Grover Cleveland Campaign Button: Why They Aren't What You Think

Grover Cleveland Campaign Button: Why They Aren't What You Think

If you’ve ever dug through a bin at an estate sale or scrolled through the "historical" section of eBay, you’ve probably seen his face. Stiff collar, impressive mustache, and a gaze that says, "I have vetoed more bills than you've had hot dinners." Grover Cleveland. He is the answer to the favorite trivia question about non-consecutive terms, but for collectors of political Americana, he represents something much more tactile.

The thing is, if you’re looking for a Grover Cleveland campaign button, you might actually be looking for something that doesn't exist—at least not in the way we think of "buttons" today.

Most people picture the classic tin pin-back button. You know the ones. They have a little safety pin on the back and a shiny celluloid cover. But here’s the kicker: that technology wasn't even patented until 1896. Cleveland’s final campaign was in 1892.

Basically, if you find a "pin-back" button with Cleveland’s face on it that looks like a modern campaign pin, it’s almost certainly a reproduction or a "fantasy piece" made decades later by companies like Kleenex or American Oil to give away as novelties. Honestly, it’s a bit of a minefield for new collectors.

What a Real Grover Cleveland Campaign "Button" Actually Looks Like

In the late 19th century, showing your political colors was a lot more work than just pinning a badge to your lapel. It was about textures. Silk, brass, and even glass were the go-to materials.

The Era of the Ribbon and the Ferrotype

During the 1884 and 1888 runs, supporters mostly wore campaign ribbons. These were long strips of silk, often with beautiful Jacquard weaving or gold-leaf lettering. They were flashy. They were elegant. And they were incredibly fragile. Because they were made of silk, many of them have simply rotted away over the last 140 years.

If you find a ribbon from the 1892 campaign that says "Our Choice: Cleve and Steve" (referring to his VP Adlai Stevenson), you're looking at a piece of history that survived a century of moths and moisture.

Then you have the ferrotypes. These are tiny photographs—tintypes—set into a metal frame, usually brass. Some had a pin, but many were designed to be worn as "lapel studs" that went through a buttonhole. They are small, usually about the size of a dime or a nickel, but the detail is haunting. You’re looking at a literal photograph of the man from the 1880s.

Mechanical Buttons and "Flashers"

Politics back then was kind of wild. It wasn't all serious policy debates; it was a spectacle.

Collectors go crazy for "mechanicals." These were gadgets. Imagine a brass button that looks like a regular piece of clothing hardware, but when you pull a little string or flip a lever, a hidden door opens to reveal Cleveland’s face. Or perhaps a "flasher" (a very early version of a lenticular lens) that shifts between Cleveland and his running mate depending on how the light hits it.

These were the high-tech gadgets of the Gilded Age.

Why the 1884 Campaign Was Different

The 1884 election against James G. Blaine was arguably the nastiest in American history. It was the "Ma, Ma, where's my Pa?" election. Republicans were hammering Cleveland for fathering a child out of wedlock.

Because the mudslinging was so intense, the items from this year often reflect a defensive posture. You’ll see ribbons emphasizing "Honest Government" and "Reform."

  • The "Hangman" Label: Before he was President, Cleveland was the Sheriff of Erie County and personally performed two executions. Opponents called him the "Buffalo Hangman."
  • The Mugwumps: This was the year of the "Mugwump"—Republicans who switched sides to vote for Cleveland because they hated Blaine’s corruption. Some items from this era are specifically targeted at these defectors.

Spotting the Fakes (The "Kleenex" Problem)

I can't tell you how many people think they’ve struck gold with a 7/8-inch Cleveland pin-back.

In the 1960s and 70s, it was a massive trend for brands to release "complete sets" of presidential buttons. Look at the "curl"—the thin edge of the button. If you see the words "Kleenex," "American Oil," or "AO," it’s a 20th-century reproduction.

Genuine 19th-century items have a different "feel." The metal is often heavier or made of "white metal" (a lead/tin alloy). The pins on the back of real 1890s pieces are often crudely fashioned compared to the sleek, machine-made pins of the 1950s.

Value and Rarity: What’s It Actually Worth?

Values are all over the place. A common 1892 ribbon in decent shape might pull $50 to $100. But a rare 1884 "jugate" (a piece showing both the President and VP candidates) in a ferrotype format can easily climb into the thousands.

  1. Condition is king: Silk splits. If a ribbon is shattering, its value drops 80%.
  2. The "Jugate" Factor: Items with two faces are almost always more valuable than "single" portraits.
  3. The Slogan: Unique slogans like "Tariff Reform" or "No Force Bill" add a layer of historical "oomph" that collectors love.

Honestly, the best way to get into this is to look for "lapel studs." They’re sturdy, they’re authentic, and they don't have the fragility issues of silk.

Next Steps for the Aspiring Collector

If you've got a piece and you're not sure if it's real, don't just trust a Google Image search. Get a loupe. Look at the printing.

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Real 19th-century printing on paper (under glass or celluloid in the very late 1890s) shouldn't have the "dot pattern" (CMYK) you see in modern laser printing. It should look like an engraving or a solid ink transfer.

Check out the American Political Items Collectors (APIC). They are the gold standard for this stuff. They have catalogs that list every known variant of Cleveland’s campaign materials. If your button isn't in those books, it’s probably a "fantasy" piece made for a history buff's birthday in 1972.

Start by looking for "White Metal" tokens. They were often pierced so people could wear them on a string. They’re relatively affordable, undeniably old, and a great way to own a piece of the only man to win the White House, lose it, and then just go ahead and take it back four years later.