You're The Bee's Knees

In Rolled Stockings, Bees Knees, And All That Jazz you'll meet Bee Jackson who may be behind the expression, "the bee's knees".

Post-Coital Smoke?

Such a frightening ad portraying a woman woken in the middle of the night to find a cat burglar smoking in her boudoir.



British Abdulla Cigarette Advertisement, 1926.

You Said You Wanted A Little Tail

Images from the pinups section at Unusual Cards; thanks to John of Feuilleton for the link.

Think I'm Sexy? Bark A Loud "Boing" For Me

Pop Tart of Kitschy Kitschy Coo sent me the following clip from a "Jabberwocky and Jive" column in Calling All Girls, December, 1945.

No, Thanks

It was so nice of you to offer, but she already has a pearl necklace.


Another vintage nude from the Parmount Folder.

Hey, You've Got My Mermaid In Your Religion

Thanks to mlfoley of Irish Wit and German Sadism for showing us the "two great tastes that go great together", mermaids and Jesus, which forms religious prostitution: Flirty Fishing.


Don't let the candy-sweet comic illustrations of the pamphlets fool you, there's something here to stick in your craw, alright; it's the cult part that's like too much peanut butter -- sticky & hard to swallow.

Flirty Fishing (FFing) was the use of sex to show God's love and win converts as well as a means of raising financial support. It was practiced by the Family of Love (aka Children of God, the Family, and now the Family International or TFI) from 1974 until it was officially discontinued in 1987; due, in part, to the AIDS scare. The cute euphemism is traced to Matthew 4:19 where Jesus says "Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men."

In the latter part of the '70s and early '80s, [David Berg], responding in part to the sexual liberality of that time period, presented the possibility of trying out a more personal and intimate form of witnessing which became known as 'Flirty Fishing' or 'FFing'. In his Letters at that time, he offered the challenging proposal that since 'God is Love' (1 John 4:8), and His Son, Jesus, is the physical manifestation and embodiment of God's Love for humanity, then we as Christian recipients of that Love are in turn responsible to be living samples to others of God's great all-encompassing Love. Taking the Apostle Paul's writings literally, that saved Christians are 'dead to the Law [of Moses]' (Romans 7:4), through faith in Jesus, [Berg] arrived at the rather shocking conclusion that Christians were therefore free through God's grace to go to great lengths to show the Love of God to others, even as far as meeting their sexual needs.

XFamily.org has more Flirty Fishing ephemera as well as additional writings by Berg or transcriptions of his speeches, called Mo Letters (the name "Mo Letters" derived from David Berg's pseudonym, Moses David).

Women As Stocking Victims

Growing up, my dad used to make jokes about luring girls with the offer of nylons. He still does, honestly.

It's a bit creepy -- but less creepy than jokes about little girls and candy, that's for sure; but if you don't know the history of nylons, you wouldn't quite get his jokes. (Admittedly, such knowledge would only help you understand his nylon jokes; Dad's other jokes could still be murky.)

Thankfully, my parents both were not only quite the history lovers but storytellers too, so I knew the score -- both in terms of the "Nylon Mania" & "Stocking Panic" and how my dad joked about hoping to score.

The mocking of women's love of stockings was a prevalent theme in many WWII home front publications, and the use of nylons to lure women was humor oft-used in men's mags -- sadly, none are at my fingertips now (searched-for things rarely appear when desired; I shall post them as I find them).


Luring women at home and abroad with nylons and candy bars was the "come up and see my etchings" of its time, and lived on in memory far longer as a euphemism, even when not fully understood.

Of course, the panic of nylon stockings was more than a joke. As noted in the history piece at SK, the real crimes took place as people tried to exploit the power of "Stocking Panic." OrangeCat at Flickr transcribed this 1945 Readers Digest article on the subject:

Bootleg Nylons
Readers Digest, February 1945

Watch out for the fellow who offers to sell you "nylon" hosiery! There isn't any.

No mere man can fully understand the power of nylon stockings over women's minds, hearts, and consciences. But a lot of men are busy exploiting this feminine weakness.

Foremost example: Uncle Sam. The only legitimate purchaser of nylon hosiery in the world is the U.S. Government. No, the stockings aren't "sent to Iceland on lend-lease," as reported in a silly story that was repeated on the floor of Congress. They travel a much more devious route.

Our secret agents overseas discovered that a half dozen pairs of sheer nylons would buy more information from certain mysterious women in Europe and North Africa than a fistful of money. After all, what could the ladies buy with money in the empty shops of the Old World? So several large hosiery mills, which had made no nylons since Pearl Harbor, received substantial orders from Washington; the necessary yarn, they were informed, would be available. Pleasantly surprised, they turned out the merchandise -- the only nylons legitimately manufactured in years.

Nevertheless, enough American women want nylon stockings at any price, in contempt of law, and with callous indifference to our soldiers' needs for other nylon goods, to support a sizable black market. It is some satisfaction to record that the black market operators give the women a merciless stinging.

Thirteen cases of raw nylon en route from the Du Pont factory in Martinsville, Va., to a parachute yarn plant in Winston-Salem, N.C., were stolen from a motor-freight terminal in Greensboro, N.C. Accepting the thin story that the nylon was salvage from a warehouse fire, two manufacturers made it up into hosiery. It was spread as far as possible by making the feet and tops of cotton. But these skimpy makeshift stockings sold readily for $5 a pair to bootleggers, who in turn got $10 a pair from customers, male and female, hexed by the magic word "nylon." The nylon yarn was worth $7800; it was made into $140,000 worth of stockings.

FBI and OPA agents arrested three men. One, a former official of a trucking company, was fined $5,000 and is serving a two-year prison term. The two hosiery mill men were fined $12,000 each and placed on 18 months' probation. The Government agents managed to seize 5,000 pairs of hose before they could be peddled. These, by court order, were sold at the OPA ceiling prime of $ 1.65 a pair in the office of the U.S. Marshal in Greensboro. The sale was to begin at ten o' clock in the morning. At 5 a.m. the queue began to form; when the doors opened, the line of women, four abreast, extended four city blocks. Half of them went away disappointed.

Much more intricate was another scheme for black market nylons. A silk mill in Pennsylvania got a contract to convert raw nylon into thread for glider towropes. Part of the raw nylon was systematically snitched, and accounted for in reports to the WPB as "spoilage." The "spoiled" nylon was transported to three hosiery mills whose owners were in the plot. When the FBI cracked down, it found 10,320 pairs of nylons in one warehouse, 6,500 unfinished pairs in another, enough thread to make 36,000 pairs more. Four men were indicted.

Most patrons of the nylon black market are stung in two ways: they pay fantastic prices and they do not get nylon. Travelers, and even professional merchandise buyers who should know better, have bought "Mexican nylon" in quantities. Sometimes they have misleading names, such as "carbonyl."

Dozens of pairs have turned up for laboratory analysis at the New York headquarters of the National Association of Hosiery Manufacturers. They're just rayon. You can get them at any hosiery counter in the United States; ceiling price, $1.25.

An Omaha store imported 1,680 pairs of these "nylons" in good faith and advertised them at $2.25, plus $1.85 for customs duty. The Better Business Bureau had a pair analyzed and thus convinced the merchant he had been victimized. The stockings were withdrawn from sale.

The lengths to which the gyps will go is indicated by the troubles of the Van Raalte Company. It is getting a stream of complaints about hosiery bought as nylon, stamped with the Van Raalte name and the nylon trademark and, most convincing, made with the patented Van Raalte toe. Some victims bought the counterfeits in Mexico City, some bought them from bootleggers in the U.S.; but it seems plain that the imitations were all made in Mexico.

The small amount of honest nylon wastage or spoilage that does occur in war production is allotted to manufacturers of underwear, brassieres and girdles -- never to hosiery mills. Every retailer should know that there just isn't any nylon hosiery to be had. Still, when George M. Toney wrote to 1,000 stores from a post office box address in Washington, D. C., offering nylons at $7.44 a dozen pairs, he got orders with some $2,000 cash by return mail. There is no guesswork about the money, because postal authorities opened his mail and counted it.

