Notes taken

In the past I've written about both of my grandfathers here. Recently I made a delightful discovery in the front hall of my parents' house: an old school copy of Silas Marner that belonged to my dad's father. This had apparently come to us when my grandpa passed away, but I'd never seen it before. When I expressed excitement over the discovery, my mom told me she also had an old junior high school math book that had belonged to her father. Where was she hiding it all these years? I don't know, but she dug it out and I found myself in possession of both volumes. Given my love of history, especially where it concerns people and places I know, I was as pleased as Kanye West in a room full of mirrors.

The books are special to me because they contain little glimpses of what my grandfathers were like as teenagers. Notes in the margins, jokes scrawled across the pages, doodles. Silas contains much more in the way of notes than the math book, but the math book is cool in its own right. I may feature it in a future entry just to highlight all the interesting things one can learn from old math books. Things that have nothing to do with math. Like this:

I had no idea how many bushels of potatoes were harvested in Wisconsin in 1919! Until now.

Here are some detail photos from the books. Some more are on flickr.

Grandpa Bob's copy of Junior High School Mathematics.


If he used it in 1929, he would have been twelve. Impossibly young, to me. This is the same grandpa who didn't finish high school, yet wound up building telescopes and tutoring kids in calculus - so it seems fitting that of all his old schoolbooks, a math book is the one he kept. (I hope he actually spelled his name RoBert all the time back then, too. Extra points if he ever pronounced it ro-bair.)


I wonder who Diane was...


Inside the back cover. Huh? Whistler's Mother. Old times. "Huh" indeed.


Silas Marner - my grandpa Jack used it in 1935, his senior year of high school


Jack in his 1935 senior picture - in the middle, wearing a vest


Inside the front covers


The "yea man" just kills me. And what's on page 150, you ask?


There you go. He wasn't the best speller, was he? He had the same handwriting his whole life, though. I'd recognize it anywhere.


Not I!

Mrs. Oliver Harriman's Book of Etiquette: 4

Because you can never have too much wisdom from 1942. (See all of the tips from Mrs. Oliver Harriman here.)

Yachting

• Naturally, no one ever dresses formally on board a yacht. That would defeat the purpose of the holiday.
(Naturally.)

• If you are to be a week-end guest, here are some of the extras you will need: hair ribbons, big sports handkerchiefs, plenty of sweaters, sun glasses, warm dressing gown.
(I don't know if I have enough hair ribbons to be a week-end guest. Damn.)

• If you don't know the right name of a sail, call it anything and the skipper will correct you.
(Anything?)

On Being a Good Neighbor

• Moving to a strange community is not easy. While the man of the family continues to meet people through his business, the wife is left at home at the mercy of her neighbors.
(That's been exactly my experience.)

• If you arrive at your neigbor's when she is obviously busy, have the grace to make a speedy exit. "I'll be back later," you may tell her, or "I've just come to borrow some nutmeg."
(I think it would be cool if "I've just come to borrow some nutmeg" became the standard thing to say to get yourself out of an awkward situation. I'm going to spearhead that movement.)

• We should never entrust the family skeleton to our neighbors unless we want it exhibited on the back fence.
(Word, Mrs. Oliver Harriman. Word.)

Suggested menu for, assuming you live in a port town, giving a party for the men of a visiting battleship:

• Virginia baked ham (cold)


• Creamed chicken (hot)


• Mexican baked beans (hot)


• Potato salad


• Tomato aspic (chilled)


• Home-made hot parker house rolls, buttered


• Home-made vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce


• Home-made coconut layer cake


• Large cups of coffee

(Because you're totally going to make the vanilla ice cream and parker house rolls from scratch. And those Navy boys don't get to choose whether or not to butter their rolls, damn it! Also, how are we supposed to know whether to serve the potato salad, vanilla ice cream, and layer cake hot or cold?)

The Poetry of Gregg Typing, 1958: Pt. 6

Ah, Gregg Typing, it's been awhile. Here's a rather enigmatic selection:

"A group of six men did all the work. The job did
not make them rich, but they got along quite well
and were quite glad to have the chance to live in
Switzerland during a part of the winter. The job
ended in eight weeks; the men were not too happy."

