Note: This post is not paywalled. Enjoy! — Paul
Yesterday I wrote about some of the items I’ve recently acquired to display in my home. While I was working on that piece, I happened to glance at the Facebook feed of my neighborhood Buy Nothing group and saw that someone was giving away a pretty remarkable item. I want to talk about that today.
The Buy Nothing listing was for a bunch of old glass insulators mounted on a bone fide utility pole crossarm (see above), which one of my neighbors was giving away. You’re probably familiar with glass insulators, which are pretty common at flea markets, junk shops, and so on. They’re very nice items, but I’ve never felt the need to collect them myself. But hey, a bunch of vintage insulators on a vintage utility crossarm? Now that interests me. I was the first person to respond, so I ended up with this treasure — for free. Unfuckingbelievable!
Insulators have have screw threads on the inside, so I’ve always known that they screw onto something. But I never knew what they screw onto, and I kind of intuitively assumed that it must be some kind of metal fitting. But when I got home and began inspecting my new treasure, I saw that each insulator was screwed onto a wooden peg, and each peg was set into a hole in the crossarm, like so:
So cool! One of the insulators still has a loop of heavy-duty wire wound around it, which feels extra-special:
The crossarm is five feet long and weighs about 30 pounds, so it presented a display challenge, especially in a small New York rental apartment. Then I got the idea to put it on the back of my sofa. The sofa has a wooden frame, which I thought would be a good fit for the wooden beam, and the insulator colors fit in with the earth tones of my living room.
Not bad, right? I was pretty happy with this solution and excited about this new addition to my home. And it was good timing, since I was already working on the article about my latest home décor.
But after a day, I noticed a faint but persistent gasoline-ish smell in the room. At first I thought it might have something to do with our house’s furnace, which is located in the basement right below my apartment. But then I realized it was coming from the wooden beam. A bit of research revealed that utility poles are typically treated with creosote or other petroleum-based preservatives — ugh.
Sadly, that means this item is not suitable for indoor display. It would be perfect for the backyard … if only I had a backyard. For now, it’s sitting on my front porch until I figure out what to do with it. (The porch itself is not a good display option — it’s just not a good fit there.) Of course, I could unscrew the insulators and display them by themselves, like lots of other people do. But the crossarm and pegs seem pretty integral to this story — I never would’ve wanted the insulators in the first place if they hadn’t been part of a larger package. Hmmmm.
I know what you’re probably thinking: Why not get a piece of lumber that matches the crossarm’s dimensions, stain it so it looks old, drill some holes in it for the pegs, and then transfer the pegs and insulators to it? Then I could put the new display back in the apartment. No creosote, no toxic fumes — problem solved!
I’ve considered doing that. But deep inside, a part of me thinks that using a substitute beam would cheapen the story and make the display less special. In fact, before I detected the creosote smell, I had wondered if the beam was actually a home-woodworking project instead of a genuine utility pole artifact. Once it began off-gassing, I was like, “Hey, cool, it’s the real deal after all! Oh, but it’s toxic — dang.”
These questions ultimately boil down to a very loaded term: authenticity. It’s an important word in the collecting community, of course (you want the genuine article, not a replica or a counterfeit), but it’s also an increasingly important concept throughout society. As our world becomes more mediated, more digital, more advertising-saturated, more social media-driven, more mendacious, and so on, and as we all become more cynical and jaded as a result, authenticity seems like an increasingly precious commodity, and I expect AI will make it even more so.
So yeah, I like the idea of using the authentic crossbeam, not just a random piece of wood from Home Depot. Granted, I’m probably more of a literalist than most other folks, and maybe you think I’m being too much of a stickler here. But am I? Look around your home and pick out a few old, special items with interesting backstories. How would you feel if you had to replace any of them with exact replicas? The reproductions might look exactly the same, but they wouldn’t be exactly the same. Maybe nobody else would know, but you would know, and I suspect you would find that unsatisfying. That’s how I feel about the prospect of a replacement beam. (A New York City museum recently dealt with a controversy involving this very issue.)
There’s also a middle option, which would be to source a piece of old, reclaimed wood. That still wouldn’t be as good as the original crossarm, but at least the substitute beam would have its own interesting story. (Yes, I realize that even a piece of wood from Home Depot has a story, but it’s a much less interesting one.)
Or I could just stick the whole display in storage until I move to a place with a backyard. Or I could sell it. If you have other suggestions, feel free to post them in the comments.
We all tend to be more adaptable than we think we are, so I know I’ll eventually come to a decision I can live with. But for now I’m still working through the various stages of grief, because I was super-excited about this item and then got whiplashed by the creosote situation. Sigh.
Update: Several people have suggested that I look into treating the beam with a product called EnviroShield CreoShield, which apparently seals any harmful fumes. I’m looking into it.
Inconspicuous News Roundup
I can’t stop thinking about this recent Facebook post from my friend Ronnie (see above).
The new Coyote vs. Acme movie has raised an existential question: Does the Road Runner say “beep, beep” or “meep, meep”?
Last week’s post about the guy who collects tokens prompted IC reader David Brown to teach me a new word: exonumia, which refers to tokens, medals, badges, and other numismatic items that are not legal tender.
Paul Lukas has been obsessing over the inconspicuous for most of his life, and has been writing about those obsessions for more than 30 years. He also writes Uni Watch, which is sort of like Inconspicuous Consumption for sports. You can contact him here.
This is an excellent piece. First I want to call out the best cluster of words on the internet this week: "whiplashed by the creosote situation."
More than that, though, I really vibed with this as someone who has written about authenticity a great deal over the years. Your points are universal but letting them unfold in a microcosm -- your apartment -- makes them even stronger. Are you familiar with the story of "the same axe twice"? If not:
My grandfather buys an axe. He uses it for many years and passes it on to my father. My father uses it, but the handle breaks and he replaces it and keeps using it. My father passes it on to me. I use it for years but at some point the blade breaks. I replace the blade and keep using it.
Is it the same axe my grandfather had?
I do like the fact it came with the pole, it might be worthwhile effort to detoxify it 🤷🏽♀️