Ruses of the bootleggers show little originality. The driver of a delivery truck, often bearing the name of a well-known shop, stops a woman on the street and tells her that some nylons were put on his truck by mistake. She can have them at $5 (or $10) a pair. Or a peddler drifts into a doctor's office on the pretext of making an appointment. He casually mentions that the parcel in his hand contains nylon stockings -- unfortunately not his wife's size. Could anyone use them? He is typical of the shifty-eyed, furtive nylon bootleggers who canvass office buildings in the big cities.

Perhaps the limit of credulity is reached by the people who buy compounds which, dissolved in water, will "nylonize" rayon stockings. One of the big hosiery manufacturers remarked dryly, "If any chemist has such a formula, he needn't bother with the 25-cent trade. I'll give him $5,000,000 for it in cash."

After the war there will be nylon hosiery, finer, sheerer, stronger, more beautiful than ever before. Designs for the machines to make it are past the blueprint stage. But until the war is over, the Army and Navy need every pound of nylon. There won't be any for stockings except what is stolen. And there won't be much stolen. So, ladies -- don't be suckers.

In researching crimes in the wake of "Stocking Panic", it is also clear that the threat of such power plays created a panic of victimization which rivaled that of the white slave trade.

In fact, I continue to search publications for the proffered opines of "Beware the nylon stocking offered; you'll end up in white slavery!"

If/when I find some, I shall, of course, share.

Along with the joke of wooing at home with nylons, the fear of betrayals & abuses back home was part of World War II psychological operation (PSYOP) strategy. This excellent article details more than the use of nylon stockings as symbol or eroticism and betrayal, but the use of the sex drive and pornography to "motivate" soldiers. Go read it.

You might find such manipulation of the male sex drive horrific (and I do), but beneath it all is still the notion that we women are "so in love" with nylons, that we'd "do anything" to get them.

We women aren't only fools for fashion, willing to prostitute ourselves for material goods, but we are such delicate things that we can be exploited for them even without intending to be.

We are bad girls because we are weak. And we weaken our men because of it. Men know this about us, and lament the horrors which will befall us because they aren't "home" to save us -- from predatory males and ourselves.

Yuck.

Image Credits/Further Reading: Stockings Go To War scan via CQ; "Stocking Panic" article from Business Week August 9, 1941, via Smithsonian; comic mocking women from 1950 Modern Woman Magazine, via KKC; WWII German propaganda leaflets, via Psywarrior.com.

A Stud In Hand...

Is Worth Two Under The Bed



So reads this vintage Bakelite trinket box, a dresser piece to hold men's shirt studs. Very pun-ny, yes?




The seller says it measures 3 inches in diameter and 3 is a "fabulous little memento of the days when "Gentlemen" dressed to the nines and used all those lovely gold and onyx studs in their starched shirts!"

Ruthless As A Young Cat

Whatever that means.


Via Julia at Flickr.

"Moonshine, Jugged Elegance... Great For Makin' Hay"

Men's cologne ad from a 1966 Playboy.

Would You Call This Vulgar?

The seller calls this photo "vulgar" -- literally, as in "VULGAR NUDE BRUNETTE Vintage 50s Photo LINGERIE FETISH".

Do you see anything vulgar about this?

Is the seller prudish?

Maybe I just look at too much smut.

Then again, being practical, "vulgar" can be a way to communicate -- in the collector's world -- that genitals are visible. But that's not the case here.

So I'd have to say this seller really doesn't have a clue. Not aesthetically, not as a seller of vintage smut.

69 Ways To Insult Your Dishclout

There may be 50 ways to leave your lover, Paul Simon; but Pornokrates researched 69 ways to say "whore".

Funny, but I don't see "wife" anywhere on that list.

However, "Moon-Eyed Hen" is, and it means "A squinting whore".

And I think we all know why she squints.

Sex Is Everywhere

I'm no prude, but I have to wonder (again & again) why folks are always so upset by porn and nudity -- usually defending it with a "save the children!" scream of anguish while the truth is any child anywhere is aware of sex.

In many places children see their parents and other adults copulating, and it is fact that this occurred in the early beds of Puritanical America; something most would conveniently forget or slide into that didn't-know couldn't-do any-better of "less developed countries".

However, while Western cultures sigh and claim themselves superior, they doth protest too much regarding nudity & sexuality. For they've put it everywhere. Today's exhibits: Garbage Pail Kids cards from the mid-1980s.


Pourin' Lauren is clearly a Playboy Bunny. And Nicky Hickey & Marty Gras must have led to a few conversations (parental or peer).



These packs of cards/stickers with gum were marketed towards kids as a mockery of the Cabbage Patch Kids dolls so that would definitely be kids, not teens or even tweens, yet it was expected that they'd know Playboy Bunnies and hickeys -- and so much more.

Like the comforting notion of a Peeping Tom.



It's pretty clear that even with the sophomoric humor, these cards are for adults to appreciate. What else could Turned-On Tara refer to? Drugs? A real human light fixture?



But then again, perhaps the risque humor is something I read into them...

Having a woman smell fishy?


Swollen Sue Ellen... wasn't she J.R.'s used and abused wife on Dallas? Maybe that was just a euphemism used in my neighborhood.



There are lots of euphemisms in these cards, for a mind like mine.




But even if One-Eyed Jack isn't a euphemism for penis, do we expect 8 year olds to know Poker references? I'm guessing they understand them about as well as the poke-her references which are all around us.


Images from this retro Garbage Pail Kids gallery, via Collectors' Quest's blog.

Dance Of The Hoo-Hoo

Vintage ragtime sheet music which reminds me of what some folks teach their kids to call their -- looks around to see who is listening, then whispers -- private parts. No, not the pussy.



Found at A Tad Too Much tan For Taupe, Rob Crausaz's Ragtime MIDI Files (yes, a sound file is there!) says this of the Emma Y. Suckert song:

Dance of the Hoo-Hoo (1898)
This delightful folk rag, which is available on the "Lester Levy" website, was written in honor of "The Concatenated Order of Hoo-Hoo" (the cover has a replica of their official symbol). According to its website TCOHH is, "the oldest industrial Fraternal Organization in existence in the USA" (being founded in Jan. 1892 as a "public relations department of the lumber industry").

Intrigued, I Googled-on...

From Stichting Argus:

The Concatenated Order of Hoo-Hoo was founded on January 21, 1892, in Gurdon, Arkansas, to which its headquarters had returned at the time of this writing. In the intervening years, it has moved a long way from its intention, which was to fight superstition and conventionalism, and became a parody of established secret societies. It started out with the intention of having nothing that other orders possess. Originally, there were no lodge rooms. Meetings, or “concatenations,” were held in hotels, the first being at the St. Charles Hotel in New Orleans on February 18, 1892. Even the name is unique. “Hoo-hoo” is not some arcane lumberman’s distress call, but a word coined by one of the founders, Bolling Arthur Johnson, about a month before the order was founded. He used it to describe a lonesome tuft of hair on the head of one Charles H. McCarer. “Concatenated” referred both to the cat, which was chosen as the symbol, and to “concatenation,” or “linking together in a chain.”

The founding members were not just lumbermen. They also included railroad men (who transport lumber) and newspaper men (who cover it with print). The organization chose as its emblem a black cat, to show its disdain for superstition, and based much of its ritual on the cat’s nine lives. Their officers were the Supreme Nine, made up of the Snark, the Senior Hoo-Hoo, the Junior Hoo-Hoo, the Bojum or Boojum, the Scrivenotor, the Jabberwock, the Cuctocacian, the Arcanoper, and the Gurdon. The overall leader was the Snark of the Universe. One of the high points of the ritual was the Embalming of the Snark, by which process he passed into the House of Ancients.

The organization is still around, Hoo-Hoo.org, but it doesn't seem as fun and irreverent as before.

Naked As A Jaybird

Bernie Delinski writes Just Ask, which runs Wednesdays in the TimesDaily. Recently he was Trying to uncover the naked truth when a reader asked, "Where did the saying, 'naked as a jaybird' come from?" Delinski's (partial) reply was:

Yep, I'm having trouble uncovering the truth. I'm going to have to get down to the bare essentials to find this answer.

