I'd Remain Standing At The Can-Can Show

Following the link from Naughty Secretaries Vs. Bosses Gone Bad, I found the seller of a puzzling French mechanical greeting card featuring can-can dancers:



It's not the French which puzzles me, but the can-can ass chair backs... Sitting in one removes all the titillation factor. And most mechanical risque humor cards have a surprise when you open them; this one, not so much. Puzzling.

Your Grandma Liked Soul Kissing

An old newspaper article, likely from the 30's, which exclaims, Barnard Students Admit Necking and "Soul Kissing". Via Susie Bright.

You Said You Wanted A Little Tail

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

Some Thoughts (And Images) On Smoking

Smoking hot Sophia Loren; Bert Stern photo published November 1, 1962, Vogue.


Smoking is my choice, or at least it's my legal addiction; so Fuck off.



Should you be trying to quit (and we all do try), how about this cigarette case (or wallet) that I have dubbed "Nevermore?" sold at sweetheartsinner at Etsy; found via Relationship Underarm Stick.



And now you know what I've been up to... What I've been trying to do which has sucked the soul out of me. How 'bout you?

Another Visit To The Pink Pussy Cat

More on the Pink Pussy Cat of Hollywood...

Hugh was cleaning up his desk and ran across something he had saved from about 1965:

A friend and I, just out of university - went for the first time to LA - and wound up at the Pink Pussy Cat.

That led me to search the web - since I thought I remembered a recent news cast that said the Pink Pussy Cat burned down. I found your blog, noted the artifacts in your blog and found I had a couple that you don't have. See attached jpg.

The pink feathers were stuck into your hair by the waitresses - they are meant to be "ears".

Notice, lads and lasses, when you click the image to read the larger scan, that the Pink Pussy Cat Stripper's Kit includes not only costume pieces (aka "Teasing Togs") and the stripper curriculum (with you boys giving the final exam), but a subscription to the Pink Pussy Cat Magazine -- now that's what I'm talking 'bout!

"Paint Me"

I found this at eBay and know little about it -- but that only fascinates me more...

Unusual 50" X 27" poster for "Texoprint printing paper". Little circles of women with painted bodies are glued over the poster in spots.

The Pink Pussycat Of Hollywood

Ephemera from The Pink Pussycat of Hollywood, 7969 Santa Monica Boulevard, Hollywood 46, OL 4-0280

Pop Tart traded all of this to me for a player to be named latter. Thank you!

A napkin (one of two!)

The Pink Pussy Cat
Burlesk
"A STAGE FULL
OF THE MOST
EXCITING
GIRLS IN THE WORLD"

A table topper, proclaiming a two drink minimum per person (exclusive of food):

HARRY SCHILLER
presents
The Pink Pussycat
BURLESK
you'll
PURR!!!
when you see
"A stage full of
the most exciting
girls in the
world."

But The Pink Pussycat was more than a club... It was a college of strip tease too. Per Time, November 10, 1961:

Once upon a time, little girls agrowing used to think dreamily of the day they would matriculate at Vassar, Smith, Wellesley, Bryn Mawr or Sweet Briar. But with the population explosion, those colleges, can no longer take care of everyone, and some girls have to settle for less. In Los Angeles, for example, there is the Pink Pussycat College of Striptease.

Founded six months ago, old Pussycat is steeped in tradition, and the campus bustles with a sense of purpose. "There are lots of girls who want to strip, but few know how," said President Harry Schiller in his first baccalaureate address. "Now they got a place where they can come and learn."

Tuition at Pussycat is $100 for a ten-session curriculum. After such basic, required courses as The History and Theory of the Striptease and The Psychology of Inhibitions, girls can major in everything from Applied Sensual Communication to Dynamic Mammary, Navel, and Pelvis Rotation. The entire faculty is Sally Marr, 52, mother of four-letter Comedian Lenny Bruce. With knowledgeability gained during her career as a tank nightclub comedienne, Professor Marr lectures her pupils: "Keep your eyes on the audience at all times. Learn how to look at one man and take your clothes off for him. Not too much bump and not too much grind—that's passé and went out with Minsky."

To prepare for a screen role in Seven Thieves, Actress Joan Collins dropped in at Pink Pussycat College to see how it is done. But most undergraduates are less celebrated—ambitious unknowns with names like Dee Pontius and Jo Lynn, who will go out into the world after graduation with new professional names selected by the college's vocational-guidance department: Peeler Lawford, Fran Sinatra, Toni Curtis.

Old Pussycat, says President Schiller, is filling a vital need "in a field barren of talent and ideas." Indeed, just as Cambridge University developed soon after Oxford, old Pussycat may some day stand at the head of a great line of U.S. institutions of higher learning, ranging from the University of Pantsylvania to Tartmouth and M. I. Tease.

And I've got the application too, © 1962. The cover:



From the inside:

Admission Requirements:

1. Over twenty one

2. High moral character

3. Seriously interested in the art of strip tease

4. Voluptuous body

Tuition: $100

Vocational advice and assistance is provided for all students

COURSES OF INSTRUCTION

1. History and Theory Of the Strip Tease

2. Psychology of Inhibitions

3. Controlling the Structural Components Of the Anatomy

4. Applied Sensual Communication

5. Elementary Bumps and Grinds

6. Methodoology of Teasing, Tantalizing, and Titillating

7. Fundamentals of Taking-It-Off

8. Dynamic Mammary, Navel, and Pelvic Rotation and Oscillation

9. Experimental Workshop

10. Advanced Studies and Seminar In New Trends and Techniques Of the Strip Tease

Here's the application itself.



And tucked inside, an insert for a Pink Pussycat Tease-Shirt, © 1966:

What's pink and cuddly and worn almost all over? And has "THE NAVEL ACADEMY OF THE WEST" written in purrrfectly svelte black velveteen? And is 100% warm, cuddly, pussycat-pink cotton? And you can buy it only from the famous Pink Pussycat in Hollywood? And costs only $5.00
Give up? She will... when you give her the Pink Pussycat Tease-Shirt.

The order form:

I Am Officially Amused

Ads on page 14 of the San Francisco-Bay Area Official Amusement Guide, Week beginning May 4, 1967.



Galaxie ad: "Pretties Topless Dancers", featuring Jeani Monroe, original amateur topless contest, record stars Rick Stevens Four.

And ad for Finocchio's Worlds Greatest Female Impersonators, featuring Jackie Phillips, "The Riotous Redhead."

Moulin Rouge promo for Marta Dane -- "The Gorgeous Dane".

And Follies Burlesk, oddly enough, promoted themselves as having "S.F.'s only live stage show" -- which implies that Jeani, Jackie, Marta and the rest were dead? The Follies Burlesk also had "Girls Galore" and "Zany Comics" (dibs on that last one as my stage name!)

Naughty Navy Stationery Set

Nine pieces from a WWII stationery set:

That Ends Well, I Guess

I went to the Trash or Treasure events at the Plains Art Museum this past weekend and had Wes Cowan appraise that naughty bit of ephemera from the Jac F. Donges Hat & Glove shop/Schuch's Resort.



Cowan said it was "an advertising trade card", and worth "a couple of bucks".

I can't argue; that's what I paid. But what is it about ephemera which makes it so valuable to me yet utterly worthless as an antique or collectible?

I should just count my blessings that I can afford things like this which thrill me.

The lasting effect of the experience is that I'm acutely aware that I have more research to do on this piece. Perhaps that's my happy ending; more intellectual masturbation.

"Pay Call" Postcard

Caption on the back reads:

Once a month the bugler blows "PAY CALL"
--and "pay off" time begins.

An odd card for a guy to send a gal, but this private sent it to "Miss Lucille" anyway.

Reveille post cards, "Bugle Call" series, copyright 1942 by U.S. Services Supplies, Inc, Chicago; postmarked 1942.

Marquee De Sade

Guy de Maupassant's The Private Affairs of Bel Ami is a film I've never seen (Bosley Crowther's review in The New York Times (June 16, 1947) was hardly kind; but it the film seems to have fans today, such as the folks at the Harvard Film Archive), but it matters not for my discussion of the film's posters/marketing materials, one of which I glimpsed at an auction recently.

These are examples I found on the web, the black & white looking like what I had briefly seen:



There were apparently (at least) two versions, each depicting a young Angela Lansbury fixed as firmly as a Chihuahua to a guest's leg (if not actually humping it), in desperate attempt to keep her man. This is as dramatic as film posters should be, and apparently in keeping with the story. But...

It's the taglines which draw my interest:

"All women take to men who have the appearance of wickedness"

"Are women too weak to be wicked?"

I suppose it's unfair to rile at such stereotypes when you have not seen the film nor read the novel, but from all accounts the story is that of a man who eschews love for power, willing to step on & then over women to get what he professes to want, which is money & social standing. How then does one feel free to label all women as drawn to the appearances of wickedness, an entire gender as weak? Wouldn't it be more fair to make the judgments about the man himself? Or at least use the word "some".

"It's to sell movie tickets," you say. But that's the part that bothers me.

If you want those who see the posters and read the ads to buy a ticket, you entice and seduce, not libel and offend -- or at least you do for an entertaining film, not a activist documentary. And so the point is that the taglines were not just accepting of such beliefs, but titillating -- indeed glorifying -- victimization, complete with damn-near titular advice on how to victimize women by exploiting the general gender gaffe.

When You Are Turned-Off By Blondes

This vintage postcard is "another 'Dude' Larson card", with art by 'Hoke' Denetsosie -- and it isn't one that I would buy.




I bet you're thinking that I'm a brunette, or otherwise turned-off by the sentiments, "Gentlemen prefer blondes because blondes know what gentlemen prefer"; but I'm not one of those women so easily characterized by male stereotypes. (And no, I won't disclose my hair color du jour.)

