Eat Your Eskimo Pie with the Six Brown Brothers While Playing Tops and Anagrams: A 1930s Trend Retrospective

The New Yorker was in a tizzy about humanism throughout 1930, as the philosophy had suddenly come back into vogue and gained national attention. Thanks to Charles Francis Potter and the establishment of The First Humanist Society of New York, discussing humanism became a frequent pastime among the New York intelligentsia. You can't pick up an issue of the magazine during this period without reading stories and sly jabs about the debates, the propaganda, and the reactionary religious response to the movement.

In the May 31, 1930 issue, Donald Moffat wrote "The Crime at Mrs. Ward's," in which a young man -- fed up with all the latest fads -- actually SHOOTS the guests at a swanky party when they are unable to tell him what humanism is. This supposedly indicates that lots of people gave lip-service to humanism at the time, and they loved to talk about it, but none of them had the faintest idea what it was all about (which seems strange to me, frankly).

Anyway, the interesting thing about the story isn't the heavy-handed plot, it's the long list of PREVIOUS crazes that are presented. Want to know what the highbrow fads were in New York between 1905 and 1930? Here you go.

...my friend acquired a leather-burning set, and happily joined the nation in burning Indian heads on leather--he was too young for the first ping-pong wave. He shouted 'Uneeda Biscuit' to street-car conductors and cabbies, 'Get a horse' to stalled motorists, and said 'ZuZu' to the groceryman. He was among the first of the 1906 diabolo addicts, and as the years rolled by he similarly took to his bosom put-and-take tops, Eskimo Pie, mah-jongg, Coué, scofflawry, categories (or Guggenheim), Queen Marie, crossword puzzles, sex, anagrams, badminton, Yo-Yo tops, and backgammon, as each in turn came into fashion. He seideled to Hoboken and taxied to Harlem when those were the things to do, and wrote little pieces on the social, artistic, and economic significance of....Charlie Chaplin, the Six Brown Brothers, short skirts, Joe Jackson, Lillian Gish, Will Rogers, the return of the corset, Rudy Valée, 'The Well of Loneliness,' Amos 'n' Andy, D. H. Lawrence, Krazy Kat, long skirts, Paul Whiteman, and kindred modern phenomena. He returned from France last summer wearing a beret and espadrilles, and he'd thrown away the top part of his bathing suit.

Whew! Some of them are self-explanatory. Here are my thoughts on the others that require a bit more explanation:

• Uneeda Biscuit: I assume this was just a joke on the name of the biscuit -- "Hey, you need a biscuit" -- along the lines of other knee-slappers at the time like "Do you have Prince Albert in a can? Then you'd better let him out!"
• Zuzu: A ginger snap brand. Their advertisements said "For a bang-up time take five cents to the grocery and ask for Zuzu ginger snaps. You'll hit the mark every time!" I guess this was similar to the hordes of people who walk into Tim Horton's and say "Rrrrrroll up the rim to win!" It's the adoption of a catchphrase.
• Seidel: I have no idea what this means. A seidel was a glass of beer, but how this relates to traveling to Hoboken I don't know.
• I also don't get the "beret and espadrilles" and "threw away the top half of his bathing suit" references.

I love a good piece of culture-spew, and I also love a good mystery! Any insights?

Sung by Libby Holman

Awww, I just love these slang-filled, over-alliterative '30s record advertisements from Brunswick.

Happy Because I'm in Love -- What a kiss can do to this mean, moanin' mamma! Lurid Libby admits a loss of reason in this--the confession of a conquered coquette.

More Than You Know -- Here's Libby giving some gent a break and some thousands of Holmanites the thrill of a life-time--on Brunswick Record No. 4613.

They're talking about the infamous Libby Holman, who you can hear sing "Primitive Man" here. It's such a cool song.

Dr. Seuss and Flit: "Niblick in the Mosquito Hole"

Call me stupid for not knowing what a "niblick" was, but I suspect it's a term that isn't exactly common these days. I mean, sure, golfers are willing to wear ugly sweaters and "get exercise" by riding around in little motorized carts, but to say "niblick" would be plain silly.

I'm just happy that this particular Dr. Seuss cartoon -- from August 3, 1929 -- is refreshingly free of ethnic stereotypes.

Broad-Jumper's Pants

It took me forever to figure out what was going on in this picture. Eventually I realized that the two old ladies were laughing at the man because he was walking funny, and the reason he was walking funny was because his pants were wrinkled. He was crouching down to hide the wrinkles, you see.

So why were his pants wrinkled? "Because he wouldn't take a trunk," according to the Hartmann Trunks advertisement.

After all these years--think of it--still a suitcase addict! O me, o my! And not even a best friend to tell him! Perhaps you, too, have weathered the withering eyes of the Hotel Porch Brigade...the doughty dowagers who never miss a trick--who spot the suitcase customers by their baggy, wrinkled wardrobe.