If I fail, I might be exposed as a fraud, and have the Just Ask column stripped from me.

This question does, however, remind me of one of my favorite Lewis Grizzard theories: There's a difference between being naked and "nekkid."

Grizzard used to say that, if you're naked, you don't have clothes on. But, if you're "nekkid," you don't have clothes on and are up to something.

Anyway, the Word Detective (word-detective.com) says "naked as a jaybird" has been used since at least the mid-1900s, and seems to have originated in America. In England, they say "naked as a robin."

Granted, blue jays and robins have feathers, so the phrase doesn't seem to make sense either way. Although, technically, they aren't wearing clothes. Still though, why pick on these poor birds. I mean, humans are the only animals that wear clothes. Other than humans, we can pick on any animal. So that does it, I'm coining a phrase: "naked as a duckbill platypus."

And from there he basically just tries to be pithy. However, had he spent just a little time at Taschen...

Modern nudism began in Germany with the Wandervögel, or wandering birds, young men and women who took to the countryside, hiking, singing and shedding their clothes in protest against Europe's dehumanizing industrialization. The year was 1900. Modern nudism nearly ended in California with the Jaybirds, young men and women who took to the beaches, spreading peace, love and limbs in protest against Puritanical prohibition of doing their own thing. The year was 1965. Both Wandervögel and Jaybirds failed in the end to change the world, but unlike the Wandervögel, Jaybirds left a paper trail, the pseudo- nudist magazines full of hippy-speak and the happy, healthy, hairy bodies you find in this book.

The book is Naked as a Jaybird, by Dian Hanson.

Vintage Jaybird nudist camp ad via Sex is a Red-Blooded Thing.

Of Bottoms Up, Getting Your Kicks, And Kicks In The Pants

The above illustration is by Bradshaw Crandell & from Ted Saucier's Bottoms Up, Greystone Press, NY, 1951.



Saucier was the publicist for the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel for nearly four decades, and this was likely all the authority needed to author a book of cocktail recipes for the elite -- and which appear to be, at least in part, credited to the elite.

For example, Bottoms Up is the first known reference of a vodka martini in the United States, a recipe credited to celebrity photographer Jerome Zerbe. (Zerbe was a long-time companion of the society columnist and writer Lucius Beebe. Beebe reportedly made so many flattering references to Zerbe in his newspaper column, "This New York," that rival columnist Walter Winchell suggested that the column name should be changed to "Jerome Never Looked Lovelier." Together, Zerbe and Beebe created El Morocco's Family Album.)

As a side-trip, some info on the Waldorf-Astoria -- and certainly such a grand old hotel deserves it's due at a sex history blog. (If only to see that our fascination with celeb watching isn't all that new.; perhaps at a later date we'll dish on the more sordid happenings of bedrooms.)

From a 1931 article titled, At Home To Society:

The hyphenated name caught the public's fancy: a great hotel—a name big enough to apply. The comedians and humorous writers of the day took it up and played upon it—a sure sign of popularity.

"Meet me at the hyphen," said one wag.

"Where is that?"

"Between the Waldorf and the Astoria," was the reply, That joke immediately traveled to Kalamazoo, jumped to Des Moines, leaped to San Francisco, and was soon told in the Hong-Kong Club. Going the other way, within a few weeks it was served as a relish at the Sphinx bar in Cairo with the newest American cocktail. By the spring of 1899 somebody was singing on the stage a song called "The Waldorf-Hyphen-Astoria," whose words various New York papers printed.

Here's a scan of Waldorf "Hyphen" Astoria, words and music by E.C. Center and Jackson Gouraud (via NYPL Digital Gallery).



Here are the lyrics:

We have all met those guys who affect to patronize
The hotel with the hyphenated name
But if it should befall that on them we'd try to call,
It would be hard to find them just the same.
After hunting long and well through each separate hotel,
Without result, a fellow must decide,
They may be on the square, but if they are living there,
It must be on the "hyphen" they reside.

Chrous: At the Waldorf "Hyphen" Astoria,
No matter who or what you are,
Be sure you not to Oscar as you enter.
Just speak to him by name,
And for "ten" he'll do the same--
That's the proper thing at the Waldorf "Hyphen" Astoria.

The 'Oscar' mentioned, according to Nancy Groce in New York: Songs of the City, is "Oscar Tschirky, the Waldorf-Astoria's powerful and punctilious headwaiter". And the song may have mocked the name, but was more about the who's who which stayed there -- and resulting gawkers:

Of course, like today, not everybody seen there was actually a guest or a patron of the hotel's extremely expensive restaurant, the Palm Garden. Many, like the poseur in the 1897 song "Waldorf 'Hyphen' Astoria," simply hung around for a glimpse of the rich and famous.

The song was sung by John Parr in A Reign of Error, a musical farce featuring The Rogers Brothers.



It seems the production had been around earlier, and the song added later (March 19, 1899, The New York Times)



The same allure & authority Saucier & the Waldorf-Astoria held for publishers captured the attention of Hefner and Bottoms Up received a dandy review in the second issue of Playboy -- sure the nude illustrations helped *wink*


(Images via A Dash of Bitters.)

This collector cannot be restrained from wanting such a book. (Give me the $200 for the signed copy at eBay, will ya? I'd settle for any decent copy of Ted Saucier's Bottoms Up, actually; but why should I settle for anything?)

Nor can she help (nor be stopped) from noting this little piece of irony discovered during her research...

In 1931 some clever person (known only by the initials M.C.) 'respectfully' suggested that "the militant suffrage movement, now on the rampage in England, be referred to as 'The Reign of Error'."


It would seem that M.C. was unaware of both theatre & popular music to feel they had coined such a phrase. (Unless they were just 13 years of age at the time the letter to the editor was penned.)

So we begin with an illustration of a naked lady using ice tongs to select men she'll consume and end with a person wishing women would remain less than equals in the eyes of the law.

I leave it for you to discuss.

Can You Tune-In Tokyo?

The old joke of tuning in Tokyo while pretending to adjust or tune a woman's nipples or breasts like knobs on an old radio set comes to life with this retro transistor radio.




A little sexy doll in a see-through babydoll nightie has her arms stretched over her head, accentuating and offering her bust -- which makes sense because her nipples are the dials. One is for tuning in stations, the other is for switching the radio on &/or off.

According to auction listings, she measures 11 1/2 inches tall, 6 inches wide.






While one is listed now, these radios are not super common. At least some of these radios were made by Windsor, but they must not have clear maker marks (or, quite unlikely, sellers neglect such details), so the best way to search for them is with nude doll radio, sexy transistor radio doll, and variations thereof (including misspellings).

The first one I'd ever seen was in rough shape and I've been watching (and saving photos) ever since.






In 6 months, I've only spotted 6 of them (and some sold over $50); so happy hunting.

UPDATE: 3/08/08

A blonde version of the doll -- and you can just make out the box, with its clear plastic window; but the seller has not identified the maker.

Come On Up And See...

François Dubeau's (sk)etchings.



OK, so they are ink drawings, not etches, but I like to throw a little history in with a post about modern art works. So sue me.

If you still feel upset looking at all the art by François Dubeau, that is. And I highly doubt you will.

Vintage Turtles Membership Card

An old Official Membership Card for the International Association of Turtles.


The turtles have a very interesting history, and the back of the card reads:

We assume all prospective Turtles own a Jack Ass. On this assumption is the reason for the password.

This password must be given if you are ever asked by a fellow member, "Are you a Turtle?" You MUST then reply "You bet your sweet ass I am." If you do not give the password in full because of embarassment or some other reason, you forfeit a beverage of his choice. So always remember the password.

As all members are of clean mind to become an official Turtle the person must solve the following riddles with clean-minded correct answers:

1. What is it a man can do standing up, a woman sitting down, and a dog on three legs? (Answer: shake hands).

2. What is it that a cow has four of and woman has only two of? (Answer: legs).

3. What is a four letter word ending in 'k' that means the same as intercourse? (Answer: talk).

4. What is it on a man that is round, hard, and sticks so far out of his pajamas that you can hand a hat on it? (Answer: his head).

