Bicentennial Dreamin’ (and Semiquincentennial Musings)

by Barbara Miller Beem

“Semiquincentennial.” Don’t you just love the way that word trips off the tongue? No? Well, neither do I. I’ve been writing about America’s upcoming big anniversary for nearly a year now, and I still have to look up the spelling of its name every single time. It didn’t have to be this way. Other options for a 250-year anniversary include the “Bisesquicentennial,” the “Sestercentennial,” or the “Quarter Millennium.” Not much better.

But one thing is certain, and that is whatever we call it, for collectors, this does not feel like it did fifty years ago during the celebration of the Bicentennial. Not surprisingly, I’ve been spending some time trying to decide what was so special about 1976. And, by extension, I wonder what collectibles from the 250th, if any, will be tomorrow’s charms?

Don’t get me wrong, what this anniversary marks is nothing less than incredible. Imagine representatives from America’s colonies traveling to Philadelphia for the Second Continental Congress, which resulted in the adoption of America’s Declaration of Independence. A demonstration of unimaginable courage, to be sure.

As an aside, I am always mildly amused when we, as a nation, continue to be obsessed by the British royals. Thank goodness it’s not a treasonous offense for us to love the Beatles or any James Bond movie starring Sean Connery, not to mention Hugh Grant and Cary Grant (no relation).

But I digress.

For many of us who were around in 1976, our memories of the Bicentennial are as clear as if it
were only yesterday. I don’t know anyone who was alive then who wouldn’t agree that it was a magical time in America. Not surprisingly, I’ve long been nostalgic for arevival of the Spirit of ’76, hoping once again to capture that feeling of excitement that once swept the country. As it happens, I documented that feeling back in 2006. Let me explain.

The occasion was a press luncheon celebrating the opening of a new pop culture museum in Baltimore. I was invited to attend. Although I don’t recall what was on the menu, I do remember it as a lovely catered meal, served in a gallery displaying some really cool examples of pop culture memorabilia. Whether a random act or one that was planned, I was assigned a seat just to the right of one of the museum’s high umpty-umps. What was to follow was my own When Harry Met Sally moment.

No, not that one. The other one. Let me explain.

Settling in, the gentleman to my left (let’s call him “Mr. X” because I don’t remember his name) proceeded to tell me that what America needed, right then and there, was something to spark a resurgence of the good feelings that had accompanied the Bicentennial. I nodded along as we moved from the salad course to the entree. Of course I agreed with him: He was parroting back to me (and rather accurately, I might add) the words of a published commentary I had penned earlier that month. Those who have memorized chapter and verse of the Nora Ephron movie will recognize the dinner date scene. On the screen, Sally’s friend Marie quotes something she has recently read in New York magazine. It turns out that what she recounted was written by Jess, a freelance writer who happened to be her tablemate that evening.

Back to my real-life version, sparked by the column with the headline “Feeling nostalgic for the Bicentennial.” In this essay, I pointed out that in the time leading up to 1976, there was a renewed interest in genealogical research. Communities around the country formed
historical societies, reflecting a desire to preserve the past. On the home front, crafters were stitching commemorative red, white, and blue pillows and afghans. I, along with countless others, tried my hand at quilting.

As for souvenirs, there were commemorative plates, decanters, and figurines, as well as branded collectable bells, thimbles, and spoons. With all this in mind, I proposed it was time for a renewal of this sort of spirit, which Mr. X heartily endorsed without mentioning the source of his inspiration. Unlike Jess, I didn’t respond to him by saying, “I wrote that.” I just kept on nodding my head.

Sad to say, my twenty-year-old observations still apply to today. When it comes to serious collectors, they seem to focus on commemorative souvenirs from the celebration of America’s Centennial in 1876. As for any fervor for fifty-year-old memorabilia marking the Bicentennial, it just doesn’t seem to be there. Much of what collectors had hoped to be family heirlooms (and I’m sure there are exceptions) seems to have faded from view. Where did they go? And do we really want to know?

Unless I’m missing something, the assorted wares that have survived have not greatly appreciated in value and can, for the most part, be picked up for a song when purchased online or in person at yard sales and flea markets. Maybe there were just too many things produced in conjunction with the Bicentennial. Or perhaps they were, dare I say, too tacky for today’s tastes?

Which brings us to today. What, if anything, are we leaving behind that will appeal to those who will be alive for the Tricentennial? And most importantly, how can we inspire the next generation of collectors? I have more questions than answers.

Your thoughts? thecharmjoac@gmail.com