Originally trained and worked as a geologist, I now work as a museum professional. My passion is old photographs, the photographers who took them, the equipment and technologies they used, the people and scenes in the photos, and the stories behind them.
http://photo-sleuth.blogspot.com/
I'm also an avid hiker and naturalist, and have walked four Caminos in northern Spain ... so far
Sepia Saturday's photo prompt this week from Alan Burnett depicts two young early 20th Century ladies relaxing on the beach in Atlantic City, but dressed in a manner that will certainly protect them well from the noon day sun. Not everyone goes to beach to swim, and if you live in this Antipodean location, then you'd be advised to go well wrapped at this time of the year (the Met Service advises 3 layers!). As far as swimming's concerned, I think you'd have to pay me.
My own contribution for this theme consists of two tintypes, mounted in flimsy paper sleeves the size of cartes de visite. They are part of a larger collection of 73 loose photographs which I purchased as a single lot on eBay last year. The vendor told me that they had originally been acquired together, and my own research has given me reason to believe that they do indeed belong together. Although these tin types are not inscribed, I've been able to determine, by comparison with others in the collection in which the subjects are identified, and by some additional research, who is depicted and approximately when it was taken.
Measuring roughly 69 x 82 mm, they are an odd size, somewhere between quarter-plate and sixth-plate. Both show a woman seated on the beach with two young children. She is Emily Minns née Carr (1840-1927), wife of Stoke Newington draper Charles Thomas Minns (1838-1900), and the two children with her are most likely her two eldest sons Charles Walter Marston Minns (1874-1951) and Frederick Thomas Minns (1875-1956).
Her third son was born in late 1877, which suggests to me that these two photographs were taken in the summer of 1877, probably by an itinerant beach photographer. The second image, taken from a slightly different angle, includes what may be a large spoked wheel of a bathing machine, similar to that shown in an early 20th Century photograph which I posted two weeks ago as a submission for the 105th Carnival of Genealogy (Swimsuit Edition).
Ladies' and Children's Bathing Suits Harper's Bazaar, 15 July 1876
I assumed initially that they were dressed for outdoor activities. However, now that I've looked at Stella Blum's Victorian Fashions and Costumes from Harper's Bazaar 1867-1898, I think they could well be wearing bathing suits. Although not identical - that would be so "last year" wouldn't it - the clothes are similar to those depicted in the engraving shown from July 1876, reproduced above. Perhaps someone more familiar with Victorian fashions can confirm - or refute - this. While they belong firmly in the "What were they thinking?" category in the present day, I feel they were at the height of fashion back then.
I'm looking forward to a suitably eclectic selection of swimsuits among the other Sepia Saturday contributions this week.
At 2.30 in the morning on Thursday 10th June 1886 - 125 years ago last Friday - many Auckland residents were woken by a continuous series of loud, but distant, explosions. Flashes could be seen on the horizon and it was assumed, even by writers compiling the early edition of The New Zealand Herald, that some vessel in the Manukau Harbour had exploded [2]. If George Valentine, his wife Minna and their three children, by some chance, did not wake until a more respectable hour, they would soon have heard the news, even at their home in the borough of Parnell. By nine o'clock the Auckland Evening Star offices had received reports of a "tremendous outburst of volcanic activity ... in the Rotorua District, surpassing anything of the kind ever experienced in New Zealand." [3]
Te Wairoa Township, c.1886 [4]
Valentine was familiar with the "Hot Lakes," having visited Rotorua and the nearby Lakes Tarawera and Rotomahana early the previous year on a photographic excursion. George Dobson Valentine (1852-1890) was a son of the renowned Scottish pioneer photographer and publisher of views James Valentine (1815-1880). After his father's death, he and his brother William had continued to expand the photographic business.
"In The Tiki Tapu Bush" - January 1885 [5]
However after being diagnosed with tuberculosis, he emigrated to New Zealand with his family in 1884, in the hope that the climate would revive his health. Initially settling in Nelson, he had begun publishing photographic views under his own name, and one of his earliest projects was a photographic expedition to the Rotomahana District, near Rotorua, with Auckland bookseller Charles Chapman.
"Rotomahana Hotel, Te Wairoa" - January 1885 [6]
From Auckland, they travelled via Cambridge, Oxford (now called Tirau) and Rotorua over several days in January 1885. The journey to Te Wairoa, on the shores of Lake Tarawera, was a shorter leg, and they were able to spend some time admiring the pristine podocarp forest at Tikitapu. They spent the night at Joseph McRae's Rotomahana Hotel, and obtained permission from the local chiefs to camp at the famous Pink and White Terraces.
