海角大神

Bangkok, Thailand

In the late 1930s, inspired by his father鈥檚 friends trading old coins and other collectibles, the 10-year-old son of a Chinese gold dealer in the northern Thai town of Nakhon Sawan took a shine to a used matchbox.

Its stamp-size label, produced by a local match mill, showed the 19th century monarch, King Chulalongkorn, astride a white stallion. The image was modeled on the venerated king鈥檚 1908 equestrian statue, an object many Thais still regard as sacred. The boy was charmed by his find.

鈥淚 thought it was beautiful,鈥� remembers Chuan Sunthranan, now an octogenarian. A box of matches then cost just a satang (1 cent), he notes, so they were 鈥渃heap and easier to collect than stamps, which other boys like to collect.鈥�
As Thailand was being swept up in World War II, the boy began scouring teashops and going door to door in search of used matchboxes, peeling or steaming off labels for his growing collection.

Chuan鈥檚 boyish zeal never let up for seven decades as he married, inherited his father鈥檚 shop, raised five children, and relocated to Bangkok 鈥� all against the backdrop of Thailand鈥檚 15 coups, involvement in the Vietnam War, and bloody crackdowns on pro-democracy movements. Much of that turbulent history is now reflected in his vast collection of matchbox labels 鈥� kept in his private 鈥�Matchbox Museum.鈥�

It took him 20 years 鈥� during endless visits to flea markets and barters with fellow collectors 鈥� to complete his equestrian set. It consists of identical labels picturing the king on horseback with a pennant. There were 26 labels in the series 鈥� each showing the pendant with a different letter from A to Z. Chuan claims he has cobbled together the only set surviving. Though he鈥檚 had his set for a half century and his collection now boasts sets from 120 countries, he still prizes the Thai equestrian series above all.

Unlike most adolescent collections (bottle caps, stamps, baseball cards) that end up in moldy basements, cobwebbed attics, or dumpsters, the fruits of Chuan鈥檚 magpie-like enthusiasm now have their own museum. Last year, the elderly collector converted his shophouse in an outlying Bangkok district into the 鈥淢atchbox Museum鈥� open to the public.

鈥� 鈥� 鈥�

The springy octogenarian, dressed on a recent day in a pink polo shirt with a Boy Scout logo, can hardly sit down on his shop stool before jumping up again. His trouser legs bunched around his sandaled heels, he scurries around jammed bedroom-size space to point out remarkable exhibits as he navigates the clutter of tabletops stacked with framed cardboards mounted with labels, displays propped up on the floor for want of space, glass cases hung on walls and simply tagged 鈥淏eautiful Matchboxes,鈥� and stacks of labels spilling out the doors. Pausing here and there, he exclaims in limited English, 鈥淥nly one in the world!鈥�

There is no exhibit map; it鈥檚 all in Chuan鈥檚 head. 鈥淚鈥檓 my own curator,鈥� hesays of the haphazard arrangement.

鈥淚 want to pay homage to one of mankind鈥檚 greatest inventions,鈥� he explains.

鈥� 鈥� 鈥�

In hindsight it seems like a no-brainer 鈥� a little stick tipped with a blob of phosphorus ignited on an abrasive surface, or 鈥済rit,鈥� for lighting a fire. Yet from kindling and flint it took several millennia for the friction match to arrive in 1827 (courtesy of John Walker, a British pharmacist). Anyone could now own fire, thanks to a wonderfully simple, handy device shorter than a pinkie.

Soon matches were sold by the dozens in little cardboard boxes with sleeves richly labeled for trademark and advertising purposes by myriad match mills. To rise above the competition, manufacturers (by the late 19th century they numbered several hundred worldwide) began churning out a kaleidoscope of decorative and promotional labels produced by inspired graphic artists.

Collectors weren鈥檛 far behind. Matchboxes, their utilitarian purpose subverted, came to be viewed as objets d鈥檃rt; like Chuan, many collectors have never smoked, or even used matches much. Phillumeny, as the collecting of match-related ephemera came to be called, gained a devoted global following rivaling philately, or stamp collecting.

鈥淭here is an endless variety of [old] matchbox labels far in excess of stamps,鈥� says Steven Smith, president of the world鈥檚 oldest matchbox club, the British Matchbox Label and Booklet Society. 鈥淚t鈥檚 a never-ending challenge just to get every label [ever] produced in a single country.鈥�

Fortunately for phillumenists, collectible labels are a lot cheaper than stamps. Last year at an eBay auction Mr. Smith 鈥� who became a collector at age 7 while trawling for unusual matchboxes discarded by sailors and holidaymakers in his native Norwich, England 鈥� bought what he thinks is the most expensive label ever: an American piece from around 1870. He paid a record $7,500 for it (which would be a relatively modest sum for a rare stamp). As with stamps, Smith explains, a matchbox label鈥檚 value is not just in its beauty but its rarity and vintage.

Historical association also matters. Matches were once ubiquitous, and their labels reflected the world around them 鈥撀� from fashionable society salons in London to rustic homes with a cooking pot in China or India.

鈥淢atchbox labels are windows onto the past, reflecting a bygone era鈥檚 styles, trends, and concerns,鈥� Chuan says. 鈥淵ou can study a country鈥檚 history just by looking at old matchboxes.鈥�

As examples, he unearths items from a century ago celebrating Thailand鈥檚 first steam engine railway and Bangkok鈥檚 tram. From another pile, he produces some yellowed labels bearing slogans by a World War II-era dictator, who used matchboxes as a medium for propaganda.

A contemporary matchbook, meanwhile, boasts sepias of a Thai prince (Chulalongkorn鈥檚 grandson) and his foreign-born wife printed on its two sides. He postulates that the unique collector鈥檚 item, made for an exclusive banquet at the palace, was saved for posterity by a souvenir-hunting courtier.

Other labels from the 1950s extol rural life in bucolic images, plug American Zenith television sets to wealthy urbanites, or laud the arrival of modern gas stations. By the 1980s, many Thai matchboxes wooed tourists with promotional images of picturesque landscapes.

Among Chuan鈥檚 many foreign acquisitions, some exhibits depict Chairman Mao in a series of adulatory iconography; show views of the Kremlin from Soviet-era matches for the proletariat; or feature Rudolph Valentino, Errol Flynn, Jean Harlow, and other silent-movie stars on a Finnish set.

Yet such 鈥渞epositories of knowledge and memory,鈥� as Chuan puts it, are becoming a thing of the past.
Except for remote rural areas in the developing world, disposable lighters and electronic ignition have usurped the role of once-indispensable matches. Match manufacturing isn鈥檛 what it used to be, and that bodes ill for a proud tradition of collecting.

鈥淪ad to say we鈥檙e in decline,鈥� laments Smith, a close friend of Chuan. 鈥淢ost collectors are in their 70s and few young people are interested in old matchboxes.鈥�

When one of the last Thai match mills went out of business recently, Chuan bought up its entire inventory 鈥� not just 100,000 plastic-wrapped labels, but bulky canvas bales of headless matchsticks, too. He even acquired the propeller of the factory鈥檚 longboat once used for servicing households along Bangkok鈥檚 canals.

A mile or so away from Chuan鈥檚 museum, another multistory home he owns serves as a warehouse for these industry castoffs, while he himself lives in a simple cinderblock bungalow next door.

鈥淲e couldn鈥檛 have built modern civilization without matches,鈥� the avid collector explains as he putters around in search of further mementos to show off. 鈥淚 want to preserve their importance for future generations.鈥