The Funnies - Quite Likely (1909)

Minnie Mermaid - Don't you wish you could go rowing with a Summer man?

Bessie Mermaid - No, I don't; men are lazy things. He'd probably make me scull over the stern with my tail!

The Funnies - Early Vaudeville (1909)

The Funnies - Goodbye Christmas (1909)

Fletcherizing - Considerations for Your New Year's Resolutions

Whatever your opinion of modern medicine, you can always find something crazier in the past. Take this little comic from an August 1909 issue of Punch Magazine.

Fletcherism
The Disciple - Now, waiter, you may bring me the fish.

Fletcherism or "The Chewing Diet" got its name not from a doctor, but from a San Francisco art dealer who purportedly lost more than 40 pounds through chewing his food until it became liquefied and the spitting out what was left. He also advised chewing not only solids, but liquids...so masticate that coffee, fella. And he believed you should only eat (if that's what you call chewing stuff up and spitting it out) when "good and hungry", angry, or sad...personally, being made to chew my tea only to spit it out would make me both angry and sad.

Fletcher saw the machine as an analog for the human body. He compared food to fuel, blood to steam, the pulse to a steam gauge, the heart to an engine, and waste to ash. It was the ash that seemed to fascinate him most, though. He advocated teaching children to examine their own waste, claiming if they were healthy it wouldn't smell and would have no evidence of bacteria.

Nine years after this cartoon ran, Fletcher died of bronchitis, or as he might see it a bad air filter. By that time calorie counting had already started replacing Fletcherizing. I never thought I'd be glad to count calories.

The Funnies - That Old Frazzled Sofa that Wrecked a Home (1909)

Happy Clean Up Week!

Shortly after the turn of the century...that's the 20th century...the Red Cross and local governments were facing the question of what makes a healthy city. The American population was becoming more urban and with bigger populations, American cities were increasingly crowded and dirty. Imagine living in an era before vaccines, when catching a cold or getting an infection could easily be a death sentence. In 1918 Spanish Flu would infect 500 million people worldwide and kill 50-100 million within days of their contracting the illness. The specter of death is a good spokesperson for national callings and (with a little help from Johnson and Johnson) Clean Up Week was born.

The idea was simple - clean up with antiseptic soap and you won't get measles, polio, or diphtheria,,,the science was only partially right, but the idea wasn't bad. So ads, articles, and pamphlets were circulated encouraging the populace to clear out clutter, dispose of junk, sweep the streets, and throw out trash. Do all this and your community will become a healthier, happier, and more contented place.

But there's a problem to be considered. When humanity doesn't understand what causes or cures a disease, it tends to fall back on its prejudices. Therefore the problem of disease became a problem of "the other" invading the good, clean, American community. Clean Up Week didn't just appear inn the pages of Cosmopolitan or Johnson and Johnson's Clean Home booklets, they ran in screeds like The American City along side articles like How to Americanize a City. It went hand-in-hand with efforts to clean up the language of youth by eliminating "un-American" words and the implications that "un-American" foods were unwholesome and could lead to immoral behavior. With this mindset sweeping away the filth is synonymous with sweeping away anyone who doesn't look, act, talk, or worship like you.

So, happy Clean Up Week. We all have an old old mattress to toss out or a bunch of cans and bottles to recycle, but while we're at it we might want to take a long hard look at our ideas and preconceptions. Some of those could be set by the curb too and the world just might be a lot healthier for the effort.

Everything New is Old Again: Oxtail Soup

Being an avid watcher of cooking television, I've noticed some of the more hipster oriented shows have been venerating a certain bovine dish. To be fair, they're not claiming it's new; on the contrary they're hailing it as a classic, but if you're like me the hype eventually begins to get on your nerves. So here's to the tardy end of the ox - the tail - and the soup it becomes.