"White Terrace and Lake Rotomahana" - January 1885 [7]
Early the following morning on 13 January 1885 Valentine and Chapman departed by whale boat across Lake Tarawera to the small settlement of Te Ariki. They were accompanied by Guide Sophia, chief Tamihana Te Keu, a small group of tourists and the crew. A short walk then ensued to the "warm lake" Rotomahana, where the vista opened up to reveal the famed Te Tarata or White Terraces. Coincidentally, artist Charles Blomfield was camped nearby, in the middle of a lengthy stay during which he would paint a number of now well known views of the terraces.
"Coffee Cups, White Terraces" - January 1885 [8]
Clik image to read full series of articles
They set up camp close to the White Terraces and remained for several days, during which time Valentine produced over 40 scenic views with his glass plate camera, including this atmospheric image of the almost waxy looking siliceous basins with a fine veil of steam. After his return home to Nelson, these views were later published and marketed by Chapman. One of them was awarded a second prize at the New Zealand Industrial Exhbition in August, pipped at the post by Alfred Burton of Dunedin.
Great Volcanic Eruption. Terror in Hot Lake District The Auckland Evening Star, 10 June 1886 [3]
The Valentine family had moved to Auckland in October 1885, and had therefore been living there for some eight months on the morning that the dreadful news broke concerning the "terror in the Hot Lake district." News of the tragic loss of life was greeted with dismay, almost matched by the despair at reports of the devastation, affecting both personal property and the countryside, and including the Pink and White Terraces.
"Tiki-Tapu Bush, After Eruption" - October 1886 [9]
Photographers were on site recording the devastation within days, but George Valentine did not make it there until early October. He and Chapman were accompanied by Joseph McRae, whose hotel at Te Wairoa had been all but demolished in the ash fall, and guide Alfred Warbrick. The luxurious bush at Tikitapu was now an array of bare wooden tree trunks, sadly stripped of all signs of the green thicket captured so vividly the previous year.
"Te Wairoa. McRae's Hotel, Sophia's Whare and Terrace Hotel" - October 1886 [10]
They sheltered for the night in what remained of McRae's collapsed hotel before being rowed across the lake to Te Ariki. The scenes which they encountered, and which Valentine photographed, revealed a landscape denuded of all vegetation, and most recognisable landmarks were obliterated with a thick blanket of grey volcanic ash. Smoke and steam were spurting out of the ground in many locations, and when they reached the former site of the White Terraces, the valley had been filled with an enormous lake, several times the size of the original Rotomahana.
"Rotomahana, from Hape O' Toroa" - October 1886 [11]
Both the Pink and White Terraces were gone, replaced with the all encompassing tephra field, criss-crossed with erosion gullies and hard to traverse. Valentine returned to the area a month later to take further photographs of the southern part of the volcanic area, near Waimangu, accompanied by government engineer John Blythe. The results were published in several different formats and publications, which is fortunate, as the original glass plate negatives have not survived. The images displayed here are from prints and copy negatives in the collections of the Alexander Turnbull Library and Te Papa. The Assistant Surveyor-General later "determined," after surveying the area, that the White Terraces had been destroyed.
"Mnts. Tarawera and Ruawahia from Te Ariki" - October 1886 [12]
Valentine visited the area again in 1887 and 1889, and made further photographic excursions to the Pacific Islands of Tahiti, Tonga, Samoa and Rarotonga (1887), as well as to the previously little known limestone caves at Waitomo (1889). However, his first two sets of landscapes from the "Hot Lakes" region are perhaps better known than the rest. This image of the muddy shore of Lake Tarawera, with the mass of the ash-covered volcano forming a forbidding backdrop, and the lone boatman beaching what is presumably Warbrick's recently launched whaleboat, is one of the most enduring - and for me, haunting - of Valentine's post-eruption photographs.
On 26 February 1890, shortly after his return from photographing Pohutu and other geysers at Whakarewarewa, near Rotorua, George Valentine succumbed to the tuberculosis which had brought him to New Zealand. He was only 38 years old. His wife and children returned to Dundee, Scotland soon after.
