Well Plaid

     Artist Frederick J. Cavally did a magnificent set of ethnic stereotype postcards in 1910 or thereabouts.  He seemed to like doing faces—a number of his non-ethnic postcards feature a large funny portrait with a message—but this really exercised his talents.  Each ethnic group was portrayed in two cards, one a male portrait and one a female, with a thickly accented demand to know why you hadn’t written lately.  These portraits were very detailed and VERY much a complete portrayal of that ethnic group as seen by the conventions of the vaudeville stage.  (There was a phrase for this: an obvious stereotype was a “:stage Irishman” or a “stage German”.)  The German man had a little pickelhaube helmet nestled in his hair, the English male wore a monocle, and so forth.

     I was thinking of doing a column on these and then reminded myself, “It’s 2022: why stick your hand into an anthill?”  Reaction to the ethnic stereotype were already starting to be labeled “offensive and not funny” in the 1960s, and we’re going through a new phase of not finding such things humorous.

     Except

     It IS kind of funny to look over the ethnic stereotypes which are still acceptable. The American “melting pot” (itself now considered an obsolete and offensive image) has worked enough that we now have become homogenized enough that some stereotypes have been forgotten or discard, while others are trotted out and celebrated when we feel like saluting some part of our heritage.  On St. Patrick’s Day, suddenly all the Irish stereotypes are celebrated.  Scottish jokes, though fading since the early twentieth century, when Sir Harry Lauder was a blazing star of stage and phonograph recording, are regarded as natural and largely inoffensive.  (Have I mentioned my attempt to get greeting card companies to observe St. Andrew’s Day as a holiday for Scots the way St. Patrick’s Day is for the Irish?  I was informed they couldn’t afford it.)

     Note the card at the top of this column, which serves to introduce our typical stage Scotsman, with his kilt, his sporran, and his tam.  And this was all just in service of the “Great Scot!” joke.

     The prevailing use of the Scotsman in postcards, of course, was as a symbol of cheapness.

     A Scotsman was considered someone who was tight, or “close”, with his money.

     I say some of this reputation for cheapness is simply a part of the Scotsman’s reputation for ingenuity, and practicality.  After all, early central heating was not terribly reliable, so perhaps instead of being cheap, he’s just availing himself of foresight (or, in this case, hindsight.)

     And speaking of hindsight.

     Even the dogs of Scotland were hauled in on the joke.  (Note that “Hoot, Mon” was as necessary to a stage Scotsman as “Begorrah”: was to a stage Irishman.  The reason you don’t see it on more postcards is that your postcard artist also had to be thrifty…with space for captions.)

     Of course, a postcard cartoonist often saluted the OTHER things Scotland was known for. (It’s a sociological principle: the longer the winter the harder the liquor.)

     We must not, of course, forget another major Scottish pastime.

     AND Robert Burns, whom we nodded to in passing in a previous blog, would no doubt have pointed out that we must not forget the Scotswoman.

Write On, Brothers!

     Once upon a time, tuna fritters, when “social media” was that fence you leaned over to gossip with the neighbors, people had to think of reasons to get together and discuss mutual concerns.  Some of these grew out of the guilds, or professional associations of their time, some of these sprang up in the corners of bars (those corners not taken up by the professional associations), and other were survivals of ancient organizations going back to primordial time and passed along by pharaohs and druids and…I’m sorry.  Forget I said that.  The Illuminati and its ilk can wait for some future blog.  I’d spill the beans now, but I hate to have my body drawn and quartered just before a three-day weekend.

     Some of these groups practiced right out in the open, but others were Secret Societies: that is, everybody knew about them and generally knew who in town belonged to them, but part of the glamor of belonging was knowing the secret code words and handshakes and ritual.  Some of the groups which became famous created sub-groups within the order, with even more secret codes and requirements.  Someone slipped up and allowed me to read the rules of such a group.  What impressed me most was the regulation that if you applied for membership in this sub-group, you automatically incurred a lifetime ban from ever belonging.  THAT’S elite.

     Of course, those groups existed in the golden age of postcards and produced postcards, either as souvenirs or as invitations.  How sending a postcard easily readable on both sides maintained your secrecy was their problem, not mine, but it is a puzzlement.