You are now a member of The Turtle Club. Govern yourself accordingly and produce new members.

Note: The spelling errors are as on the card; and the questions appear to have changed & increased in number according to this quiz. I only got 7 right, so am I'm too dirty to be a turtle? You bet your sweet ass I am.

Of Mae West, Radio & Dummies

On December 12, 1937, Mae West appeared in two sketches on ventriloquist Edgar Bergen's radio show, The Chase and Sanborn Hour, then the currently the highest-rated program of the year. She appeared as herself, promoting her Paramount Pictures film, Every Day's a Holiday. On the radio show, West, as to be expected, flirted with Charlie McCarthy, Bergen's dummy, and displayed her risqué wit & sexual euphemisms.


Here's an snippet of the second sketch, via the Mae West Gala blog:

Charlie: Could you even like Mr. Bergen?

Mae: Ah, Mr. Bergen. He’s very sweet. In fact, he’s a right guy. Confidentially, yuh’ll have to show me a man I don’t like.

Charlie: That’s swell! Bergen’s your man. You know, he can be had.

Mae: On second thought, I’m liable to take him away from yuh.

Charlie: Well, if you take Bergen away, I’m speechless. (Laughter.)

Mae: Why don’t you come up … uh, home with me now, honey? I’ll let you play in my woodpile. (Laughter.)

Charlie: Well, I’m not feeling so well tonight. I’ve been feeling nervous lately. I think I’m gonna have a nervous breakdown. Whuup! There I go.

Mae: So, good-time Charlie’s gonna play hard to get? Well, yuh can’t kid me. You’re afraid of women. Your Casanova stuff is just a front, a false front.

Charlie: Not so loud, Mae, not so loud! All my girlfriends are listening.

Mae: Oh, yeah! You’re all wood and a yard long …

Charlie: (weakly): Yeah.

Mae: Yuh weren’t so nervous and backward when yuh came up to see me at my apartment. In fact, yuh didn’t need any encouragement to kiss me.

Charlie: Did I do that?

Mae: Why, yuh certainly did. I got marks to prove it. (Snickering from audience) An’ splinters, too. (Laughter).

If that last line sent the NBC censors and the FCC into panic, it was the earlier sketch which was the most trouble.

The earlier sketch starred West and Don Ameche as Adam and Eve in the Garden Of Eden. Here's part of it, as reported by Time on Jan. 24, 1938:

Snake: That's the forbidden tree.

Eve: Oh, don't be technical. Answer me this—my palpitatin' python—would you like to have this whole Paradise to yourself?

Snake: Certainly.

Eve: O.K., then pick me a handful of fruit— Adam and I'll eat it—and the Garden of Eden is all yours. What do ya say?

Snake: Sssounds all right . . . but it's forbidden fruit.

Eve: Listen, what are you—my friend in the grass or a snake in the grass?

Snake: But forbidden fruit.

Eve: Are you a snake or are you a mouse?

Snake: I'll—I'll do it. (hissing laugh)

Eve: Now you're talking. Here—right in between those pickets.

Snake: I'm—I'm stuck.

Eve: Oh—shake your hips. There, there now, you're through.

Snake: I shouldn't be doing this.

Eve: Yeh, but you're doing all right now. Get me a big one. ... I feel like doin' a big apple.

Snake: Here you are, Missuss Eve.

Eve: Mm—oh, I see—huh—nice goin', swivel hips.

Snake: Wait a minute. It won't work. Adam'll never eat that forbidden apple.

Eve: Oh, yes, he will—when I'm through with it.

Snake: Nonsense. He won't.

Eve: He will if I feed it to him like women are gonna feed men for the rest of time.

Snake: What's that?

Eve: Applesauce.

The sketch was written by Arch Oboler (before his Lights Out fame). According to Old-Time.com:

NBC wanted to present something special for Miss West, so the powers that be turned to one of their most promising young writers, Arch Oboler. "That script came about this way," Oboler recalled on television’s The Merv Griffin Show on August 2, 1973. "NBC called upon me one day in Westwood . . . they were in trouble on the Edgar Bergen show. I knew they always were in trouble on that show, but they were in particular because John Erskin had written a book called Adam and Eve. Miss West didn’t like it, Charlie didn’t like it, Edgar . . . didn’t matter [jokingly laughs], and Don Ameche was playing the lead. So they asked me, would I write this ten-minute sketch? Well, I wasn’t interested in writing for Miss West. Finally, they waved enough money at me, and my good resolves went down the drain, but I made one condition: I said I would write about Adam and Eve only if I could take it out of the book – which I collaborated with years before – that is the Bible [jokingly]. The show was to be rehearsed on Saturday, going on the air on Sunday. This was Thursday, so I stayed up all night with my dear wife, who I married because she knew how to take things down, and I wrote this sketch. It was taken right out of Genesis."

..."Now one thing the powers-that-be forgot," recalled Oboler, "that in those days, unlike today, there were three things that an actress could not do. One was to have a child out of wedlock. Two, she could not swear, and three, she could not wear glasses. It was thought terrible for an actress to wear glasses. Well, Miss West, having all the usual good sense of all of us, didn’t wear her glasses during the rehearsals so she, being very nearsighted never saw my script. She bluffed her way through. It wasn’t until air time that she walked on stage waving these glasses, put them on . . . and for the first time saw the script. The result was disaster. What she did to ‘Adam and Eve’ the Arabs had never done so miserably."

Dorothy Lamour recounted in her 1981 autobiography, My Side of the Road, "One week our special guest was Mae West, who was to play Eve to Don Ameche’s Adam, in a takeoff on the Bible story. Church groups were outraged and the mail came pouring in. I can’t even remember what she said that was so terrible, but I’m sure it was mild by today’s standards."

What Mae West said wasn’t so bad as how she said it. Telling the serpent that "I feel like doin’ a big apple" was one comment ad-libbed, but when the serpent got stuck between the picket fences in an attempt to fetch the forbidden fruit, West exclaimed with the emotion of a woman going through an orgasm, "They’re – They’re! Now you’re through!"

Edgar Bergen was shocked. "We had to have a star each week," he recalled, "and she seemed a logical choice. She was a sex star. We were fully aware of that. ‘Adam and Eve’ as you probably know, had been performed before without any untoward incidents. Possibly our program being on Sunday and having a little fun with the Bible was dangerous. We always had two rehearsals; one on Saturday evening, after which we rewrite and tighten, and then we would do a Sunday afternoon read-through. At that read-through, Mae read her lines straight. It was obvious she knew what she was doing – how to lay out line – but she didn’t give things that Mae West twist until the broadcast. I’ve always said that we had far more permissive material on a previous show."

The conversation/performance was considered so risqué & bordering on blasphemous that not only was the FCC involved, but West was banned from being featured -- or even mentioned -- on the NBC network. She did not perform again on radio until 1949.

Of her performance, Mae West, in her autobiography Goodness Had Nothing to Do with It, said:

There was nothing offensive in the dialogue or it would never have gotten on the air in the first place. I only gave the lines my characteristic delivery. What else could I do? I wasn't Aimee Semple McPherson. Or Lincoln at Gettysburg, or John Foster Dulles, or even Eleanor Roosevelt. I was Mae West. Sunday on radio doesn't alter one's personality. The trouble wasn't caused by the portion of the program in which I traded wisecracks with the bundle of splinters called Charlie McCarthy. It was the 'Adam and Eve' sketch, with me as Eve and Don Ameche as Adam. The sketch had been approved by the radio people and their usual vice-presidents, as all material must be before it is permitted to be broadcast to an innocent America. I had scarcely had time to read over the sketch before the broadcast rehearsal.

But West's performance wasn't the only trouble with the Adam & Eve sketch.

