ‘in the years 1940-1960 or so, this was the state of the civilization that existed.’ A pretty good state though. Better than a lot of things they could be digging up. You know, I have so many fond memories of Ceramic Arts Studio and those I worked with. They were all solid, wonderful people. I guess I am just one of the luckiest guys in the world.”
We were the lucky ones, Reuben. Our thanks, for a life well-lived.