     The organization whose postcard appears at the top of this column was not so VERY secret, though I’m not sure the sun itself was a member.  The Order of United Commercial Travelers was founded in the late nineteenth century as a meeting place, support group, and eventually financial assistance organization for commercial travelers, also known as drummers or traveling salesmen.  This card is obviously a recruitment device, showing the people wearing the insignia of the group getting together to enjoy life.  As its partial purpose was to invest money so they could tide over members during periods of bad sales, keeping things very secret was not essential.  (Thanks for noticing, but I was going to let that “tide” joke pass without so much as a wave.)

     If you look closely at this damaged postcard, you will note the owls at the bottom have the same letter on their backs.  This is because THIS card is for members of the Order Of Owls, which valued its secrecy a little more than the UCT boys.  This group started just after the twentieth century began, and was intended to promote friendship and good deeds among businessmen.  They were not too serious to make a joke like this one, and like a lot of these organizations did sell club pins, which would sort of seem to make things less secret.  Still, there was no harm in letting people know you were a member of the O.O.O.; you just didn’t have to tell them what it meant.

     We come now to the B.P.O.E., which comedian Nat Wills broadcast to the world stood for the Best People On Earth.  It stands, among other things, for the Benevolent and Protective Order of Elks.  At least part of what made it popular in the second half of the nineteenth century was that a private club could serve liquor long after closing hours for public saloons (leading to a general impression of Elks immortalized by Groucho Marx with his nature travelogue about the elks coming down to the waterhole and then running away because it is just a waterhole, when they were looking for an elkohole.)  Several of their secrets are spread out on this card for any and all to see.  (As a club greeting, “Hello Bill!” has its advantages.  Simple beat, easy to dance to.)

     The Masons are one of the oldest groups in this column, going back to, well, you pick a date.  From at least the late nineteenth century, when Sherlock Holmes pointed it out to a Mason who was consulting him, they violated their deep secrecy by wearing this emblem on lapels and tie tacks and what-have-you.  Once you joined, of course, you were…well, you can figure out the joke here for yourself.

     And we shall conclude with this little red postcard made specially for a national meeting of the Shriners over a century ago.  Like the other groups on the list, they mixed good works with good times, and everybody knew a dignified chap wearing a fez in the United States was EXACTLY the sort of person who might find himself making a phone call using a camel.

     All of these groups still operate today, though they have found radio, television, and the Internet to be challenges to their good old round of meetings.  They insist they are still viable and serve a useful purpose in this wild new century.  (Did I ever tell you about the collection of national meeting cocktail napkins I got from a member of the…tut, out of room.  We’ll keep it a secret.)

Eyes On Your Own Paper

     Hello and welcome to Monday Morning again.  I assume, even in this bizarre decade of this wild new century that there are still a few million people for whom Monday is about to make a major shift.  For it is May, and people are reaching the end of a school year.  In recognition of that, the Old Joke Quiz today takes us back to the classroom.  As usual, the answers to this pop quiz are tucked away at the end.

     J1.”Are you having any problems with the questions on the exam.”

     “Of course not. (          )”

J2.”I don’t think I deserved a zero on my term paper.”

“That’s true.(          )”

     J3.”Tommy, this is the fifth night this week you’ve had to stay after school.  What do you have to say for yourself?”

     “(          )”

J4.”What did you learn at school today, Tommy?”

“Not much.  (          )”

    J5.”Dad, would you do this math problems for me?”

      “Oh, Tommy, you know that wouldn’t be right.”

     “Yeah, but (           )”

J6.”Dad, where are the Appalachians?”

“You wouldn’t have to ask these things if (          )”

     J7.”The price of gas is up!  The rent’s going up!  The price of meat is going up!  Isdn’t anything going down?”

     “Here, Dad.  Look at (          )”

J8.It was the same in high school.  Tommy’s dad roared, ”Look at these grades!  Whatever is going to become of you?  Have you nom ambition?  Do you know that when George Washington was your age, he was already a surveyor!”