Epilogue
The question of whether the Pink and White Terraces had been destroyed during Tarawera's eruption, or whether they were buried under layers of ash, has been revisited several times. The latest boost to this story, nicely timed for the 125th anniversary of the event, is the news that a team from GNS and the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution have discovered at least portions of both the Pink and White Terraces intact, submerged in Lake Rotomahana. The disappointing one-hour (including adverts) documentary that Prime aired on Sunday evening was long on history and hype, and very short on hard fact and images, with only a few brief underwater clips of the shown towards the end of the hour-long session. However, this web page from GNS includes a 4:37 minute video (click image above) by Dr Cornel de Ronde discussing the discoveries, with plenty of great images (and another YouTube video here).
References
[1] Blomfield, Charles (1886) Mount Tarawera in eruption, June 10, 1886 (From the native village of Waitangi, Lake Tarawera, New Zealand), W. Potts, lithograph after C. Blomfield, publ. Wanganui, New Zealand: A.D. Willis, courtesy of Timeframes & the Alexander Turnbull Library, Ref. C-033-002.
[3] Anon (1886) Great Volcanic Eruption: Terror in Hot Lake District, The Auckland Evening Star, 10 June 1886, from Papers Past, courtesy of National Library of New Zealand.
[4] Wairoa township, from Te Komiti, Lithograph 313 x 216 mm by unknown artist, courtesy of Timeframes & the Alexander Turnbull Library, Ref. B-051-009.
[5] In the Tiki Tapu Bush, near Lake Tikitapu (Blue Lake), Rotorua, 41, Albumen print, 190 x 289 mm, by George D. Valentine, January 1885, courtesy of Timeframes & the Alexander Turnbull Library, Ref. PA7-54-24.
[6] Rotomahana Hotel, Te Wairoa, 38, Albumen print, 292 x 191 mm, by George D. Valentine, January 1885, courtesy of Timeframes & the Alexander Turnbull Library, Ref. PA7-60-02.
[7] White Terrace and Lake Rotomahana, Albumen print, by George D. Valentine, January 1885, courtesy of Timeframes & the Alexander Turnbull Library, Ref. PA1-q-138-009.
[8] Coffee Cups, White Terraces, Albumen print, 290 x 189 mm, by George D. Valentine, January 1885, courtesy of Timeframes & the Alexander Turnbull Library, Ref. PA1-q-212-20.
[9] Tiki-Tapu Bush, after Eruption, 119, Albumen print, 187 x 289 mm, by George D. Valentine, October 1886, courtesy of Timeframes & the Alexander Turnbull Library, Ref. PA7-54-03.
[10] Te Wairoa. McRae's Hotel, Sophia's Whare and Terrace Hotel, Albumen print, 292 x 192 mm, by George D. Valentine, October 1886, courtesy of Museum of New Zealand/Te Papa Tongarewa, Ref. O.030859.
[11] Rotomahana, from Hape O' Toroa, 146, Albumen print, by George D. Valentine, November 1886, courtesy of Timeframes & the Alexander Turnbull Library, Ref. PA1-q-138-005.
[12] Mnts. Tarawera and Ruawahia from Te Ariki, 129, Albumen print, 290 x 188 mm, by George D. Valentine, October 1886, courtesy of Timeframes & the Alexander Turnbull Library, Ref. PA7-54-01.
When Roseingrave Macklin arrived in Derby in 1835 with wife Jane Ann and six daughters he was already in his forties. He had taken Holy Orders in his home town of Dublin - where his father Gerard Macklin (1767-1848) was state surgeon of Ireland - and held a living as Rector of Newcastle, in the county of Wicklow, for some years.
Immediately prior to his move to England, Macklin had been the vicar of Lusk, north of Dublin, and was instrumental in the establishment of a Protestant church-based school in the nearby town of Rush [2]. He also appears to have been an active participant in the "no-Popery" movement. In late 1828, following agitation by Daniel O'Connell and the Catholic Association, a proposal was made to legislate for the right of Catholics to enter the British parliament. In response, a significant number of well-heeled Irish Protestants initiated a large scale campaign, forming the Brunswick "constitutional" clubs as part of a thinly disguised attempt at a Populist movement against the political reforms [3].
Macklin was present at a meeting for the purpose of establishing a Brunswick Club for the baronies of Rathdowne and Newscastle at Newtown-Mountkennedy in October 1828 [4], where he made the following inflammatory contribution:
Can any man of common sense come forward and tell me that the Protestants of Ireland are to lie down and be trodden under foot, or be led like lambs to the sacrifice? ... I would entreat of you to preserve that constitution inviolate and inviolable, which your ancestors sacrificed so much to obtain. They handed it down to you - you have another duty to perform, to hand it down to your posterity unaltered and glorious as it has ever been.
