Posts Tagged ‘Women’

Shallow Water

December 19, 2012

1840s fashion men women

A HINT TO GIRLS.

An exchange paper says: “We have always considered it an unerring sign of innate vulgarity, when we hear ladies take particular pains to impress us with an idea of their ignorance of all domestic matters, save sewing lace, or weaving a net to enclose their delicate hands. — Ladies by some curious kind of hocus pocus, have got it into their heads that the best way to catch a husband is to show him how profoundly capable they are of doing nothing for his comfort. Frightening a piano into fits, or murdering the King’s French, may be good bait for some kinds of fish, but they must be of that kind usually found in shallow water. The surest way to secure a good husband, is to cultivate those accomplishments which make a good wife.

Wiskonsan Enquirer (Madison, Wisconsin) Oct 20, 1842

1840s couple

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What was Funny in 1919?

November 28, 2012

Not the Bold Face Type, However

“I see that printer who divorced his wife has married again.”

“Well, I hope he selected a different type.”

— Florida Times-Union.

Olean Evening Times (Olean, New York) Nov 18, 1919

*     *     *

The Other Kind Welcome

Rejected One — So you object to my presence at your wedding.

The Girl — That depends on how you spell it.

— Boston Transcript.

Olean Evening Times (Olean, New York) Nov 18, 1919

*     *     *

The Eternal Feminine

“Why do they speak of Mother Earth? Why should earth be considered feminine?”

“Because she’s so successful in concealing her age, I take it.”

— Louisville Courier Journal.

Olean Evening Times (Olean, New York) Sep 4, 1919

*     *     *

Why, Of Course Not!

“Sir,” she trickled, in a voice that would make an icicle seem like a superheated mustard plaster, “I have never met you.”

“Well, I know it,” the fresh guy with the withered moustached bubbled blithely. IF you had, do you suppose I’d be going to all this trouble to get acquainted?”

–Brooklyn Citizen.

Olean Evening Times (Olean, New York) Sep 6, 1919

*     *     *

Family Secret

“I bet I know what makes sister wear her hair bunched down over her ears,” said the small boy.

“Do you?” replied the affable young man.

“Yes. But I ain’t goin’ to tell. Only if my ears were as big as sister’s I’d do something like that myself.”

— Washington Star.

Olean Evening Times (Olean, New York) Sep 6, 1919

*     *     *

A Polite Burglar

Miss Fortyodd woke in the middle of the night to find burglar ransacking her effects. Miss Fortyodd did not scream, for she prided herself, among other things, upon her courage.

Pointing to the door with a dramatic gesture, she exclaimed:

“Leave me at once!”

The burglar politely retreated a step and said:

“I had no intention of taking you.”

— Detroit Free Press.

Olean Evening Times (Olean, New York) Sep 9, 1919

*     *     *

Wanted to Know

“Just one more question, uncle.”

“Well, well, what is it?”

“If a boy is a lad and has a step-father, is the lad a stepladder?”

Olean Evening Times (Olean, New York) Sep 10, 1919

Them Women Bandits

October 26, 2012

Image from Stumbling Virtue

THEM WOMEN BANDITS

Now the headlines in the papers tell us daily
That the “weaker sex” is learning how to shoot;
And the ugly mug who holds us up sa gaily
May just as well turn out to be a beaut.
From coast to coast the little bullets patter,
And they do not always have the aim so pat,
But they generally pull a line of chatter,
You can always tell the women guns by that.

When a gentleman is held up by a lady
On a lonely country highway late at night,
And she aims an automatic at his cady
And stops his car and tells him to alight;
When she swings him for his watch and chain and boodle
(And this may happen any night to you).
If he does not want a bullet through his noodle,
Pray, what is any gentleman to do?

For you cannot best a lady even slightly,
And if you strike a woman you’re no gent,
You must stand and take your medicine politely
And with a genteel protest be content.

