Hometown dreams: 1964

Images of Chatham, which I often feel nostalgic about, as if it's a dreamscape instead of the mixed bag of nightmares it was. My best year was when I was ten. After that it went downhill.

LOOK - a real live PONY!

This is one of those sinister comic book ads from the 1950s that promised naive, trusting children all sorts of extravagant "free gifts". They claimed to be just GIVING away dolls, wristwatches, jewelry, guitars, strange dark rectangular things (?), and - most seductively - "a real live PONY". (Note that they don't say "we're giving away a pony" - no, we're just supposed to look at it.)

Coyly displayed below the splendid image of a "free" rifle is the announcement "OUR 60th YEAR" - our? Who or what is this "our"? Look closely - no, don't, because you can't, the type is too small. But back then, when we all had better eyesight, we would eventually realize that to attain any of these "free" ponies and radios and cameras and other things, we had to do something.

To sell something.

To sell something door-to-door. Cloverine Salve, to be exact. As a kid, I had no idea what salve was, and even now I wonder what could have been in it. Goose grease, perhaps?  I guess it was something like Vick's Vap-o-rub, stuff that you smeared on yourself or others. At any rate, you had to sell a tremendous amount of this stuff to earn any of these premiums, and I really doubt if anyone ever had a live horse slipped through their mail slot.

Just the tone of this ad and its feverish captions (GIVEN - GIVEN - GIVEN, ACT NOW, ONCE IN A LIFETIME, BE FIRST, WE ARE RELIABLE, and, strangest of all, WE TRUST YOU) - all these exhortations have an evangelical quality to them, a sort of religious fervor which reminds me of Elmer Gantry at the pulpit. This is old-timey salesmanship at its cheesiest, and I can only imagine those poor children trudging up and down the neighborhood having doors slammed in their faces. Child exploitation at its most heartless. 

But soft! Cloverine had not yet  finished its cruel deception. In subsequent ads, likely in the early '60s, children were lured by exciting comic-book adventures, only to be seduced by the promise of "getting stuff". One wonders if some sort of legal boundary had been crossed with that early ad, with its dastardly "look - a real live PONY" scam. The premiums look similar, but they are actually squashed down at the bottom of the comic-book adventure. This time you actually see a can of Cloverine salve (which I couldn't even find in the older ad). Truth in advertising?

I found a lot of these, so I made a collage. You can't read the typeface anyway, but they're pretty much the same. Two of the four still mention the Live Pony, so I wonder if you actually DID get one if you sold a million dollars worth of salve (and owned a farm).

I don't want to think about all those unsold cans of Cloverine salve. As with those waxy chocolate-covered almonds my kids had to sell for Brownies and Cubs, parents no doubt took up the slack. But at least you could eat the almonds.

And I found this. I don't know what to make of it. An old-fashioned meat grinder, and a. . . 

National Catfish Queen, 1954

I honestly do not remember if I posted this already. If so, here it is again. I refuse to believe that she caught this, and with that puny little fishing rod! But they made women tougher back in 1954. The fact this took place in New York City is even more mystifying.

"Do you inhale?": Vintage cigarette advertisements

Here is another of my gif /slidehows of old ads. I've wanted to do one of cigarette ads for a while now, but once I started researching, I was inundated. There are just thousands of these things out there. I found whole sites devoted to them. They had all been neatly archived according to date and type. The fascination with these things continues, so full of jaunty lies.

Cigarettes were so normalized, so much a part of culture. They were associated with sophistication (long gloves and cigarette holder), rugged masculinity ("Come to where the flavour is!"), femininity (a bride throwing a bouquet after stubbing out her Lucky), and certain psychological benefits - lifting you up or calming you down, depending on which direction you needed to be levelled. And of course, there was smoking as social ritual, a harmless and fun form of recreation.

These ads exhort you to "be happy - go Lucky!" They depict adorable babies posing questions to their Moms and Dads about their smoking habits. Doctors exhort their patients to smoke Camels, because that's what THEY smoke. More than one ad asks "do you inhale?" Women are bursting with athletic health and glee, never getting fat because they smoke rather than eat.

Did all this shit work? I mean, did people actually buy them because of this propaganda?