Despite the efforts of the Brunswicks at scaremongering, attempting to incite a fear of Catholic ascendancy and eventual home rule, the government of the Duke of Wellington succeeded in passing the Emancipation legislation in 1829. Continued resentment by the general population of Ireland against the payment of tithes to the Church of Ireland resulted in the Tithe War of the early to mid-1830s.
St Werburgh's Church, Derby, c.1833 [5]
This was the political backdrop at the time of Rev. Macklin's move from Dublin to Derby, although his reasons for leaving the land of his birth are unknown. In 1832 he purchased some land in Derby [6], and three years later he settled in the town, having been made curate of St Werburgh's church under Rev. Edward Unwin [1]. Unwin was a wealthy Derby resident, for whom the Grade II listed Regency villa Highfield House - featured previously on Photo-Sleuth, here - was built by Richard Leaper in 1827. Macklin was performing duties at St Werburgh's by 19 August 1835 [7].
By 1841 he had impressed his superiors sufficiently to be appointed to the incumbency of Christ Church situated near the junction of Normanton and Burton Roads, and presumably a step up in the clergical heirarchy.
The new position did not prevent Rev. Macklin from pursuing his anti-Catholic mission. Freeman's Journal and Daily Commercial Advertiser (Dublin) published an article in July 1839 discussing reactions to the "no-popery cry," which included a letter from Sir George Harpur Crewe, former Sherriff of Derbyshire, and at the time M.P. for South Derbyshire [8]. The letter was written in response to a request from Henry Cox, secretary of the Protestant Association, and Macklin, and declined an invitation to assist in the formation of a local branch:
I have never attended any of the meetings at Exeter-hall of this association, because, whatever be their inention, I cannot approve of their practice. the sole object appears to me to be the most violent abuse of the Roman Catholics ... I neither like the tone nor spirit of the speeches delivered by the great Irish speakers on these occasions. There is too much of human temper, and far too little of Christian love to please me.
One wonders whether Macklin approved of the marriage of daughter Jemima to Harpur Crewe's nephew Arthur Godley Crewe (1831-1894) in 1861 [9]. Perhaps the intervening two decades had tempered Macklin's views somewhat, although it seems unlikely. In 1843 Macklin was in the news again, welcoming a former "Romish priest" of the Dominican order to his congregation at Christ Church [10]. Then in January 1851, at a meeting of the Foreign Aid Society [11], he remarked:
... that the Protestantism of the people of this country had lately been evoked to a remarkable extent, and he sincerely hoped it would ... strengthen them in their determination to carry out the principles of their religion which were essentially antagonistic to Popery.
The Macklin family lived at what was then number 14 Wardwick, on the south-west corner with Becket Street, Rev. Macklin owning much of the land to the west of Green Lane, which was largely undeveloped when they first arrived in Derby. At that time (1835) they had six daughters: Martha R. (1823-1905), Charlotte R. (1825-1863), Georgina (1828-1913), Sophia (1830-1887), Rosina Margaret (1831-1884) and Jemima (1832-1916), all born in Ireland. A seventh daughter Frances Arabella (1838-1885) and, finally, a son Gerard Roseingrave Wilson (1843-1896) were born after their arrival in Derby. Although five of their eight children died unmarried, three daughters did marry and produced, in turn, eight grandchildren.
Martha Macklin married another clergyman Arthur Charles Pittar (1827-1899), variously curate of Alfreton (Derbyshire), vicar of Ashton Hayes (Cheshire), vicar of Holy Trinity Trowbridge (Wiltshire) and rector of Melmerby (Cumberland). Georgina Macklin married iron master and colliery owner Charles Henry Oakes (1826-1906) from Riddings, near Alfreton, Derbyshire. Jemima Macklin married Alfred Godley Crewe (1831-1894) (son of the Rector of Breadsall), a physician and surgeon for the Madras Army in India, and later of Portsea, Hampshire.
Roseingrave Macklin remained the incumbent of Christ Church for over twenty years, resigning because of poor health in 1862. In an obituary published in The Derby Mercury [1], his religious views gained a prominent mention:
Like most of the Irish clergy holding similar opinions, he was an indefatigable opponent and denouncer of the errors of Romanism, and was actively engaged in every movement which had for its object the defence of the Protestant Church, or aggression on the Romish, particularly in his native land.
