Yes, I know, sounds like the title of a Moody Blues album
that came out in the late 60's.
Here's the true story of the "Portland" Cassin,s~
Deb & I moved to Southern Oregon, fresh out of San Jose State, in 1975. San Jose was quite obviously a dead end. We
were just a couple more rats in the cage down there, and there was no way that
we'd ever get ahead. And so, one weekend in November, we hopped in our Toyota
Land Cruiser, and followed our nose.
We stopped in Medford
for gas and it started snowing. A novelty for us flatland "kids",
since we'd seen snow in the "valley" only once in our 20 some years there,
and it was an absolute wonderment.
We grabbed a motel room for the night, tossed out job
resumes the next day, and were both dutifully employed before the sun went over
the yardarm that evening. Talk about young and dumb~
The next day we found a place to rent, and made a mad dash
back to San José, where we gave notice at our "valley" jobs and served out our time. That done, we loaded our meager worldly possessions
in our VW square back and the U-Haul trailer that I'd haul behind the Land
Cruiser and made the pilgrimage back north.
We settled in quick and easy. Priorities in order, we set out to locate
fellow bottle collectors. A local bottle club, the Gold Diggers, was legendary
in these parts. Marvin & Helen Davis (authors of many early bottle books),
Wes & Ruby Bressie (diggers extraordinaire), Terry Skibby, Howard Heitz, and
other famous names, were part of this club which dated to the early 1960's. Sadly,
the Gold Diggers had recently disbanded. A new startup club, the Siskiyou
Antique Bottle Collectors, was meeting later that week to fill the void left by
the old club, and we received an invitation to attend.
Not long afterwards, we met Marvin & Helen Davis in
person. They were kind enough to autograph our copy of their book, "Antique
Bottles". I'd received it as a gift in 1969, and had proceeded to "read
the ink off the pages" since. By then, they'd written other books,
including a Collectors Price Guide to Bottles, Tobacco Tins and Relics, which
they'd just finished. Marvin showed me a copy.
One bottle on page 33 a bottle caught
my eye. It was an odd shaped bitters by the name of Cassin,s. Not just any
Cassin,s, (like I'd ever seen another to compare it with) but a bright green
one that sparkled like a new penny.
Wow, I remarked, a bottle worth $100~?!. "I'd
sure like to see that one"!
Marvin said he'd see what he could do. The phone rang the next
week; It was Wes Bressie, and he'd made arrangements for us to see the bottle. The following morning we were off to Ashland, where we pulled up in front of a
huge Victorian mansion above the boulevard. A knock on the front door was
answered by a middle aged couple, and we were invited in. "Oh yes, the
bottle."
As we moved through the parlor, past the formal dining room
and into the kitchen I spotted the holy grail. Illuminated by the morning son,
on a window ledge, sat the most incredible bottle I'd ever seen. They invited
me to pick it up, as long as I was careful. I'd just been bitten by the bitters
bug!
Funny story, they said, as we went into an adjoining room.
They'd moved the century old upright piano from one side of the room to the
other. It had played fine before, but one key had started making a clanking
noise after the move. Thinking that one of the 100 year old strings had let
loose, they called in a piano tuner. Imagine everyone's surprise, when the back
was removed, and the culprit proved to be not a broken string, but an unbroken
old bottle instead.
And so, the Cassin,s bottle had sat in the window sill ever
since. They liked the way the sun played off of it. So did I!
A few years later I was making decent money, had started to
build a respectable western bitters collection (in addition to the whiskies)
and thought I'd take the next step up the collecting ladder. Heck, I figured
I'd just go straight for the top rung! Cassin,s or bust! We'd bought a place in
Ashland, just a
few blocks away from the mansion and one day I stopped in unannounced. They remembered
me and invited me in. Sorry, the bottle was no longer residing in the kitchen
window; it was now double wrapped in socks and passing time in a safe deposit
box. And no, it wasn't for sale for any price. (Seems that I wasn't the only
one who knew about the Cassin,s and who had tracked it down.) The main
difference is that although I was prepared to offer more than the $100~
estimate in the book, someone else had already dangled $5000~ in
front of them. That offer scared them and since they'd been offered $5K, they
thought that it might be worth even more.
In the early 80's I figured I'd make another run at it since
I could now afford the price of admission. I made a trip to the bank, withdrew
enough $100~ bills to choke a mule, and confidently made another unannounced
appearance. A stranger opened the door. Sorry, the previous owners had sold and
moved. No, they didn't know where they'd moved to; "somewhere up north"
they thought. My heart sank through my boots.
Time passed and one day, in a moment of inspiration, I
decided to make a concerted effort to track down the folks and the bottle. Off
to the library I went, and sure enough, in a city not too far north of here, I
found both husband and wife listed in a phone directory. With renewed
confidence, I sent a letter to them. It came back like a boomerang stamped, "return
to sender, not at this address, unable to forward".
Disgusted, I pretty much gave up on ever finding the bottle
again. And then one day, a friend of mine, with more resources that I had,
offered to pick up the trail for me. About a week later, Bill called. Success!
He'd found them. They'd moved twice, but were still up north. Armed with phone
number and address, I wasted no time. A phone call this time instead of a
letter. The Cassin,s would be mine. Finally!
"Hi, remember me from Ashland?" "I'd still very much like
to buy your Cassin,s bottle~". "You what?" "Just a couple
of weeks ago?" "For How Much!!??!!"
On the flip side, the owners got a significant amount for it, both
the buyer and seller were happy, and the new owner turned out to be the same
person that had crossed my path many years before. The "lost Cassin,s"
now resides in a collection in the S.F. North
Bay, no doubt flanked on both sides by other Cassin,s.