A woman from Texas had written a story about Adam and Eve and claiming plagiarism she sued the network, NBC, and Arch Oboler. Oboler had to go to court and via that same Old-Time.com link, the writer recalls:

"His first question," continued Oboler, "was ‘Mr. Oboler, where were you on February twenty-second – blah, blah, blah.’ And as long as I live, I’ll remember my answer because I was under oath. I said, ‘In the bedroom’ because, you see, Miss West does all of her business in her bedroom. She pays her bills in her bedroom, and she rehearses in her bedroom. So the judge’s next question – he looked at me very suspiciously as if I were the Henry Kissinger of my time – and he said, "Exactly, Mr. Oboler, what were you doing – and remember you’re under oath – what were you doing with Miss West?’ And his face turned bright red and he said, ‘I withdraw the question.’ And that was the end of that."

Ha!

Few opportunities and heavy NBC censorship means there are few radio shows with Mae; you can find a few of them at Old Time Radio Show Catalog, and at eBay (including this record album).

When asked about being censored Mae West reportedly said, "I believe in censorship. After all, I made a fortune out of it."

Teresa Brewer Sings Pickle-Up-A-Doodle

I don't know if Teresa Brewer knew it, but this song sure sounds full of euphemisms to me...



Via Fabulon.

Antique Tommy Also Came

This antique postcard reminds us that it's not just Mary's who have all the fun...

Mary had a little Brother,
Tommy was his name,
Every time she had a caller
Tommy also came.

Bamorth & Co. Publishers, Holmfirth (England) And New York No 1234
Copyright 1910 Bamforth & Co.

Lest you think I am imposing our current use of "come" or "cum" (that darn "rampant presentism" problem) upon ye olde world and poor innocent Tommy, let's look at the slang term.

According to Online Etymology, the word come -- specifically the sexual use (including variant spellings) of 'come' -- began it's life as a word for orgasm in 1650, in Walking In A Meadowe Greene, (found in a folio of "loose songs" collected by Bishop Percy) as follows:

They lay soe close together, they made me much to wonder;
I knew not which was wether, until I saw her under.
Then off he came, and blusht for shame soe soon that he had endit;
Yet still she lies, and to him cryes, "one more and none can mend it."

Ironically this seedy use of "come" wouldn't mean the literal seeds until later. According to Online Etymology, again, the meaning "semen or other product of orgasm" wasn't on record until the 1920s.

Which would mean that this postcard, both copyrighted & postmarked 1910, would refer to Tommy's orgasm, not his semen.

Germans use "kommen" (to come) in the same context.

A Vintage Bumper Crop Of Boobies

This promo piece (measuring approximately 13.5 x 11.25 inches when fully opened), dating from late 1940's to early 50's, was from "your electrical contractor", and boy is it a hoot -- err, about hooters.

A Bumper Crop
by Sample Simon

Emil J. Weber
Your Electrical Contractor
San Francisco

I WANDERED IN THE GARDEN

I love fruit and in my time, I've
sampled varieties from many lands
and every clime.

In this little brochure I present hard,
but happily-won knowledge, some
gained on the campus, but none in
college.

Sample Simon

Then, once you lift the flap (you have to -- boobies beckon!), you get a billboard warning:

DO NOT
LOOK INSIDE

PROCEED ONLY AT YOUR OWN RISK

Apparently you, like I, are only more determined to see what our favorite electrical contractor, Mr. Weber, has selected to show us -- specifically, that which Simon has sampled.

Opened all the way we see 17 sketches of women whose breasts are clearly visible beneath clothing -- each depicting a specific form of produce...

Apricots I love or not --
Depending on what they've got.

Oranges so round--rich in Vitamin C
Are good for the vision.

Crab apples -- if not too green
Are a marvelous treat.

Cranberries -- every one really is
A delectable bite.

Give me luscious PLUMS and
Let me dream!

Nature with man her goodness shares
In the succulent PEARS.

Those ripe red CHERRIES
Hold hidden dangers.

Prune is a little flirt!
Gets in jams and desserts.

X-??? An experimental fruit
Yet undeveloped.

Cucumbers look harmless but --
Are they?

Cocoanuts--It takes plenty of paring
To reach this treat.

Many states of PEACHES fine.
But I'll take Georgia's any time.

Avocados are quite all right
For the "educated" appetite.

Honeydew I love to eat
Cause it's so naturally sweet.

Grapefruit is very "calorifc"
And big ones are terrific.

Watermelon -- AH.........
So big -- so satisfying!

Pumpkins -- when they're round and
Firm they're best of all.

After all...

Variety -- They Say --
Is The Spice of Life

So is vintage sexist advertising. *wink*

Cultivating: Waist Places & Waste Places

Turn of the century (1900's) postcard featuring one man between two women, his arms about the waists of each. Text reads: Cultivating the "Waist" Places.--

Theochrom Serie 1230-56, printed in the U.S.

A humorous play on waste lands, those lands which have not yet been made property but which may be reduced to that condition, be it the desire of an individual or a group (a country or politician in the name of colonization, for example, or a religious group in the name of God). All of which fall under the category of sheer greed.

The issues of waste lands, conquest, emigration, war, and dominion as ordained by God were quite fascinating to folks in the late 1800's and early 1900's.

For more, see The Rights of War and Peace, including the Law of Nature and of Nations, translated from the Original Latin of Grotius, with Notes and illustrations from Political and Legal Writers, by A.C. Campbell, A.M. with an Introduction by David J. Hill (New York: M. Walter Dunne, 1901).

See also, The Waste Places (1915),a poem by Irish poet James Stephens (1882-1950) as well as Eli Siegel's Beginning with Psychiatric Terms: An Aesthetic Realism Consideration (1966) in which the poem is an allegory for ethical unconscious.

The King, by Morton Cooper

The cover of The King, by Morton Cooper reads:

HARRY ORLANDO, SWING, SINNER, MILLIONAIRE, CROONER

HELL ON WOMEN, KING OF THE DOLLS

"STRONG MEAT"
HOLLYWOOD REPORTER

"SUPER-SATURATED WITH 100 PROOF SEX" GALVESTON NEWS

BOOZE, BRAWLS, SEX, SCANDAL

"SHOULD BE PRINTED ON ASBESTOS PAPER"

THE KING -- out sexes VALLEY OF THE DOLLS

The back of the paperback:

He's the Bit-Time pop-singer whose sexy saga has "SET TONGUES WAGGING FROM COAST TO COAST." Detroit News

"IF IT'S SEXCAPE YOU WANT, THIS IS IT." Cleveland Armory

VALLEY OF THE DOLLS
sizzled the move queens -
now it's Harry Orlando's turn;
THE
KING

"A BLOCKBUSTER"
Library Journal
"GRAPHIC AND GUTSY"
Worcester Telegram

What's the best about The King is probably what also makes this book the worst. I've not (yet) read Valley Of The Dolls (though I will; I'm such a huge fan of Beyond), so I can't make any comparisons to that work; but it's safe to assume that The King falls into the genre of trashy books. Books, like those by Sidney Sheldon and Jackie Collins, that I salaciously read years ago. Books which once would have been qualified as great beach reads, with saucy romps and glamorous settings; pure escapism. Books which have now been supplanted by chick lit.

However, what's rather unique about The King is that the main character is male, and we see the world through his eyes as well as several other male leads as supporting cast. While women abound (several even with key or pivotal roles) we see little through their eyes; these characters begin and end as female rolls, if you catch my meaning.

I can't say this is a rare peep into the male psyche -- and truth be told, there are little surprises when you read so many trashy books-- but it is more than a bit refreshing to have the bull-shit set aside in terms of pretense. Heck, it was illuminating -- I thought I had heard all the slang &/or derogatory terms for women, but there were a few revelations, like quiff. Apparently this word predates the current use of the word for 'vaginal fart', drawing from the original definition of the word, a prominent forelock, which certainly makes sense. I am not misinterpreting the multiple and near exhaustive (despite a plethora of other words such as quim, snatch, twitch, and gash) use of the word. Take this passage, taken from page 371, where Orlando admires his notches but realizes the emptiness of such conquests: "You've had the Louvre of lovers, the queen of quiffs, and what have you got in your pocket to take home with you?"