Middletown Daily Herald (Middletown, New York) Oct 9, 1923

NEW YORK, Dec. 7. — (AP) — Another “bobbed haired bandit” has started work in New York. As her four male companions, armed with automatic pistols, held up the proprietor and 12 patrons of the Joy Inn, Brooklyn, the counterpart of Celia Cooney, now in Auburn prison, sat at a table calmly smoking a cigarette. Once or twice she nodded her crisp bobbed head in approval as the victims yielded money and jewelry.

When the holdup was finished and $500 had been stolen from the cash register and from guests, who had been torn from their women companions, the girl led the retreat to a side street, where the party entered an automobile and disappeared toward Manhattan.

The girl, described as an attractive brunette, was about 25.

Celia Cooney, the original bobbed hair bandit, whose exploits became known nation-wide, was arrested with her husband, Edward, in April 1924, and both were sentenced to from 10 to 20 years in prison. They had participated in more than 10 robberies at the pistol point and in one instance wounded a man.

Oakland Tribune (Oakland, Californina) Dec 7, 1925

*     *     *     *     *

*Hm, I wonder what the “Joy Inn” was, exactly; and if the “guests” went home to tell their wives how they lost their money, lol.

Tired to Death

October 3, 2012

Eau Claire Leader (Eau Claire, Wisconsin) Oct 24, 1897

TIRED TO DEATH.

My lady is tired to death!
She has studied the print of the gay velvet rug,
And given her dear, darling poodle a hug,
And from her bay window has noticed the fall
Of a ripe nectarine from the low sunny wall;
She’s embroidered an inch on some delicate lace,
And viewed in the mirror her elegant face,
Has looked at an album, a rich bijouterie,
Then restlessly owned herself dead with ennui.

Eau Claire Leader (Eau Claire, Wisconsin) Dec 19, 1897

And my lady it tired to death!
Exhausted! It’s strange that as day after day
Of her frivolous life passes away,
So aimless and “stylish,” so empty and fine,
So free from those duties sometimes called divine —
That she wearies of something, she hardly knows what;
Thinks of not what she is, but of all she is not!
Oh no! all emotions are vulgar, you know,
And my lady’s have always been quite comme il faut.

Eau Claire Leader (Eau Claire, Wisconsin) Jul 2, 1898

Still, my lady is tired to death!
Oh woman, false woman, false mother, false wife,
What account can you give of your poor wasted life,
Of that life that has passed like a feverish dream,
The life that has not been to be but to seem!
What account will you give in the awful, last day,
When the pomp and the show of the world pass away,
When the Master demands of the talents He’s given,
A stewardship rendered on Earth and in Heaven?

Eau Claire Leader (Eau Claire, Wisconsin) Aug 27, 1898

Tired to death!
Cast off for a moment your diamonds and lace,
And shine in the light of true womanly grace;
Look around you and see with eyes raised to the light,
Strong men and true women who live for the right;
Brave hearts that ne’er falter, though distant the goal,
Great lives whose fierce struggles will never be told,
Whose wild, straying hearts stern duties control,
Whose only true life is the life of the soul.

Written for the PRAIRIE FARMER.

The Prairie Farmer (Chicago, Illinois) Jul 14, 1859

Eau Claire Leader (Eau Claire, Wisconsin) Jul 15, 1898

College Presidents and Camput Cut-Ups

August 29, 2012

 

Song of the Young Idea.

“The world has never known the turning loose of such an army of hard-drinking, cigaret-puffing, licentious amazons as walk our streets and invade our campuses today.” — President of Roanoke College.

*     *     *

They screech at us and preach at us and call us nasty names;
They flay us and they’d slay us, were they able;
For Jurgen they would substitute the writings of King James;
They’d have us banish gin and things from table!

Sing Hey!
Sing Whee!
Sing They!
Sing Me!

I’ll sing it as I want to, bless me;
Let any one who will suppress me;

Pajamas on an Amazon are pretty things to see;
It chances that the dance is rather sexy;
Admitting we like petting and put whisky in our tea —
Well — what is all of that to Prexy?

Sing Ho!
Sing Hum!
Sing Woe!
Sing Rum!

Let any one who wants to doubt it,
We’re having lots of fun about it!

Oakland Tribune (Oakland, California) Jan 19, 1924

If I Know What I Mean
by Elsie Janis

COLLEGE PRESIDENTS AND CAMPUS CUT-UPS.

