How do you read a postcard?

As for the “Wish You Were Here” kind, they get tossed out promptly. But what about that old card with a 1-cent stamp that you found at the back of a desk drawer?

Does it have some special value? Probably not in terms of money, but there’s no telling how much value it may hold based on the knowledge gained from a historic picture, or the note from a long-gone relative, or the excitement of adding a new item to a postcard collection.

Some interesting cards were sent to me recently, and one of them is a 1909 view of the Cushman-Hollis shoe factory that stood on Court Street in Auburn next to the railroad crossing.

When Ara Cushman built this four-story brick structure in 1868, it was said to be the largest shoe factory in Maine. There were additions through the years and before long it gained a reputation as the nation’s largest shoe factory under one roof.

Business must have been good, because in 1873 Cushman donated land at Elm and Pleasant streets for construction of the First Universalist Parish of Auburn, according to the church’s Web site history. Its cost was to be no more than $30,000.

Thanks to Ralph Skinner’s book, “Auburn 1869-1969: 100 Years a City,” and information from it by Laurie Haynes St. Pierre in the Androscoggin Historical Society’s sesquicentennial book, we learn that Cushman experimented in the 1870s with some new ideas in footwear fashion. Around 1876, he began making a canvas-topped shoe with a leather sole.

A financial depression in 1893 hit the Ara Cushman Co. hard. It never rebounded to its early success before the founder died in 1904.

However, his son, Charles Cushman, joined with a shoemaker from Boston, John H. Hollis, and the firm became the Cushman-Hollis Co.

The younger Cushman built on his father’s experiments and began turning out a line of white canvas shoes and a type of athletic shoe. In fact, Auburn became known as “the White Shoe City of the World,” Skinner wrote.

The white shoe fad peaked around 1917, he said. At that time, the company had 2,100 employees who produced 26,000 pairs of shoes every day.

Styles had reverted to more traditional shoes by the end of the first World War, which meant a reduced role for the large Auburn firm. Nevertheless, Skinner said Auburn was fifth in national shoe output in 1922. Then, the Great Depression hit and fortunes changed. A shoe strike in 1932 forced factory closures in Auburn, and Skinner reported lost payroll at $400,000.

Under a reorganization plan, Cushman operated until 1964 on a smaller scale.

Construction of the Union Street Bypass resulted in demolition of the great building. The site is now occupied by a restaurant and part of the four-lane extension of Minot Avenue.

Those are the hard and cold statistical facts, but many area residents would look at the old postcard in a different light. They would recall a view of the big brick building as they sat at the lunch counters of the old Mac’s Variety Store on one street corner, or at Seavey’s on the other corner.

There was a small retail shoe store in the building in its later years, and I was once told by a friend that Sen. Margaret Chase Smith would buy shoes there. My wife, Judy, had a high school job at Seavey’s and she remembers Sen. Smith dropping in to buy a newspaper.

Former employees, and even members of the public, might recall the Cushco Cafeteria that served meals from 1934 through 1975. A Web site posting attributed to Pat Hanneman said Herbert Coffin was the cafeteria owner and Charlie LePage was its chef.

So you see, postcards can trigger all kinds of memories and emotions for people. This particular card mailed on May 14, 1909, with its penny Benjamin Franklin stamp went from Auburn to Lewiston with a short message saying basically, “I’m feeling fine.” It was the 100-year-old version of text messaging, but on many levels it says so much more.

Dave Sargent is a freelance writer and an Auburn native. You can e-mail him for free at [email protected].