So that's one convoluted mystery solved, but maybe YOU can explain why the subheading for this advertisement is "Broad-jumper's pants." It might be because the posture of a man who is hiding his pant-wrinkles is similar to the posture of a crouching broad-jumper, but that's a real stretch.

In any case, I assume it's a term that didn't catch on (much like "bidding two spades.")

Scrutable [Song Lyric] Corner: "Mother's Home Again!"

Throughout 1928 The New Yorker ran a sporadic "song lyrics we'd like to hear" section, most of them satirizing the over-sentimental "moon/June" ballads of the time. In the 1928 Christmas issue (December 22) Don Marquis gave us this screwball ditty called "Mother's Home Again!"

I know that this is hardly the time for Christmas cheer, but view this as a window into the secret lives of your sweet, innocent grandparents. It's a surprisingly nasty piece of work.

'Twas on the Eve of Christmas
A face against the pane
Peered in at the firelight;
'Twas worn with vice, and plain;
But all the children shouted:
"Mother's home again!"

Mother's out of jail, Dad!
Let us ask her in!
Make her Christmas merry,
With food and fire and gin!
Mother's out of jail, Dad,
Let us ask her in!

She's watching through the window
Her babes in happy play;
Do not call a copper
To club the Jane* away--
Remember, ere you strike her,
That once her hair was gray!**

Soon at some new night-club
She'll be pinched again,
For Mother is so popular
With all the dancing men--
Invite her in to visit,
Mother's home again!

She's staring through the window
At the Yuletide glow!
Oh, do not throw the old wife
Back into the snow!
She bore you all your children,
And oft has told you so.

Mother's in the street, Dad!
She is out of jail!
Put morphine in the needles,
And some ether in the ale,
Mother's home for Christmas,
Mother's out of jail!

* I assume this is from the 1920's slang word for "sweetheart," but may also reference a 1925 New Republic article called "Flapper Jane."

** Either a forced rhyme, or Mother dyes her hair now, or maybe she got her head shaved at the jail?

Reuben's Calls Out Frances Williams

Move over Evelyn, Frances is the next target in the Reuben's "YOU HAVE NO PRIVACY, CELEBRITY!" ad campaign.

Somehow we never quite associate the electrifying FRANCES WILLIAMS with such grossly material things as buying merchandise--but then, when it comes to Holiday shopping--(and when we say shopping we're speaking of Reuben's now!)-- we all meet on common ground. We'd like to delve deeply into MISS WILLIAMS' rapturous reactions to our precious presentation of fascinating feminine fripperies...the ducky Atomizers, the the snooty Boudoir Lamps, the fussiest of fussy Sweetmeat Boxes...mmmm! don't we wish we had the space to say more!

As if sharing a stage with The Marx Brothers wasn't harrowing enough, now all of Frances' friends knew exactly where she bought that ducky Atomizer.

PS: Just in case you were wondering, an "Atomizer" didn't blow things up, it just sprayed perfume around.

Chilton Pen Secrets

One reason I read so much pre-60s material is because I'm curious to see how women are represented and -- when they have the chance -- how they represent themselves.

After putting up with hundreds of 1920s New Yorker advertisements for executive pens, I've finally run across one that's specifically aimed at women. Do you think it takes a different approach from the others? Oh nelly.


It really IS about pens, HONEST.

It's about these new Twice the Ink Chilton Pens done in vanity leathers: natural ostrich, alligator, and lizard skin.

Really, they're the most fetching things...just the "utterly different" sort of pen for that sort of girl who knows how to make her briefest notes fairly leap out of the litter when the Morning Male begins to shuffle his nine o'clock letters...

...But, honestly, that's so modestly moderate that it fairly makes a secret of the proven fact that any lady-size Chilton holds three-to-five times more ink than other lady-size pens. Stop and try one at the better pen-counters.

I'm trying to figure out if these pens are marketed to housewives or secretaries, and whether women back then actually spoke in this goofy, bouncy vernacular. I bet a lot of them did.

A Glossary of Taxicab Words and Phrases

Next time you're in a cab, pretend that you're an "insider" by spitting this antiquated slang (as reported in the November 3, 1928 New Yorker).

Bonus points if you're drunk and incoherent!

Acordion Pleat--The ripple a driver puts in your fender when you get in his way.

Back to the Yellows--The Yellow Taxicab Corporation is popularly supposed to employ only beginners. "Back to the Yellows" is synonymous with "Go back to school."

Copping the Cards--Confiscation by the police of a hacking license, for some infringement of the regulations.

Curb Cruiser--A girl waiting for a lift, but not in a taxicab.

Glims--Headlights

Hack--A familiar and affectionate term for a taxicab.

Pound--A pound is five dollars. Used in offering a cop "his bit," instead of mentioning cash, which would be bribery. Three pounds is sometimes said to get rid of a speeding ticket.

Sea-Going Hack--A taxicab that stays out all night.

Sunday Driver--Any operator of a pleasure car causing a minor collision.

Weasel--A driver who cuts in between another taxi and a prospective fare.