PRESIDENT SMITH, of Roanoke college, grabbed off a lot of front-page space for himself and his institution the other day by speaking his mind freely and fiercely about the modern girl. Of course, it pays to advertise and his obviously moral views will attract the attention of some puritanical parents.

“That’s exactly the college for dear daughter!” they exclaim.

It will also interest a number of daughters.

“Nothing stirring, mates! I don’t park my brain and brawn at any Roanoke — so long as that old bird roosts in the lookout nest.” That’s their verdict.

Of course, it would suggest that a man old enough to be president of a college might not know quite all there is to know about the modern girl, but  being just an uneducated female who never went to college, I feel free to say what I want to about college professors. Personally, I think it must be quite hard enough trying to pass exams without having the old dears counting how many cigarettes you smoke a day.

*   *   *

PRESIDENT SMITH said “Never has there been such an army of hard drinking, cigarette puffing amazons as invade the college campus today.” Them was harsh words, Prexy. I don’t know yet whether he meant the Amazon river, on account of their wetness, or whether he means the kind that use to curry spears.

At least the modern girl doesn’t need a spear — she’s got a sense of humor. She needs it if she reads the newspapers. I wish they would stop giving her so much space. She naturally feels she has to make good by appearing bad. And how devout educators like the President must devour the dailies!

He says the girls have flasks on their hips. Now that shows how near he has been to the abandoned creatures! With these new straight up-and-down “cuss as you enter” dresses, that have a hole at the top for the head and one below for the dance-a-meters, you not alone can’t have a flask on the hip, but you can’t even have the hip, and look smart.

*   *   *

JUST where these campus cut-ups carry their liquor I don’t know, but that most of them carry it well, I’m sure. Do they puff cigarettes? Well, if they do, he might give them medals, for that means that they do very little real smoking. If they inhale, that goes a bit further into the subject and a lot further into the lungs. If the girls take one last drag before entering the classroom and then exhale, the smoke at the end of a lecture on Eugenics, he might complain.

I really think that every girl has enough criticism in the home without paying tuition fees for more of it, and broadcasted at that. There is no doubt about modern young women being free thinkers and  spree drinkers — but at least they’re not lonely.

Honestly, I meant to avoid the subject of prohibition. Everything that can be said has been printed and a lot that can’t be printed has been said. I am not for it or against it. Spending half my time in Europe, I can afford to be neutral, though I must admit that while I’m in America I simply can’t afford to be wet.

*   *   *

I’VE just finished a tour and saw a lot of girls and went to many parties. I was not so much impressed by how much these girls drink as I was petrified to see how much the can drink. Gone are the days when the villain hissed: “Curses! One drink and the girl is mine.” Today it’s “Curses! One drink and the girl wants mine.”

Perhaps their heads are so full of ideas that the liquor can’t get up there. Certainly their glass grabbers (right digits) are as tireless as an adding machine and almost as automatic.

Also I have observed that all the vices that the Professor considers disgraceful seem to be quite successful. The girls are certainly more idolized than criticized by the men who know more about loving than is????.

A halo is very satisfactory to the wearer, but the [illegible…..] tell it from Queen Mary’s spring bonnet. The modern young man doesn’t care what’s on her head or in it as long as she is a good dancer, a clean drinker and does not require a lot of rest.

*   *   *

PERHAPS after all, President Smith has hit the nail on the head and driven it in. Perhaps it’s up to the men to save the women and he just started the movement. For years women have been saving men from other women — by which I mean even going to the lengths of marrying them to do it.

Now it’s obviously up to the men to follow the President’s lead if not his creed, and start soul saving on broad lines — not too broad, of course. Since the women insist on thrusting equal rights on the men (which goodness knows they never had before), there is surely nothing to stop the ardent young swain from reversing the tables (or upsetting them according to time, place and intentions), and pulling the time-worn phrase (1924 model), “Darling, I adore you. Do you care enough for me to give up your liquor?”