What was the job??

(See other selections, plus background info, by searching on the "Gregg Typing 1958" label below.)

The Poetry of Gregg Typing, 1958: Pt. 5

Oh, I have been waiting a long time for this one.



N O V E M B E R A G A I N
by Mike Trent

When the dark sky is scowling
With a snow-clouded face,
And the wild wind is howling
In a leaf-chasing race;
And the frost is out prowling
And there's mist in the glen,
There is no use in growling--
It's November again!



Past editions:
Gregg Typing, Second Edition: 1958
The Poetry of Gregg Typing, 1958: Pt. 1
The Poetry of Gregg Typing, 1958: Pt. 2
The Poetry of Gregg Typing, 1958: Pt. 3
The Poetry of Gregg Typing, 1958: Good Friday Edition

More old NYC and DC

Here are some more pictures taken by Chuck the Cartographer in the 1940s. Captions are his unless otherwise noted.


In front of the Empire State Building with bus


Goodyear blimp over the capitol building


Chuck didn't label this one, but someone must know what statue is is, right?


Facing the Washington Monument


Times Building - Broadway & 42nd St

That last one is the photo that makes me think these were taken sometime during the war.

Old New York and D.C.

As promised, this is the first of a few posts featuring some wonderful old photographs I found recently. At the same time I found my maternal grandfather's daily planners, I also came across this collection of tiny (1.5 x 3) photos stuck between the pages of an old photo album. They were taken by a friend of my grandpa's, a man named Chuck Arlosky. My mom doesn't remember how my grandpa and Chuck knew each other, but she does recall that he was a cartographer, and that he didn't live nearby. The man you see in some of the photos is Chuck, and the woman is his wife. On the back of the photos, which are gloriously labeled, he refers to her as "Stretch," but my mom thinks her name was Nikki.

I wish I knew more about Chuck the Cartographer, because his photos are fantastic. As far as I can tell they were taken in the early to mid-1940's, and I suspect it may have been during World War II based on the Times Building's rolling headline in one of the photos. It was a joy to scan these photographs and blow them up, to see the details that weren't apparent in the yellowing pages of the album. Click on any of them for a large version. All of the captions were provided by Chuck himself, unless otherwise noted.


Entrance to the Congressional Library


Chuck in Central Park


Chuck didn't label this one, but based on another he did label, I think it's the RCA Building


From a Fifth Avenue bus top


The capitol at night


Central Park from the top of Radio City - look closely and you'll see Stretch

Mrs. Oliver Harriman's Book of Etiquette: 3

Another etiquette lesson from 1942!

Travel tips:

• In planning any trip, your first concern, of course, is luggage. If you can pack all your belongings in suitcases without resorting to a trunk, for goodness' sake do so.
  
• Before you start out on a trip, as well as while en route, forego the pleasure of eating raw onions or limburger cheese.
  
• After leaving port, don't entertain members of the opposite sex in your cabin.
  
• Unless you know exactly what you want to eat, have a waiter come to your room with a menu. It's perfectly proper to receive him in pajamas or a negligee.

The Proper Clothes for Women:

• "You may have the greatest product on the market, but if it's not attractively packaged it won't sell." That certainly goes for you and me as well as for that box of soap flakes on the grocery counter.
  
• Nothing is uglier or more ludicrous than a somewhat portly female clad in pajamas.
  
• I personally do not like to see rough tweed skirts and Brooks sweaters in the city. Nor do I care for washable pastels or white shoes in town in the summer.
  
• Remember, shorts and tennis dresses should be worn only on the tennis court, never on the golf course.

Questions and Answers:

• After eating a half of grapefruit with a spoon, is it permissible to squeeze the last bit of juice into the spoon by picking up the grapefruit in one's hand?
  No. Forego the remaining juice. You must never pick up the grapefruit.
  
• Do women servants ever wait on table at a formal dinner?
  No, formal service requires men.
  
