Fifty Years of Framing

Part One

On this very day in 1969 I began what has resulted in a most satisfying and creative journey of fifty years (and counting).

I was 23 years old, and other than babysitting in high school, selling my own artwork at outdoor art and craft shows, as well as a brief stint as an unenthusiastic purveyor of Parklane jewelry at home parties, I had never been employed in a real job.  I was bored.

One day I found a classified ad in a Buffalo paper – it listed an address on Allen Street and stated “Must be artistic.”  Figuring I would be a shoo-in, I strolled into the little gallery at around 3 o’clock in the afternoon.  I was greeted by an overenthusiastic Weimaraner (I believe his name was "Get down, Axel!") and the quintessential grumpy old man.  I told the man I was there for the advertised job.

“You should have been here this morning at 9 o’clock!” he shouted, “I already hired someone.”  I was a bit taken aback by his outburst, but the place seemed interesting, so as long as I was there, I began looking around.

The ad had only mentioned the street address, not the name of the business, and I had not noticed the name when I had entered.  As I was nosing around I found business cards which read “Buffalo Picture Frame & Mirror.”

“This is Buffalo Picture Frame?” I blurted.  The man looked at me as if I had taken leave of my senses.

“My uncle works at Buffalo Picture Frame,” I continued lamely.

He started, and then in a voice dripping with suspicion, growled, “Who’s your uncle?”

“Bob McPherson,” I replied.  Uncle Bob had worked there for many years.

“Bob didn’t tell me his niece was looking for a job!” he exclaimed.  He took a few seconds to reconsider the situation and then  then asked me for my phone number in case his new hire did not pan out.

And that is how I met the inimitable Jason S. Natowitz – Army sharpshooter, pharmaceutical salesman, accredited inventor of department store Santa photographs, and the founding father  of the Allentown Art Festival.  He was a man of many talents.

Kramer the Framer, original Artist Proof by Charles Bragg.  This is the first frame I ever bought from Jason (it had been an "oops" frame) and I still love it.  And aside from his bushy moustache, Kramer has always reminded me of Jason (Jason's moustache was always neatly clipped).  The rest of the details of the image are spot on for Buffalo Picture Frame in those days.

Jason phoned me the next morning and instructed me to report for work the following Monday.  Turns out the woman he had hired had never even gotten off of her bus when she saw the old boarded-up building on William Street.  Not exactly the trendy Allentown address where either of us had expected to be working.

I started at minimum wage, $1.55 per hour, and I envisioned being able to spend this small fortune on expanding my horse collection.  My first week’s pay did indeed go to the acquisition of a beautiful Italian alabaster horse head that I had spied in the window of a cluttered little antique store across the street from Jason’s gallery.

From then on my wages went for household expenses and new horses were few and far between.  I barely noticed, however, because as the horses were shelved, the love of picture framing took over my life.

The first mystery I was initiated into was how the picture is installed into the frame.  I was put to work at the fitting table.  There I learned to clean the glass, use the ancient Red Devil diamond point driver to fasten the framing package into the frame, and apply paper and screw eyes and wire to the back. 

It still works and I use it when no other tool will do the trick.

Soon I was cutting the backing boards, and then dry mounting was added to my duties, and finally the Holy Grail – mat cutting on the Keaton Kutter and the Springfield oval cutter.  I was also taught how to cut glass by hand and eventually how to cover mats and liners with beautiful silks, linens, and velvets.

Jason had bought the business in the fifties and in those days framers did not deign to share trade secrets so he was pretty much on his own, making things up as he went along.  When he encountered a problem, he engineered a solution – he was a creative genius and even with the non-archival materials available to us back then, a great designer and picture framer.  Granted, some of the techniques he devised would cause a modern framer to faint dead away – but he tried his best.

Jason S. Natowitz and Darryl's predecessor, Jay, early 70's.

I still use many of Jason’s techniques today.  Fifteen years ago I attended a fabric workshop presented by our industry’s top fabric guy, and I was astounded to be shown Jason’s exact process, step by step.  The only difference was modern fabric glue instead of generic white glue, and rag matboard instead of wood pulp board.

Despite the dank windowless firetrap we were working in, the gang of us got along remarkably well.  Ceil, the previous owner-turned-bookkeeper guided us when she could in the front and provided delicious cakes for birthdays and holidays.  Helga was the other fitter, Lance (aka “Sinus”) was our often-absent Manager, and my Uncle Bob worked upstairs restoring paintings alongside the talented but color-blind Bruno who gold-leafed and finished length moulding.

There were several guys who worked in the back room, cutting and joining frames.  They came and went but after Lance departed, Darryl became the Manager, and we had fun almost every day, especially when Jason was not fussing over our shoulders and stinking up the place with his disgusting cigars.  Fortunately, he spent most of his time on Allen Street and only came to the workshop to pick up and drop off orders.

I worked there until the end of 1971 because, thanks to the glass guy, I was recruited away to work at Bond’s in Williamsville.  But that is another story.

. . . to be continued . . .