*   *   *

FRANKLY, I’d love to be saved. But as I never went to college, I couldn’t hope to be classed with President Smith’s Modern Mesalinas. There was a time when actresses had a chance to get on the front page on account of the number of husbands they divorced, but now with public interest all centered around College Cut-ups and the number of cigarettes they consume, we actresses might as well bow low and admit that we are just a lot of tame tabbies trying to get along.

I resign, reluctantly. I am too far behind the modern flapper to catch up with her. Even so, I never could stick with her until 6 a.m. and then meet her in the park at 9:30 on a horse. If I stay up until 3, I don’t’ want to speak even to my mother before noon. And as for riding a horse, I wouldn’t even know how to start a conversation with one at 9:30 in the morning.

However, I am not too far behind the flapper to see and admire her. Yes, and defend her, anytime anybody of another generation starts tearing her to bits as if she were a treaty. I see her shortcomings, but I believe that they, like her short hair will grow out  in time.

In the meantime, I suggest that some college girl be given a front page to tell what she thinks of the modern college president who rushes into print about her.

The Washington Post (Washington, D.C.) Feb 10, 1924

Step Lively

July 25, 2012

THE STREET CAR.

The car stopped comfortably filled,
Then four men got on.
At the next corner seven edged in,
And sixteen got on after that;
Afterward two boys swung on;
Soon a red-faced woman beckoned,
And she go on.
In the midst of the glad revelry
A party of serenaders trooped on.
By and by a colored gemmen,
Redolent of old-mown hay,
He got on.
Then five giggling school girls registered.
A hard-faced mother, with a squalling kid,
Mounted the platform.
Did she? She did?
Then a pompous police officer,
With girth for several.
Ripped in.
There little maids from school
Didn’t do anything but get on.
After a while a street sweeper pushed in,
Then a bricklayer
And a hod carrier.
Three tinsmiths, four stonemasons,
Also a printer,
Two Sunday school teachers,
And a prizefighter.
They got on.
But the “con” didn’t mind — he did his stunt,
And furiously bellowed: “Move up  to the front!”

— St. Paul Dispatch.

The Daily Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) Feb 8, 1902

Image from The Historical Museum at Fort Missoula

Dazed a Conductor.

A Western woman who is on a visit to New York was boarding a street car in that city the other day. She had just placed her foot upon the step and was preparing to take another step to the upper platform when, with a furious “Step lively,” the conductor pulled the strap. The car jerked forward and the Western woman swayed back for a minutes, then just caught herself in time to prevent a bad fall upon the cobbles.

She confronted the conductor with angry eyes — eyes that had looked undismayed into those of mighty horned monsters of the prairies.

“What do you mean by starting the car before I was on?” she asked.

“Can’t wait all day for you, lady,” the conductor snarled. “Just step inside there.”

In a moment the Western woman, with a backward golf sweep of the arm, lunged for the conductor’s head. He dodged. The blow sent his hat spinning back into the track. The woman entered the car and sat down. She was flushed, but dignified. While the other women passengers were rather startled, they all knew just how she felt. Then the car stopped while the conductor went back for his hat. The Western woman rode free that time.

The Anaconda Standard (Anaconda, Montana) Jul 23, 1900

Mrs. Stelling has Eloped with a Streetcar Conductor.

Fort Wayne News (Fort Wayne, Indiana) Oct 4, 1894

A PUBLIC EVIL.

You very often notice, as you’re riding in the car,
There’s one distressing feature all our peace of mind to mar,
It’s the fellow right in front of us who holds his paper so,
We’re forced to read the headlines, but the villain seems to know
Just when we get an inkling of a thrilling bit of news,
For he turns the paper over and thereafter he’ll refuse
To let us finish out the line, and so, with soul distressed,
We feel like smiting him because we cannot read the rest.

There’s nothing suits him better than to tantalize our view
With some big headline till he’s sure we’ve caught a word or two,
But just before we’re quite aware of what it’s all about,
He flops the paper upside down or yanks it inside out
And every time we seek to get a fact within our grasp
He upsets all our purposes and leaves us with a gasp,
Until at last we swear it, in a law and rasping tone,
That if we had the price we’d buy a paper of our own.

