Milkmen, and Other Artifacts of a Lost Era

Fletchers Castoria

Mustard and belladonna plasters.

Cod Liver oil.

sulfa powders (mixed in apple sauce)

Argerol

gentian violet

Burma shave signs.

Talk about a bad memory. My mother had infinite faith in the efficacy of that stuff

So you spoiled my weekend ...

<shudder> still remember the taste

How about a pen that you simply dipped in ink? No barrel, no reservior, no nothing! And then there were bottles of ink that you bought for the pen.

Thank god cod liver oil has started coming in capsules !! I still remember that vile taste - mom had to force it down my gagging throat !!

That was great . especially, when you had to much ink in the nib and bespattered the classroom wall ....

("Walter, write 100 times: I will use my pen carefully., I will use my ...
And your father has to sign it!")

But how about writing on "stone" - slate?



Started school with such.

as pupils in hamburg schools we had 'slate boards' made of enamelled metal, so we could write on them with a soft pencil. for cleaning we had a soapy sponge that we kept in a container. worked quite well and did not produce the screeching sound of the slate board. hbg

In our neighborhood a Black Cow was Hires Root Beer and Chocolate Ice Cream, how about yours?

How to buy a hot record -- 1959

First, ask Mary Burton Miller if she wants to walk over to Potterton's with you and some of the gang. If she says 'yes' try not to have your head explode . Walk next to her but do not try to hold her hand (you dolt) Enter Potterton's by holding the door open for Mary, Skip Marsh and his girl, whoosiewhatsis, Denny Anderson (the creep came on by himself, what's his game?) and smile at Mr. Potterton hoping he remembers that last week you bought like six 45's and the Sinatra LP. (He doesn't seem to.)

Look at the list from WDRC Hartford. Say something cool like I bought that Chubby Checker last week, after we leave here we can go to my house and listen to it. (She doesn't say no. Head explodes.)

Pick booth listening booth number three and take three 45's off the rack and cue up first one. Mary Burton is standing next to you as some guy is singing about 'Little White Dove', you notice for the first time that her eyes are green, really green.

You put on the next record, 'a hundred pounds of clay' oozes out. "Oh, I hate that one." she says. You practically pull the arm off the player getting it to stop. "What else is on the list?" she says, "I want something that really rocks." Okay, I'll be right back.

Go to the rack, find something that really rocks........
Tutti Fruitti
which is cheating because you have been listening to it for six weeks now.
"Wow."
"Yah."

Buy Little Richard 45 for her (91 cents plus tax)

Walk back to her house.

She spots her dad sitting on their porch

You stop at the corner
kiss


you must have walked home because you awaken in your own bed, but how you got there, you haven't a clue.

Joe

That was great, Joe!

Remember buying soda pop from chest-type pop machines that had ice water covering the bottles to keep them cold?

Remember going "pop bottle hunting"? (looking for pop bottles in the neighborhood ditches so you could sell them back to the store for money to buy candy...2 cents for each bottle, 5 cents for the cardboard six-pack carton) Remember having a cracked or chipped pop bottle in the bottom of your sack, and hoping and praying that the store clerk wouldn't notice the defect?

Remember when pop bottle caps had cork under them? You'd peel off the cork to see if you had won some prize.

I was trying to remember some other things from the past, so I put on my blue, blue jeans with the rolled up cuffs, the whitest tee-shirt I could find with my Fatima medal hanging out on it's silver chain, slicked back my hair with a little Brylcreem, slipped on my white bucks over my white socks and looked in the mirror.

I put on my Davy Crockett hat and started whirling a hula hoop with a schoop-schoop.

I got L_______ to put on a poodle skirt and a short chasmere sweater while we danced to Chantilly Lace and a Pretty Face with a pony tail hanging down, wiggle when she walks and a wiggle when she talks makes the world go round round round......

We did the Bop. We did the Stomp. We did the Rolla Coaster.

We sat on the couch and listened to the radio. Fats found a thrill on Blueberry Hill and L_______ woke me up cuz I was snoring.

I still couldn't remember anything.

The first television I saw, I was twelve. It was a Sylvania and the screen had a white light circling it, looking much like a fluorescent bulb. The stated purpose of the light was to decrease the glare. Somebody in the family responded to an ad for a device to make the picture colored. He was sent a sheet of yelowish or orangish celophane to put over the screen. It was a few more years before we had one.

The strangest thing I ever saw in my young life was a sock hop where they were doing "The Stroll"
Accompanied by a dirge like tune a line of boys and girls would form up as couples one pair at a time and shimmy slowly down the line. Sort of reminded me of an Andalusian courtship ritual.

In my youth I went to a lot of baseball games. When the opposing pitcher was pitching well but was taken out of the game (no DHs back then), the home team would applaud as the pitcher walked from the mound to the dugout. This is the equivalent of Yankee fans applauding Pedro as he leaves a game. Seems strange now. But it seemed right at the time.

I remember when blue jeans were not part of a civilized wardrobe.

I remember the time before pantyhose. Those horrible garter things to hold up stockings.

I remember when women, regardless of girth, wore girdles.

I remember when the majority of mothers did not work.

I remember when policemen, firemen, mailmen, and soldiers were all MEN.

I remember when all you needed for hours of fun was a piece of chalk and a sidewalk.

I remember going to visit relatives and just opening the door and walking in. Friends too. Open the door and walk in. No locked doors. In NYC.

I remember trolley tracks. My parents remembered the trolleys.

Good lord . . . no permanent press. By Sunday night at the latest (and then i'd be in trouble for putting it off), i'd be obliged to iron the clothing i was going to wear to school the following week. After we left New York, we lived in a small town in which "dungarees" were acceptable because of the surrounding farm populations--but you ironed those before you wore them to school. I was introduced to the iron and the ironing board at age six. I was also introduced to a needle and thread, to effect repairs on my own when necessary, to sew on a button . . . money doesn't grow on trees, you know. If i did not perform either operation to the satisfaction of my grandmother, i would be obliged to do it over again--and in the case of patching a pair of levis, that meant pulling out every stitch and sewing it again. No one would ever wear patched clothing to school, but it was also no social shame to see a child in patched clothing on the weekends, or on the baseball diamond (especially there, what with the sliding and "digging" ground balls out of the dirt).

Girls did not participate in sports . . . period.

And girls did not wear ANY sort of trousers to school, only a blouse and sweater, and a skirt. I remember garter bests holding up heavy cotton stockings.

I also remember in high school, when we wore long, full skirts which were held up underneath by a crinoline. The crinoline made the area around you so wide, that it was inevitable that the kids would bump into one another during change of class.

I thought that you would all enjoy this picture. The pony tail, the poodle skirt, saddle shoes with white socks, all bring back memories. The only difference that I see, is that as I remember, the skirts were long enough to hit the top of the socks!

Set, You're right (of course). Not blue jeans. Dungarees.

Phoenix, You're right (also of course). Girls did not wear pants to school. But the length of the skirt in the picture looks right to me.