And before you feminists get all pissy, it may soothe (or further upset you) to know that Italian-Americans are Wops, blacks are Niggers and well, you get the idea. The 60's, for all the stuff you read about racial equality, weren't the most racially kind times; and this book doesn't even pretend to be. Enjoy a slice of racial stereo-types with your hair pie (though, I'm not certain that 'hair pie' was actually used in this book -- you get the idea, tho, right?)

But now I'm getting ahead of both myself and Orlando.

The King is filled with sex, yes, but it's not the sex we are used to reading about today. Or is it? I don't know what you've been reading, but when I read a 'graphic' and 'sexy' book, both tab A and slot B are described, usually in detail, along with every step of the action. But in The King, well, it's (nearly) everything right up to those parts. It could be the time, or it could be further evidence that it's all about the thrill of the chase. But in any case, if you expect to find your panties wet from all this action, you'll be disappointed.

If, however, you enjoy a sordid tale of celebrity scandal, well, then, The King should fit the bill. Even if most of the celebs it outs are no longer filling our tabloids, or are dead even, this is fun.

Reading The King doesn't require the use of Google to discover that the lead character, Harry Orlando, 'is' Frank Sinatra (who was really unhappy with this book). Nor will you miss the other celebrities of the 60's hiding behind clear plastic retro bubble umbrellas.

Orlando's be-friended political candidate, the one whose campaign he helps at the request of the candidate's powerful father, is the ill-fated President Kennedy, and so covers the connections between entertainers and politicians. Bland actor turned presidential hopeful, Grant Campbell, is clearly Ronald Reagan. There are assorted smaller characters resembling 'a rat pack' if not the Rat Pack. (Interestingly enough, the black comedian on the late night talk show seems to be Nipsey Russell.) And the respected reporter, Bill Temple, could be very loosely based on James Bacon, but the main pivot points of this character focus on the personal & bitter swing Sinatra -- err, Orlando, makes from Camelot to the Republican party.

Since the babes aren't too fleshed-out, or, rather, aren't much more than flesh, it's hard to point to the not-so-cleverly disguised female celebs from that time period -- other than one who clearly, to me, seems to be Monroe. (She would have to appear in a Sinatra tale somewhere; and I bet the softer approach was due to her death just years before Cooper began writing The King. Then again, the women just don't matter here.)

In this work of fiction politics and social change are clearly characters -- as well masked as Sinatra supposedly is. The role of communism is actually played by communism, but the fictitious Friends of Victor Wade plays the Christian Right/Moral Majority or the friends of Falwell, as shown in this passage:

It was Temple, following up on a tip, who discovered that Wade and his friends were more than simply braying anachronisms. It was Temple who tracked down the proof that the executive level of the group was riddled with racists and boobs who were dangerous in their boobism. "Our sole function," announced Victor Wade, "is to educate every loyal, red-blooded American citizen on his inalienable right to speak out against all enemies of freedom. We have no other design." In truth, factions of the group, quietly but definitely directed from the top, had been successful in wrecking mental-health programs in many small communities, had infiltrated PTA chapters with members who persuaded passive majorities that this history book would have to be dropped because its interpretations of American history weren't patriotic enough or that the teacher with the funny-sounding foreign name would have to be bounced because of vaguely dangerous ideas he held. Pressure had been successfully put on librarians and bookstore owners to drop from stock books which, because of their political, ethnic, or moral slants, furthered the subversive cause. An astonishing number of men running for local political offices as liberals or moderates had been defeated, thanks to red-herring attacks by Wade Friends--attacks dealing not with the candidates' liberal or moderate views but with rumors about the candidates' sexual preferences or long-forgotten adolescent rebellions.

(The King, © by Morton Cooper, First Printing, January, 1968, Signet Books, pgs 307-308)

(Fiction or not, you didn't think I'd pass up an opportunity to remind everyone how important it is to not remain passive majorities puppeted by the right-restricting political right -- did you?)

Now that you've got the cast of characters, I see no reason to ruin the possibility of you actually reading this book by giving away too much of the plot. Most of it centers on the 'boys will be boys' stuff of babes, friendships and relationships among men, how men get their power, booze & more babes (or how they perhaps waste their power), all set in the swingin' 60's.

For the most part the juicy-joy of this book isn't about the plot; it's about the retro romp. Highly recommended -- and the cheap thrills can be found cheap at thrift stores, at Amazon, and on eBay.

For more on The King, see:

Time's blurb from Friday, Jun. 23, 1967.

For more on Morton Cooper (aka Morton Cooper Feinberg) see:

A list of short stories from vintage magazines, from The FictionMags Index.

Reviews of his other books, The Comedian (Gold Medal Books, 1953), and The Star-Cross System (New English Library, London, 1973; originally published in the USA by Avon Books under the title of Stop-Over in 1960), from Trash Fiction.

The author's obituary from The New York Times, June 6, 2004.

Spooners Delight

I'm not like the beggars who want a full meal,
Just "a spoon -- a spoon" is my humble appeal.

Copyright 1908, J. Thomas.

I love this postcard, and apparently Thomas created a series as you can find others like it, each with the iconic spoon. Another example is here.

Tipsey For Nipsey (Russell)

Now I knew Nipsey Russell must have made some comedy records, but I had no idea what I was really in for when I grabbed these two old Nipsey records...


(Yeah, and I left those 50 cent price tags on 'em for the photos -- so it eats at your souls!)

The covers are nearly identical, save for the colorized photos and the song titles. The front covers read:

Nipsey Russell Presents Borderline Records

HARLEMS "Son of Fun"

The spines, however, make a bit more sense with the "Borderline Records Presents Nipsey Russell Harlem's Son of Fun". They also make it clear that I have volumes two and three -- so I'm missing number one (hint-hint y'all!)

Reading the titles doesn't do the works justice -- I know, because I read them and still wasn't prepared -- but here they are. (And hit the links to download/listen.)

Vol II

Side One:

Little Peter My Boy
Drafted
Cherry For A Banana Split

Side Two:

Nudist Wedding
Well Do Hospital
Public Transportation
The Singer

Vol III

Side One:

A Day At The Races
Radio Roundup
My Friend Luigi

Side Two:

Tall In The Saddle
School Days
Honeymoon Hotel

Like many folks, I knew Nipsey from game shows (my favorite, too, is Match Game). But I had no idea that 1960's Nipsey Russell was raunchier than Match Game Nipsey! Who knew that you could get away with such things in the 60's -- let alone without a warning label or whatnot.

Back cover reads:

about "NIPSEY" RUSSELL
HARLEM'S 'SON OF FUN'

NIPSEY RUSSELL is, by all odds, the more perceptive, brilliant and flexible of the current crop of young comedians. His keen wit is so readily adaptable to all situations and types of "Material" that he has been able to vary his efforts to everything from: -- Injecting bright sage humor into RELIGIOUS CONCERTS to -- Touring as Comic M.C. with star-studded Jazz Variety Shows (BILLY ECKSTINE'S GREAT SHOW OF '54) to -- Guest performances on CBS-TV (the ROBERT Q. LEWIS Show) to -- Legitimate Drama (Summer Stock lead in "CABIN IN THE SKY" Seacliff Theater) to -- dispensing the accepted brand of Commercial Comedy in plush Supper Clubs (The ELEGANTE in B'klyn and the CORDILLION ROOM of the CONCORD HOTEL). He projects so easily in each medium and with such warmth and affability that he is completely captivating to most audiences.

NIPSEY was born in Atlanta, Georgia and danced professionally from the age of nine. He received his early training in showmanship and stagecraft from two entertainment "Greats", EDDY HEYWOOD Senior and ANDY FAIRCHILD. College trained in Liberal Arts and Business, Nipsey served overseas in World War II as Army Lieutenant in the Medical Administrative Corps.

NIPSEY RUSSELL wrote, directed and emceed his own Radio Variety Show (STATION WLIB-N.Y.) for more than 17 months; played a featured part in the Negro National Network's RUBY VALENTINE SHOW Starring Juanita Hall... and was top comic in the STUDIO FILM "Rhythm" SERIES. Nipsey is a great favorite at the Famous APOLLO theater and his 10 year record run at Harlem's CLUB BABY GRAND is still unsurpassed. IN THESE ALBUMS -- Nipsey demonstrates his mastery of the "Double Entendre" Quips & Quotes and his hilarious interpretations of the raucous and bawdy routines he laughingly calls --

"DIALOGUE THEY DARE YOU TO DO!"

