Long before Facebook posts, text messages and emails, Aurora residents stayed connected one postcard at a time.
That forgotten form of communication is vividly brought back to life in a new book by retired attorney Richard Bales and Aurora Historical Society Executive Director John Jaros that pairs vintage Aurora postcards with the handwritten messages that once connected friends, families and sweethearts.
“The Original Social Media: The Picture Postcard in Early 20th-Century Aurora, Illinois” is a full-color collection of nearly 200 local postcards that not only tells the story of the city through historic images but also through handwritten messages people exchanged more than a century ago.
“It’s really about the words on the back,” Bales said of the time-honored postcards that date from 1905-1930 and, as he noted, reveal a community that is “connected, mobile and socially engaged.”
The idea for this book grew from conversations among Aurora Historical Society board members about a project to commemorate America’s 250th anniversary, as well as the 120th anniversary of the historical society.
Vice President Bales, who authored three previous books including “The Great Chicago Fire and the Myth of Mrs. O’Leary’s Cow,” suggested a collection of postcards, but with a unique spin. Rather than simply reproducing beautiful images of old Aurora, he envisioned a book that would also preserve the communication which “really was the original social media” – a quick, inexpensive way to share thoughts, plans and details about everyday lives.
The historical society owns an extensive Aurora postcard collection that, like the 185 in this book, document the city from its bustling downtown to its quiet neighborhoods, parks and popular amusement destinations. These pictorial cards also capture scenes along the Fox River, as well as schools, churches, hotels, historic buildings, bridges, the railroad, events and celebrations.
But nearly all those postcards in the AHS collection are unused, pointed out Jaros. And so, to tell this particular story, Bales went onto eBay, spending more than $2,000 for used Aurora postcards, including a real photo postcard (made from an actual photograph) that, because this type is generally considered more rare, cost $75.
“I have,” he joked, “a wife that is so understanding.”
Postcards, Bales noted, were never truly private mailings. At the same time, as an attorney he was mindful of potential copyright and privacy issues, which is one reason the postcards stop at 1930, since senders in that time period would likely no longer still be alive today.
But that era, he and Jaros agree, also marked the golden age of the picture postcard, where a penny stamp could get a short message delivered quickly, efficiently and would likely be shared with others.
As the men transcribed hundreds of these messages, several themes surprised them. Women seemed to be more independent than is often assumed of that generation, traveling on their own, working and even purchasing real estate, Bales said.
Also, while “we often think of people back then as more reserved” with their thoughts, “health issues were openly discussed,” he added, “at times in graphic detail.”
Some of the messages stood out for the emotion and even the mystery behind them.
One postcard, mailed May 23, 1908, simply reads: “By myself tonight and tired. It’s ten o’clock now, so I guess I’ll go up LaSalle Street. I have to work a while tomorrow afternoon, only for an hour or so. So long, Mary.”
The note immediately sparked the curiosity of Jaros and Bales. Why was Mary heading to LaSalle Street alone at that time of night … and what was waiting for her there?
Another 1911 postcard reveals a glimpse of a frustrated heart: “Hello, Tess, Is Springfield still on the map? Wouldn’t think so. Why don’t you write? I still love you and I’m not like all the others, Will call soon, Charles.”
Did Tess ever write back? Did the two ever get together, Bales wondered. Who were “all the others,” and what had they done to make Charles declare himself different?
While there were no big surprises for Aurora’s leading historian, Jaros, who has been a longtime postcard enthusiast but “often glossed over the written message,” he now has a fresh perspective on this old form of correspondence.
“We knew there were a lot of them,” he told me, “but I did not appreciate that they were such an essential means of communication.”
Indeed, as Bales pointed out, while postcards today are often little more than vacation souvenirs with a quick “wish you were here” scribbled on the back, a century ago they served as everyday correspondence. And more than a century later, those that were saved preserve tiny snapshots of those ordinary lives.
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The finished book is a visual text book of Aurora’s history, say the authors and others invested in this project.
Both Bales and Jaros praised Aurora Fastprint for designing and creating the finished product, which sells for $27.50. And a huge thank you, they added, goes to the Dunham Foundation for the generous grant that made this project possible.
Residents can meet both authors at a book signing from 5-7 p.m. Aug. 12 at the Pierce Art and History Center in downtown Aurora.
“I could not be more pleased with the way it turned out,” said Jaros, who humbly describes himself as the “research assistant” for his co-author who “did all the heavy lifting.”
Bales insists, however, the book was “really such an Aurora effort.”
It was also “more than a labor of love,” he insisted.
“I was driven by a passion that always brought me back to Mary” who was heading to LaSalle Street so late at night, he said. “I felt compelled to make sure her story and the stories of other long-ago Aurorans would always live on.”