• Is it in good taste to admire objects in a friend's house?
  Of course. Naturally, if you dislike them, you will say nothing.
  
• Should a mother put colored nail polish on the nails of her little girl?
  No. This would be very bad taste.
  
• When playing mixed doubles, who takes charge of the balls?
  The man supplies himself and his partner with balls.

The Poetry of Gregg Typing, 1958: Good Friday Edition

We left Phoenix, Arizona, late that Friday night.
By the next day we had gone all the way to Ogden.
Frank and Quen each drove for almost three hours.
We spent three weeks there; then we had to leave.
It was very hard to plan a trip such as this one.
You should take a trip like this sometime, James.

The Poetry of Gregg Typing, 1958: Pt. 3

Weekend reviews coming soon. But for now...

"For more than a year now, it has been my pleasure each morning to study the window of a fine jewelry store that is located at the corner where I catch the bus. I get there a few minutes before eight and have to wait six or seven minutes before the bus is due to reach there. While I wait, I study the big display of clocks in that store; it is really quite something to see, with clocks of all sizes and kinds. There are several timepieces that I like to watch. You see no moving parts whatsoever--just the oval faces and pointed hands, somehow suspended in the front corner of the window.

A big sign says that one of the clocks is wound by the changes in the weather. That one dumbfounds me, and I admit to having great doubt about it. Deep inside, I cherish the quiet little prayer that the experts who built that job for us lazy folks have put in a winding key--only as insurance."

The poetry of Gregg Typing, 1958, Pt. 2

"We stood around the small fire and wished that we could be dry, even for just a few seconds. While the group of us stood watching the flames quietly leap into the air, Rex pushed a wet twig into the fire. Tongues of smoke began to rise as the twig sizzled and squeaked. All of us yelled at him as we jumped back from the smoke. Rex just smiled a bit, and then we all laughed and felt better. We found some dry branches in the back of the cave--not too many, but enough to stir up a warm blaze."

The poetry of Gregg Typing, 1958, Pt. 1

As promised, the first of the typing textbook vignettes. Let us look back fondly at the small press instructional textbook editors who had delusions of artistic grandeur:


While the early dusk quickly faded into dark, the
squadron went on and on, a long file of shapes on
all sides of the horizon.  Somewhere above us was
the air escort; we could hear the distant whining
of the jets above the throb of our engines.  From
the big ship ahead of us came a flicker, a signal
for us to call up extra help for the night watch.


Ahhh. Nourishes the soul, it does.

P.S. This morning I was so busy taking a break from work to fold a damn peacock that I totally missed the onsale of Otto's tickets. Fortunately, they didn't sell too quickly and I was able to nab one. The origami is going pretty well though. I can actually follow directions like "valley fold a kite base."

Gregg Typing, Second Edition - 1958

It's another gem of an old book that I share with you today. This one didn't come from the parents' Basement o' Wonders, but the grandparents' Basement o' Wonders (Cellar o' Curiosities?) when we were cleaning it out last fall. It's a textbook from a 1958 typing class. I assume it belonged to one of my aunts - I'm not sure how many guys actually took typing back in 1958. This guy did, though:



Let's consider this fellow for a moment. First off - nice sweater, my friend. Secondly ... is he wearing Mary Janes? Further examination of his legs leads to three possible conclusions. 1) He is wearing pants and socks of the exact same color, and the pants are capri length. 2) He's wearing footie pajama pants with shoes over them. 3) He's not wearing any pants at all, and he has a pocket-shaped scar on his upper thigh. You make the call.

One of the funny things about the book (besides the photos of mammoth metal typewriters under the heading "Which of these typewriters will you be using?") is the fact that the troubleshooting sections include help for "striking the keys too lightly" and "striking the keys too hard" - because on an actual typewriter, that really did affect what went onto the page. Also, this is great - in the event that you didn't have a 1/! key, you were supposed to type a period, backspace, and then type an apostrophe on top in order to create an exclamation. Sweet Moses. (Side note - I know I'm acting like typewriters are these archaic cave machines only glimpsed in legend, but of course I did my first typing on a typewriter. I'm quite familiar with the quirks of the later models, but it's easy to forget how comparatively recent that was ... as I sit here blogging remotely.)

