THE NEW YORK SUN, WEDNESDAY, APRIL 17, 1946, page 25
Savings Official Loses Money in Banks
It’s Children’s Mechanical Depositories,
Circa 1900, That Rob Him
Robert J. Christensen, assistant secretary of the Franklin Society for Home Building and Savings at 217 Broadway, has kissed good-by to more coins of a small denomination lately than he ever thought would be possible in the interest of savings.
William J. Dwyer, president of the firm, shows
Norma Dadswell one of the banks that are
on exhibition at the office, 217 Broadway.
Christensen, in charge of the institution’s collection of close to a hundred
mechanical children’s banks, circa 1900, has so many requests from curious
spectators who want to know how they work that he’s bereft of small change
practically all the time.
"I’ve lost more money to these darned things," he explained today,
laying a nickel on the nose of an iron bulldog with an enormous red collar.
Christenson pulled the dog’s tail and the coin promptly dropped into its
mouth. "There," he said, "that’s gone for good."
The bank’s official admitted, however, that he is sort of fascinated himself
with the intricate workings of the items in the collection, which number
approximately 85 in perfect working condition, plus quite a few which are in the
process of repair.
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Wide Range of Ingenuity
The banks, most of which are made out of cast iron and operated by levers or
releases, cover a variety of subjects, guaranteed to tax the imagination of
childhood. Prospective depositors are lured by everything from an Indian
shooting a coin into a bear’s chest to a dog which pops out of a kennel and
chases a small boy caught in the act of stealing a watermelon.
"This is a dandy," the bank secretary said, picking up a gadget called
"Dark Town Battery," which was composed of a pitcher, batter and
catcher. He sprang the release and the pitcher deftly threw a penny into the
catcher’s "breadbasket," where it disappeared from sight. Isn’t
that terrific?" Christenson asked.
Other items in the group, which incidentally is valued at approximately $2,000,
include the Bricklayer bank, where a mustachioed mason leans on his wall and
lays a brick as a hod carrier drops the coin; a mule which bucks, throwing the
jockey forward and the money in a slot; and one called "The Horse
Race," where two horses gallop around a track at the drop of the silver.
"This might be called a form of gambling," Christensen remarked,
adding that "of course we couldn’t encourage that."
Patriots and Political Types
On the patriots side, there is Uncle Sam, replete with whiskers and an umbrella,
and whose carpet bag opens as he lowers his arm to deposit the moola, while an
early repository with a political flavor is one called "Tammany," in
which a gent in a yellow vest casually flips a coin into his coat pocket.
"No comment," said Christensen.
"These things have it all over the popular piggy banks," he continued.
"It was hard to get your money back and they wouldn’t break when they
were dropped, either. Besides, look at the fun you could have, even if they
missed fire occasionally."
The Franklin Society is a mere flap of the wing, as the crow flies from Wall
street, where a good many big oaks have grown from the small acorns deposited in
mechanical devices like the one on exhibit.
"Many successful men and women of today owe a debt of gratitude to their
parents for the toy banks such as those which started them on the right road
during their formative years," Christensen declared. To prove his point, he
indicated the Wise Pig, a buff-colored number holding a sign which counseled:
"Save a penny yesterday, Another save today; Tomorrow save another, To keep
the wolf away." Christensen thinks it still is a good advice, even with a
modern piggy bank without benefit of mechanics.