To be honest, ox tail soup probably has existed since before mankind domesticated cattle. I'm sure hunter-gatherers were figuring out ways to use the last part of the water buffalo to pass through the door, after all those were the days of waste not want not. However, the oldest recipe I could find for Ox Tail Soup dated back to 1896, the same year Fannie Farmer published her famous and still in print cookbook. The Handbook of Substance Stores: for the Use of the Army of the United States was published by the US War Department in the age of westward expansion and gold fever and was intended as a guide for stocking the strings of forts that enforced America's emanate domain. As you'd expect from a government publication, the instructions on how to make good ox tail soup is less than clear:

As you can tell, the intent was more how to purchase ox tail soup than to make it. I have to admit, though, that the lack of a detailed recipe is nothing new to anyone who pours over old cookbooks. It seems there was a time when a "cookbook" was less an instruction manual on how to cook certain dishes than a list of hints and tips intended to guide an already seasoned and schooled cook to success with their dishes. Note that the recipe above talks about the proper consistency, the amount of bones found in the ox tail, and the fattiness of the soup, but doesn't get specific about ingredients or amounts.

At about the same time the US Army was producing its field guide for stocking the larder a little company from New Jersey was getting its act together. Fruit vendor Joseph Campbell and ice box manufacturer Abraham Anderson banded together to form the Joseph A. Campbell Preserve Company - a catchy name, isn't it? In  1897 the company hired Dr. John Dorrance who would invent the process which would make Campbell's fortune - condensed soup. In 1904, with an advertising blitz which introduced the pudgy, be-freckled Campbell's Soup Kids, the company's full line of 21 different soups were introduced to the public - including ox tail soup.

As with any company that has been around for over a hundred years, offerings change as the tastes of the public change and somewhere in the dusty bins of time, Campbell's Ox Tail Soup was shelved. I doubt that the hipster rediscovery of this culinary artifact will bring about a reintroduction, the trends of the twenty-something generation are too fleeting and the moment a big corporation catches on the fad has jumped the proverbial ox cart. None the less, an interesting trip down memory lane...I wonder if mock turtle soup will catch on next?

The Funnies - First Monday (1905)

The First Monday

Popular Mechanics, January 1905

Spooky Tunes - Mummy Mine

The craze for all things Egyptian began long before Howard Carter's discovery of the Tomb of Tutankhamen in 1922. In fact, over a hundred years earlier, a the turn of the century, Victorians were reportedly purchasing mummies for unwrapping parties. It's hard to imagine driving out to Lord Yaxsley's estate for a light dinner and an evening of desecrating the dead, but the Victorians were an unusual lot and a lot more comfortable with death and the dead than we are today. It's lucky through the auspices of the Google Library, we're able to dredge old texts for descriptions such as the scene is described in C.T. Brainard's 1901 book, The Works of Theophile Gautier: The Romance of a Mummy:

"When I entered the room, the mummy, already taken from the case, was laid on a table, its human shape showing indistinctly through the thickness of the wrappings...
The work of unrolling the bandages began; the outer envelope, of stout linen, was ripped open with scissors. A faint, delicate odor of balsam, incense, and other aromatic drugs spread through the room like the odor of an apothecary's shop. The end of the bandage was then sought for, and when found the mummy was placed upright to allow the operator to move freely around her and to roll up the endless band, turned to the yellow color of ecru linen by the palm wine and other preserving liquids.
Strange indeed was the appearance of the tall rag-doll, the armature of which was a dead body, moving so stiffly and awkwardly with a sort of horrible parody of life, under the hands that were stripping it, while the bandages rose in heaps around it. Sometimes the bandages held in place pieces of stuff like fringed serviettes intended to fill hollows or to support the shape.

Pieces of linen, cut open in the middle, had been passed over the head and, fitted into the shoulders fell down over the chest. All these obstacles having been removed, there appeared a sort of veil like coarse India muslin, of a pinkish color, the soft tone of which would have delighted a painter. It appears to me that the dye must have been anatto, unless the muslin, originally red, turned rose-colored through the action of the balsam and of time. Under the veil there was another series of bandages, of finer linen, which bound the body more closely with their innumerable folds. Our curiosity was becoming feverish, and the mummy was being turned somewhat quickly. A Hoffmann or Edger Poe could have found here a subject for one of his weird tales. It so happened that a sudden rain that rattled like hail; pale lightnings illuminated skulls and the grimacing death's heads of the Anthropological Museum; while the low rolling of the thunder formed an accompaniment to the waltz of Nes Khons, the daughter of Horus and Rouaa, as she pirouetted in the impatient hands of those where were unwrapping her.