     “Yeah, Dad.  And (          )”

J9.Tommy did graduate and head off to college.  There was an emotional farewell when he left, and he reminded his parents “And don’t forget to write.  (          )’

     J10.Tommy’s first class in college was taught by Professor Smackdab, who challenged him with “If Canada is our neighbor to the north, and tuna comes in cans, while a package iof books weighs 38 pounds, how old am I?”

     “Sixty-four,” said Tommy.

     “Why, that’s correct!  How did you deduce it from that information?”

     “Easy.  My uncle’s thirty-two (          )”

J11.”Mom, guess what? I made the football team,!”

     “That’s wonderful, Tommy.  What position?”

     “(          )”

J12.”Tommy, what can you tell us about nitrates?”

     “They’re (         )”

J13.Tommy’s uncle kept assuring his parents, “Don’t worry about Tommy: he’ll do all right in college.  It just takes time to get the hang of these things.  Even the college president didn’t get all those doctorates in one day.  She had to do it (          )”

I hope your answers were all your own work, and you have not been peeking at the ANSWERS

      A1.Just the answers

     A2.But it’s the lowest mark I can give

     A3.Thank heaven it’s Friday.

     A4.I have to go back tomorrow

     A5.Probably not, but you could try

     A6.You’d remember where you put your stuff.

     A7.My report card

     A8.When he was your age, he was President

     A9.Even if it’s only a check

     A10.And he’s only half crazy

     A11.Kind of hunched over

     A12.They’re cheapetr than day rates

     A12.By degrees

Wordy of Consideration

     I have mentioned, hereintofore, that the postcard was the text message of the day, something quick and brief, which one could expect to get answered almost at once.  Yet, in another way, the postcard was that era’s Instagram post or Tik-Took video, because it included a picture, and that picture, as we are often told, was worth a thousand words.  This image (which, in the eyes of the post office and postcard collectors to this day, is on the BACK of the postcard, the address side being the business side) might tell people where you were or how you were feeling or just what entertained you.

     And yet there are always those who have to push the envelope, and not just philosophers like Klarenc Mak, discussed in an earlier column.  At the top of this one, you find an example of the Certificate postcard, an official document to let the recipient know he or she is now a member of a group invented by the postcard artist.  (“Sons of rest” was actually a mythical brotherhood to which anybody who didn’t have to or didn’t want to work belonged; the joke is older than the various postcards which codified it.)

     Obviously, such an organization had to be spelled out in some detail, so people understood what their rights and privileges were.

     Even if the name of the society pretty much carried the full idea.

     Another popular dictionary-inclined postcard was the Coupon postcard. Which had a tendency to flourish around Valentine’s Day.

     But one of the champion word-users in the genre was a bit of free verse which developed from the autograph rhyme.  Witticisms to be inscribed in the autograph album and, later, the yearbook, had circulated for generations, and not all of them were in the quick, brief spirit of “Remember Me When This You See”.  The Linked List inscription grew wild until it found its true home on postcards.  It did not often  rhyme, though it did make use of a refrain, which poets of the period liked to use at the end of every line or stanza.

     This one was popular enough to call for a second version, aimed at the opposite sex.

     As well as sequels with a slightly different angle.

     Yes, frankly, I DO believe the recipient would actually read through every word of the printed text, interpreting it, of course, in light of whatever message was written on the other side: sometimes the card expressed the inner hopes of the sender and sometimes it was simply a shared joke.  Sometimes, as noted in the lines, the sender signed no name and sent no message, and how that worked out, one can only, well, wonder.

Marbled Rye

     This postcard, from 1906 or thereabouts, was a bit of a puzzle to me.  We were taught this basic song in grade school, and though I knew they seldom bothered to teach us all the verses of folk songs (except The Fox Went Out On a Chilly Night, since there’s a story to follow.) but not only did I not recall this particular verse, I was puzzled that my teachers would even have allowed us to read a ;yric with lyrics of dubious morality.  I grew up to enjoy some of Robert Burns’s other lyrics of dubious morality (he was REALLY good at dubious morality) and I was aware of why all the ladies smiled at her while comin’ thro’ the rye, but somehow I never ran across this declaration.  Was this a parody, someone’s naughty version of an old favorite?

