While most people won’t have their possessions saved for future generations, the Frick family had both the financial means and foresight through Helen Clay Frick to save, well, almost everything.
Helen began to plan for the future of The Frick Pittsburgh and the preservation of the Frick family legacy nearly three decades before her death. She boxed up or displayed much of her family’s correspondence, creations, creatures, and collectibles for the world to see, admire, and in some cases, scrunch their eyebrows up in confusion.
Over 12,000 items—let that sink in for a moment—make up the family’s vast and deeply varied collection in Pittsburgh.
The collection ranges from incredible examples of fine art, including Claude Monet’s “Banks of the Seine at Lavacourt” and Peter Paul Rubens’s “Portrait of Charlotte-Marguerite de Montmorency, Princess of Condé,” to the most mundane household objects owned and used by the family at Clayton.
The Frick Pittsburgh’s Collections Manager Christina Cichra is currently leading an inventory of the entire collection that will likely take years to complete.
The process involves opening boxes in storage, many of which were formerly stored offsite and some of which haven’t been opened in quite some time.
Below are the curatorial team’s five favorite curiosities that have recently been rediscovered.
Rocking rabbit
A taxidermized bunny affixed atop a rocking mechanism makes this children’s toy the perfect combination of terrifying and adorable. The stuffed hare was presumably purchased for the Frick children in the 1890s. It was most likely played with by a young Martha and Helen Clay Frick. An added oddity is that its ears move as it rocks back and forth.
While this item finds itself on the top of the current curatorial department’s unusual item list, they are not alone. In 2013, a Twitter thread encouraged curators from nearly 600 museums to share their favorite strange collection items. Former staff concurred: The rocking rabbit.
Golf ball monogrammer
Henry Clay Frick was both a steel industry mogul and an avid golfer—a pastime afforded to very few in the Gilded Age.
Made in 1910 by the Simplex Marker Company of Philadelphia, the golf ball monogrammer could emboss “HCF” into any golf ball. It is one of many sporting accessories from the collection.
It likely cost Frick $3.00, which includes a $1 upcharge for the silver-plated model as opposed to the standard brass. Adjusting for inflation, that’s about a $100 purchase today. While a monogrammed ball is not required to play the game, the Fricks had immense privilege to buy frivolous items during a time of great wealth inequality.
Pig hatpin
Hatpins have long been a practical tool to keep ladies’ hats on their heads. As hats became larger and more decorative in the Gilded Age, so did the pins!
This particular pin stands out in the collection since it features a carved glass pig emerging from an egglike shape on the top.
In the Victorian era, pigs were associated with luck and good fortune, especially around the New Year, so it's possible Adelaide wore this pin to celebrate with friends and family.
Cut curls
The collection includes some intimate mementos from the family’s life while living at Clayton, including locks of hair from Childs and Helen Clay Frick. Both the repurposed soap box and the folded paper envelope holding the clippings bear handwritten notes from their mother, Adelaide, recording the date.
The blond hair featured in the photo was Childs’s and may have been from a first haircut. Hidden away in envelopes are snippets of Helen’s hair from when she was 7-8 years old and presumably just received a trim.
Baby curls and locks of children’s or loved ones’ hair were common sentimental keepsakes.
Lots and lots of feathers
The “plume boom” of the late 19th century saw feathers, wings, and even entire stuffed birds used to trim women’s hats.
The mass slaughter brought many birds to the brink of extinction and sparked early conservation efforts, including the creation of the Audubon Society.
The Frick’s fashion collection includes countless feathers, mounted wings, and parts of birds that Adelaide and Helen Frick would have used to adorn their hats.
Now, imagine for a moment: Historians have decided they want to keep a detailed record of everything you own for prosperity. In this hypothetical, you are in a position to help them categorize and prioritize the items for which you want to be remembered.
What would you encourage them to preserve?
Would the half-used pencils and juiceless batteries make it into the collection the same way as baby photos and precious heirlooms? If the Fricks are a bellwether for your decision: Maybe.
Special thanks to The Frick Pittsburgh curatorial team—Dawn R. Brean, Christina Cichra, Bella Hanley, Lauryn Smith—for selecting and sharing details on each of these curious collection items.