The mummy was visibly growing smaller in size, and its slender form showed more and more plainly under its diminishing wrappings. A fast quantity of linen filled the room, and we could not help wondering how a box which was scarcely larger than an ordinary coffin could had managed to hold it all. The neck was the first portion of the body to issue from the bandages; it was covered with a fairly thick layer of naphtha which had to be chiseled away. Suddenly, through the black remains of the natron, there flashed on the upper part of the breast a bright gleam of gold, and soon there was laid bare a thin sheet of metal, cut out into the shape of the sacred hawk, its wings outspread, its tail fan-like like that of eagles in heraldry. Upon this bit of gold - a funeral jewel not rich enough to tempt body snatchers - had written with a reed and ink a prayer to the gods, protectors of the tombs, asking that the heart and the viscera of the dead should not be removed far from her body. A beautiful microscopic hawk, which would have made a lovely watch-charm, was attached by a thread to a necklace of small plates of blue glass, to which was hung also a sort of amulet in the shape of a flail, made of turquoise-blue enamel. Some of the plates had become semi-opaque, no doubt owing to the heat of them boiling bitumen which had been poured over them  and had slowly cooled.

So far, of course, nothing unusual had been found; in mummy cases there are often discovered numbers of these small trifles, and every curiosity shop is full of similar blue enameled-ware figures; but we now came upon an unexpected and touchingly graceful detail. Under each armpit of the dead woman had been placed a flower, absolutely colorless, like plants which have been long pressed between the leaves of a herbarium, bug perfectly preserved, and to which a botanist could readily have assigned a name. Were they blooms of the lotus persea? No one of us could say. This find made me thoughtful. Who was it that had put those poor flowers there, like a supreme farewell, at the moment when the beloved body was about to disappear under the first rolls of bandages? Flowers that are three thousand years old, so frail and yet so eternal, make a strange impression upon one.

There was also found amid the bandages a small fruit-berry, the species of which it is difficult to determine. Perhaps it was a berry of the nepenthe, which brought oblivion. On a bit of stuff, carefully detached, was written within a cartouche the name of an unknown king belonging to a dynasty no less forgotten. This mummy fills up a vacant place in the history and tells of a new Pharaoh.

The face was still hidden under its mask of linen and bitumen, which could not be easily detached for it had been firmly fixed by an indefinite number of centuries. Under the pressure of the chisel a portion gave way, and two white eyes with great black pupils shown with fictitious life between brown eyelids. They were enameled eyes, such as it was customary to insert in carefully prepared mummies. The clear fixed glance, gazing out of the dead face, produced a terrifying effect; the body seemed to behold with disdainful surprise the living beings that moved around it. The eyebrows showed quite plainly upon the orbit, hollowed by the singing flesh. The nose, I must confess, and in this respect Nes Khons was less pretty than Tahoser, had been turned down to conceal the incision through which the brain had been drawn from the skull, and a leaf of gold had been placed on the mouth as the seal of eternal silence. The hair, exceedingly fine, silky, and soft, dressed in light curls, did not fall below the tops of the ears, and was of that auburn tint so much prized by Venetian women. It looked like a child's hair dyed with henna, as one sees it in Algeria. I do not think that this color was the natural one; Nes Khons must have been dark like other Egyptians, and the brown tone was doubtless produced by the essences and perfumes of the embalmer.

Little by little the body began to show in its sad nudity. The reddish skin of the torso as the air came in contact with it, assumed a bluish bloom, and there was visible on the side the cut through which had been drawn the entrails and from which escaped like the sawdust of a ripped-up doll, the sawdust of aromatic wood mixed with resin in grains that looked like colophony. The arms were stretched out, and the bony hands with their gilded nails imitated with sepulchral modesty the gesture of the Venus of Medici. The feet, slightly contracted by the drying up of the flesh and the muscles, seemed to have been shapely and small, and the nails were gilded like those of the hand.