     I looked the whole thing up, and the Interwebs, though informative, was not altogether definite.  This lyric above is one of Robert Burns’s, but you need to work to get there.  There’s a first version of the song, and a second version of the song, and no two websites agree perfectly on the words and some come right out and say that once again Robert Burns was adapting an old folk song, and therefore the original lyrics, if findable, need to be taken into consideration as well.  THEN you need to look at all the different ways the original dialect was rendered in everyday English (not neglecting Bill Haley’s “Rockin’ Through the Rye”.)  And what did I learn, in the end?  (By the way, I never DID find the lyrics as I was taught them in school.  But there are LOTS of versions, and, after all, my memory may be faulty, since I went to grade school, um, well, just say the teacher didn’t have to warn us to put our phones on mute.)

     Well, in SOME versions of the original version, this is the actual full chorus.  The bit about kissing came in with the second version.  (There is a third version, possibly not by Burns, which replaces certain words in the second version, especially “kiss”

     So what is the “rye” our heroine is comin’ thro’?  Later verses make it clear she gets wet on her way, so what’s going on here?  Leaving aside what’s going on here, although there are stories which make it the abbreviated name of a river while others make it a famous highway known for its puddles, most everybody agrees that it is a dewy field of grain, specifically, um, rye.

     As for what’s going on in the poem, well, if you can make it through the Scottish words shown above, that’s fairly clear.  Our heroine is a cheerful young lady with or without a steady boyfriend (depends on the version you read) who nonetheless manages to get by.  In the first version, our poet lets us know her name is Jenny and makes it clear that she is “seldom dry”, though he goes on to mention that this is no doubt because her petticoat drags while comin’ thro’ the rye.

     It still seems a little odd that this should have become standard concert fare during the nineteenth century, especially during the Victorian age, when we are confidently told by pop historians that our ancestors would not even consider repeating anything mildly suggestive.  (Mind you, these are the same sort of people who claim we only sing it these days because we’ve read “Catcher in the Rye”.  And about their constant reference to the 1980s as “the height of the Cold War”…but that’s a whole nother blog.)  I guess the specific mention of kissing in the second version made it all okay, and if our ancestors worried about the symbolism of the tall stalks of rye, they kept it to themselves.

     Anyhow, as might be noticed from the illustrations to this blog, it was a song well enough known, even before J.D. Salinger, to cause all sorts of postcard references and revisions.  And, since I have not yet found a postcard which has someone “Comin’ Through the Wry”, I’m sure I haven’t found all of them.  That fox going out on his chilly night cannot say as much (unless he ran through a field of barley while on the town-o, and ran into Jenny, and didn’t tell his wife and kids about it when he got home.)

Matrimonday

     Ah, a Monday in the middle of May: what could be more…alliterative.  (Okay, a Saturday in the center of September.  WILL you stop footnoting my introductions?)  What subject would be more suitable for the latest Old Joke Quiz than Marriage?  (You’d prefer Sex on a Saturday in the Center of September?  Well, so would most people, but until then, you just have to read blogs.)

     As usual,. These are elderly jokes with the punchlines removed and sequestered in what is probably an unnecessary section of ANSWERS at the end.

J1.”I just lost my wife.”

“Gosh, that must be hard.”

“Hard? (          )”

     J2.”Dear, if I died, you wouldn’t let your next wife wear my clothes, would you?”

     “Of course not, Sweetheart.  (          )”

J3.”My wife just ran off with my very best friend.”

“Sorry to hear that.  Was it his looks or his money?”

“I don’t know.  (          )”

     J4.”It’s been a great party, but I’d better get myself back home.  I’d like to say goodbye to your wife.”

     “(         )”

J5.The man was rending his garment and tearing his hair at a gravesite.  “Why did you die?” he wailed, “Oh, why did you die?”

     A passerby stepped over to inquire, “Your mother, sir?”

     “My mother’s running a casino in Chicago.  Oh, why did you die, why did you die?”

     “Your father then?”

