Heavy Metal Madness: A Striking Art Form Burns Out

Gene Gable

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The Wall Street Journal recently reported that advertising-style matchbooks are on their way out, victims of state smoking bans and a market flooded with cheap disposable lighters. Apparently many restaurants and bars are switching to logo-adorned moist towlettes, fountain pens, and tiny notebooks as souvenir tchotchkes. Annual sales of matchbooks have dropped from $200 million in the ’70s to only $50 million today. And the number of companies in the “ignition industry” (no kidding) has dwindled from a peak of over 100 to only 2 domestic manufacturers. The matchbook, it appears, is dying.

We may not miss matches as an ignition source, but I think we will miss them as a publishing medium. The gradual death of matchbook art is similar to the loss of long-playing album art — the format, printing process, and promotional purpose of these small billboards created a unique palette for graphic expression.

Figure 1: Using bold colors and contemporary style, matchbook artists were challenged to do something different yet simple.

So although I mentioned matchbooks in an earlier column, I think it’s time for a more extensive tribute. After all, the peak of matchbook art was in the days of letterpress, even if many covers were printed in a rubber-plate process more similar to flexography. The typesetting and line art for most matchbooks was done in metal, and the crudeness of the printing, the tiny form factor, and the cheap manufacturing methods challenged graphic designers and advertisers to create elegant and often strikingly simple visuals. Matchbooks are one of my favorite art forms and a wonderfully small and affordable collectible. And even though they haven’t been interesting visually for many years, I’ll miss them.

Figure 2: Despite low production values, matchbook art could be very elegant and understated.

Match Maker, Match Maker, Make Me a Match
It was the discovery of phosphorus in 1669 by German chemist Hennig Brandt that paved the way for Englishman John Walker’s 1827 invention of wooden sticks that ignited with friction. By dipping small wood splinters into sulfur and phosphorus he was able to create an inexpensive and easy source of fire-on-demand.

It took almost 50 more years for Joshua Pusey, a Philadelphia attorney, to patent the idea of paper-based book matches of the sort we know today. Early efforts to sell his new invention, however, were stalled by the danger of the first models (the striker was on the inside), and a public unwilling to pay even pennies for the added convenience over wooden matches.

Fortunately, along comes a match salesman by the name of Henry Traute who discovers that an opera house is hand-writing promotional messages on blank matchbooks. By insisting his employer, the Diamond Match Company move the striker to the outside and add the phrase “Close Cover Before Striking,” he was able to secure large orders from beer and chewing gum manufacturers. By promoting them as free giveaways, Traute assured the rapid adoption of book matches as the preferred lighting source, and sent design departments into overtime trying to figure out how to use such a small space effectively.

Figure 3: The popularity of matchbooks didn’t take off until they were discovered as an advertising medium.

Figure 4: Wrigley Chewing Gum was one of the first companies to adopt matchbooks as an advertising vehicle, though many others followed.

Three on a Match
The staggering growth of the matchbook industry came to an abrupt halt during the Depression as promotional spending took it in the chops. But by adding celebrity and sports personalities to the covers, Diamond and other companies spurred direct sales to the public, and some of them made it to the War years.

Figure 5: Matchbook manufacturers used in-house art departments to come up with bold visuals or humorous copy.

Figure 6: Most attempts at matchbook humor were unsuccessful, and sometimes downright embarrassing.

Figure 7: Not always politically correct, matchbooks ran the gamut of tastefulness.

World War II brought patriotic and military advertising to the match industry and a ruling by the Office of Price Administration that a free book of matches had to accompany every pack of cigarettes sold. In 1945 more than 200 billion matchbooks were manufactured, and the average price per book was about one-fifth of a cent. Matches became a cheap and effective way to advertise for nearly every type and size of business in America.

Figure 8: From over-size to tiny, matchbooks have been used to promote all kinds of products.

Come on Baby Light My Fire
The main interest in matchbooks now is by the collector market, which has made up the term phillumenists (lovers of light) to describe their passion. I know several prominent designers who collect matchbooks, including H. Thomas Steele, who helped pen the excellent book “Close Cover Before Striking” from Abbeville Press Publishers.

Figure 9: From the book “Close Cover Before Striking,” a sample of how more elaborate matchbooks included printing directly on the matches.

By the 1930s clubs were forming for collectors — the Rathkamp Matchcover Society now claims to be the world’s oldest Phillumenic society. And while I thought I was an obsessive collector of things graphic, the late Evelyn Hovious of San Francisco left a legacy collection of over 5 million covers. Her trove includes one of only two known copies of a cover commemorating Charles Lindbergh’s 1927 flight — thought to be one of the most valuable covers in the world.

So like so many former art forms, the matchbook lives on, if only in the glass bowls on the coffee tables of collectors around the world.

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