The figurines were arranged like the inside of a black Baptist church on a Sunday morning. Three deacons in white on the right. Three mothers of the church in white on the left.
The mothers and other women sat wearing their best hats, pocketbooks and pearls, with Bibles and songbooks in their hands. A mother with her two children. Three sisters. A little girl sucking her thumb. A mother and her son, him proud in his soldier’s uniform. On the other side, several men sat alone. A granddad with his grandchildren. A father watching as his son played the trumpet.
In the middle between them was the minister, standing at the pulpit, ready to preach to his flock. Behind him stood the choir, their arms outstretched, singing.
“It looks like they’re singing ‘Hallelujah,’” my aunt Dora Mae said. “It’s amazing. They look so real. I got a man with pants on with a crease in them.”
This is her church service, 22 figurines she collected over the last 10 years from a beauty supply store in her hometown. They’re not fancy or even worth a fortune. She got them for about $7 each, and she had set them up neatly on a mantle in her living room. They matched a print of a similar worship scene hanging on her wall.
They’re called “Treasures of the Heart” by Young Inc., Made in China. I couldn’t find out much about Young, so I’m assuming it’s one of those import companies marketing black figurines. Some of the figurines have no maker’s mark on the bottom. Those bearing the Young mark have this inscription: “A Celebration of African American Life and Culture.”
Black collectible figurines appear to be a popular market. I’ve seen pieces like hers in department stores, online and at flea markets. Many are now being created by African American sculptors and artists, including artist Annie Lee. Here’s a sampling on the marketplace website littleafrica.com. If you’re interested in collecting vintage or antique black memorabilia, this website offers some tips and links.
Like our own collections, my aunt’s holds a special place in her heart, for they are a representation of her faith, of her lifelong experience of spending Sunday mornings with her church family praising her God. They’re worth more to her than money because of the joy that they bring.
Most of us collect something. If you have more than five of one thing, the saying goes, then you’re a collector. I used to spend a lot of my time and money collecting African American art. That’s how I got into auctions, because I wanted to discover African American masters at reasonable prices. In some instances, I was able to. I don’t buy as much now because I’ve run out of space.
While visiting my family for Christmas, I discovered that my aunt was not the only collector in the family. While helping my sister Chris de-clutter, I found a collection of turtles. Turtles? I’m a member of the Turtle Club, she explained.
I had never heard of it. She said that she joined through her connection with the Eastern Star and Shriners. So, I Googled and I found that the club was for fun, networking and fraternity. I also found out the history of the International Association of Turtles (or Turtle Club or Ancient and Honorable Order of Turtles, as it is also known) from Wikipedia:
The club was formed by pilots during World War II who described it as “an honorable drinking fraternity composed of ladies and gentlemen of the highest morals and good character, who are never vulgar.” To gain membership, a person must answer four of 25 questions whose answers appear to be vulgar and sex-related, but are actually innocuous.
One of the questions:
1. What is it that a man can do standing up, a women sitting down, and a dog on three legs? (Answer: Shake hands).
When asked the question “Are you a Turtle?,” a member must give the correct answer or password. (This answer, in fact, is a bit vulgar and you can find it in Wikipedia).
The club has an initiation ritual plus membership card, a national headquarters in Wyoming, a Facebook page and even Turtle items for sale. My sister has 16 turtles ranging from tiny to enormous. Once we de-cluttered, we found a space to display them. Like my aunt, she won’t be able to retire on the proceeds from selling the collection, but they’re important for what they represent.
“I love my what-nots,” said my aunt. “But I can’t find them anymore.”
An aside: I have a play-sister who collects black angels, and she has asked me to keep an eye out for some in my auction travels.
To read more about faith, check out Yvonne Shinhoster Lamb’s blog Soul Rhythms.