     “Haven’t seen my dad since I was three years old.  We think he’s in Toronto, trying to drink Canada dry.  Why did you die, oh, why did you die?”

     “A close friend?”

     “Never met him in my life.  Oh, why did you have to DIE?”

     “Who is it, then?”

     “(          )”

J6.Reginald dropped in at the club after summering at his country estate, and caught up on the news from the Club secretary.  When he saw Percival at the bar, he murmured, “I understand you buried your wife last month.”

     “Oh, yes,” said Percival.  “Had to.  (          )”

J7.Reginald found himself in a similar situation not long after that, and exerted himself to arrange a suitable funeral.  On the day of the memorial, the undertaker took him aside and said, “I’m very sorry, sir, but one of the cars we’d arranged to use for the procession has broken down.  I wonder if you’d mind riding in the same car with your mother-in-law.”

     “Very well,” said Reginald.  “If it must be, it must be.  But (          )”

J8.Henrietta wept into her hanky at the funeral home.  “This is the third husband I’ve lost,” she sobbed.

     “You certainly have been through a lot,” said the undertaker.  “How did you lose your first husband.

     “He died after eating poison mushrooms,” she sighed.

     “How unfortunate?  And your second?”

     She sighed again.  “He died after eating poisoned mushrooms.”

     “How horrible for you!  And your latest husband?  How did he die?”

     “He died of a crushed skull.  (          )”

I did not realize this particular quiz would be so morbid, but hey, that ALSO goes with a Monday in May.  Better luck in September.  Here are the ANSWERS.

     A1.It’s nearly impossible!

     A2.She’s not your size

     A3/Never met the guy

     A4.Who wouldn’t?

     A5.My wife’s first husband.

     A6.Dead, you know.

     A7.It will simply spoil the occasion for me,

     A8.He wouldn’t eat the mushrooms

About That Gimmick

     In our last thrilling installment, we considered some of the series postcards which await us out in the world of these non-electronic texts.  We looked at just a few of those which connected their assorted cards through the use of a catch phrase.  There were other artists, however, who used a standard format as recognizable as the running slogan used in the catchphrase cards.

     The nightmare series, shown at the top, was a popular one.  It involved a bizarre illustration and a paragraph in the corner elaborately telling the events of a nightmare which disturbed the sleeper last night.  The wilder and more outlandish the situation, the more people liked it.

     This led to a similar series on NICE dreams, but this didn’t seem to have the same appeal, either because it was harder to turn this into bizarre images or because we prefer to enjoy other people’s troubles.

     Speaking of other people’s troubles, I am not sure how long THIS series ran, but it certainly has a distinctive style: harried human being talking in triplicate because they miss you.

     This was an equal opportunity card idea.

     And it did not depend on one catch phrase but could make use of other words.

     The standard format card was a boon to the artist, who knew basically how things would look, and needed only to consider “How will I do it THIS time?”  This is why authors like (sometimes) to write about a series character and comic strip artists enjoy characters who find themselves in the same situation all the time.  (Bringing Up Father creator George MacManus would sometimes draw emergency strips and set them aside for a week when he was short on inspiration and gags.  This would show Jiggs ogling a beautiful woman as his wife came up behind him.  Maggie would say something, Jiggs would reply, and the last panel would show Jiggs looking up from the sidewalk, wondering what had just hit him.  Having drawn this, MacManus had only to come up with new dialogue to fill the balloons with when he needed to use the strip.)

     Walter Wellman, who was perfectly capable of one-shot postcard gags, also produced series after series.  In this one, he showed an ability to mock sensational crime reporting with his Black Hand series.

     The Black Hand was a nickname given to a mob which ruled by extortion and violence, sending notes signed with the symbol of a black hand.  The whole idea of a criminal organization with broad and efficient power was so shocking (who makes up such unrealistic stuff) that things became ridiculous, with the Black Hand being blamed for any car accident or thunderstorm that inconvenienced ordinary citizens.

     Wellman took the rising cliché of mob conspiracy, and ran with it.

     One of his most amazing series, however, was Life’s Little Tragedies in Three Acts, in which three rhyming words were all the caption needed to show off the protagonist’s troubles.