Here's a practice paragraph from Lesson 4:

Dear Jeff:   I guess I am all set for the
game.   I must get some ice cream for the
folks as I come home; that is all that I
must do.   Oh, I must get some cake, too.

The guide suggests spending 2 minutes on each line, which seemed ridiculous until I remembered that erasing backspace keys hadn't been invented yet. Shudder.

I'm beginning to notice a zen-like beauty and simplicity to the lesson-ending paragraph reviews. Here's another:

I can see all six men as they work over
a log pile.   One is using his axe; see,
he has just swung it way over his head.
They might quit soon:   It is half done.

Lesson 7 over, grasshopper. I wonder if I could have any success publishing a volume of typing haiku.

However, in Lesson 23, they let the big secret out of the bag:

It is now time to tell you that it is not through chance that the right margins are even in all the timed writings. Each line had to be revised many times, and it was quite a job. When you do other kinds of work, you must realize that you will not have straight right margins. Do not expect them.

WHAT?? You BASTARDS.

Other favorite sentences:

It seems Lee keeps bees in apple trees.
Jackie was quite vexed by this lazy power farming.
Pack my box with five dozen jugs of liquid veneer.
His need:  a tasty square meal.
Those big men will quickly jeopardize five exits.
Miriam might make more famous skimmers.

Skimmers? I'm thinking either an article of clothing or some sort of 1950's snack food. Any ideas?

Predictably, as the lessons progress, the paragraphs become more involved. Every so often, I'm planning to inject a poignant 1958 typing textbook vignette into the blog for a little light reading. Stay tuned!

Mrs. Oliver Harriman's Book of Etiquette: 2

Time for another lesson from the high society women of 1942! As promised, starting with
Chapter 39: The Servant in the House

• To begin with, the maximum number of working hours for any servant is twelve.
  
• The customary time off is one afternoon and evening a week and every other Sunday afternoon and evening. But other arrangements can be worked out which are equally satisfactory. A Filipino servant, for instance, whose bachelor employer is seldom at home, may be given no specific days off. His work is light and he already has free time.
  
• It seems almost unnecessary to say that servants' rooms should be clean and attractive and their meals well planned and plentiful, yet many employers are guilty on this score. Several agencies have told me that many servants leave a job because there is not enough food. Apparently we don't all realize that adequate nourishment is essential to those who do housework.
  [Wait, so do the servants have to be walked regularly too?]
  

Now, on to Chapter 40: Lady's Maid

• A lady's maid is entirely responsible for your wardrobe
  
• A lady's maid is never supposed to do anything about the house. Her only concern is the madam and her wardrobe. Too many people expect one servant to do the work of three today.
  
• My maid crossed the ocean with me twenty-nine times. Like all competent lady's maids, she bought the tickets, took care of the baggage, and arranged for the hotel accommodations.
  [Okay, maybe I want a lady's maid.]
  

And finally ... get ready ... Chapter 41: If You Have No Servant

• If you have no servant, entertaining need not be a burden. Instead, make it a gay adventure. Treat it as you did when you played house as a child.
  
• The hostess without servants must, above all, have a sense of humor. She should never appear to take herself or her party too seriously. If she laughs when the biscuits burn, her guests will feel at ease. Afterward they'll remark, "It's always so much fun at Natalie's. She's such a good sport."
  [Hot damn! Condescend much? And finally:]
  
• We don't realize that a home systematically run is as important to our social life as knowledge of good manners. Homemaking is not some mysterious gift bestowed on certain individuals. Fundamentally, every woman has the instinct for is. Like childbearing, whether she admits it or not, it is part of her very being.
  

I feel so much wiser.

Mrs. Oliver Harriman's Book of Etiquette

The non-taping of Veronica Mars was redeemed on Saturday night, when I watched the rerun of the episode. Everyone can stop holding their breath now. If I may, I would like to request more Francis Capra in the next new episode. Thanks!

