‘We have personalities’: Idaho Button Society celebrates 50 years, but dwindling interest in collecting vexes longtime members

To many, buttons are just what keeps a shirt from falling off. But to the Idaho State Button Society, they are pieces of history, art and culture that anyone can enjoy.

“There is something for everybody,” said Beth Schaut, a member of the club . “I haven’t found anybody in the button group that isn’t wholeheartedly welcoming and willing to talk.”

Over 100,000 buttons filled the Red Lion Hotel in Post Falls to be sold, judged and auctioned celebrating the Idaho State Button Society’s 50th Anniversary this week.

Avid button collectors were invited to present their proudest displays and compete for first -place ribbons, a couple of dollars and, most importantly, according to Schaut, bragging rights.

Some of the winners followed the event’s theme of “Idaho is Golden” showing off their state-themed buttons, like one of an Idaho potato head made in Japan for the Spokane World Fair. But some went with their own themes, like a board consisting of all pig buttons, another of mushrooms and another of military uniform buttons.

Schaut, one of the judges of the competition, said judging this year was a little difficult, as some people took the competition very seriously.

“We have personalities,” Schaut said. “Little feelers were hurt, but everybody loves each other, so it’s fine.”

But the button society’s membership faces decline.

Kincaid and Schaut both said that most noninternational button clubs are “aging out.” The roughly 40 collectors in attendance in the opening hours on Friday were mostly older women.

Kincaid said that as older members die or become unable to attend meetings because of health complications, numbers dwindle, and not enough younger people are joining to keep the clubs running. Kincaid said she had to teach herself Photoshop to produce the bulletins and still struggles running the society’s social media page.

Kincaid tried to get her children interested in the field, but it didn’t stick .

“It’s a bummer,” Kincaid said. “I think my daughter wants my Eiffel Towers, and that’s probably about it.”

Schaut had a similar experience and said her daughter enjoyed it until she reached her teens and got embarrassed hanging out with her mother, even though her friends called it “wholesome.”

Schaut’s button club in Seattle had to temporarily shut down, as there were only three members left. Schaut and Kincaid both said they try working with kids to boost membership – talking to the Girl Scouts or putting displays in libraries and even giving out free buttons. But the interest often doesn’t take.

“The later generations kind of see it as a materialistic thing,” Schaut said. “For us, it’s not just about the buttons and the history, but it’s the camaraderie, and the younger generations just are not picking it up.”

Aside from the competition, another attraction at the event was the historical displays lining the wall of the room. Simone Kincaid, a collector of 50 years who runs the button society’s social media and bulletin, contributed many of the unique buttons on display.

One frame had buttons from villagers in Peru made from copal, a type of resin collected from trees native to Peru, and molded into depictions of faces, tropical birds and monkeys stuck to a scale from a large fish. The monkey button even had real piranha teeth.

The oldest buttons on display were from the 18th and 19th centuries, like one from the Victorian era that had a locket of hair from a child who died early in life for a mother to remember.

Kincaid said that she had even older pieces dated as far back as the 13th century she called pirate buttons, but she kept them at home.

According to Kincaid, some of the buttons at the event could be valued at over $2,000. She said she’d helped sell entire collections for as much as $60,000. Kincaid’s most valuable piece in her collection is her pearl-gilded button depicting the Eiffel Tower worth around $700. But Kincaid said monetary value doesn’t matter to her.

“I don’t really think of them in terms of money. I think of them in terms of beauty,” Kincaid said.

After most of the attendees admired the competition sets and the historical pieces, they began to shop around. Bins full of loose buttons priced anywhere from $1 to $15 apiece were rifled through, and eagle-eyed collectors carefully filed through bins organized by materials, colors and topics.

Karen Burden, another collector, came with a shopping list full of various buttons, with one that would round out her Seven Gods of Fortune set. The porcelain button set consists of depictions of Japanese deities, and Burden was missing just one: Fukurokuju, god of wealth, happiness and longevity.

“I need him, and he needs to be round,” Burden said.

Unfortunately, the elusive round Fukurokuju was not found – only a rectangular version was available.

Despite the struggles for membership, Kincaid and Schaut were impressed by the attendance through the week’s events. Schaut explained that although people come for the buttons, the most important part of the society is the friendships it creates.

“As you go into your adulthood, you will find that it is harder and harder to make friends unless you have a common interest,” Schaut said. “It’s not like on the playground when you just go up to some little kid and say you want to be best friends. But if you have an outlet like this, a common interest, it unites people.”