     These leaned heavily toward dating drama, in humiliation being suffered by the male protagonist, felled by vile misfortune.

     Not all of his little tragedies, however, ended in chagrin.  Let’s close with a happy ending.

Gotta Have a Gimmick

     A couple of weeks ago, we considered briefly a couple of postcard companies which developed distinct lines of cards involving popular songs.  A number of these did their best to present an entire song over a number of cards.  This was part of a marketing strategy which had been bubbling up since the late eighteenth century: if people develop an interest in a series, they will come back and buy every single one, at first because they like it, but eventually because they want the complete set.

     In the postcard world, this was certainly not limited to popular song.  The catch phrase postcard developed from much the same idea.  This involved a variety of situations which could be shown under the same recurring phrase, always printed in larger print so the passerby could say, “Ah, there’s a new one in my favorite series!”

     The “That’s What They All Say” series was one of several published by HSV, shown above in a situation certainly current after a hundred years.  Also not unfamiliar is the “sour grapes” version shown in this card, mailed in 1911.

     This artist was able to mock the characters and make fun of fashion at the same time.  And, um, if you look at the young lady producing the wisecrack in this third example, you will see a flighting venture into naughty humor.  (See, putting up a “swell front” was to show off your most expensive clothes to make people think this was your everyday attire, and the sour grapes lady is suggesting that the lady’s front is…oh, you got that one.  Just checking.)

     Meanwhile, around the same time, the A.S. Meeler Company was producing dozens of different series.  One of these was “Will I?” series of second thought gags.  These also visited the arena of female competition.

     But more often the cartoons are to be found in the world of simple slapstick.  A heavyset man with a top hat falling on his backside was a joke that outlasted generations.

     The same company had another bestseller whose jokes also tap into eternal fountains in their “Excuse Me” series.  These cards focused on situations in which unrepentant jerks caused trouble and then moved on with a completely inadequate apology.  This chap has at least done himself almost as much inconvenience as the waiter.

     Another waiter, however, gets revenge on this card from 1910.

     This series went on for a while, since the world was no less well-provided with jerks in the days before social media.  But I can’t show all the examples from my inventory, because I think we’re getting short on space.

On the Road Some More

     A recent expert on the subject discussed the use of postcards by our ancestors as documentary proof of travel.  Your postcard of Dundee, Iowa, postmarked in Dundee, showed you had actually visited that metropolis.  It was a signal to your relatives of your rich experience.

     I hope that doesn’t make you think I’ve forgotten this is Monday, and a day for another section of old jokes from my quizbook on the subject.  No, I am not neglecting my responsibilities; I’ve just hit a collection of elderly humor based on travel, and present these herewith.

     J1.The guide was showing the group of tourists around the elegant chateau.  “This chamber,” he said, “Has been preserved exactly as it was when King Charles visited it.  The wallpaper is four hundred years old, and the carpet dates to the sixteenth century.”

     “Huh,” said Tim.  “(          )”

J2.The tale is told of Simon Bolivar, legendary South American liberator, who was obliged to tour the world later in life so he could be subjected to all sorts of tributes from politicians who wanted to be associated with him and crowds that wished to toss flowers at him.  He had an employee whose job it was to make arrangements for these tours, and this man would frequently send word ahead to hotels of the great man’s requirements, reminding them that Bolivar required “a private room, quiet surroundings, good security around his sleeping quarters, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.”

     On arriving at one hotel, Bolivar was shown an elegant bedchamber with an attached private dining room.  Three elegant young ladies, obviously not from the hotel staff, curtsied to him.

     “And who are these?” he inquired.

     The manager informed him, “(     ).”

J3.Arthur had made a trip to see Paris, but the most astonishing thing he saw was his high school French teacher.  “So, Mr. Fallenhausen,” he said, “You finally made it here, too.”

     “I did,” said the old man, “But I wish I could have been here in the Sixties.”

     “When Paris was still Paris?”

     “No.  (          )”

J4.”Everything at our inn is authentic,” the manager told the couple checking in.  “Why, the table across the lobby goes back to Louis the Fifteenth.”

     “Huh,” said Paul, “If I spend much more on this trip, (          ).”