— Nixon Waterman, in L.A.W. Bulletin.

Middletown Daily Argus (Middletown, New York) Mar 31, 1898

Street-Car Crushed by Train

Nevada State Journal (Reno, Nevada) Oct 6, 1883

Only a Working Girl

July 24, 2012

Image from Cool Chicks from History

ONLY A WORKING GIRL.

She’s only a working girl, busy each day
In gaining her portion of bread;
Her mother is old and infirm, so they say,
Her father, they tell me, is dead.
And there, at her window, I see her employed —
I glance at her morning and night,
And I think that without her the earth would be void
Of much of its beauty and light.

She’s only a working girl, seeking to send
A brother through college, I hear;
May the angels her deeds of devotion befriend
And crown her endeavor with cheer
More strength to her hands and more warmth to her heart!
May the clouds never darken her sun,
And duty and beauty, in Love’s magic art,
Forever be wedded as one.

She’s only a working girl, Chance has decreed
She must dwell with the lowly on earth;
And yet she is rarer in thought and in deed
Than the queenliest princess of earth.
And I would she might know that her beautiful life,
Though shadowed with want and with care,
Has been, in the midst of my toil and my strife,
A hope and a song and a prayer.

— Nixon Waterman, in L.A.W. Bulletin.

Middletown Daily Argus (Middletown, New York) Feb 14, 1898

Why Women Go West

June 30, 2012

The Clothes are Loose and Comfy —

The Saddles are Nice and Roomy —

And the Hats are Big and Shady!

Fitchburg Sentinel (Fitchburg, Massachusetts) Jul 2, 1932

Woman’s Lot

May 22, 2012

Image from Women on the Border: Maryland Perspectives of the Civil War

WOMAN’S LOT.

Oh! say not woman’s lot is hard,
Her path a path of sorrow;
To-day perchance, some joy debarred
May yield more joy tomorrow.

It is not hard — it cannot be,
To speak, in tongues of gladness,
To hush the sigh of misery,
And sooth the brow of sadness.
It is not hard sweet flowers to spread,
To strew the path with roses;
To smooth the couch and rest the head,
Where some loved friend reposes,

It is not hard, to trim the hearth
For brothers home returning;
To wake the songs of harmless mirth,
When winter fires are burning.

It is not hard, a sister’s love
To pay with love as tender;
When cares perplex, and trials prove,
A sister’s help to render.

It is not hard, when troubles come,
And doubts and fears distressing,
To shelter in a fathers home,
And feel a mother’s blessing.

It is not hard, when storms arise
‘Mid darkness and dejection,
To look to Heaven with trusting eyes,
And ask its kind protection.

Then say not woman’s lot is hard,
Her path the path of sorrow ;
Today, perchance, some joy debarred
May yield sweet peace tomorrow.

Richland County Observer (Richland Center, Wisconsin) Dec 25, 1855

Rise This Great Mass

April 26, 2012

Image from Virginia Caputo & James S. Maxwell, Jr. Antiques

How to Reduce One’s Weight.

From the Graphic.

A woman weighing 200 pounds called on a physician for advice. He gave her the following instructions:

1. For breakfast eat a piece of beef or mutton as large as your hand, with a slice of white bread twice as large. For dinner the same amount of meat, or, if preferred, fish or poultry, with the same amount of farinaceous or vegetable food in the form of bread or potatoes. For supper, nothing.

2. Drink only when greatly annoyed with thirst; then a mouthful of lemonade without sugar.

3. Take three times a week some form of bath in which there shall be immense perspiration. The Turkish bath is best. You must work; either in walking or some other way, several hours a day.

4. You must rise early in the morning and retire late at night. Much sleep fattens people.

5. The terrible corset you have on, which compresses the center of the body, making you look a good deal fatter than you really are, must be taken off, and you must have a corset which any dressmaker can fit to you — a corset for the lower part of the abdomen — which will rise this great mass and support it.

She followed the advice for six months, and trained herself down to 152 pounds.

The Standard (Albert Lea, Minnesota) Mar 12, 1884

***** AFTER ? ? ?

Image from Shorpy