What do the balls mean on a pawn brokers sign?

Answer 1

it means thats what they have you by when you pawn something there.

Answer 2

The pawnbroker's symbol shows three balls suspended from a bar. The three ball symbol is attributed to the Medici Family of Florence, Italy, because of its symbolic meaning of Lombard. This refers to the Italian province of Lombardy, where pawn shop banking originated under the name of Lombard banking. It is now as well established as anything of the kind can be that the three golden balls, which have for so long been the trade sign of the pawnbroker, were originally the symbol which medieval Lombard merchants hung up in front of their houses, and not, as has often been suggested, the arms of the Medici family. It has, indeed, been conjectured that the golden balls were originally three flat yellow effigies of byzants, or gold coins, laid heraldically upon a sable field, but that they were presently converted into balls the better to attract attention.

Answer 3

I think its meant to represent scales when pawn brokers used to use them for weighing the jewellery you brought into them, but i'm not sure.

Answer 4

It's actually an allusion to the St. Nicholas (yes, that one) of Myrna story, how he left secretly gave three bags of gold to a poor family. He's the patron saint of pawnbrokers, among other things.

Answer 5

God help us all! One just HAS to go via Wiki for an answer, and one of them gives us a bloody book!
Too much for a white man -- and I doubt if either get read before people have died of boredom or fallen asleep

Answer 6

Means you,ve just sold them yours.

Answer 7

HERE IS A PAWNBROKERS

Answer 8

The Sign has Oldest Experience Table In Advertising.
Copyright 1947. Signs of the Times magazine
From Signs of the Times magazine; February 1947, pp 40-41, 115.
By Paul R. Fritsch


No public building, bridge or institution is complete without a bronze tablet or cornerstone, identifying the public official in office when the structure was built. This custom was employed by the kings who built temples in Babylon 3,000 years before Christ. The Babylonians made their buildings of clay bricks. The names of the temples and kings who built them were stenciled on the soft clay bricks before they were baked or sun-dried. In so doing these ancient kings identified themselves as builders, and I suppose the more buildings so identified the more important the builder.

One Egyptian king was suspected of putting his name on every building, including many he did not build, by substituting his name for that of the actual builder. Some early American billposting followed this pattern, and from what I can find out some of it as not so early, being within the span of life of many who are still active in business.







Babylonian merchants hung the symbols of their trades over their doors, symbols being used because only a few could read. Merchants still find the ancient practice of identifying their stores by signs or symbols to be a good one. There are parts of the world today where symbols must be used in identification signs because of the illiteracy of the populace. In India today, a picture of the product or some symbol denoting usage is a necessary part of every sign. This is not hard to understand when one realizes that there is an illiteracy rate of 93 per cent in that country of some four hundred million people, and there are 128 dialects or variations in language. In China the "chop" or trademark is usually accompanied by some pictorial representation of the product or service. The ancient Greeks inscribed notices of importance on lead sheets and posted them in public places, and Athens shops were identified by signs over the doors. Statues and decorative features that were part of Greek temples were made of bronze or marble, or a combination of both, or were carved of ebony, ivory and gold. The Greeks were a people with great love for the gaudy and it is highly probable that Greek shopkeepers had some extremely colorful symbols over their doors.

In Rome the picture of a cow identified the dairyman, the phallus or symbol of life identified the bakery as did the picture of a mule turning a mill. The pitcher handle identified thirst-quenching establishments. Sculptures inscriptions were affixed to Roman houses in a spot smoothed off and sometimes whitened. Craftsman inscribed pictures of the tools of their trade in this spot. An early recognition of traffic importance is evident in the concentration of signs on Pompeii walls, where crowds gathered.

The Medici family of Florence is credited with the origin of the three golden balls as a pawnbroker's sign. The family was first engaged in the medical profession. Averardo de Medici was an officer under Charlemagne, who according to legend, slew a giant named Mugello, on whose mace were three gilded balls. Averardo adopted the three golden balls as the device of his family. Later the Medicis became bankers and pawnbrokers, and eventually the golden balls became the symbol of finance rather than medicine.

English tavern were identified, as some are even today, by coats of arms which may have originated in the use of castles as inns while their owners were off to war. The Golden Lion, or the Sign of the Bull, denoted places where strong drink could be obtained, and others were identified by bears, dolphins, angels, castles, crosses, mermaids, suns and stars - to name only a few.

Rivalry in the search for original ideas was apparently as high as it is today, although there is considerable evidence that originality in sign designs was more flourishing in the Renaissance period than is true today. This may be credited to the type and caliber of artists who were employed to paint these picturesque signboards. Many members of the Royal Academy painted inn signs. The Muleteers, painted by Correggio, now preserved in the Sutherland Museum in London, was painted as an inn sign. High prices paid for tavern signboards painted by renowned artists indicate the importance that was attached to the inn sign as a sales implement. A portrait of Shakespeare was painted by Clarkson for a tavern that stood in Little Russel street, near Drury lane, in London. There is also evidence that other famous painters such as Watteau and Holbein painted inn signs.

Carved black boys proffering tobacco, stood in front of seventeenth century English tobacco shops. This is perhaps a reflection of the slave trade on which the English mariners levied a tribute. It has been said hat the carved and brightly painted Indian used to identify early American tobacco shops was a successor to the English black boy, but there is also evidence that the Indian dates back to the days of Sir Walter Raleigh, who you will recall is the gentleman who made smoking popular.

The influence of the symbolic signboards of eighteenth century England is evident in early Philadelphia shop signs. A basket maker hung a basket on a pole; the saddler's shop was identified with a horse head; a miniature fire engine signified a fire pump maker; a chemist shop used the unicorn's head on the signboard; a breeches maker very aptly pictured a pair of breeches on his sign; a ship outfitter used the sign of the fish; a boot maker chose a buckle shoe, and the gunsmith appropriately used a shot gun or rifle.