Blonde or not, the reason why I wouldn't purchase this card is the art; with all due respect to Hoke, there's just something I don't like about the woman's face. And that's all it takes to make a collector turn and walk away.

Collecting is largely about personal response to something. To any little thing, really. It could be a dislike of the "superior blondes" caricature -- or that could be precisely why you want it. For every collector there's a reason, no matter how seemingly nonsensical. For me, this time, it's a simple dislike of the woman's face.

But I am willing to admit that this collector has a price... Should I stumble into this old postcard for a buck or two, I might change my mind. And if it's free, I'll certainly grab it.

But for now I'll save my money for some other blonde (or non-blonde).

Robert Ryan, As Seen By His Daughter, Lisa Ryan

Lisa Ryan, daughter of Robert Ryan, answers questions at Silver Screen Oasis, where Ms Ryan posted scans of what she thinks is the only letter from her dad she still has.

The letter mentioned Terence Knapp, British actor turned Emeritus Professor of Theatre at the University of Hawaii at Manoa. Thinking of Knapp again, Ms Ryan contacted him; here is Knapp's reply.

Lisa Ryan and Susan Andrews, daughter of Dana Andrews, talk about growing up with their famous fathers in Hollywood in the 1950s and more in this Lucy Talks Movies podcast.

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.

Sex For The Good Of The Race

When I first began collecting smut, I began with texts & materials about sexuality. They were purchased as part of my "feminist" collection; documentation not only of the myths of female sexuality, but how such things perpetuated myths of gender and forced everyone into inaccurate boxes.

Some of the most prolific works in vintage human sexuality were those published by -- and promoting -- Eugenics. Eugenics is all about having sex -- "For the Good of the Race." This, of course, is a controversial subject in and of itself. I shall have to dig about and select some titles and "gems" from my own collection. But meanwhile, check out this 1937 ephemera on The Sexual Side of Marriage.

Ruan Lingyu Shanghai Posters

YueFenPai or Shanghia Posters are Chinese posters from the 1920's, often used for advertising. This one by Hu Boxiang is called LakeLadies and features Ruan Lingyu (and a friend) relaxing beside a lake.



This next one, also with Ruan, is a British American Tobacco Company Advertising Poster.

Boob McNutt

Along with creating Boob McNutt, Rube Goldberg co-founded the National Cartoonists' Society in 1945, becoming the group's first president. The prestigious "Rueben Awards" are named after him.

Images via Cagle's comic sheet music gallery.

Does "Private Practice" Mean "Divorce Attorney"?

I imagine bald-but-hairy-chested attorney Neil Price swaggering through the discos, gold chains nestled in his sweaty chest hair, passing these out to similar looking married males...



Less work than chasing ambulances; and I'm sure they saved them, making them a pretty good promotional tool.

But still, images of gold-chain-wearing 70's dudes creepily fingering their matchbooks are going to keep me up tonight.

And no, I don't want to know if he had different versions for his potential female clients.

Via eBay.

London's Interglam Escorts, 1974

Via sixtiesbooks at Flickr.

Adamant Eve, 1949

Sheet music for the 1949 varsity show performance of Adamant Eve. Songs: I Didn't Know it Was That Good and Kissing Me; lyrics by Moe Jaffe and music by Clay Boland. Cover illustration by Lou Day. Via University of Pennsylvania Archives.

Paxinou & Waterlow

Forty-five autographed love letters from Katina Paxinou to Sir Sydney Waterlow, dated April, 1938, to June, 1939, together with some 30 love letters by Waterlow to Paxinou are to be auctioned off in London on July 17th.

From Sothbey's listing:

Sir Sydney Waterlow (1878-1944) was British Minister in Athens from 1933 to 1939. According to one of the present letters, he met the actress Katina Paxinou on 12 April 1938, a date which they both viewed as a moment of "rebirth", when they became "fully alive" for the first time. It was evidently a coup de foudre for them both, and the present letters testify not only to the physical passion but the depth of feeling on both sides.

Katina Paxinou (1900-1973) was a member of the Greek National Theatre company, where she was directed by her husband Alexis Minotis. Besides the role of Electra, she was well-known for playing Mrs Alving in Ghosts, and Hedda Gabler.

At the beginning she protests that she is asking for nothing more than to be loved, and that she is content to remain on the sidelines

"...tu dois me connaître déjà assez pour être persuadé que je ne demande rien que ton amour! Tu n'es pas libre j'en conviens! Mais je n'abuserai jamais de ta faiblesse comme tu la nommes et je ne veux qu'être aimée de toi. Je ne veux pas troubler ta vie. Tu le sais..."

Later, however, plans start to be made for when they are "free" and can be together permanently. In one letter she describes a painful scene with her husband, whom she is unable to comfort, assuring Waterlow that this is nothing to do with him and that things would have been the same in any case ("...je ne peux plus le consoler et j'en souffre car il mérite un meilleur sort..."). Elsewhere she relates somewhat pathetically how she has waited for half an hour outside the English church in Athens in the hope of catching a glimpse of him, or walked past his house gazing up at the windows even when she knows he is not there, expresses her maternal affection towards his daughter, asks him somewhat apologetically to get her a big pot of Elizabeth Arden face cream which she uses to counteract the effects of her stage make-up, recounts a number of her dreams (often of an erotic nature) of being alone with him in a little love nest, and recalls the afternoons they were able to spend together

"...oh nos chers après midi où tu m'attendais étendu dans ton lit, et où je venais comme une voleuse par le balcon vite vite toute tremblante me fourrer à tes côtes, me blottir contre ton coeur..."

After a period of nervous collapse from exhaustion she promises to look after her health for his sake, and describes somewhat sheepishly a visit to a fortune teller who described their situation with uncanny accuracy.

Female Animal, 1970

Discounted Jayne Mansfield

Via Flickr.

Of White Squaws, Murders & Memoirs

From The Mail and Empire, Toronto, dated March 23, 1935, comes this clipping of the story for a renewed search for Maud Gillespie -- 40+ years after she was "kidnapped by Indians".


Leaving definitions & connotations of the word "squaw" to those far more suited to such endeavors (and I highly recommend you read it; regardless of your initial interest), I'm fascinated by such a story...

So many details are missing... Like the age of Maud when she was "kidnapped" or otherwise disappeared... Why her family members aren't listed by names, rather than crediting John Findlay... And, of course, did they find her?

Then again, is this even true?

If we can believe John Wilson Murray, Ontario's first salaried "Provincial Constable" appointed to act as "Detective for the Government of Ontario", it is true -- and they did find her.

From chapter 47 of Memoirs of a Great Detective: Incidents in the Life of John Wilson Murray:

"A few weeks after my return from St. Paul and Aeneas, there was another disappearance. It occurred hundreds of miles from the old home of Aeneas. About five miles from Thessalon, on the shore of Georgian Bay in the district of Manitoulin, lived a family of farmers named Gillespie. There was a pretty thirteen-year-old daughter, Maud Gillespie. Early in August 1888 she went out to pick berries and did not return. She was seen last near a trout stream, and a bully good trout stream it is, as I happen to know. Searching parties went out and hunted for days, but could find no trace of the child. On August 11th I went up to Thessalon and began another search. I organised parties and apportioned the territory, and sent some on foot and others in boats, and for days and nights we scoured the islands and the shores of Georgian Bay. We visited scores of Indian camps, and pushed on into the wilds, but could not find her. I knew she had no life insurance, and was not a county treasurer, and that her disappearance therefore was not suspicious, so far as she was concerned. Her parents were well-nigh distracted, and I determined to make a final effort to find her. With a small party I went far up to remote Indian camps, and in one of them I found an old squaw, who nodded and grunted to me, and I went outside with her.

"'White girl?' she asked.

"I nodded. The old squaw held out her hand.

"'Give,' she grunted. 'Give.'

"I drew out some money. She sniffed. I felt in my pockets. I had a couple of trout flies in some tinfoil; I took them out. The old squaw seized the glittering tinfoil eagerly, taking my last trout flies with it. She tucked it in her jet black hair, coarse as a horse's tail.

"'Me — see — white girl,' she muttered slowly. 'She go — so — so — so ——,' and she waved far north with her long arm.

"'Alone?' I asked. 'She go alone? Indian take white girl?'

"But the old squaw only grunted and played with the tinfoil and trout flies in her hair. We searched farther north, and twice we heard from Indians of a white girl who had passed that way. When further trailing was hopeless we turned back and made our way to Thessalon. It was a long, hard tramp. On the fourth day I came to the trout stream, where the little girl last was seen. I was tired, and I stretched full length on the ground and idly gazed at the blue sky through the trees, and then rolled over and stared at the water. It was a lovely stream. It glided beneath the over- growth into a broad, deep pool, on whose placid surface the reflection of the waving trees rose and fell amid patches of mirrored blue. Farther down the stream narrowed and rippled over rocks, splashing and gurgling as it went. But there must be no drifting aside into a fish story. I lolled by the stream until my men came up, and we moved on. No further trace of little Maud Gillespie was found, and I returned to Toronto. Fifteen years passed. In May 1903 a surveying party was exploring in New Ontario north of Lake Superior, over four hundred miles from the Gillespie home. They came upon a white woman living with the Indians in the wilderness. She was the wife of a big chief. She possessed a rare beauty of the wilds, yet was not wholly like her associates. She lived as an Indian, and exposure had tanned her a deep, dark brown. At first she was unable to talk with the white men, then gradually her power of speech in English returned until she could talk brokenly and remember a few English words. She finally recalled her name, Maud Gillespie, and her mother. They asked her if she wished to go back to her mother. She said she did, and they communicated with her people and she went back to them, a woman almost thirty years old. She had gone away a little girl of thirteen, fond of her mother, and constantly talking or singing in her childish way. She returned a silent, reserved woman, with the habits and manner and speech of an Indian. She had lost her language, she had become an Indian. Gradually her people are winning her back. It is like taming a wild creature, but eventually the inborn instincts will assert themselves, and much of the Indian life will fall away. They have been teaching her to speak her own language again, and she readily learned anew the songs she sang as a little child.