Must have. Took a long, long time for the public to catch on. Mad Men was actually about the tobacco boondoggle and its eventual defeat, though the show then had to go on to other things (like foreign cars that wouldn't start, thus defeating carbon monoxide suicide attempts).

I saw a documentary about all this - hair-raising, it was, because by the end of it, it turned out Big Tobacco was doing better than ever, shipping their lethal substance overseas to the Third World where smoking makes the horrors of life just bearable. This is where you see pictures of three-year-old kids smoking.

Let's look at a few of these things in detail.

Babies abound in these things, and it's puzzling. Of course they're cute, but are the ads somehow, obliquely, telling women that it's OK to smoke while they're pregnant? They DID tell women that. Also that it was OK to smoke around them. Everyone did anyway. But I find this association especially creepy because it makes no logical sense.

One of the more chilling Lucky Strike slogans was "Smoke a Lucky to feel your LEVEL best!" This usually depicted a widely grinning young woman - in this case getting married and throwing her bouquet.  But it's the fine print that makes my stomach drop: "Luckies' fine tobacco picks you up when you're low. . . calms you down when you're tense - puts you on the Lucky level." Level seems to be the operative term here, the desirable thing. Cigarettes are being used as a drug to regulate mood. Did it work? Look at the explosion of antidepressant use today. Maybe we should bring back the Leveller?

No. No! Not one. NOT ONE SINGLE CASE OF THROAT IRRITATION due to smoking CAMELS! Now I know why we're asked not to use all-caps on the internet because it makes you seem to be shouting. In this case, an official-looking man in a white coat, presumably a doctor, is displaying case studies of people who have gone and smoked their brains out for months, and STILL do not display ONE SINGLE CASE of throat irritation. "Start your own 30-Day Camel MILDNESS Test Today!" Mildness is a term you see in a lot of these ads, along with flavour. To me, sucking smoke into my lungs via my mouth and tongue just wouldn't taste very good. But I may be wrong. I can see why it might put you off food, which in these ads is considered a good thing.

Let me just transcribe the text below the photo: "A really mild, flavorful smoke that enters your mouth pleasantly cool and filtered. Embassy's extra length of fine, mellow tobaccos provides extra enjoyment plus an extra margin of protection. Try Embassy! Inhale to your heart's content!"

This is completely chilling in light of what we now know about the value of filters in protecting people from cancer. They did absolutely doodlysquat, but for decades the public was told over and over again that they filtered out "tar" and other unwanted things. This was an obvious attempt to assuage public anxiety about all those silly things the Surgeon General had been telling them, that their lungs would rot and they would end their days coughing up blood in a cancer ward.

This is another aspect of the cigarette ad: gorgeousness. Some of these are just so beautiful to look at! How could anything so sophisticated and artful be bad for you? But soft! What lie through yonder advertisement breaks? Could it be - more reassuring text?

DO YOU INHALE? Luckies "makes no bones" about this vital question. "Keep that under your hat," said the cigarette trade when first we raised the question - "Do you inhale?"

But silence is golden only when it's unwise to speak. Let others explain their striking avoidance of this subject. Lucky Strike makes its position crystal clear. . . for certainly, inhaling is most important to every smoker.

For everybody inhales - whether they realize it or not. . . every smoker breathes in some part of the smoke he or she draws out of a cigarette.

Do you inhale? Lucky Strike "makes no bones" about this vital question, because certain impurities concealed in even the finest, mildest tobacco are removed by Luckies' famous purifying process. Luckies created that process. Only Luckies have it!  "It's toasted"

"Toasted" seems to imply that the tobacco has somehow been purified of carcinogens (a word that might not even have been coined back then). Someone in the tobacco industry waved a magic wand over it, rendering it harmless. Surely the good folks at Lucky Strike, the LSMFT people ("Lucky Strike Means Fine Tobacco") would know best, and would never do anything to harm the public. But those ads seem to bespeak certain nameless jitters among the general population, not to mention the tobacco industry itself.

Was it the fact that 90% of heavy smokers were pulling a Humphrey Bogart or an Edward R. Murrow in their final days and gasping their last in the cancer ward? Did no one put the pieces together? But if they tried to, Lucky reassured them: pish-tosh! WE don't mind discussing the matter even though everyone else is being needlessly coy about it. WE are honest about the fact that smokers inhale. But our product is so magically-produced, with shamans sitting out in the tobacco fields moaning incantations over it day and night, that those delicate throat membranes surely won't start to ulcerate, bleed, fester, bubble, blister and turn black.