What was she, after all, this Nes Khons, daughter of Horus and Rouaa, called Lady in her epitaph? Young or old, beautiful or ugly? It would be difficult to say. She is now not much more than a skin covering bones, and it is impossible to discover in the dry, sharp lines the graceful contours of Egyptian women, such as we see them depicted in temples, palaces, and tombs. But is it not a surprising thing, one that seems to belong to the realm of dreams, to see on a table, in still appreciable shape, a being which walked in the sunshine, which lived and loved five hundred years before Moses, two thousand years before Jesus Christ? For that is the age of the mummy which the caprice of fate drew from its cartonnage in the midst of the Universal Exposition, amid all the machinery of our modern civilization."

The Universal Exposition that Brainard describes is the World's Fair held in Paris in 1900 where the mummy of Nes Khons (or, more properly Neskhons) is thought to have died in pregnancy or while giving birth. It seems a shame that not only were the last wishes inscribed in her burial prayers unfulfilled, but that she also was a spectacle for gawkers at a world's fair.

Anyway, to lighten the mood a bit, here's a little 20's tune Mummy Mine.

The Funnies - The Dinner of the Toy Soldiers (1900)

Life Magazine, December 1, 1900

Murray and Lanman's Florida Water (1904)

Here's an interesting ad for a company that's still in business today and a product they're still producing! Murray and Lanman (now Lanman & Kemp-Barclay & Co.) started out in 1808 in New York, NY though they've moved to New Jersey since. They produced an assortment of beauty aids, everything from hair tonic to soap as well as the oddly named Florida Water. Put simply, Florida water is the American equivalent of Eau de Cologne with an emphasis on sweet orange, lavender, and clove. According to Wiki the name is a reference to the Fountain of Youth though, as too often is true, they provide no citation for this dubious sounding statement.

The ad is a little creepy, especially with all the color robbed from it by the scanning process. Santa, descending by rope from his Santa Claus zeppelin to deliver crates of cologne to the residents of some country home. You can almost see his revulsion in his face, "Jeesh, these people reek! Send down another three cases, Giggles, four won't be enough!" I also find the ad copy a little less than convincing. "An acceptable gift at all Seasons but especially appropriate as a Christmas Box". Acceptable? I don't want acceptable gifts. I want spectacular gifts, thoughtful gifts, marvelous gifts, not ones I'll look at and think "well, it doesn't offend me." Also the term "Toilet Perfume" is a little off-putting. When I hear "toilet perfume", I'm thinking it's an euphemism, not a gift.

The Funnies - No Accident (1904)

"But, brothers, this is no accident. It's the regular thing with us."

Life Magazine, November 1904

Halloween Candy - Chiclets

Bonus for Bee Day - The Bumble Bee Characteristic Rag (1909)

I thought I'd do the bees up right today. Harry Tierney was born on May 21, 1890 in one of those towns that usually only shows up in Loony Toons, Perth Amboy, New Jersey. The Bumble Bee Characteristic Rag was Tierney's first composition, written in 1909 while he was working as a composer in London. Many of his later compositions featured in Ziegfeld's Follies and he has the distinction of having one of the most successful Broadway hits of his era (Irene). His 1927 Rio Rita became one of RKO's first silver-screen musicals and it was followed by movie recreations of his Kid Boots, Dixiana, and Half Shot at Sunrise.

Tierney's covers are always striking, one day I'll get a copy of The Fanatic, his second composition posted. The Bumble Bee shows he was destined for Broadway since the bee-girl looks like a dancer from one of RKO's big musical productions. And as a bonus we've got a (admittedly midi) rendition of the piece for your enjoyment!