"This loss of language is a singular thing. I met an Englishman in South America who had lost his language, and he was distressed almost to distraction because of it. I have seen other cases, too, passing strange."

While there is a huge difference between the "more than forty years" the newspaper clipping claims and the fifteen years stated in Murry's memoir (memoirs themselves are imperfect recollections, and there is even some confusion regarding the memoir itself *), and this clipping was apparently published some 30 years after Murray's memoir (did she return to her Native American life and they went looking for her again?), there at least seems to be some proof to the story of Maud Gillespie... Or it's a continuing spoof story.

In my research I also discovered that there is another Findlay connection: Ralph Findlay, who did have a brother named John, was murdered and Murray was on the case.

From the University of Toronto's biography of John Wilson Murray:

Murray’s effectiveness is demonstrated by the first case in which he was involved after taking up his full-time appointment, an inquiry into the murder of Ralph Findlay, a Lambton County farmer. While local constables scurried about seeking clues to the perpetrator, suspecting that it was a stranger surprised while stealing horses, the county attorney, Julius Poussett Bucke, demanded the assistance of the government detective. It was Murray, it appears, who wrung a confession from the dead man’s wife that she had assisted her lover in the deed.

You can read Murry's recollection of the events in chapter XV of his memoir, in which he dates the murder to September of 1875, and describes a rather noble John Findlay.

* According to the University of Toronto, the first published edition of Memoirs of a Great Detective: Incidents in the Life of John Wilson Murray was published in London in 1904, without a mention of Victor Speer; however Speer is identified (as compiler and editor respectively) in the Toronto and New York editions of the book the following year.

Midwifery

Doctor Thomas Bond taught a course in practical midwifery in 1769; this was the admission ticket for Mr. Jonathan Easton.



I sure hope those spots are old archival issues, and not souvenirs from the class.

From the University of Pennsylvania Archives; found via Kitschy Kitschy Coo.

That's "Folsom", Not "Wholesome"

Omega it's jameth posted this photo, saying:

The Miracle Mile. These are places that no longer exist, but look/sound like they were a blast back in the 70s/80s:

- The Slot, 575 Folsom
- The Stables, 1123 Folsom
- Red Star Saloon, 1145 Folsom (15 cent drafts and 15 cent hot dogs! OMG. I would have been there all the time!!)
- The Hungry Hole Saloon, 1190 Folsom
- Fobos, 11th and Folsom
- The Cave, 280 7th
- SF Plunge, 11th and Folsom
- Folsom Prison
- Trench
- The Bolt

Geriatric Gays, please confirm/deny. School my generation about times of the past. Thank you for your fealty.

If you've got info, post it!

More Quincy Plots Than You Can Shake A Stick At

In London on July 17th, Sothbey's will auction off a collection of case notes on autopsies, records kept by Sir Bernard Spilsbury in a wooden filing cabinet with four drawers, each labeled 1905-17, 1918-1927, 1928-30, and 1931-32. Who was Sir Spilsbury?

the professional records of the father of professional forensic pathology. Bernard Spilsbury (1877-1947) was the foremost pathologist of his day, with a formidible reputation as an expert witness: "his opinions were so impregnable he could achieve single-handed all the legal consequences of a homicide - arrest, prosecution, conviction, and final post-mortem - requiring only the brief assistance of the hangman" (quoted in Rose, p.xix). The post of Honorary Pathologist to the Home Office was created for Spilsbury, who made his name with some of the most famous English murders of the twentieth century, such as the Crippen case, the "Brides in the Bath" murders, the Voisin case, and the Brighton trunk murders, and who conducted over 20,000 autopsies during a career that lasted over forty years. Spilsbury was a media celebrity - Britain's "living successor to mythical Sherlock Holmes" (Time, 2 July 1934) - and was the original figure of the infallible forensic pathologist that is so familiar in contemporary crime fiction. According to his obituary in The Lancet, Spilsbury "stood alone and unchallenged as our greatest medico-legal expert". Recent research has shown, however, that the awe in which Spilsbury was held, combined with his own inflexible opinions, led to a number of miscarriages of justice, including several wrongful executions.

Go here for more on Bernard Henry Spilsbury.

While Sotheby's won't let us look at what is inside, they will tell us some of the tantalizing details from the nearly 4,000 3x5 index cards:

There are many stories recorded in these terse notes, from horrific examples of neglect and abuse to bizarre cases such as the unfortunate Helen Elphinston-Dalrymple, who died of the effects of a dry shampoo applied at the Harrods salon in 1909. On 12 February 1918 Spilsbury performed an autopsy on 16 year-old Nellie Trew, and also examined her clothing for blood and semen: she had been raped then strangled on Eltham Common. The subsequent trial has recently been described by Rose as "one of the most blatant" miscarriages of British justice of the 20th century. Spilsbury's notes for 16 June 1919 record the autopsy of a 72 year-old widower who had been admitted to hospital two days previously: "He stated that on June 13 he had glass of beer ... Then stopped by 2 men who offered him whiskey. Drank 2 tablespoonfull which burnt his mouth". He had been given hydrochloric acid, which burnt through his stomach wall. In October 1923 Spilsbury examined the remains of a soldier, James Frederick Ellis ("H[anker]Chief & piece of cloth tied over mouth ... limbs had been tied ...when found body was reduced to skeleton except portion of lower limbs which were clothed in tight fitting garments..."), who suffocated as a result of masochistic sexual practices with another member of his regiment ("...he & Ellis proposed playing Cowboys & Indians & he trussed up Ellis who then told him that he was all right...").

Lingerie Catalog

Irish Wit and German Sadism directs us to Plaid Stallions for some "hawt babez in 70s lingerie". One of the said stallions commented the following image:

It takes a minute to get used to the airbrushed nipples in this thing. I don't know why a Lingerie catalog would feature shots of unimpressed woman looking downward.

I guess that stallion doesn't know of the submissive female gaze.

Do You See What I See?

If you've been having difficulty seeing what I see here, perhaps this post will help.

Snopes investigates -- and confirms -- that an illustration from withdrawn Yellow Pages ad reveals risqué image when a portion of it is viewed upside-down.





There are a few other examples at Snopes of this image in advertising too.

What Do You See Here?

I asked for your help with this before, but apparently you don't like to read long posts. :sigh: (What is the world coming to when folks only want to see the dirty pictures?)

Anyway, you have to respond and tell me if I'm imagining things or not... What do you see here?

Pinup Collection

A few photos from a pinup collection at Collectors' Quest, via A Slip of a Girl.

Sea Of Parted Legs

One Leg Leads to Another is a gallery of graphics using the view through a person's parted legs -- via Thingsville, US.

What The Donges??

I picked up this scrap of paper at a sale recently -- and have become obsessed with it. Dating from no later than the 1920's, it's a promotional piece for an old genteel establishment selling hats & gloves to gentlemen (but as you shall see, there's much more to it!)

Jac. F. Donges
Founder of DONGES BAY
Who has GLOVES to Burn
And some that don't Burn
HATS and CAPS

319 Third Street
MILWAUKEE, WIS.

Now, this is interesting for several reasons... The Jac F. Donges Hat & Glove shop was a Milwaukee institution, only just closed in 2001 (replaced by :gasp: a Subway restaurant). And Donges Bay is a place I have been (hello, Sybaris in Mequon!). But little information exists on the company or the man who founded it &, apparently, Donges Bay.

Heavy research provides us with the fact that Jac and his brother, Charles, founded the area.



Charles, also a partner in the hat business (then called Donges Brothers), died June 28, 1894, and while he managed to be listed in the 1902 Notable men of Wisconsin, he's all but ignored in history and Jac gets all the credit.



Perhaps this is fair, for Jac was quite the character.

In 1842, his parents, Mr. Jacob Donges and his wife, emigrated to Milwaukee from Germany. In 1860 they had a son, Jacob Jr. Jacob Jr. or Jac, as he preferred to be called. Jac inherited the position of janitor at Milwaukee's City Hall from his father and then worked in the garment business for some friends, which led to opening his own shop.

As an entrepreneurial businessman, his financial success led to investments in real estate along the north shore of lake Michigan, specifically purchasing the Basler and Kemp farms along what is now known as Donges Bay. These were lands he'd seen in 1884 calling the beautiful deep ravine with a creek at its bottom empties into the lake "Fairy chasm", and vowed to own. This land, along with land co-owned by friends (such as Fred Usinger, founder of Usinger Sausage Co.), became part of the holdings of the Fish Creek Park Company, established September 13, 1892. The company issued 146 shares of stock, one each for the 146 acres, at $285 per share and offered to mainly friends of Jac's, creating a private summer resort community.

During the first ten years of Fish Creek Park, the stockholders were permitted to use the land in any way they chose, from informal Sunday picnics to the construction of summer homes.

Enter the other side of the old promotional paper.

WITHIN THE LINES
IN THE GOOD OLD U.S.A.
AT
DONGES BAY

ALL'S WELL
AT SCHUCH'S RESORT

I found no information on Schuch's Resort; however, there was a friend of Jac's, John Schuch, who built Chalet on the Lake resort and restaurant in the area, which is now called Mequon. (According to the Fish Creek Park Company records, things got dicey after the first decade, and the community of Fairy Chasm evolved into two sections, North Fairy Chasm becoming Mequon in 1957 and South Fairy Chasm becoming Bayside in 1955. Absolutely fascinating stuff, but I digress.)