A FRANK DISCUSSION AT LAST

on a subject that has long been "taboo"

"Let sleeping dogs lie!" So said the cigarette trade when first we raised the subject of inhaling. But dodging an important issue is not Lucky Strike's policy!

Do you inhale? That question is vitally important. . . for every smoker inhales - knowingly or unknowingly. Every smoker breathes in some part of the smoke he or she draws out of a cigarette! And the delicate membranes of your throat demand that your smoke be pure, clean - free of certain impurities!

No wonder Lucky Strike dares to raise this vital question! For Luckies bring you the protection you want - because Luckies' famous purifying process removes certain impurities concealed in every tobacco leaf. Luckies created that process. Only Luckies have it! 

So, whether you inhale knowingly or unknowingly, safeguard those delicate membranes!

"It's toasted"

Visit Margaret's Amazon Author page!

See, hear, smell, taste: feel?

Things I forget to remember

These aren't all from Chatham where I grew up, but these first two are. The point is, I am the last generation on earth to remember milk being delivered by horse and wagon. I loved this as a child. Anything to do with horses was magical. That cloppa-cloppa-cloppa sound is still intoxicating to me.

It's hard to find photos of the era - some of these no doubt go back before my time. It's even harder to find any information at all about the actual practice of delivering milk door-to-door. There's just nothing there, no one who remembers anything. All of them have died, I guess.

This was anti-technology, and Silverwood's Dairy (horse and cart pictured above) in Ontario kept it going until about 1962. I don't know why: did it keep costs down? Eventually it became impractical to keep all those horses, and I would imagine most of them went to the slaughterhouse: Darling's glue factory, where the stench from rendered hoofs and hides was simply sickening in those hot Chatham summers.

With the cicadas buzzing. 

Every so often I go on Chatham historical sites - there are tons of them, Chatham people being preservation-minded and not inclined to rip down old buildings to slap up cardboard condos that go up instead of out. Last night I found a site listing old houses that looked very ordinary to me, but went back to 1850 or so. It honestly made me wonder, not for the first time, how old the house I grew up in was: some say 1920s, but it looked older to me than many of the 1850 ones. It had wrought-iron grates on the heat registers, a dumbwaiter, a weird closet-within-a-closet thing, a working fireplace with a terrazzo hearth (very rare then), a foyer, and ceramic fruit on the ceiling around the base of the old-fashioned glass chandelier.

I know people are living there again, because I got an email from one of them, which is nice because for about forty years it was used as a commercial building, a doctor's office. Now it has been changed back to a house again. A home, with a young couple and children. It has been a long, long time since small children (such as me) ran around in that place.

Anyway, in my late-night historical foraging, I found the house I used to play in with my friend Kim, whose father was a very distinguished, even world-renowned architect (which, by the way, Kim now is too). Who knew?  The houses he designed looked strange to us, with flat roofs and only one floor. Now they are known as "Storey houses" and much-prized. 

I also found the little variety store where I bought penny candy, now up for sale. They even showed the inside of it. Once I played with a little girl who lived up there with her mother and went to (I remember) Pentecostal Holiness Church. She asked me if I'd like to go to her church, and when I told my mother she was shocked that she even asked. I think now that she was afraid my friend might be black.

What's the point of all this? Nothing, except that it's gone forever, those days of organic things like wood and horseflesh. Brick has lasted a little bit longer.

And memory lasts, too. That is, until you die.

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Maisie and Jake!

Before Kellogg's even thought about "plump and juicy" and frosting their unpalatable wrinkled black fruit with sugar, Post had this adorable couple, Maisie and Jake: literally, an animated raisin (presumably plump and juicy) and an animated bran flake. There was a series of ads in the Maisie and Jake mode, but we won't get into that now because these adventures (not featuring Maisie and Jake but bank robberies and such) took a minute and a half, an eternity for people used to seeing ten-second spots. I've extracted only the best parts in these gifs, in which M & J introduce the stories, then give a sort of threefold amen at the end.

The first two gifs look identical, but they're not. In this one, she shows a bit of leg that I couldn't capture with the first one. I like to see attractive, even seductive raisins, don't you? And Maisie rocks it, even with that frilly thing on her head.