Die-hard collectors, I found no real info on these recordings. The album cover text which says that Nipsey presents Borderline Records made me wonder if this was his own label. Even when I found a (very few) other vintage records by Borderline, also comedy recordings, I wasn't sure... Nipsey had a business degree you know.

But Barnes and Noble states, "In 1960 Russell signed to the Borderline label and released a series of comedy LPs including Confucius Told Me, Things They Never Taught at School, The Birds and the Bees and All That Jazz, and Sing Along with Nipsey Russell."

Also, most if not all of the bits recorded on these two records (and the others) were also recorded on the (much easier to find) Humorsonic label -- which I also didn't find any real info about. (I'm still not satisfied with this; so more research is required.)



Here are my 'liner notes' and additional resources:

I think this may be what is referred to as "STUDIO FILM "Rhythm" SERIES".

This was the only reference I could find to Nipsey's radio show.

Listen to NPR's tribute to Nipsey Russell.

The cover states it was the Negro National Network, but it was (should you care to continue searching) in reality the National Negro Network, started in 1953 by Leonard Evans. W. Leonard Evans, Jr. died in June of this year (2007); he left a wonderful legacy of African-American media. Here's a wonderful 1963 interview with Evans titled "Why Do We Need a Negro Sunday Supplement?" Should that site remove the recording, or you'd prefer to download it for listening to later (it is quite long), I've uploaded a copy here.

For more on African-Americans and radio history, see this article by author Donna Halper (whose interesting media bio includes the discovery of Rush.

From Nipsey to Rush. This is why I dig collecting.

PS When sharing the Nipsey humor tracks with your friends, please credit me, Silent Porn Star, with a link. It's polite, proper and provides incentive for me to go through the bother of making such files to share. Thank you.

The Why Why Why of Pie

C.J. emailed to ask why I thought this old postcard was smutty in any way. Here is why, Why, WHY.

Why #1 I'm old enough that not only Cherry Pie Warrant's such thoughts...

Why #2 There's a Pieclopedia which discusses the many sorts of pie euphemisms.

Why #3 I'm just a dirty minded girl.

Now, C.J., you tell me why, Why, WHY not.

Rapunzel, As 60's Kitsch, Isn't a Let Down

Baby Jane Holzer recorded one song, Rapunzel (Atco 6482), in March of 1967, before finally abandoning New York for Palm Beach.


Download Rapunzel here, and then tell me: Is it just me, or is this track loaded with euphimisms?

Via 45blog, which looks defunct (hence my downloading all and preserving it here).

The (Beer) Classic

Q: Anheuser Bush?

A: Fine. How's yours?

Under the Anheuser Bush: lyrics, sheet music and MP3, circa early 1900's.

Music For Chubby Chasers: Huggin' And Chalkin'

Huggin' & Chalkin' (words and music by Clarence Leonard Hayes and Kermit Goell) is a cute little song about a fellow's love for his BBW... With a bit of a twist.

Huggin' & Chalkin'

I got a gal who's mighty sweet
Big blue eyes and tiny feet
Her name is Rosabelle Magee
And she tips the scales at three-oh-three

Oh, gee, but ain't it grand to have a gal so big and fat
That when you go to hug her, you don't know where you're at
You have to take a piece of chalk in your hand
And hug a ways and chalk a mark to see where you began

One day I was a-huggin' and a-chalkin' and a-chalkin' and a-huggin' away
When I met another fella with some chalk in his hand
A-comin' around the other way over the mountain
A-comin' around the other way

Nobody ever said I'm weak
My bones don't ache, my joints don't creak
But I grow pale and I get limp
Every time I see my baby blimp

Oh, gee, but ain't it grand to have a gal so big and fat
That when you go to hug her
(You don't know where you're at)
(You have to take a piece of chalk in your hand)
(And hug a bit and chalk a mark to see where you began)

One day I was a-huggin' and a-chalkin' and a-beggin' her to be my bride
When I met another fella with some chalk in his hand
A-comin' around the other side (over the mountain)
A-comin' around the other side

She's a mile wide!
(Chalkin' up a markdown and yellin' "No More!")
When I met another fella with some chalk in his hand
A-comin' around the other side (over the mountain)
Over the Great Divide!!

Hoagy Carmicheal brought this song to #1 on the Billboard charts in 1947, so he's most famous for it. In 1946, Kay Kyser charted at #8, and after Hoagy, both Johnny Mercer (reached #8) and Herbie Fields (#14) also had chart success.

You can download Huggin' and Chalking' by Hoagy Carmicheal here.


I've only seen sheet music featuring Mercer, as shown above.

Jem Of A Find

More from the old Parmount folder of nude art and men's magazine clippings, this time, three pages from Jem magazine.

While only four pages of this issue, there's much to cover because in my research I found many interesting things. Lets start at the beginning.

One of the pages I have is the table of contents, but no cover. Here's what the cover of the first Jem, Vol. 1, No. 1, November, 1956, looked like.


The cover features a clearly recognizable Candy Barr, which is important because while the contents page has a pink-colorized photo of the same model with a rose, I didn't recognize her, nor was she credited.

This is why it's so hard for a collector to see magazines cut up like this -- you can't verify models. Even if the publication didn't credit the models, a good collector can research to find verification of what models were in what issues, but when pages are found loose, you can't even tell what publication they were from. (The contents page only lists Candy Barr on page 15 -- but if I have that page, so far I have not discovered it.)

Back to what I do have and what I discovered...

In November of 1956, Body Beautiful Publications birthed a new baby, Jem magazine. I say "birthed" because publisher Danny Ross compared the starting of the new magazine to having a baby in this, the first issue, under the heading "Diamond Dust" which seems to be the publisher notes section. Here's an excerpt:

Like a baby, a new magazine must be named. And friends and relatives of the Mother-Publisher will come forth with beauts. Among those suggested for this publication were Suave, Debonair, Jewel, Gala, Fiesta, Carnival, Circus and a number of equally eye- and ear-catching titles. The Publisher, however, liked Gem and since it is a time-honored custom to defer to the wishes of those who have just presented the world with a new offsrping it was decided Mother Knows Best, and Gem it was. Until the matter came to the attention of a female member of the staff. She came up with that little touch that would occur only to a woman.

"Why not spell it JEM?" she suggested.

And so JEM it is. Which proves you should never underestimate the power of a woman, or the devastating effect of her touch.

***

At first it was planned to JEM a slogan by which it could readily be identified. Something like "LS/MFT," "It Floats," "Even Your Best Friends Won't Tell You," or "They Satsify." But the best thing we could think of was "All The Nudes That's Fit To Print," so that phase of the project was dropped.

***

Anyway, the new baby is home from the hospital and safely in the hands of you -- its foster parents. We hope you like it. As for the staff, their attitude toward the new baby can best be summed up by what the hen told the square egg: "You were an awful pain, but I finally laid you."

Things to note are:

Of the seven suggested titles, nearly all of them went on to become actual magazine titles with one publisher or another.

By the time this issue hit the stands, Jem had a slogan: Jem, A Treaser Chest Of Rare Spice.

One of the suggested slogans was "LS/MFT," which I had to look up, but didn't explain completely why this would be a good slogan. Perhaps another euphimism lost to time... It's sure been played with, even today.

Also in the "Diamond Dust" section was a "Daffy Dictionary" entry, which I mentioned to Gracie and she quickly made a post about -- beating me to this article myself.

In my excerpt there's clearly a condescending attitute toward women, but it is also delicately clothed in words of worship. However it's important to note Gracie's post because Jem, while a vintage men's mag, definitely pushed the boundaries of condesention into blatent sexist behavior.

In fact, Jem was rather well known for such a sexist editorial policy. This cover of the 1958 March issue is an example of that. Here a topless French maid scrubs the floor while a dapper gent lords above her.


(Image from a private collector who allowed me to share the scan -- thanks DB!)