Here's a vintage postcard of the dining room, and a platter from the restaurant:




Little else could be discovered about the Chalet, other than Mark Harmon's Dillinger was filmed there (with the location used to represent Little Bohemia) and that it was owned by Jerome Perlson from 1966 until 1990 when he retired and the restaurant was sold, replaced by the development of private homes.

Could this chalet been the Schuch's Resort of the old little flyer? Maybe...

But what makes this all interesting enough to be here at Silent Porn Star is what happens when you fold the piece of paper...


The classic finish to "All's well"... "That ends well." Complete with nude bottoms up in the air as mom, dad, and junior do handstands under the water.

Cute and risque, especially for a gentleman's hat & gloves shop, but I discovered even more.

Holding and worrying over this bit of old paper, trying to find more information on Donges. I read the few lines so many times, hoping for another clue...

That line, "within the lines" stuck out for me. It didn't seem to make much sense. A colloquialism? Mmmmaybe. But being aware of riddles and puns, I then noticed the strange lines about the boy in the water... Was there something within, between them?

My husband says I'm just seeing things, but if you block the image at the one line, and turn it upside down, I see some even more risque antics beneath the water...


Is it just me? Tell me what you see...

And please do tell me if you know more about Jac Donges et al. (I'm itching to get back to the area soon to see what I can research... And stay at the Sybaris, of course. *wink*)

PS Yes, I'm putting this under "Beefcake" because Donges was so wealthy, no doubt he was heavily pursued and likely quite a playboy or other which such privilege allows. At least until I'm proven otherwise.

1980's S&M Advertising Cards

Vintage S & M advertising cards from England, 4" x 5 3/4".





These and others at a Tias

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.

Leap Year Presents Quite A Leap

In Lessons In Vintage Postcards: The Leap Year Proposal we discover a gem by Dorothy Dix (1904):

That woman labors under a great matrimonial disadvantage in not being able to pop the question no one will deny. It forces her to take what is offered to her instead of the thing for which she would ask if she had the privilege, and even when leap year removes the bar against her speaking out in meeting it does her little good, for it finds her with no precedent to guide her, no experience to be a lamp to her feet.

Click the image to read it all (and the link for more info).

Fan Flirtations

We've all heard of fan dancers, but even non-professionals used fans to make come-ons and communicate. Will shows us antique crib sheets for the clueless, including this one on how ladies should flirt with fans.

For The Risqué Exhibit-ionist

A fascinating article on the Exhibit Supply Company, or ESCO shows us both the vintage risqué Exhibit cards and old risqué arcade amusements. These are just two examples:

Petting Taboo Among These Young Ladies

"Besides petting is old-fashioned and we are modern."

Via SpuzzLightYear.

Dirty Decks

I don't know if these are real, but I hope they are! Via Nurse Myra.



Related:

Erotic playing cards at Vintage Nude Photos

"Young Marrieds are married to Peppernell"

And divorced by what, Cannon?

Vintage ad for Lady Peppernell Sheets (1957).

Gosh, I Love It When A Man Spies Old Condoms And Thinks Of Me

Shon sends the following email alert:

Hey there,

I was at a comic book blog, Mighty God King when I saw he had a link to condom envelopes from the 1930's, so of course, I thought of you.

My personal favorites are a tie between the one that says 'Salome' and the one that states simply, 'The best'. I don't know about you but when I want protection from sexual disease and pregnancy, I want a brand that identifies itself with a woman who used her seductive powers to have a good man beheaded.

With all due respect to Shon's position, I'd have to say I have other favorites. Granted, beheading is a larger male fear in this situation, but my favorites are Poncho...


The reasons why should be obvious.

And Pousse L'amour.

That's got to be (one of) my porn star names.

"Life Is Better With Art In It"

His student created the poster below for a scholarship contest at the Art Institutes, and while this smut collector spends much of her time either in a 'porn v art' debate (or trying to avoid one), I proudly declare that life is indeed better with art in it. No matter how you define 'art'.



Even if you secretly believe it would look better with a visible nipple. *wink*

Retro & Risque Comedy Film Posters

Via Planet Fabulon, who raped and pillaged for the medical ones, come these fun British movie posters.




Also not to be missed, the collector's 'mission statement', titled Why Do I Collect?, which begins:

I have encouraged my wife to believe my collection will be worth a fortune to her when I die. I don't think she is totally convinced and is right to be skeptical. It is just the best justification I can come up with for what is a pretty strange and expensive hobby: collecting discarded advertising material.

Oh, just go enjoy the whole site -- you'll be glad you did.

The Happiness Of Context

As the blog header states: this isn't just smut here, it's sex history. And in order to have better historical perspective you need to understand the time, the place, and the culture of that time and place for 'culture' varies. For example, 1955 New York was not the same as 1955 Nebraska and neither were the same as 1955 Sweden or 1955 Angola (which were not alike themselves) -- even if, to you smut-hounds, the breasts look deliciously the same. (Similarly exotic, enticingly differing breasts may not necessarily be an indication of differing cultures.)

I've written before on the importance of context, either anecdotally or with entire posts such as Context Is The New Bullshit, and if you haven't let that sink into your brains please take a moment to do so; this post will help with that. If you share this love of history in context, then you'll just enjoy this post all the more.

One of the best ways to glean a general overview of times and places, especially with Western cultures, is via newspapers and magazines.

For example, look at 1955 Fargo-Moorhead newspapers. There, along with the news of the day (such as "Yogi Could Be 'Great'" and the odd news item regarding the police's possession of woman's lingerie), and the ads promising pork loin at 39 cents a pound and the debut of the 1956 "PowerStyle" Chrysler, you find old advertisements for films.

In this case, thanks to Deanna (aka Pop Tart) & her husband, Derek (aka Azrael Brown) who wrote the article at Collectors' Quest on the 1955 newspaper & sent me the scan (I love it when collectors share info!), we see this ad for One Summer of Happiness:


This Swedish film, based on the novel Sommardansen by Per Olof Ekström, was originally titled Hon dansade en sommar and was directed by Arne Mattsson after the producer decided he didn't want to "risk Ingmar Bergman's 'Neurotic Vulgarity,' and fired him".

The film starred Folke Sundquist and Ulla Jacobsson as teenage lovers who meet on a farm -- complete with a short outdoor nude swimming scene and "unambiguously implied coitus, minor aspects on which most Swedish critics did not bother to comment in their reviews of its premiere in Stockholm in December 1951."

The film went on to win awards and recognition. Time for sex in Sweden: enhancing the myth of the "Swedish sin" during the 1950s:

For that matter, the sexual aspects drew little attention when Hon dansade en sommar won the coveted Golden Bear award and received more popular approval than any other entry in the Berlin Film Festival the following June (see "Tag" and "Festspiel"). Its score also won a secondary prize that year at the Cannes Film Festival, where it was shown under the title Elle n'a danse qu'un seul ete (see Magnan). Reviews in several European countries were favorable and in some cases definitely enthusiastic. In the United Kingdom, however, One Summer of Happiness was not allowed to be shown until 1953, and in some parts of the United States of America local authorities forbade it entirely.

Once again, the prudes enter the arena and are upset by a little bit of boob. OK, so it likely mattered that it was a story of teen boob; but only the idiot kind of boobs throw out storyline and cinema for a bare breast.

My first thought upon seeing the ad was, "Hell, they had Roxys in Fargo?!" and then, vaguely remembering this film was 'notoriously naughty', I wondered how it had been allowed in theatres in such a conservative, rural, place as 1950's Fargo-Moorhead.

Was I engaging once again in "rampant presentism"? (I love tossing that comment from brave 'anonymous' in now and then; forgive me.) Perhaps I seem to be. But any good or decent historian or anthropologist will allow such reactions -- they are a natural part of human reaction -- and then examine them. To acknowledge my limited experience, knowledge & thought doesn't mean I have to stay stuck in it.

While some places were upset by the film (see info on the 1954 Memorandum of the New York State Education Department regarding this film), places I'd imagined more 'small town' (both in terms of selling tickets and the proverbial closeted attitude) were less likely to make a stink over the film. (Actually, over time the opposite picture is emerging and I'm beginning to see that larger cities are often the ones more inclined to raise such legislative stink -- but that's another musing.)

Now I know that not everyone in 'the charming conservative Midwest' was as prudish in the 50's as I had stereotyped. Point taken; lesson learned.

Related:

For more on this film, in Swedish film context, see Swedish Film 1946-1960.

For a more anecdotal look at how a bit of boob in One Summer of Happiness affected a teenage boy in the 1950's, read a confession in More Nostalgia From the Innocent 1950's: Those Adult Movies.

Risque Valentines

Participating in Mute Monday, the Valentine's Edition...



Vintage risque Valentine via ebay.


Risque Black American Valentine via eBay.




Altered arts cards by Scarlett's Society of Quirky at Etsy.



Cupid Dr. Dan postcard (1908 By Walter Wellman No. 1080) at eBay.

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.

Nude Tarot

More images from the deck of tarot cards I mentioned here.



As mentioned, the deck offers two versions of The Lovers cards for sexual preference options.




The Daughter of the Moon Tarot, originally called A Matriarchal Tarot, is built on Dianic Wiccan principals and features many female goddesses -- and lots of nudity. Shown below are Kali, Pele, Mawu, Calafia, & Malama; examples of many cultures, colors and physical types.







The round card shape is also considered to be more female in symbolism. Those familiar with tarot cards will note the uniqueness presented with round cards -- depending upon your grace in reading them, round cards are that much more challenging or fluid to read.