I have limitations on my gifs now. Hell, I always have! When I finally find a site I can use and which turns out a good result, it disappears (Gifsforum) or just stops working (Makeagif, now making jerky, useless things). It took four or five years for me to figure out how to make them at all, and now my problem is, they won't RUN if I post too many of them. The most beautiful ones come from my own videos (see Sandhill Cranes at Piper Spit), but these are barely running at all now.  They're just frozen and sort of jerky. I don't know if this applies to everyone who looks at my posts, or just me. My blog is gif-heavy because I can extract a few seconds of arresting (I hope!)  visual imagery out of a long, dull-ish video.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hmht2CLr_q8

I extracted these treasures from a YouTube series posted by MattThe Saiyan, whose vintage ad compilations I look forward to each day. Yes, he posts a new one EVERY DAY, which is very gratifying for me. I'm used to finding fantastic ad videos dated 2011 or 2012, and the person who made them has probably died by now. Matt hasn't.

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCedrUw3YlFYAYr4a56zL7Mw

I won't get into the absurdity of "plump, juicy" raisins when they are a wrinkled, dessicated, blackish remnant of a fruit. But Maisie comes pretty close. Her head looks more like a fat prune to me, but you'd have to ask Jake. He'd be the only one who knows.

This is only a test

   

(From Ask MetaFilter):

An old memory of color TV? Color on a black and white TV? What?! (1950s filter).

My dad was born in 1952. Recently, we went out to lunch. The conversation covered a variety of topics. At one point, he recalled a tale from his youth...

Essentially, this: He grew up outside of Detroit, and he positively recalls that his family owned a black and white television set. He says that periodically the television network or local broadcast partners would attempt to deploy new technologies that might transmit a color signal to a black and white set, and that these attempts would be prefaced with an on air announcement. Essentially, "We will be trying to send color to your black and white TV sets. If anyone sees color, please call us and let us know."

I find many aspects of this story super strange, and also potentially fascinating. However, parts of it also don't add up. Like... what!? Does this ring a bell to anyone? Perhaps there's a kernel of truth buried inside a story that has otherwise "grown" a little bit over time?

(From Some Science Forum Thingie)

Something happened that reminded me of this tonight, and I think I have finally made sense of something seen as a kid. For some odd reason it just hit me. When I was fairly young and living in the Los Angeles area, there was a test done one night on a local TV channel that was supposed to produce a color picture on the black and white TVs commonly in use. And I can recall seeing some color; I think mostly green. From time to time I have thought about this and wondered what it was that I saw. In fact at times I have doubted the memory as it didn't make any sense, but I can remember the event very clearly. Tonight it occurred to me what they were probably up to. I bet that they were strobing the white to produce a false color image, as is done with alternating black and white dots on a rotating wheel [I don't recall the name of the effect]. The idea is that each pixel on the screen would be strobed at the frequency required to produce the desired color for that dot. Does this make sense? I'm not sure what the strobe rate is that produces the false color effect, or if this was doable on B&W televisions, but it is the only thing that has even threatened to make any sense here. Is there any other way that one can imagine producing color on a B&W screen?