Perhaps the most enduring of Reverend Macklin's legacies to the town of Derby are Macklin Street and Wilson Street, in the area to the south-west of the city centre. Wilson was also a family name. It may be that there are other surviving Macklin remnants, for example perhaps some reminders of his tenure at All Saints. If you are aware of any, please let me know and I'll add them to this article.
In a future article, I will discuss the carte de visite portrait itself, where it came from, and the circumstances under which it may have been taken.
References
[1] The Late Mr. Macklin, in The Derby Mercury (Derby, England), 22 November 1865.
[2] Address to the Rev. Roseingrave Macklin, late Vicar of Lusk, in The Derby Mercury (Derby, England), 3 June 1835.
A year ago I posted an article about Move-O-Graph, The Live Portrait, a gimmicky idea from an era well before the advent of video cameras, even before Super 8 home movie cameras. Tony Rackstraw posted a similar Living Portrait on his blog, Early Canterbury Photographers.
Recently I received another example of a Move-O-Graph portrait from David Brook, depicting his father Archibald Brook (1888-1967). It was probably taken in the late 1910s or early 1920s. The mechanism, which from Tony Rackstraw's description appears to consist of two layers, has survived intact. The lower layer consists of a composite photographic image made from two distinct views, and the second is a covering "filter" of cellulose with very narrow vertical black strips. The "movement" effect is created by the gaps between these strips alternately revealing first one image and then the other, as the filter is moved slightly from side to side.
The reverse of the card which encases the photograph has printed instructions for achieving the full effect. The pencilled "530a Oxford Street" was added by the subject at some stage.
I've used images sent to me by David in an attempt to recreate this "movement" digitally using an animated GIF. The effect is a little unnerving, and David ensures me the original is even more so.
To be honest, I can't imagine why a perfectly good-looking gentleman like Archibald Brook, pictured in a more conventional portrait at around the same time above, might want to preserve his features in such a manner. None of the examples I've seen so far - and several more have appeared on the net since my last article - have been very flattering, and I would even be bold enough to say that most are positively bizarre. I'm not particularly suprised that the format apparently never lasted more than a few years.
If you have a Move-O-Graph that produces a pleasant effect - I would even settle for somewhat comical - please get in touch so we can share it. For the moment, I'm adding this one to my newly created "What were they thinking?" category.
People change their names for many reasons. One might speculate at length as to why basketmaker James Byron Clayton (1826-1880) abandoned his family name when opening a photographic studio in Nottingham in 1857. The simplest argument, and probably the closest to the truth, is that described by Bernard and Pauline Heathcote in their booklet, Pioneers of Photography in Nottinghamshire [1].
His younger brother Walter Clayton (1833-1893) had already upstaged him by opening a studio in Greyhound Street, Nottingham a year earlier. Perhaps it was to distinguish himself in a rapidly growing market with numerous competitors, and his baptismal middle name, Byron, seemed to have a little more cachet. Whatever the purpose, he dropped the Clayton and simply became James Byron, photographer of Ram Yard, Long Row East.
When his son Joseph Clayton (1847-1923), in turn, entered the profession in 1867, taking over a studio in Blackfriars Street, London, he too styled himself in the fashion of an artist photographer. With lofty ambitions, his first carte de visite mounts were ordered from the printers with the name Byron Clayton, supplemented by the description, "Parliamentary & Portrait Photographer," perhaps more aspirational than by actual appointment.
Joseph Byron Clayton, c.1875-1876
Image courtesy of Heathcote & Heathcote (2001) [1]
Sadly, Joseph's sojourn in London was short one. After a run-in with the constabulary and a brief spell of incarceration, he returned to Nottingham and entered business with his father around 1870, an arrangement which continued until the latter's retirement in 1876. In 1873 and 1874 Joseph also operated the oddly named Magnet Studio in Leicester jointly with his uncle Walter, although the partnership did not last for long.
James Byron Clayton died in 1880, shortly after which Joseph opened a new Nottingham studio in Bridlesmith Gate. He must have done sufficient business to be able to order a sequence of fresh card mount designs, such as the one displayed above with a Georgian flavour. By early 1886, however, the business was in significant financial difficulty, and a further move to Smithy Row was insufficient to stave off bankruptcy proceedings.
The Byron family, Nottingham, 1888
Gelatin silver print by J. Byron, Ref. 93.1.4.1 [2]
In the summer of 1888 Joseph Byron decided to make a new start. He, his wife Julia (née Lewin) and their eldest daughter travelled to New York in September, with their remaining four children following a month later, accompanied by Julia's mother.