The book gives brief legends for each female archetype, goddess, and image used; and yes, because I'm one of those kind of womyn, my copy of the book is autographed by author Ffiona Morgan at the National Women's Music Festival in '93 (in Indiana that year).

Did Garbo's Books Just Want To Be Let Alone?

The bookplates beg to differ -- the ex libris proclaim that the books just need to be returned.



This Greta Garbo bookplate was designed in 1939 by A. Herry and is just one that Bookplate Junkie, Lewis Jaffe, shows you from the 1930 Yearbook Of The American Society of Bookplate Collectors and Designers.

Lewis promises more as part of a Sunday series, so keep an eye there.

Paris Strip Club Flyer Was Coolest of 2007

This vintage strip club flyer from Paris, circa 1950's, was the coolest piece of ephemera in 2007, as decided by Ephemera at Typepad.

As for who will be selected as having the world's coolest piece of ephemera in 2008 they say:

Today, I officially announce the quest to find this year's coolest ephemera. To be considered, I must receive your entry by January 31, 2008. To enter a piece of ephemera from your collection, send me an email with an attached JPEG image of your item and a brief description of it. I'll select the winner and feature the item in a post in early February.

I'd consider entering, but I'm always too excited to post my stuff here. *wink*

Dirty Money

Did you hear the one about the guy who parachuted out of the plane he'd just hijacked clutching a bag filled with $200,000 in stolen cash -- only to disappear? No, it's not a joke; it's the story of DB Cooper, the 1971 mystery in which neither Cooper nor the marked money was found.

However, in 1980, a young boy, 8-year-old Brian Ingram, playing along the banks of the Columbia River, found wads of the decomposing twenty dollar bills from Cooper's heist. A few years later, at age 14, Ingram was given a portion of the found money as a sort of 'finder’s fee', but the finder's not playing keepers; he's now auctioning them off.


So is his ex-wife, Christy Austin, who received some Cooper bills during their marriage, claiming the proceeds are earmarked for their daughter, Kara.

Austin claims Ingram, her ex-husband, owes $60,000 in child support for Kara and says, "I wanted to see if I could sell one of mine. Since our daughter may never see the majority of her child support Brian owes her, I thought this may be a way to add to her college savings fund I have for her."

And that's how dirty wads of Cooper's money are now a part of Kara's family tree and her own sex history.

Marlene Dietrich

It was Marlene Dietrich's birthday on the 27th, so a belated birthday post it is...






Below are some of her poems, found in an old suitcase by her only child, Maria Riva. The poems, some scribbled, others typed on playwright Noël Coward’s typewriter, were written after Dietrich retired from the public eye. Riva claims to have edited them in hopes of publishing them to illustrate that her mother did not retreat from the public gaze because of vanity, as some biographers have claimed. Riva said, "My mother withdrew because she was simply tired of being Marlene Dietrich. She was tired of the endless effort to present an ideal of perfection even though she was not perfect."

However, the poems as of yet have not been published -- and believe-you-me, I've been watching and waiting!

Here are a few of the poems, which strike melancholy, if not romantic, notes. And, interestingly, none of them -- or at least none of the released poems -- are to women... I would have expected something to or for Mercedes de Acosta, at least.

To Ronald Reagan:

A tense silence
Grips me Surrounds me
Grounds me to the
Messy floor Around me

No voice No wind No rain Just silence will remain
Around me What a fate
‘Too late cried the Raven, Too late'

To Orson Welles:

Even when you are dead
You are not safe,
Not out of reach.

To Noël Coward:

No more Body
To hold on to
While you Sleep
Just the Sheet. What a cheat!

To Ernest Hemingway:

Losing you
Feels like A fisherman feels
Who loses his catch He thought he had
So securely
Hooked
While piercing
The gills of his prey.

Poems & info on them via The London Times.

Related: Medal of Freedom Recipient Marlene Dietrich

Preparing Actresses for Wetlook Scenes in the 50's & 60's

Images of Claudia Cardinale via Wetfan's Movie Magazine Scrapbook.

Sheik Fathers & Flapper Mothers, That's Why Young People Go Wrong

Found via Infomercantile, in The Troublemakers post, was this excellent clipping:

"WHY YOUNG PEOPLE GO WRONG"
REV HARRY BLACK

Pastor Free Methodist Church
Corner West Colton Avenue and Webster Street Redlands, California

(a newspaper report)

PARENTS HEAR PULPIT ATTACK
Sheik Fathers and Flapper Mothers are Assailed by Redlands Clergyman
(Special Staff Correspondence "The Sun")

REDLANDS, CALIF.--Sheik fathers who enjoy prize fights and jazz more than the comfort of home and children, and flapper mothers "who display the kneebone, collarbone, backbone, and wishbone," were scored in the spirited sermon preached by the Rev. Harry Black at the first of a two weeks revival at the Free Methodist Church in Redlands.

"The automobile, sheik fathers, flapper mothers, immodest dress and lack of religious training are the causes for the downfall of many of our youth," the pastor declared in his sermon on "The Revolt of Youth, Roadside Spooning, Why Our Young People Go Wrong and Who Is To Blame." He continued:
CROWDED AUTOS ARE ATTACKED
"The automobile can be made a blessing or a curse, and it is both. It is a disgrace to society for four or five young folks to crowd into one seat of a car, and nothing but a base desire will lead boys and girls to do this. They should be arrested right on the spot.

For more from this Free Tract, including the Bible on bobbed hair, see Thingsville's post with scans.

Double The Fanny Brice Is Twice As Nice (Part One)

Recently at a sale I spotted this 78 with one side titled Second Hand Rose and eager to show it off to my pal Secondhand Rose, I didn't even notice it was by the Fanny Brice -- nor did I note the other side with My Man -- until I had it home.

But once I did, I knew I had sheet music about here... Somewhere...

Weeks (and boxes) later, I found it. (And of course, more than a dozen others to scan and post here later too.)

Anyway, here's the belated post.

To understand the context of both songs, here's a bit of Brice's bio:

Brice starred in the Ziegfield Follies in the 1920s and 1930s and became known for her beautiful voice and limber grace, which she always used in the service of humor. When she tried dramatic Broadway roles, her plays were unsuccessful.

As Brice's fame increased, so did her notoriety. In 1918, she married Jules "Nicky Arnstein, a handsome, urbane but somewhat inept con man and thief she had lived with for six years. Despite Arnstein's infidelity and a stretch in Sing Sing Prison for illegal wiretapping, the devoted Brice stayed with him, had two children and supported him by working on-stage almost constantly. Brice's tumultuous relationship with the ne'er-do-well Arnstein gave her material for a rare non-ethnic success: appearing in the Ziegfield Follies of 1921, the usually manic comedienne stood nearly motionless on the stage and, singing in a beautiful, unaccented voice, moved audiences to tears with her rendition of "My Man" with its now-classic lyrics, "But whatever my man is, I am his - forever."

In 1924, Arnstein was charged in a Wall Street bond theft. Brice insisted on his innocence and funded his legal defense, at great expense. Arnstein was convicted and sentenced to the Federal penitentiary at Leavenworth. Released in 1927, the ungrateful and unfaithful Arnstein disappeared from Brice's life and that of his two children. Reluctantly, Brice divorced him.

Brice had some of her greatest success during her years as Mrs. Arnstein, including her famous song "Second Hand Rose." Yet, in 1923, as biographer Grossman puts it, Brice "tired of being a sight gag" and had her nose surgically straightened. Still, acceptance eluded her when she tried her hand at "American" drama.

After a failed marriage to Broadway impresario Billy Rose and starring roles in Hollywood film, Brice found a niche -broadcast radio - that made her comfortable. In 1938, she launched her own weekly radio show. A wonderful mimic and impersonator with a great ear for dialect, Brice chose instead to limit herself to one character, Baby Snooks, a precocious, bratty toddler - who had no accent. Her enormously successful run on radio lasted until her death in 1951, just as television was beginning to capture the radio audience.

Barbra Streisand paid tribute to Brice in her loosely biographical film Funny Girl.

Now to the song lyrics.

Second Hand Rose
By James Hanley and Grant Clarke -- listen along here. (Many thanks to Sex-Kitten.Net for hosting the file!)

Father has a business,
Strictly second-hand,
Everything from tooth-picks to a baby grand.
Stuff in our apartment,
Came from Father's store,
Even things I'm wearing, someone wore before.
It's no wonder that I feel abused;
I never get a thing that ain't been used!

I'm wearing second-hand hats,
Second-hand clothes,
That's why the call me Second Hand Rose.
Even our piano in the parlor,
Father bought for ten cents on the dollar.
Second-hand pearls,
I'm wearing second-hand curls,
I never get a single thing that's new!
Even Jakie Cohen, he's the man I adore,
Had the nerve to tell me he'd been married before!
Everyone knows that I'm just Second Hand Rose,
From Second Avenue.

I'm wearing second-hand shoes,
Second-hand hose,
All the girls hand me their second-hand beaus!
Even my pajamas, when I don them,
Have somebody else's 'nitials on them.
Second-hand rings, I'm sick of second-hand things,
I never get what other goilies do.
Once while strolling through the Ritz, a woman got my goat,
She nudged her friend and said, "Oh, look, there goes my last year's coat!"
Everyone knows that I'm just Second Hand Rose,
From Second Avenue.

My Man

Sung by Miss Fanny Brice in Zeigfield Follies of 1921 as Mon Homme (My Man).
Written by Maurice Yvain, lyrics by Channing Pollack.

It's cost me alot,
But there's one thing that I've got
It's my man.
Cold and wet, tired, you bet
But all that I soon forget
With my man.

He's not much for looks
And no hero out of books
Is my man...
Two or three girls has he
That he likes as well as me
But I love him!

