Things you didn't know about Downey: Political buttons

This story originally ran in the Southeast News on Jan. 8, 1979.

Quick: who was Rutherford B. Hayes’ running mate in the presidential election of 1876? 

If you’re like most people, that information is about as accessible to you as the Magellan Strait and about as interesting. 

If you are a button collector, on the other hand, you probably know the answer. 

Bill Author, of Downey, is a button collector. On one of the approximately 6,000 buttons he owns is – you guessed it - the name of that running mate. 

“Political buttons provide us with a history of the times we’ve lived through that isn’t available anywhere else,” says Auth. “You can tell a lot about the mood of a particular time by the slogans they wore on their lapels.” 

Auth’s collection isn’t limited to political buttons and badges but includes company buttons, advertising buttons, union buttons, miscellaneous slogan buttons, achievement buttons, sports buttons - in fact, just about  every kind of buttons that ever started as a gleam in the eye of some PR man or political sloganeer since the nation began. Sentiments conveyed range from the sublime to the ridiculous with more than a few stops at the blatantly sexual. 

“Back in 1925 when I was a boy, I started saving things,” says Auth. “I collected cigar bands, stamps, coins, trade marks, match folders, bottle caps, and buttons. One by one, interest waned except for coins, stamps and buttons.” 

Today it is the button collection that draws the most attention, including frequent invitations to speak before clubs, churches, schools and hobby shows. 

Auth says it was a neighbor who worked as a motorman for the Pittsburgh Railway Co. who first got him interested in buttons. 

“He gave me his union pins for 1909, 1913 and every month for all of 1926 and 1927,” Auth explains. “I was hooked.”

For the next seven or eight years, Auth collected in earnest until he enrolled in college in 1933. He forgot about them through four years of college, a first job, four years in Liberia, nine years back in Akron, Ohio, and a transfer to California in 1951. 

In 1957, during a visit back home in Pittsburgh, his mother said, “Take them back to California with you or out they go.” 

More buttons were given to him. 

“Every time I speak somewhere,” he says, “I get a bunch of calls from people who have buttons to give away. I’ve found that a lot of people have collectable items such as old buttons lying around which they are willing to part with if they know the items will be cared for and appreciated and shared.” 

Among the most telling buttons, says Auth, are the slogan buttons. 

For instance, here are a few slogans that were considered risque in the early 1900s: “I need a wife - you’ll do,” or “If you love me, grin,” or “You’ll want me yet.” 

Compare these with slogans of the seventies: “Save water – shower with a friend,” “Sex is my hobby” or “Birth control takes practice.” 

The twenties, it seems, managed to find a happy medium – naughty but still nice: “I’d like to but my wife won’t let me,” “Kiss me I won’t bite,” or “Won’t you let me love you?” 

Most valuable buttons are the early ones made of celluloid, a material used extensively in the manufacture of buttons in the early part of the century but abandoned when it was discovered that the material was flammable. 

Auth says that Democratic buttons generally are more valuable than Republican ones because there are fewer of them. The Republicans, he says, usually have more money to spend on buttons and hence produce more. 

One of the most valuable buttons, according to Auth, is the campaign button featuring the faces of James Cox and FDR, Democratic hopefuls in 1920. These, he says, are valuable for two reasons: first, this was the only election FDR ever lost, and second, there are probably no more than 24 of them still in existence. Today these buttons are worth about $4,000 each. 

Children, he says, tend to go for the buttons containing snappy slogans and smiling faces while adults over 35 are almost invariably drawn to the old political campaign buttons. 

Incidentally, Rutherford B. Hayes’ running mate in the election of 1876 was a man named Wheeler. 

And now you’re ready for the most telling button of all. It reads, “Don’t you feel stupid wasting your time reading buttons.” 

Side note: I want to thank the many people who sent me cards and made calls about the passing of my beautiful Donna. It was very special. 

Bobbi Bruce is a docent with the Downey Historical Society.