Thirsty Thursday - The Coronation

On August 9, 1902 the coronation of King Edward VII and Queen Alexandra as king and queen of the United Kingdom finally took place. Edward was 59 and never had been the model of health and vitality. He smoked upwards of twenty cigarettes and a dozen cigars a day and indulged in overeating, so it probably isn't surprising that he fell ill just before his coronation. Three days before he was to be crowned, surgery was performed on a table in the music room at Buckingham Palace. The festivities which had been scheduled for June, were moved back to August. As a result prospective guests filed who lost money on hotel rooms filed a raft of “coronation suits” and most of the foreign dignitaries who’d come to London for the ceremony returned home and missed the crowning. In the end the 59 year old monarch would be crowned by an archbishop who’d be dead in less than a year and he would join the him in eight more. Still the crowning of a new monarch, no matter how short lived, was cause for celebration and commemoration and in the case of Edward, a namesake cocktail.

Joseph Rose, creator of the Coronation from Mixer and Server No. XII, January 15, 1903

Joseph Rose was a Newark bartender, a young man working the counter at Murray's Buffet Cafe  a forgotten but once popular watering hole for local businessmen. Possibly inspired by the ascension of old King Edward he introduced a new libation: the Coronation. And exactly how did young Rose make his Coronation? Well, it's tough to say, or at least there aren't any period cocktail books laying out the recipe. The best I could come up with was a 1913 copy of Straub's Manual of Mixed Drinks, I guess that'll have to do.

The Coronation

1/3 Jigger French Vermouth

1/3 Jigger Dry Gin

1/3 Jigger Dubonnet

Mix and serve.

The Funnies - Special Edition: Happy International Clown Week!

Prepare yourself Coulrophobes, August 1st through 7th is International Clown Week! Yes, a week when roving groups of clowns wander the street unchecked. They may be coming for you right now!

International Clown Week stared in the 1950's, but it wasn't until 1967 that the Clown Club of America (yes, they have a club) began urging its members to write their congressmen and senators to request a presidential proclamation to name August 1-7 as National Clown Week. In 1969 Arkansas Senator John McCleallan, chairman of the US Senate subcommittee on Observances and Holidays (another clown club) met with the members of the CCoA and Public Law 91-443 establishing clown week was presented to Richard Nixon for signature.

In honor of the week, I decided to select a special clown-centric strip from Life Magazine's archives.

How He Escaped from His Border

Life Magazine, November 17, 1904

This un-credited strip ran in 1904 and it reminds me of the work of one of my favorite turn-of-the-century comic artists, Winsor McCay. His strip, Little Nemo in Slumberland launched in October 1905 making it possible this clown is an early example of McCay's groundbreaking style. For comparison, just check out his work from one of the Little Nemo strips below.

The Nemo strip featured a little boy (Little Nemo) facing the incredible inhabitants of the dreamscape of Slumberland. The strip ran in the New York Herald from October 1905 through July 1911. Afterward the strip was renamed In the Land of Wonderful Dreams and ran in William Randolph Hearst's New York American from July 1911 through July 1914. After his run with Hearst, McCay returned to the Herald, restored the strip's original title, and ran it from August of 1924 through December 1926.

McCay was an innovator in the way comic strips flowed across the page. He experimented with panel size, shape, perspective, as well as other details of how images flowed, conforming his strip's look to the details of the story rather than the geometry of the page on which it was printed. His drawings put you into the panel with the characters, when mushrooms grow to gigantic proportions so does the frame that contains them, leaving the characters tiny by comparison. I'll put together a post on Nemo and McCay at a later date, there's plenty to say about him, his creation, and his influences and my intention today was to do a tribute to National Clown Week, not Winsor McCay!

The Funnies - With the Baltic Fleet (1904)

With the Baltic Fleet

The Gallant Whale: Quit your shooting, Admiral Scaredtodeathski. That ain't no torpedo boat you're firing at; that's my wife.

The Funnies - Thar She Blows! (1900)

Life Magazine, July 19, 1900

The Funnies - Mermaid Mom's Warning (1900)

Life Magazine, July 12, 1900

The Funnies - Life's Race (1904)

Life's Auto Race

Fifth Avenue at 3:50 PM

Life Magazine, November 1904