I don't know why I should
He isn't any good
He isn't true
But I'll stick to him like glue
What else can I do?

Oh my man, I love him so!
He'll never know.
All my life is just despair
But I don't care!
When he takes me in his arms
The world is bright,
All right!

What's the difference if I say
I'll go away?
When I know I'll come back
On my knees some day;
For whatever my man is
I am his
Forever more!

Sometimes I say
If I just could get away
With my man
He'd go straight, sure as fate,
For it never is too late
For a man.

I just like to dream of a cottage by a stream
With my man
Where a few flowers grew and perhaps a kid or two
Like my man.

And then my eyes get wet
I 'most forget
'Til he gets hot
And tells me not to talk
such rot...

Oh my man, I love him so!
He'll never know.
All my life is just despair
But I don't care!
When he takes me in his arms
The world is bright
All right!

What's the difference if I say
I'll go away
When I know I'll come back
On my knees some day
For whatever my man is
I am his
Forever more!

For more on Fanny Brice, see the Fanny Brice Collection -- and wait for my part two!

Walt Disney's The Story Of Menstruation (1946)

The companion booklet to this Kotex educational film, Very Personally Yours, contains Disney artwork yet the copies I've seen have no mention of Disney copyright.

Way To Blow Your Pay Check, Canadians

In Canada, the average pay check rarely lasts two weeks. It's more like twenty songs.

(I didn't have the heart to put the ad text in all caps.)

Ad for Revelstoke Whiskey, via The Gender ADs Project's Strippers and Dancers collection.

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*

Oh, Mother! I'm Wild!

Oh, Mother! I'm Wild! by Johnson, Howard, Harry Pease, and Eddie Nelson, 1920.



Use these lyrics to sing along with the MP3 of a more modern uke version sung by Brian Hefferan.

Oh, Mother! I'm Wild!

[Verse 1]

Percival Jones was a sweet little boy
All dressed up like a bundle of joy
Early to bed and early to rise
never made Percival very wise
'Cause after a month on Broadway
Here's what he wrote home today

[Chorus 1]

Oh, Mother! you wouldn't know your child
Oh, Mother! I'm getting awfully wild
I am drinking Coca-Cola now
On the level, I'm a little devil
Oh, Mother! you wouldn't want me home
cannibals compared to me are mild
I'm no more your peaceful little lamb
I shave most every day just like a man
I've thrown away my nighty and I wear a big pjam
Oh, Mother I'm Wild!

[Verse 2]

Percy went out to see a musical show
Got him a seat in the very first row
The girls on the stage started to shimmy and shake
Percy stood up and shouted "Goodness sake!"
Oh mother if you could just see
This is the life dear, for me!

[Chorus 2]

Oh, Mother! you wouldn't know your child
Oh, Mother! I'm getting awfully wild
I am reading dimestore novels now
Every minute, I just go the limit
Oh, Mother! you wouldn't want me home
cannibals compared to me are mild
Once I dined, stayed out 'till after ten
I bought some Cuban cigarettes and then
I stood out at the corner and I smoked with all the men
Oh, Mother I'm Wild!

[Verse 3]

...Once I went out to a swell affair
a lady asked me to do the shimmy there
I said I beg your pardon but that's something I don't wear
Oh, Mother I'm Wild!

Copies of (at least) the sheet music can be found at eBay.

For more, see theBilly Jones recording for Aeolian-Vocalion in 1919.

Context Is The New Bullshit

Yoni Stern, on the matter of the Guardian and its sister title, the Observer, launching a searchable digital archive (which will soon contain all the copies of the papers from their first issues in 1821 and 1791), said:

A newspaper today might be full of bullshit, but it's all a part of the history of culture - the bullshit, too, no less than the reality. You can't get that from history books.

I don't think it is correct to say you can't get that from history books, but rather that history books -- or more pointedly, history text books -- often do lack context.

Context is the bullshit, the stuff which is, in truth, The Reality. More than facts, such as this fire happened, this law was passed, the stock market crashed, etc. on such-and-such dates, the culture is what people were saying, selling, spewing. What leads did the police have on the fire, what motives did they suspect? Why? Why were people passing the laws they did? That ad for frocks -- did hemlines rise as the stocks fell? That's the culture, that's the context, that's the bullshit.

As Maya Angelou said, "There's a world of difference between truth and facts. Facts can obscure the truth."

And now, because you've paid attention to your history lesson, enjoy today's sexual contextual bullshit from the roaring 20's.


Newspaper clipping, dated December 4, 1924. It reads:

Nude Display Unnecessary

Dade City, Fla

Many of the younger generation are coming on laboring under the mistaken idea that the quick way to gain popularity is to make a generous showing of their legs. I still believe that modesty in a woman is a cardinal virtue and that men, as a whole, have a deep respect for women who are becomingly attired. The Gish girls, Mae Marsh, Alice Joyce, Lois Wilson and others are exceedingly popular, and they didn't attain that popularity by an unseemly nude display of their bodies. And who is it that does not love them? They are grand beyond compare.

G.W. Walker

Sweater Girl, 1942

You might not think that Sweater Girl sounds like a Halloween trick-or-treat post, but it is.

This 1942 Paramount Picture, starring Eddie Bracken, June Preisser and Betty Jane Rhodes, isn't all campus kitsch. Sure it starts all Mickey Rooney/Judy Garland with college kids trying to put on a show, but somewhere over this rainbow it twists into a murder mystery. Ah, make that a musical murder mystery.

At the time of its release, The New York Times didn't like it:

Its cast—all of very tender years and much too immature for shocks of this sort—starts off by preparing that inevitable musical show but become involved in murders, babbling idiots and homicidal insanity in a plot which is nearly as confused as a Times Square traffic jam at curtain time.

However, the song "I Don't Want To Walk Without You" (words by Frank Loesser, music by Jule Styne) went on to become a pop hit -- thanks due to a young and rising star by the name of Frank Sinatra.

According to Wiley Lee Umphlett in Movies Go to College: Hollywood and the World of the College-Life Film some appreciated the film:

"This film's mixture of comedy, mystery and music was handled so skillfully that one reviewer was moved to comment that Sweater Girl was exceptional in its avoidance of the "usual artificiality of college pictures' and therefore contained the "spark of reality."

(Quote via Google Books.)

And the film still has fans who hope for a DVD release.

Paperdolls Or Blow-Up Dolls?

Grand Faboo-Ba of Fabulon, Thom, has posted these darlings for us:



They seem to have originated at The Crime In Your Coffee. Translation: They are paper dolls from the comic series Doc Dare and Scion, both published in Penthouse Comix.

The Body of a Man... The Feelings of a Woman

I Was A Man
Half-man, Half-woman
...Which way to go?

The Dark World of the Trans-sexual

A Barry Mahon Production

This 1967 film is also known as I Was A Man: The True Story of Ansa Kansas an Hermaphrodite. According to Chateau Vulgaria, the film was screened at the Finnish Film Archive in 2006, but I've yet to see a release on either video or DVD. (Trailers can be found on a few DVDs such as the Run Swinger Run! / Sex Club International Double Feature and Something Weird's Twisted Sex Vol 01 (which is what Chateau Vulgaria discusses in the link above).

Jackson Barrett Mahon, a.k.a. Barry Mahon, was a pilot. After WWII he became the personal pilot for Errol Flynn, then became the actor's manger -- and that's how he began in his career as a prolific film maker.

Having produced a number of Flynn and Gina Lollobrigida pictures, as well as a considerable output of children's programs, Mahon established The Production Machine, a high-tech film production company in Hollywood, making motion pictures for theatrical and television release. Mahon was the first movie producer to adapt and apply computer technology (as well spreadsheet applications, such as MultiPlan) to the breakdown, scheduling, budgeting and financial analysis of feature-length motion pictures and movies-of-the-week for Columbia Pictures.

According to producer/director James Jaeger, who knew Mahon well and worked with him, Mahon assured him that Errol Flynn was not gay in the least. He might have tried it once, but then Errol tried everything at least once.

The part played by Steve McQueen in the movie, The Great Escape (1963), was loosely based upon Barry Mahon.

Movie poster via Vanessa Is.

The Only Way To Keep A Gal, Is To Keep Her In A Cage

Deanna was working on this piece on collecting vintage sheet music, and showed me this baby:


Since neither Deanna nor I have the sheet music, she's contacting the seller, Joel, of www.sheetmusiccenter.com, for a follow-up article on "coon" music. I'll post the follow-up when she's published it, but I couldn't wait to show off this old cover with a man with a key standing outside his caged girlfriend.

This is what I could find out.

It's by "The Originator of Ragtime" or "The Father of Ragtime" Ben Harney. The Rag-Time Ephemerist has an article on Harney, Ben Harney in Context, which doesn't illuminate the cover art or the song itself much, but the online article does quote from The New York Clipper (September 26, 1896) which covers Harney's time with the Boston Athenaeum Star Specialty Company (touring under the aegis of Andrew J. Hughes, proprietor of Boston's Howard Athenaeum Theater):

His coon songs gained enthusiastic response. He was assisted in the gallery and on the stage by 'Strap' Hill, a colored dancer and singer.

In the article (again, only part of which is available online) there's a tantalizing bit more on "the negro" in question:

Based on the recollections of Harney's wife Jessie, the authors of They All Played Ragtime identified his "stage assistant," "Strap" Hill as a "young Negro ragtime player and entertainer ... from Memphis" whom Harney first met either in or on his way to Chicago in 1893.3 Clipper citations make it clear that Harney and Hill worked together, on and off at least, from the fall of 1896 until the fall of 1898

Harney wasn't favored by commercial recording, but there's an MP3 of him singing The Wagon here.