J5.Arthur was finding his high school French was not consistent enough in his memory to get him through Paris.  At one hotel, he told the manager, “Je voudrais…no, wait…voulez-vous…no, dang it…je vaudois….”

     “Pardon, Monsieur,” the manager told him, “Perhaps it would speed things up if I informed you that I do not speak French.”

     “Well, for Heaven’s sake!” said Arthur, “(          ).”

J6.The guide raised a hand to indicate the statue atop the sixty-foot column.  “And this, ladies and gentlemen, is where Warren fell.”

     “Golly,” said jeanette, “(          ).”

J7.At the same time, in another part of the world, a guide indicated a plaque on the deck of a famous ship.  “And this, ladies and gentlemen, is where Malory fell.”

     “Not surprised,” muttered Henry, “(          )”

J8.”Can you tell me how to get to Carnegie Hall?”

     “(          )”

J9.Helen was leaving Carnegie Hall, thrilled by the performance.  “And that thing by Mozart!  Wonderful!  Is Mozart still composing?”

     “No, Ma’am,” said the usher.  “Mozart is (          ).”

Even if you have never been to Dundee, Iowa, I expect you already know these ANSWERS.

     A1.Remminds me of my first apartment.

     A2.These are your three etceteras.

     A3.When Fallenhausen was still Fallenhausen

     A4.Our whole bedroom set is going back to Max the seventh.

     A5.Find me someone who CAN!

     A6.The drop must’ve killed him!

     A7.Nearly tripped over the blasted thing myself.

     A8.Practice, practice, practice.

     A9.decomposing

Frida Speshul

     Once upon a time, there lived a man known to the world as Klarenc Wade Mak.  He was born in Fairfield, Iowa in 1861 and was buried in Detroit, Michigan in 1930.  Between those two dates, he practiced medicine and published books, sheet music, and (wait for it) postcards in St. Louis, Missouri.

     Are you looking at his name?  I think he liked to have it noticed.  It was almost certainly Clarence Mack when he started out in Iowa, but somewhere along the line, he took up Spelling reform.  He was not as extreme as some spelling reformers: his system seems to have dealt primarily with eliminating unnecessary letters, and applying what struck him as logic to the rest.  Hence, he kept th c, with its S sound (which many spelling reformers do not) and used K for the K sound; hence “Klarenc:.  Here’s a longer example.

     We do NOT know a lot more about Dr. Mak’s life, beyond what he let us know in his poetry (occasionally published by other people, so it wasn’t a personal vice), his magazine (the Fool-Killer), and his occasional books, most of which were collections of poetry (Ekkoes of Luv seems to have been the most popular) but also including a medical textbook (Laws of health.)  Oh, and once in a while he would also write sheet music.  The books and sheet music often bore the imprint “Published by Dr. Mak & Himself” but the postcards were more simply attributed.

     He was also interested in social and political reform, and his Socialist views were no secret.  A letter he wrote to Eugene V. Debs, inviting that controversial candidate to Kansas City, still exists in the Debs papers.   Here he makes his point about one of the most iconic capitalists of the day, J.P. Morgan.  (For further evidence of Morgan’s symbolic nature, note the popular song –not by Mak–“My name is Morgan but It Ain’t J.P.”)

     His main motivation seems to have been to HELP people, mainly by explaining to them how he felt the world worked.

     Some of these seem fairly personal, and may reflect his own life experiences.

     And some of these are, well, a bit wordy, though no doubt worthy.

     You can see from that that he had one other useful attribute. As any reformer without a sense of humor is a burden, no matter how worthy, it is nice to note he had a sense of humor.

     That is, SOMETIMES it’s nice to observe that he had a sense of humor.

     He MUST have been an interesting person to know, but evidence does not abound, at least in a form accessible to me through the Interwebs.  Did he have friends?  Children?  Did he run for office himself or just offer advice?  Did he perform his own songs or give lectures?  How good was he at doctoring?  What photographs turn up online show a reasonably well-fed individual with a genial face, but all that remains are the books, the songs, and the postcards.  Maybe that’s the way he wanted it.