The 1891 article below talks about the skeleton trade in Philadelphia. It highlights a man from France who came to Philadelphia to begin his trade in skeletons. Not only did he articular bones sent to him from France, but he also put together the rougher domestic skeletons and skeletons made out of paper.
Trades in Skeletons
To deal in the bones of human beings would be an occupation repugnant to most men. Yet in the vicinity of Sixth and South streets lives an old Frenchman who finds more pleasure in this occupation than anything else in his life. His store is a veritable den of skeletons. The weather beaten sign swinging over the door, creaking dismally with every gust of wind, bears this simple legend, “M. de Robaire, Parfumerie,” from which it is evident monsieur would have the world believe that he deals almost exclusively in those perfumed waters so dear to the feminine heart. Every family has a skeleton in the closet, however, and monsieur’s family, which consists only of himself, is no exception to the general rule. He has his skeleton – in fact he has scores of them – in closets and otherwise, the majority otherwise. The truth of the matter is, the old Frenchman deals in skeletons.
The second floor boasts of only two small rooms, the rear one being used as a workshop, while the other, directly over the store and fronting on the street, serves the double purpose of bedchamber and storeroom.
Such another bedchamber as the one occupied by the old Frenchman probably does not exist, and how monsieur manages to sleep the sleep of the just among such gruesome surroundings is and insolvable mystery to the few who have been admitted to it.
The walls of the small room are ornamented with skulls and crossbones and real life size skeletons, or rather death size skeletons, in all sorts of grotesque positions. Four hideous skulls grin from their positions on top of the four posts of the bed, and close to the sides of the bed stands a skeleton with arms outstretched doing duty as a clothes rack. The whole is dimly lighted up by a faint glimmer of light emanating from a lamp made of a ghastly skull suspended from the middle of the ceiling with thongs of tanned human hide.
The Skeleton Trade
De Rebaire himself is an odd looking man, and the resemblance between him and one of his own skeletons is decidedly striking. He has gaunt, wolflike features, his thin upper lip and bony chin being adorned with an iron gray mustache and imperial.
For a score of years he has been carrying on his business in the old place, having emigrated from France in 1855, coming direct to Philadelphia, where he established himself in business. For a time he had a hard struggle to keep body and soul together, owing to the number of competitors in the field, together with the dullness of business. It soon became necessary for him, in addition to his other trade, to set himself up as a druggist, and he still runs his little shop, though principally as a decoy.
Late in the 1860s, when the Knights of Pythias were organized in this state, the demand for skeletons increased, as they were used to a great extent in the lodge rooms. De Robaire prospered, as a consequence, since most of his competitors had given up the business.
Off and on during the following twenty years business was dull and brisk by turns, but the old man had amassed a small fortune, and there is no reason why he should longer continue in the business except that he has taken a liking to his work, such as every true artist does. He is an artist in the full sense of the word. There is undoubtedly no one who can articulate a skeleton as neatly as he, and it is no idle boast on his part when he claims that with eyes blindfolded he can take a mass of bones representing the human frame and build up the skeleton as it was originally, without one bone out of place.
What the “Doctor” Says
The “doctor,” while standing in his workshop a few days ago with his sleeves rolled up over his skinny arms, thus held forth on the subject nearest his heart:
“This skeleton you see me operating on, I have imported from France. You will notice the high polish on the bones, due to a method of preparation practiced only by the French. They clean the bones by a process of maceration with muriatic acid, the whole operation requiring two of three months’ time, while in this country the bones are hastily and carelessly boiled and come out rough and dirty. In all my twenty years’ service I have never come across a Chinese skeleton. This is due to the fact that a Chinese man believes he will not reach heaven unless his bones rest in the Flowery Kingdom.
“The different prices of skeletons are based upon their degrees of hardness and whiteness, upon the development of the bones and the amount of absence of fat in their extremities. For this reason the French article is decidedly of more value than the American or German. Up to this year over 2,600 skeletons have been imported into this country, but they have become scarce of late for some reason, and to supply the demand I find it necessary to manufacture them of paper.
“Of course I have a stock of them in my bedroom, but I would not part with any of these. Mon Dieu! I have come to look upon them as dear friends and companions. Here you see my artificial skeletons, made of paper mache, with artificial teeth, and the whole covered with a white polish which gives the appearance of the genuine article. I can make three of these each week, and they bring from $10 to $15, while the imported genuine article costs from $30 to $35 dollars and the domestic $20. But then the imitations are bought only by secret societies.
“Yes, I have grown old in the business and I love it. I have articulated and handled over 5,000 skeletons in my time.”
Source: The Madison daily leader. (Madison, S.D.), 28 Dec. 1891.