Stay tuned, as they say...

Preserving Your Paper Prints And Other Artistic Smut

An abso-freakin-lutely excellent pair of posts on how to properly frame your artworks, papers and prints is at CQ.

Read Is Framing Preserving or Harming Your Collection? Part One and Part Two.

Views On Vintage Nudes

Over at Collectors' Quest, Deanna's posted an interview with artists who repurpose/recycle vintage items. One of those interviewed was Tia of Hey Lady! Recycled Cards, who has used vintage pinups and nude photos to make her cards.



While the cards are neat, I'm still a bit torn about using the actual old photos/images themselves...


However, since I was Etsy anyway, I did a quick search for the word 'nude' and this is some of what I found:

Nude with striped socks.
Nudes embracing.
Vintage nude necklace.
Nude male torso.
French doll bag.
Boobie earrings.

Some of these are also made with actual vintage images...



Now that I've shown you some images, please do tell: What are your thoughts on recycling old images?

Naughty Envelope

From the Martin-Ryan Research Library and Curio Emporium at clusterflock.

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.

Whip Me, Beat Me, Make Me Buy Dumb Things

From Spank While you Sell: Corporal punishment imagery in print advertising:




Of particular note:

Schoolboys in Disgrace

This is a record sleeve, which I suppose is a kind of advertising. The album, by that most uncompromisingly British of veteran rock bands, The Kinks, dates from 1975. This cartoon image (credited to one Mickey Finn) was already the height of retro when it first appeared, and the era alluded to is probably really the late 1950s, when Kinks leader/songwriter Ray Davies and his brother Dave were at school in suburban north London. The lyrics of one song on the disc, Headmaster, clearly refer to getting the cane. From a cultural historian's point of view, it's extremely interesting that there is such a clear reference -- in the lyrics and in the drawing -- to bare-bottom canings, since even in the 1950s that was not at all the norm for ordinary local secondary schools:

Headmaster, this is my confession,
I've been such a little fool.
I've dishonoured one who trusted me,
I have broken all the rules.
I've been such a little fool.
Don't tell all my friends I bent over,
Don't tell them you made me cry.
Don't tell them I've been sacrificed,
Don't tell all my friends or I'll die.
Headmaster don't beat me I beg you,
I know that I've let you down.
Headmaster please spare me I beg you,
Don't make me take my trousers down.

Kiss & Tell With The Bay City Rollers

I didn't even know this existed.





If I had, I'm certain I wouldn't have wanted it. (And Chris Jart assures me it wasn't worth it.)

I was too cool to be boy-crazy about the Bay City Rollers. (I'm not saying that I didn't have silly teen dreams or think of kissing the posters on my walls, I just didn't do this with the Bay City Rollers.)

Sure, I had the album, but who didn't love that ear worm S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y NIGHT? (If you were a teen in '75 you had to love the "rockin' party anthem." I think it was a law or something.)



Some girls so love the boys in plaid that they swooned over I Only Want To Be With You.


In fact, I had one album (the Greatest Hits) and in the early 80's some guy I dated twice borrowed it.

Yeah, "dated" -- it's not like I let him pick me up in a bar and go home with him. Or called him one a few weeks later when bored just to have sex. A two-night stand is so terrible to admit to. Especially to a short, swarthy little man who you cringe when you think about -- the things I do in the name of honesty here.

He never gave the record back. And I, apparently over that self-loathing low point in my life, never called him to get it -- it wasn't worth it. If the price of leaving the little sweaty troll behind was one Bay City Roller's record, that was the (exceedingly low) price I'd have to pay. While that price was even lower than my standards to hook-up with the guy, the loss of the record doesn't remove the personal blot, the stain on my history (were that as easy to remove as those on my sheets!).

So why am I posting this Bay City Rollers Kissing Kit?

Well, for one, we all had silly celeb crushes and it's fun to mock those of others. :p

Second, it's also important to remember that even as you mock another for their tween-lust of a goofy band or other mistake -- you have bigger mistakes to cringe over.

It's important to recognize your own personal sex history -- including those moments that aren't warm and fuzzy.

That, my friends, is part of nostalgia.

So here's to you, guy whose name I can't remember. Enjoy the record if you still have it.

How To Draw Girlie Cartoons

"The Kind We All Want To See!"

From the Product Placement gallery at OokWorld.

Also worth seeing, the Newsstand, a gallery of magazine covers.

Typ-O's

This makeover of the traditional 'studio pin-up' calendar not only demonstrated Taylor Lane's expertise in typography, it also acted as a perpetual reminder of them throughout 2005 while refreshing itself every month. It was controversial; it provoked comment and created a 25% increase in turnover from existing and new clients. (So says Epica Awards.)



While using typography to create nude women, I don't see a single "v" or "j" to create the vajayjay. *wink*

Found With Smut

In one of my auction lots, a box of vintage pornographic magazines, there was this old cover to Paramount Pictures, 1937-1938. (I do not have the publication, but I cannot get rid of it either -- like old empty boxes, there is always the possibility of finding the contents needing a cover, or a collector who does and will trade me for something I must have.)



This cover was now like a folder, holding loose pages cut out from many other vintage men's magazines and other publications with artistic nudes, risque articles and pinups, as well as some newspaper clippings and even a few nude sketches as well.




As I paged through this folder of vintage smut, article by article, I came upon this note:

You're suppose to be studying -- Not reading dirty books!

(As written, not a typo on my part.)

Clearly this young man (or woman) was left a note by mom, who didn't want to directly confront him (or was tired of not being heard for the umpteenth time) and so she left him a note where he'd be sure to find it.

Somethings never change, hm?

I'm not sure this qualifies as a "Dirty Found" item based on its location... But it sure made my day. *wink*

And yes, I'll be posting more of the pages/images from this folder of cut out goodies -- with better scans for you too. (I just wanted to show you quickly!)

Objects of Desire: Product Poster Masterpieces

International Poster Gallery announces "Objects of Desire: Product Poster Masterpieces", an exhibition that traces the numerous ways in which poster artists have made products and brands irresistible to the public since the 1890s.

"'Objects of Desire' is one of the most fun shows we've ever presented, but also one of the most thought provoking," comments gallery president Jim Lapides.

"It is a subject that graphic designers and advertisers have grappled with forever – how to make products sell through the right combination of word and image posted on a wall. Along with many classics, the show is full of unusual surprises from every corner of the globe."

Shown here are The Pet of the Halls from Yankee Girls Abroad, 1900, by James Montgomery Flagg (above) and Adolfo Hohenstein's Fiammiferi Senza Fosforo, circa 1900.

The show, which is free and open to the public, runs through Memorial Day, May 28, 2007 and is located at 205 Newbury Street in Boston. See internationalposter.com for information.

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).

Don't Say Phooey to Fumetti

Bandes Dessinées Adultes is a French site devoted to Fumetti, also know as comics for adults -- think Anime or Hentai.

I don't read French, but I just clicked about and Voila! Look what I found:

We Must, We Must... Inflate Or Truss

Via Slip of a Girl comes this post on vintage Frederick's of Hollywood catalogs wherein we find...

more on female self-help via body modification



and men are not spared



Which reminded me of this image of an old 'belly flattener' I have saved on my pc:

More on Love Letters

An update on the love letters discussion, a post by Chelsea Girl called letters lost and found.

I'm going to have to dig some of mine out...

World of Nudes

If you think the world lies at the meeting of her thighs more than in her eyes... Check out Vintage Pulchritude. (Found via Fleshbot.)

So good, you'll need a Nookey Ration Card!

Flapper Humor

"Mother, when you were a girl, didn't you find it a bore to be a virgin?"

This was sent to me by Tom, and neither of us know for certain it it is an authentic 20's newspaper cartoon; but if it were, my guess is that it wasn't meant to be funny but rather serve as a negative comment and serve as a warning to parents about their hot-to-trot flapper daughters.

Suffrage & ERA Attacks

Anti-suffrage propaganda warned of the dangers -- tampering with men and women's 'natural' gender roles would lead to the breakdown of society. Here are some selected images...

In What, Dinner Not Ready Yet! What Have You Been Doing? the poor husband is left with screaming babies, burning dinner, cats in the milk jug, and utter chaos. He is additionally feminized with his attire, including a frilly apron. The wife returns home to find him inept, apparently denigrates him, and is literally shown wearing the pants.

(Very popular imagery for the anti-suffragists.)


Here's a lovely bit to send to your Valentine -- you know how I love these -- a postcard just making me feel worn all over:

If you will only marry me you can have all woman's rights
Such as staying up on evenings when I'm out late at nights
And should such things not satisfy the longings of your soul
You can wash up all the dishes and carry all the coal
As a really model husband I feel I'm bound to shine
So say that you take me to be Your Valentine

In the Suffragette "I told you so" postcard, (Copyright 1909, by Walter Wellman), a man and woman read a poser which reads:

"The Morning Suffragette Bulletin.
A New Era of Prosperity at Hand.
With the news that a suffragette has been elected as our next Presidentess, several flatiron and rolling pin factories have resumed on full time.
It is stated that 10,000,000 faltirons have been ordered by the new War Department alone."

Ah, yes, one of my favorites... Because male voters viewed their ability to pull a lever for a candidate akin to having their own levers pulled...

"Which Do You Prefer? The Home of Street Corner For Woman: Vote NO on Woman Suffrage"

Even women thought it was bad for women to vote. Every era has it's Phyllis Schlafly.



The image above is from this blogger, who writes that "Schlafly and others were able to exploit fears about the larger meaning of women’s equality, and a lot of those fears have faded." I don't see it that way. The ERA still isn't an amendment.