It is not at all surprising that a lock and two keys identified a locksmith, or the spinning wheel was used by the weaver, a pretzel by the pretzel maker, the tensed arm and mallet symbolized the gold beater, and the saw for the carpenter. These eighteenth century Philadelphia tradesmen simply chose a picture or symbol of the product or service they offered, or, like the basket maker and gunsmith, the actual product was used.

Scattered about the United States today are quite a few reminders of bygone days. The brightly painted cigar store Indian still serves a few tobacco shops, such as the one at 122 Seventh street in New York. Other old timers in New York include "Sailor Boy," a painted teakwood tar holding a binnacle, standing in front of T.S. and J. D. Negus, famed makers of marine instruments, at 69 Pearl Street. Cairns & Bros., makers of fire helmets and firemen's personal equipment at 444 Lafayette Street, have been identified for over a century by "smokey Joe," a wooden fireman perched on a pedestal in front of the store.

Verando Musumece's cobbler shop at 410 Columbus Avenue is identified by an old shoe hanging over the door, and a bright red boot which shows the ravages of time hangs over the shop at 241 East 54th Street. The giant green boot that hangs on the front of Regal shoe stores is a descendant of such signs as these. A gilt-painted red snapper, carved of wood, has hung over a fish store at 1132 Lexington Avenue for nearly half a century. At 141 East 24th Street one may see a molded horse named Modock, which serves as a sign for Kauffman's Saddlery Company. A helmet and blanket are added features during the winter.

Manhattan's oldest drug store at 6 Bowery displays the time honored mortar and pestle, and another one can be seen at Lexington Avenue and 82nd Street.

The Farmers market, West Third at Faifax, in Los Angeles, is a famous and interesting shopping center, described by Fred Beck as "a cross between a Babylonian weinie roast and Guy Fawkes' day in Cheapside." Los Angeles Times readers were informed in Beck's paid advertising column on November 28, 1946, about an interesting sign in the market, It is a replica of a mortar and pestle, some two feet high, studded with colored glass. It is hollow, and when it was used on McNall's chemist shop in old England, an oil lantern was placed inside the sign at night to illuminate it. McNall had five sons, and in 1841 one of them set sail for America, taking with him the apothecary sign from the McNall shop. Young McNall set up shop in Bennington, Vermont, and used this granddaddy of electric signs to identify his shop. After McNall died, the jeweled mortar with the lantern in it was moved across the street to Lisbon's drug store where it remained for many years. Apparently it got mixed up in the "go west" movement, because it is now in use, wired for electricity, on John S. Gilrain's drug store at the Farmers Market.

Quite a few years ago the Case farm implement people provided their dealers with a molded eagle, about three feet high, perched on a pedestal, which is a replica of the Case trademark. Quite a few of them are still around. I saw one recently sitting in front of an implement store in Hondo, Texas. Occasionally there are signs of revived interest in this type of identification. Fisk Rubber Company is giving some thought to using the famous Fisk "time to retire" youth in third dimensional form to identify Fisk tire dealers. Standing about six feet high, he holds the familiar candle in one hand and supports an actual tire over the other arm.

We can truly say that the sign has the oldest experience table in all advertising, spanning some 5,000 years. I is interesting to note that during most of this span of time, the sign has been symbolic. Somewhere near the end of the nineteenth century and in the early part of the twentieth century, signs began to assume the character of other printed advertising. They leaned toward the use of words and names, became rectangular in shape, sometimes used vertically and other times horizontally.

These changes reflect the change in trade practices and problems. The boot maker of the eighteenth century had the primary problem of identifying himself as the local bootmaker, since he was probably the only one in the community. The show repairman of today has the dual problem of identifying himself as the shoe repairmen and to differentiate between his shop and a competitor or probably a group of competitors. Around Dallas and Houston a chain of Zinke shoe repair shops are identified by a novel sign, an upturned shoe with a shoemakers' hammer pounding the heel, the action being provided in animated neon. With the name prominently featured above this neon picture, it is evident at a glance that here is a Zinke shoe repair shop. This is another descendant of the old buckle shoe sign. With the glamour of neon and action added.

Printed advertising has also influenced the trend toward word signs instead of picture signs. Through magazines, newspapers, outdoor advertising, direct mail, people have become educated that Shell mean gasoline, Hart Schaffner & Marx means men's clothing, Goodyear means tires, Culverts is whiskey, Pabst is beer, and Ford is an automobile. Radio, and now television add further emphasis.

The high rate of literacy is another factor; people are presumed not to need pictures as they once did. The roadside farmer paints his egg and poultry copy on the back of an old Coca Cola sign; he sees no need to draw a picture of an egg or chicken. His berries or apples or corn will be advertised in a like manner, and in the city his colleague who runs a fruit stand will do virtually the same thing.

This trend has continued now for about fifty years, but this history compared to nearly five thousand years of the symbolic sign, puts the word sign in the category of a babe in the diaper stage. A research analyst would say that the trend has not yet proven to be anything but a fad. It could be just one of those microscopic variations that occur in charts.

There is a certain monotony in signs today. Extreme similarity in sizes and shapes, similarity and frequently exact sameness in alphabet characters, tend to make groups of signs assume the individual character of a stack of cuspidors, or a row of telephone poles. They have the same degree of distinction as the bricks in a brick wall: they become a pattern rather than individual signs.

A little review of history may provide some fresh inspiration in sign design, and it is to that end that this article is dedicated.