A scene from Fred R. Hamlin's production of "The Wizard of Oz" at the Majestic Theatre, 1903
Gelatin silver print by J. Byron, Ref. 41.420.748 [2]
Initially Joseph Byron practised as a freelance press photographer for the Illustrated American and other clients, but in 1889 he made a foray into theatrical photography. According to David Shields [4]:
Sarony studio's control of the theatrical portrait trade prompted Byron to make sittings a secondary concern, concentrating instead on production stills. He was one of the pioneers in the creation of stage images that could be used in programs, memorial brochures, and magazines ... The most artistic of the early 'stage picture' photographers, Joseph Byron attempted to capture the dynamic of stage action from unusual angles at moments of acute emotional impact.
Portrait, Ethel Barrymore, c.1902 - "More regal than royalty."
Gelatin silver print by J. Byron, Ref. 93.1.1.8603 [2]
He was not averse to taking formal portraits at sittings when the opportunity arose, such as this drawing room sitting of Ethel Barrymore taken at around the time she gave out what would become her most famous line, "That's all there is, there isn't any more."
The New York Times Building under construction
1 Times Square, c.1903
Gelatin silver print by J. Byron, Ref. 93.1.1.16687 [2]
Eventually his wife Julia and several of their children, including son Percy, all became involved in the photographic business. The Museum of the City of New York has an extensive collection of prints and glass plate negatives by the Byron Company, with over 24,000 images online [2]. The breadth of Byron's prolific output in the 1890s and early 1900s demonstrates his willingness to search for clients and subjects in all parts of the metropolis. This photograph, typical of his many architectural views, provides an unusual early view of the Times Building under construction in Times Square.
Children, Playing on streets, 1908
Gelatin silver print by J. Byron, Ref. 93.1.1.3171 [2]
His street views were a little more lively, and he might just as easily capture a gaggle of kids playing on a street corner in a run-down neighbourhood (image above), as a party of friends out for a thrill on the pleasure rides at Coney Island.
Miss Jackson, Bath Beach, New York, 1898
Gelatin silver print by J. Byron, Ref. 93.1.1.1311 [2]
It seems likely that some of his work consisted of on the spot commissions, such as this delightful shot of a Miss Jackson trying out an early bathing costume at Bath Beach, for which one assumes he must have entered the water himself.
Thomas A. Edison, 1904
Gelatin silver print by J. Byron, Ref. 93.1.1.8765 [2]
Although he is perhaps best remembered for his New York cityscape views and theatrical compositions, his business was incredibly varied. He was apparently just as happy to visit Thomas Alva Edison's laboratory (above) as he was to stand in the street outside Lazarus Levy's clothing store on East Broadway (below).
30 East Broadway. A crowd of children in front of L. Levy, Manufacturer of Clothing, 1898
Gelatin silver print by J. Byron, Ref. 93.1.1.17141 [2]
His son Percy Byron followed him into the practice, but in 1906 moved to Edmonton, Alberta where he established a photographic business with his brother-in-law Gustave May. The Byron-May partnership experienced a significant downturn in business during the Great War, and Percy returned to New York. He rejoined his father, and spearheaded a new specialisation into ship photography.
Joseph and Julia Byron, 1904
Gelatin silver print by the Byron Company, Ref. 93.1.4.7 [2]
Joseph Byron died in 1923, after which Percy took over the Byron Company and continued to run it successfully until the middle of the Second World War, when business once again declined, and the company was finally wound up in October 1942 [3]. Percy Byron died on 10 June 1959.
My profile of the Byron-Clayton family in Nottingham and London, prior to Joseph's emigration to New York, is supplemented with a gallery containing numerous examples of their portrait work.
This article is a submission to Sepia Saturday 78. For further serendipitous finds from the sepia archives, it's well worth a visit.
[3] Simmons, Peter (1999) Gotham Comes of Age: New York Through the Lens of the Byron Company, 1892 - 1942, Pomegranate Communications, 216p. ISBN 0764909061. Partially available online from Google Books.
[4] Joseph Byron, on Broadway Photographs: Art Photography and the American Stage, 1900-1930.
[5] Payne, Brett (2011) James Byron Clayton (1826-1880) & Joseph Byron Clayton (1847-1923) of Nottingham.
, Nelson, New Zealand: Craig Potton Publishing, 132p.
, Nottinghamshire County Council, 62p.
: New York Through the Lens of the Byron Company, 1892 - 1942, Pomegranate Communications, 216p. ISBN 0764909061. Partially available online from