This editorial slant remained with the magazine (some claiming it even increased over time). Most collectors do agree, however, that the very best issues of Jem were the first few years. During these years Jem had high production standards with wonderful photography and an imaginative, playful design.

One of the reasons Jem was/is a favorite is that it has lots of photos -- and color photos.



Lovely photos of Jayne Mansfield and Anita Ekberg, each "A Jewel From The Jem Box."



In the first issue, the poster babe (two pages, but not in the center like a true 'centerfold') Betty Brosmer is featured as the official welcome to Jem.


Posing in a lovely sheet peignoir, Betty profers a come-hither gaze and champaign for two. The text reads, "WELCOME to JEM with a toast To Gaiety, Beauty, Entertainment from Betty Brosmer."

I must show that this pictorial is clearly different from this image (copied from Java's Bachelor Pad Betty Brosmer featurette).

Note how Betty's face has transformed. The photo used in the magazine seems to have been airbrushed as the copy I have shows less lines on her face and more defined cheekbones. (I'm not saying Brosmer needed such things -- on the contrary, I find it interesting how even the slightest things in such a beautiful woman are 'imperfections' to be corrected.)

In keeping with the birthing metaphore, let's look at bit at the Jem family.

Jem was one of the Body Beautiful Publications, part of the Joe Weider family of magazines and the body building empire.

Betty Brosmer herself married Joe and became Betty Weider in the 60's.





From that point on, Betty, who had been the highest paid pin-up model in the 50's, became a real Weider and virtually stopped modeling and became an active participant in Joe's health and fitness empire.





When most folks think of Joe Weider they think of all his male muscle magazines.


These vintage muscle mags were controversial and even were tested by US censorship laws. From the New York Times dated April 29, 1957:

Magazines Indicted for Indeceny

The Union County grand jury today returned indictments against the publishers and distributors of seven national magazines on charges of conspiracy to sell indecent literature. The true bills are the first of their kind in New Jersey, according to Prosecutor H. Russell Morss, Jr.

Consiracy is a misdemeanor punishable by up to three years in state prison and a $1,000 fine. Among the publishers indicted was Body Beautiful Publications, Inc. (Wonderful Weedy)

(I wonder what Betty thought of this? She herself had refused to pose for Playboy because she of her self-imposed rule to only do chaste cheesecake shots.)

(Photo credits: Tin In Vermont.)

Wonderful Weedy, a not-so-affectionate nick name for Joe Weider, and his publications upset the suposed 'real keepers of the sport of body building,' including Harry B. Paschall, managing editor of Stength and Health. Here's how Harry responded to the news of Body Beautiful Publications indictments:

We are not in favor of censorship as a rule, and we believe in the fundamental freedom of the press, but there are certain cheap publishers who will stoop to anything to make money, even the perversion of children. It is about time some action is taken to stop this sort of indecency.

It is an odd twist of fate that at practically the same time the York Chamber of Commerce was honoring the York Barbell Club and Bob Hoffman with a testimonial plaque, the Union County Grand Jury (where the Weedy enterprises are located) was indicting Mr. Wonderful for consiracy to sell indecent literature. Perhaps the Mills of the Gods grind slowly but they grind exceeding small.

Weedy and his group of unscrupulous hirelings have been spouting for a long time about their idealism and how they were martyrs to the cause of pure, unsullied bodybuilding. They write letters to credulous columnists like Dan Parker (who should know better), of the N.Y. Mirror, telling how Bob Hoffman is the big, bad wolf who runs A.A.U. weightlifting to suit himself. They fail to bring into the open the fact that they themselves are mainly engaged in the business of selling dirty pictures and dirty magazines.

Anyone who takes one look at their current publications, such as Jem, and their small, dirty homo books Body Beautiful, and Adonis, cannot fail to see the category into which such literature falls. Indecency is a mild word for it. Pornography is better.

The Weedy books cannot be sold in their own home city. They have been banned by the League of Decency. Yet thousands of credulous lads, not yet dry behind the ears, take for truth the wild mouthings of these imitation experts, when they read the sensational articles in their trashy magazines.

Perhaps their long career of fooling some of the people some of the time is drawing to a close. Perhaps the Great Imitator (he has recently copied the labels of Hoffman's Hi-Proteen products so closely they can almost be sold as the real McCoy) may be forced by public opinion and the law to go back to his original slum hideway, where he and his pals can still make a living peddling French postcards. Apparently you can take a kike out of the slums, but you can never take the slums out of the kike.

Well, well, wel... If Weider's muscle men mags were dirty and obscene, what should we make of the racism of Paschall?

Sexim is OK; but sexy is bad.

Racism is at least tolerable when one is defending the honor of weightlifting -- something Paschall and Hoffman were quite passionate about.

Gotta love the 50's. No wonder cheesecake and beefcake were so popular; one had to find beauty where they could.

After You, My Dear Alphonse

I love it when a unique item on eBay makes me do a search and I discover pieces of a puzzle...


This old German porcelain (or ceramic) piece features three figures: a woman in bed, and two men who, as the seller says, appear to be "in the process of deciding who will be the first to "visit" the young lady in her bed for whatever pleasure may result from such visit."



The seller also says, "I dont ever remember having a similar piece in all the years I have spent in the Antique business." While one can be skeptical with seller statements -- they are at least relative to their own experience -- I'd have to agree. (Hence my researching.)

A quick search for "After you my dear Alphonse" one gets quite a number of clues, including old vaudeville skits by the Marx Brothers, but what one finally gets is Frederick Burr Opper and his comic strip, "Alphonse and Gaston".


Introduced in 1901, they remained part of the Sunday comics for years. In this strip, two French characters are so polite they are stymied when they reach a door, each offering the other entry first with what would become, at the time, quite famous lines:

"After you, my dear Alphonse."

"No, after you, my dear Gaston."


The strip pretty much vanished after 1910, but the characters continued to live on in Happy Hooligan, where they ran their bit best as a sideline rather than the lead through the 40's.

You can find remnants of Alphonse and Gaston in the Chip and Dale Mack and Tosh*, aka the Goofy Gophers, politeness, as well as other standards bits, like like two baseball outfielders each deferring to the other and letting the ball fall between them. Which brings us back to our German figurine.

Two men who likely will be so polite to defer to one another, while the lady falls asleep. *wink*


The seller says this is an "OLD VICTORIAN era GERMAN group figurine," which is rather close to the time frame -- give or take a handful of years.

Find more on Frederick Burr Opper and Alphonse and Gaston here. See Alphonse and Gaston pinbacks here. See/download a film from 1903, and see a photo from 1912-1931 from the Whitman Theatre.

* Note -- UPDATE -- Peter corrected me on the Chip & Dale thing. See comments!

Caring For Your Monkey

To keep it nice and clean was Mary's greatest hope.
So she washed her little monkey with the best kind of soap.

I've had this image on my pc for a few years, and never did find out anything more on it. Occasionally I run another search -- this time I found an old ebay auction. The listing no longer had the photo, but did have this information:

1. Mary has a little Monkey, just as cute as it can be,

It was covered with the softest hair that ever you did see.

2. To keep it nice and clean was Mary's greatest hope,

So she washed her little Monkey with the best kind of soap.

3. The boys all like Mary, and like her Monkey too,

And when they play so nice with it, what can Mary do?

4. Once Mary's Monkey got real cold That filled her with alarm

So she bought some woolen pants For to keep her Monkey warm.

5. Mary went in swimming and she took her little pet.

A wave hit in the "Good Old Summer Time"

and she got her monkey wet.

6. Mary now is married and it keeps her on the jump,

And between the man and Mary, her Monkey has to hump.

It's clear from these cards that Mary's attentions to her Monkey are about her own genitals. While most of us think of 'spanking the monkey' and other monkey euphemisms are about the penis, it's rather clear that this was not always so.

I blame later periods when women were not to masturbate (which likely lead to the later "hysteria" requiring hysterectomies) for dropping the ability to refer to female monkey business.

The seller says they are risque arcade cards -- but they do measure 3 1/2 X 5 1/2 inches like a postcard.

Perhaps this information will help me find more information (and this time while the auction is still on).