In fact, those against the ERA employed the same tactics of the anti-suffrage movement -- and for the same damn, tired reasons.



As with suffrage, the Equal Rights Amendment is all tied to the scary notion that women are equals. If women are more than or at least not limited to care taking roles for those with more rights, what will happen?

I'm so glad you asked, because here's a sampling...
Well, I certainly don't want the government, let alone this administration, in charge of anyone's children... But this is ridiculous.
Women in football?! The horror! (Notice hos she doesn't get any chest protection lol)
This one is not funny at all. Using the fear of unisex bathrooms as a 'progression' to rape. (Click to enlarge the image and see that the artist included a bit of newspaper clipping to authenticate his stance.) Disgusting fear mongering.

"the 'sex' of letter-writing"

Anastasia of Chaos Noir had a post on Hemingway & Dietrich that you must read...

Classic Vintage Self-Help Propaganda

We've updated, refreshed and reprinted a series of unintentionally funny booklets from the 1930s and 1940s! Each one is filled with tantalizing secrets, advice and wisdom from the days when "making love" meant holding hands on the porch swing.

McPhee has reproduced the following titles:

The Art of Kissing

How To Make Love

How To Get Along With Girls

How To Get Along With Boys

Image and link found at The Blushing Ladies' Journal.

Hot & Steamy

Li'l Abner and the buxom, steamy Daisy Mae pitching Cream of Wheat:



If sex sells, the kids had to eat it cuz dad brought it home.

From a 1947 Life magazine.

What's Left Behind

I inherited my grandparents' house. Over the years I have been slowly going through things left behind. When I first moved in everything was just shoved in boxes and stored in the basement. Lately I have actually started going through things and what I have found is a treasure trove of vintage stuff of a sexual nature.

Read more about (& see more) of what this lucky girl has found in It's in the Genes.

On a related note, have I shown you Estate Sales and Women's Lives? Even if I did, here's a back-to-back look at what's left to find when you die...

Quick Links

Gloria Brame's addicted to lobby cards -- of the bdsm variety. (Here's another of hers.)

Fleshbot has a bit on Porn from the Past.

Body improvement and Hostess fruit pies. What a pairing.

For those that believe I focus more on female sexuality...

First I must say that as a woman, that's both what I know more about and see as manipulated in a bad way.

Second, I will say that I have posted male myths before.

And third, I will draw your attention to Free Muscle Secrets and Instant Romantic Sideburns: Comic Book Advertising, Part One in which the author notes the marketing to a male dominated readership:

This kind of advertisement featured five distinct categories : body improvement, wacky products, money making schemes, Hostess fruit pies, and individuals selling other comics (often interspersed with the comic publishers selling their own branded accessories). As the decade came to a close, ad space was taken over by full-color ads for video games, candy and Saturday morning cartoons, but a page or two of black-and-white untruths lingered on.

Body improvement and Hostess fruit pies. What a pairing.

I'm looking forward to part two and will alert you as well.

Victorian Love Letters

From a rich young Gentleman, to a beautiful young Lady without a fortune.

Miss Sophia,

It is a general reflection against the manners of the present age, that marriage is only considered as one of those methods by which avarice may be satisfied, and property increased; that neither the characters nor accomplishments of the woman are much regarded, her merit being estimated by the thousands of her fortune. I acknowledge that the accusation is too true, and to that may be ascribed many unhappy matches we daily meet with; for how is it possible that those should ever have the same affection for each other, who were forced to comply with terms to which they had the utmost aversion; as if they had been allowed to consult their own inclinations, and gave their hands where they had engaged their hearts. For my own part, I have been always determined to consult my own inclinations, where there is the least appearance of happiness; and having an easy independency, am not anxious about increasing it; being well convinced, that in all states the middle one is the best. I mean neither poverty nor riches; which leads me to the discovery of a passion which I have long endeavored to conceal.

The opportunities which I have had of conversing with you at Mrs. A's have at last convinced me that merit and riches are far from being connected, and that a woman may have those qualifications necessary to adorn her sex, although adverse fortune has denied her money. I am sure that all those virtues necessary to make me happy in the marriage state, are centered in you; and whatever objection you may have to my person, yet I hope there can't be none to my character; and if you will consent to be mine, it shall be my constant study to make your life agreeable, and under the endearing character of husband, endeavor to supply your early loss of the best of parents. I shall expect your answer as soon as possible, for I wait for it with the utmost impatience.

I am your affectionate lover.

The young Lady's Answer.

Sir,
I received your letter yesterday, and gratitude for the generous proposal which you have made, obliges me to thank you heartily for the contents.

As I have no objection to either your person or character, you will give me leave to deal sincerely, and state those things which at present bear weight with me, and perhaps must ever remain unanswered, and hinder me from entering into that state against which I have not the least aversion.

You well know (at least I imagine so) that the proposal you have made to me is a secret both to your relations and friends; and would you desire me to run precipitately into the marriage state, where I have the greatest reason to fear that I shall be looked upon with contempt, by those whom nature had connected me with; I should consider myself obliged to promote the happiness of my husband; and how consistent would a step of that nature be with such a resolution? You know that I was left an orphan, and had it not been for the pious care of Mrs. A. must have been brought up in a state of servitude. You know that I have no fortune; and were I to accept your offer, it would lay me under such obligations as must destroy my liberty. Gratitude and love are two very different things. The one supposes a benefit received, whereas the other is a free act of the will. Suppose me raised to the joint possession of your fortune, could I call it mine unless I have brought you something as an equivalent? or, have I not great reason to fear that you yourself my consider me as under obligations inconsistent with the character of a wife? I acknowledge the great generosity of your offer, and would consider myself highly honored, could I prevail with myself to prefer to pace of mind, the enjoyment of an affluent fortune. But as I have been very sincere in my answer, so let me beg, that you will endeavor to eradicate a passion, which if nourished longer, may prove fatal to us both.

I am, sir,
With the greatest, &c

The Gentleman's Reply.

Dear Sophia,

Was it not cruel to start so many objections? or could you suppose me capable of so base an action, as to destroy your freedom and peace of mind? or do you think that I am capable of ever forgetting you, or being happy in the enjoyment of another? for affection's sake, do not mention gratitude any more. Your many virtues entitle you to much more than I am able to give; but all that I have shall be yours. With respect to my relations, I have none to consult with besides my mother and my uncle, and their consent, and even approbation, are already obtained. You have often heard my mother declare, that she preferred my happiness with a woman of virtue, to the possession of the greatest fortune; and though I forgot to mention it, yet I had communicated my sentiments to you before I had opened my mind to you. Let me beg that you will lay aside all those unnecessary scruples, which only serve to make one unhappy who is already struggling under all the anxieties of real and genuine love. It is in your power, my dear, to make me happy, and none else can. I cannot enjoy one moment's rest till I have your answer, and then the happy day shall be fixed. Let me beg that you will not start any more objections, unless you are my real enemy: but your tender nature cannot suffer you to be cruel. Be mine my dear, and I am yours forever. My servant shall wait for the answer to your sincere lover, whose whole happiness is centered in you.

I am, &c.

The Lady's Answer.

Sir,

I find that when one of your sex forms a resolution, you are determined to go through, whatever be the event. Your answer to my first objections, I must confess, is satisfactory. I wish that I could say so of others; but I find that if I must comply, I shall be obliged to trust the remainder to yourself. Perhaps this is always the case, and even the most cautious have been deceived. However, sir, I have communicated the contents of your letter to Mrs. A. as you know she has been to me as a parent. She has not any objection, and I am at last resolved to comply. I must give myself up to you as a poor friendless orphan, and shall endeavor to act consistent with the rules laid down and enforced by our holy religion: and if you should so far deviate from the paths of virtue, as to upbraid me with poverty, I have no friend to complain to, but God, who is the father of the fatherless. But I have a better opinion of you than to entertain any such fears. I have left the time to your own appointment, and let me beg that you will continue in the practice of that virtuous education which you have received. Virtue is its own reward, and I cannot be unhappy with the man who prefers the duties of religion to gaiety and dissipation.

I am yours sincerely.

Read more at Miss Mary's.

When one tosses the old postcards, letters, ephemera (and scrapbooks of the same), one throws out such documentation of relationships and persons of the past... This (and the absense of vibrators) are mentioned in Estate Sales and Women's Lives.

Old News: 1884

"WHAT'S THE USE OF BEING GOOD"
The Query of a Fast Young Girl to the Police Justice

NEW YORK, Sept. 5. - Caroline Thiel, aged 14 years, smiled sweetly upon Justice Ford at the Essex Market Police Court today when she was placed at the bar to answer a charge of truancy made by her father, Adolph Thiel, of No. 186 Forsyth street. The father said that three weeks ago she fled from home and was now leading a fast life. Agent Young last night met her in the Bowery near Houston street and caused her arrest. She seemed to be glad that she had been arrested.

"I'll be looked upon as great when I come out," she remarked, and smiled at the thought.

"Why are you a bad girl?" the Justice asked.

"What is the use of being good," she said. "You don't see a bit of life."

"Young lady," said the Court sternly, "in years to come you'll regret the step you have taken. The life that looks so charming and bright to you now, how long will it last? Think of the day when you will be like that woman there," said the magistrate, pointing to a drunken woman. "She looks old, don't she? Well, she isn't a day over thirty and she looks sixty." Agent Young will try to learn more of the girl's life, and in the meantime she was locked up.

From the Pittsburgh Evening Penny Press, 5 September 1884

Adult Movie Posters

For fun, Adult and Exploitation Movie Posters from the 1960s and the early 1970s. And from similar years, here's a gallery of X-Rated Adult Movie Posters

Nude Christmas Cards

In Belgium, between 1875 to 1932, nude Christmas postcards were all the rage