Preserving History

One man's work to locate a lost relic has led to a museum of more than 4,000 jars.

In 1970, Philip Robinson found a glass jar lid on a construction site at the Baptist Church in Rockville, Ind. Unearthed from its grave in the muddy bulldozer tracks, the raised-type "Hoosier Jar" immediately seized Robinson's attention.

He began buying inexpensive boxes full of old jars at auctions, hoping to discover his impeccable lid's matching Hoosier Jar. Robinson eventually located that special jar, but by then he had accumulated a sizable collection of antique and unique jars. So he just kept collecting.

Thirty-two years after finding that first lid, his personal collection of more than 4,000 jars has evolved into Muncie's Robinson Jar Museum, the largest and only surviving fruit jar museum in the world today.

Recognized globally as an authority on antique jars, Robinson, now almost 80, said there is no need for a complex, computerized catalog of his inventory. He remembers not just where, when and how he acquired each and every piece in his showroom, but also the history behind the making of nearly every jar in existence.

His arcane knowledge is priceless, but many of his jars are worth more than $3,000 a piece.

"There is no average jar," he said. "A jar's age, scarcity, color, individual history and defects all influence the value."

Robinson said the most he's paid for a single jar is $2,750, but on occasion a rare item will turn up in a donated assortment or cheaply purchased box of jars.

It would be difficult, if not impossible, to appraise the net worth of the collection. An unmatched and irreplaceable mastery of Muncie's rich glass-manufacturing history makes Robinson himself an integral and invaluable component of the museum.

Neatly organized shelves consume the walls from floor to ceiling in the garage-sized building Robinson erected to display the jars. He carefully lifts one of his prize containers from its spot in the row, his placid demeanor breathing nostalgic life into the jar's cool, smooth, glinting shell as he explains the vessel's closure mechanism.

"This one has a 'Mason' top," he said. "Most people don't know that screw-on lids are called 'Mason' tops." He said the year "1858" on Mason jars indicates when the Mason Company's patent for screw-on lids expired, not the year the jar was made.

He learned that his earliest artifact, the glass Hoosier Jar lid with a screw-on glass lid, was made in 1882 or 1883 and is worth approximately $100.

Robinson owns hundreds of jars made before the Ball Brothers' Company began production in 1885, such as tin-encased, gallon and half-gallon kerosene canisters.

The core of his collection remains Muncie's preliminary Ball jars and other glass made by Ball's surrounding subsidiary companies, including Globe, Boldt, Best, Nelson, Swayzee, Anderson, Upland, Port, Greenfield and Root.

Wax-sealed fruit jars preceded even the early Mason models, he said, and replacement metal lids are obsolete and in short supply.

Robinson said it is also extremely difficult to find original bail-and-lug closures, wire fixtures that many of his jars require, because they are no longer mass-produced.

A third metal closure device is so hard to come by that he took it upon himself to fashion the parts from raw steel, he said. The C-shaped, talon-like fastener is secured in place with a threaded screw.

A long-time friend, also a jar aficionado, trained Robinson to solder the parts when he became too feeble to swing the 10-pound maul used in the shaping process. The intricate product is unrecognizable as an impostor clamp after a two-hour toil in the basement of his home.

Prominent jar collectors in Australia, France, Germany and Belgium special-order his homemade goods as well as duplicate jars. He said he's possibly the only one alive today able to custom-make 143 different styles of closures.

"This is all history," Robinson said. "But unfortunately it's contained right here. It's stymied."

More than anything, Robinson said he hopes his museum will persevere so future generations will have the chance to experience an important part of Muncie's history.

A World War II veteran, Robinson's age has prompted consideration of selling the museum. He said he and his wife of 55 years are currently entertaining a $325,000 offer to relocate in Greenfield, where his glass Hoosier Jar lid was made 120 years ago.

January's break-in left some of his precious jars broken, including his sentimental Hoosier Jar and its glass lid. When the perpetrators were apprehended, authorities confiscated the remains. Some of the stolen jars are still being held as evidence.

"I'm not sure if the museum is safe here anymore," Robinson said. "I would like to see it displayed in a proper building. It wouldn't have to be fancy, but one twice this size is really necessary to fully appreciate them all.

"Ideally, the museum would remain in Muncie," he said. "This is where it really belongs."

Robinson said he was enthusiastic when Muncie city officials mentioned constructing a special building on the fairgrounds, and he also liked the thought of moving the museum to a new welcome center on southbound Highway 32.

He's asking $150,000 for the entire collection, so Robinson said the prospect is bleak that either opportunity will transpire.

Mayor Dan Canaan once sent a framed five-dollar bill as a down payment for the jars and Ball memorabilia. The accompanying document wasn't signed, so Robinson said it is not an official contract of intent to purchase.

The City of Muncie awarded Robinson the Joseph E. Kernan Lieutenant for Hospitality Award to recognize his commitment to the community, but Robinson said the honor has been shadowed by city officials' indifference about the future of the museum.

"I went 13 years without a complaint," Robinson said "and then last year (December 2000 through February 2001) the city shut me down for complaints about a zoning permit violation."

He said a Muncie resident reported that the summer bus tours imposed parking problems at the intersection of Cowing Drive and Wheeling Avenue, where the museum is located.

The museum was shut down for two months, and Robinson was ordered to cease promotion of his collection because it wasn't registered as a business.

"Why have it if I can't promote it and share it with the public?" he said. "I'm only interested in promoting the sale of the museum to the city.

"I never charged admission, so I don't see why this museum must be called a business."

The museum's zoning permit will expire in October, and Robinson said he isn't sure if he'll pay the renewal fee or pursue selling his treasures.

"Whether they're just looking around or learning the history," he said, "anyone can enjoy the jars."


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