On to Mrs. Oliver Harriman's Book of Etiquette. It was an early birthday present from P&M, who couldn't wait if it killed them, and it is fantastic. It's got everything an upstanding gentleman or lady of 1942 should know to smoothly sail through high society. The book jacket itself is charmingly tattered, and the back cover has ads for other books that cost as much as $2.95!! (That was for a rhyming dictionary.) Anyway, every so often I'll probably share some wisdom from Mrs. Oliver Harriman. No need to thank me; just using these tips in your everyday life will make the world a better place for all.

From Appendix C : Do's and Don'ts

• Don't glare at a man who doesn't give you a seat on the subway just because you're a woman. He may be more tired than you.
  
• Do remember, if you are a woman, that it is your duty to make the first move to leave when you and your best beau are with friends. He'll be stuck all night unless you give the go sign.
  
• Don't protest once your wife has signaled that it is time to leave. Accept her decision gracefully. Argue later in private.
  
• Do sit with your knees together and your legs slanted in slightly to the left. This is the most graceful and well-bred position a woman can assume when she is seated.
  
• Don't chew gum in public. Personally, I do not care for gum at any time.
  
• Do speak in low tones wherever you are. A loud voice is bad form at all times.
  

Next time: dealing with your servants.

When journalists were wordsmiths

I just found an old clipping from the Kenosha News. It's not dated, but based on context clues I can date it somewhere between 1932 and 1934. The article is about a football game between Kenosha High School and Madison East. So, it's a small town newspaper article about high school football. But it's written like a novel! It's absolutely nothing like sportswriting in your average newspaper today. Here are some excerpts:

Surging back with that old do-or-die spirit typical of great Kenosha High school football elevens of the past, the Redmen, trailing 3 to 0 only less than two minutes before the half ended, opened with an explosion of aerial bombs and a long run to score a touchdown on an 80 yard sweep accomplished on four plays in a minute and fifty-two seconds as they throttled a viscious fighting Madison East aggregation, Big Eight championship favorites, 6 to 3 Saturday while dazzling in the "under dog" role in a brilliant, bruising battle of spectacular offensive fireworks and iron-clad defensive tactics.

Damn! Take a breath. Anyway, here's my favorite part:

The story-book finish of Saturday's thriller makes Frank Merriwell's fictionized adventures as dull as a 16-year-old kid in the third grade at a country school.

Ha! BURN!

Eddie Hartnek, "will o' the wisp" halfback, returns the kick-off 10 yards. Joe Gogola, like a crafty general sending his soldiers into the "big push," wafts a forward pass to Brianne's Grandpa [yay grandpa!], a tricky kid, and he gains 15 yards. Eddie Hartnek then rocks the foundation of the East team with another aerial blast which that "hawk" Grandpa grabs while walled by two Purgold enemies for another 15 yards.

What will happen? WHAT WILL HAPPEN?

Seconds are left in the half, and the goal line is 40 yards away. So what. So Gogola plays his ace card. He calls the signal for "Red" Horne, his offensive dynamo, to get going. "Red" doesn't disappoint. He goes big. This elusive, hip-shaking, redhead cuts off tackle, streaks for the sidelines and does a hula-hula through a charging army of Madison East players to cross the enemy goal line.

Wooooo! That elusive, hip-shaking redhead does a hula-hula, eh? I wonder if he caught any shit for that from his buddies. But how did the fans react to all of this? I must know.

Horne's dazzling run puts the stands in a wild, uproarious scene. This was something. Red players go somersaulting with their cleats in the turf. East's players and rooters are mute, dejected, refusing to believe their eyes. Only in fiction are games won like that. Then comes the gun for the half. The Reds troop off the field jubilantly and East's husky horde stumbles disconsolately to the dressing rooms.

The article is actually much longer than this. I love it. I'd also love to see some writer try throwing in a "disconsolately" in a high school sports article today. I can just see half of the readership staring blankly at the page.