Why do I remember these things? I must have been an embryo or something, or else very very little. The TV both fascinated me (it was a magic box that was just about the only thing that could pry me out of boredom) and scared the living bejeezus out of me cuz every so often, there would be a Test of the Emergency Broadcasting System, with a terse-sounding announcer coming on to say, "This is ONLY a test". There would be this Godawful official- looking logo on that said CD, probably for Civil Defense, then for half a minute or so there would be this BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP sound that gave me nightmares. I would literally wake up screaming,my head dripping with sweat. This "only a test" stuff, routine as it was supposed to be, seemed to escalate at certain times, which I new see coincided with things like the Cuban Missile Crisis. My brother "played war" all the time,which was no doubt his way of coping with it all, but too often I was the one playing the prisoner, further stoking my tiny paranoia. But this, this - I really thought I had dreamed this! My TV was always doing strange things, like cancelling Howdy Doody, flipping like crazy, or refusing to broadcast anything but a tiny dot of light so that the TV repairman had to come over and replace the picture tube. But this was even more bizarre. An announcer would come on - God, how far back I must dig to retrieve this one! Anyway, an announcer would come on, and as he talked a picture would come on of, say, a scene in Hawaii with palm trees swishing around, and around the border of the shot would be a strobing, flashing pattern. The announcer  would say, "Do you see color on your TV?" (I guess assuming no one had color TV at that point, maybe because it was 1958). I don't know if I saw color, but the flashing, strobing patterns and the stupid meaningless Hawaii scene scared me almost as much as the announcer, whom I was sure was THE SAME GUY who did those Civil Defense announcements. Now I find these two posts from science forums (note, one of them would not post because it turned completely transparent on the page - heh-heh, no ghosts here - so  attempted to re-paste it in color,, and good luck reading it), you know the type, done by guys with glasses held together with tape, and they're saying, maybe it was real. But everyone has the same feeling: I probably imagined this, it probably didn't happen. There is even a sense of embarrassment about it: it must've been a joke, I was fooled, I made it up! The memory always seems to be hazy and there is a weird feeling of unreality, even isolation. We got all the Detroit channels, so the mention of "outside of Detroit" (if you can read it) seems significant. They were always doing weird things in Detroit, like rioting and broadcasting Poopdeck Paul and Milky the Clown. Now at least I know I'm not completely insane to remember this. I wonder what they proposed to do: frame the black-and-white shows with dancing borders of flashing color? Sounds like about as much fun as having a migraine to me. I think maybe I did make this up. Or maybe the memory was implanted telepathically into several thousand brains by evil Russian scientists: "This is only a test."

Order The Glass Character from:

Thistledown Press 

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Amazon.com

http://www.amazon.com/Glass-Character-Margaret-Gunning/dp/1927068886/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1395534131&sr=1-1&keywords=the+glass+character

Chapters/Indigo.ca

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The most astounding video I've ever seen (no, really!)

I'd like to call this Mad Men on acid, or the '50s via Hieronymus Bosch, but mostly I call it incredible. I've never seen anything like it, and for once I'm too humble to exploit it for gifs (though I'm sure someone else will).

Hey, everybody . . . it's HILDA!

Meet Hilda, the creation of illustrator Duane Bryers and pin-up art’s best kept secret. Voluptuous in all the right places, a little clumsy but not at all shy about her figure, Hilda was one of the only atypical plus-sized pin-up queens to grace the pages of American calendars from the 1950s up until the early 1980s, and achieved moderate notoriety in the 1960s.

"She’s a creation out of my head. I had various models over the years, but some of my best Hilda paintings I’ve ever done were done without a model,” veteran artist Duane told the online pin-up gallery Toil, Despite being one of history’s longest running calendar queens alongside the likes of Marilyn Monroe, even the most dedicated vintage enthusiasts probably won’t have come across Hilda before.

(Blogger's note. Every once in a while I find a link on Facebook that I actually like. Unfortunately, I understand why Hilda fell out of favour. She's simply too fat. It's ironic, because the average woman is now a Size 14 - 16, and in the 1950s, when she first appeared as an exuberant, full-bodied calendar pinup, the average size was an 8 - 10 (and sizes were much smaller then). Now that "thin is in" and standards of beauty are much more stringent, Hilda somehow just looks too fat. Could our society be any sicker or more twisted?)

Anyway, here are a few choice calendar-girl poses. What I notice is her exuberance, her joy in being alive, and her utter lack of self-consciousness. 

Hilda loves the great outdoors and enthusiastically partakes of its many pleasures. These are just two of her more Rockwellian poses. She wears a bikini well (and I love that little dog!) Somehow these pictures manage to be both wholesome and sexual - though that makes me wonder why those two things are seen as poles apart. Does sexual mean unwholesome? And what does unwholesome mean? Tainted and dirty, I guess. We still want our women to be virgins, or at least not interested in sex. I think Hilda would be interested.

The livin' is easy.

Some of these have a luminous, almost Maxfield Parrish-like quality, not to mention rosy red-headed skin tones. 

Was she the object of male fantasy, do you think? Duane Bryers obviously knew and enjoyed the voluptuous contours of the zaftig woman and celebrated her with whimsy and even respect.

Why can't we?

http://margaretgunnng.blogspot.ca/2013/04/the-glass-character-synopsis.html

http://members.shaw.ca/margaret_gunning/betterthanlife.htm