Seen at Reuben's

For a few weeks I've been coming across these disturbing 1928 New Yorker advertisements for Reuben's Restaurant and Delicatessen. They were pretty laid back at first, but now they've exploding into a voyeuristic combination of celebrity-taunting and food fetishism. I quote:

Of course you didn't hear us chuckle, Mr. DUDLEY FIELD MALONE, but odds bodkins, our sense of humor just won't down when we see a legal luminary engaged in victorious debate with a fragrant, savory Reuben's hot Turkey Sandwich! No schoolboy at the jam pot (again) ever displayed more earnest, unqualified appreciation. The pleasure was ours as well as yours, Mr. Malone?

If *I* went someplace for dinner, and then the next day read an advertisement that said "Muffy St. Bernard came into our restaurant and ATE LIKE A CRAZY PIG!" I don't think I'd come back. But I guess any publicity is good publicity...

Here's another:

When a wit once asked us, mock-seriously, "Is this table large enough for a Reuben's apple pancake?" did we rush pell mell to the kitchen to reduce portions? No, we merely smiled smugly--for we knew that GEORGE WHITE would happen along shortly and--demon for details that he is--would surely detect the difference in his pet dish, inimitable spicy deliciousness or no. When you did arrive, Mr. White--did order--did demolish one of our famous over-stuffed apple pancakes--we knew there was little the matter with our blooming policy after all. Reassurance is a great tonic!

Odds bodkins, what a pancake that must have been!

Underworld Slang: "The Lamster"

No, it's not a story about a cuddly rodent, it's another excerpt from The New Yorker's series about "underworld slang." Once again I leave the translation up to you.

A shaum I knew came over one day and told me the beef was in. My partner figured the rumble was too hot and to square himself he fingered me. I tried to connect for a roscoe but missed. Anyway, I went out to tamp up this partner of mine. I found him in a gin-mill playing Santa Claus for a couple of blondes. The dive was crowded but that was no hold-back for me. I declared my weight to the guy and called him a fink and then asked him to step out. He had to go then and right hands was trumps. I got this shiner for my end but I put him out of the picture. Somebody hollered "Jiggers!" and I lammed out the hammer and tack.

(This is from the April 21, 1928 edition).

Underworld Slang: "Strictly Homelike"

On March 24, 1928, the New Yorker has begun publishing a series of articles written in "underworld slang," supposedly written by a convict named "J.P. Grover." To make things more entertaining, they publish the "slang" version alongside a straight-forward translation. Here's an excerpt:

I get a drive out of casing the mob posing around the lobby. There are a few marks and square-shooters there but not many. Most everyone is a hustler of some kind. On my left chalk are two twists cutting up their daddies. I tin-ear on them and get hip. They are boosters doing it solo. Their daddies are cannons and are working the shorts and this spot is the meet. They rap to a geezer and he flops near them. In his dukes he has some rats and mice and he is practicing a switch. He is a dice hustler waiting for a play. His fiddle and flute speaks for itself. It is that kind. His bottles of booze are keeno. The lean and fat is the real McCoy, and he has a Spanish guitar between the uppers and beneath. He looks Annie Oakley and soon cops a sneak out the grocery store.

Got that, Mr. Lem Kegg? Pop off about it over a little gay and frisky.

NEVER "Bid Two Spades!"

From the March 10, 1928 issue of "The New Yorker," we learn a new piece of slang-that-never-was:

Despite her beauty and her youth she "BID 2 SPADES" (The synonym for gaseous indigestion) -- far from a bridge game, there in the tea-room--and how uncomfortable she was!

Concerning a damsel in distress, it is difficult to write. She was young, she was witty, she was impeccably gowned, but in spite of her youth, in spite of her grace, in spite of her wit, she was very much embarrassed.

So mundane a thing as her food was causing her discomfort. The nut sundae at the tearoom had been a little bit too much--and her luncheon was heavy on her heart.

The ordinary measure of relief--some soda and some water, helped her discomfort for the moment, but increased her embarrassment. For hiccups and murmurs escaped her swanlike throat. She was, as the saying goes, "bidding two spades."

Like myself you may be wondering what exactly this poor woman was DOING. What were the "murmurs" that escaped her "swanlike throat" due to that accursed "nut sundae?" Was she just belching, or does "bidding two spades" actually mean letting rip a swanlike fart?

We can't look it up online because it appears that Bristol-Meyers Co. (makers of "Gastrogen tablets") simply made the phrase up. This had some precedent, as another company (whose name I forget) had been warning people against "The Ha-Ha's" -- AKA "dry skin" -- for most of 1927.

Why would this sort of "made up phrase" advert have appealed to the people of the 1920s? Well, it certainly was a time of bizarre "fad" phrases to begin with ("The bee's knees," "23-skidoo," "hotcha!") so I guess the advertisers decided to get in on the action. I'm not surprised that "bidding two spades" didn't make it into the dictionary. It's too refined and weird.

The Passing of the Flounce

Among feminine gestures that have fallen into disuse is the flounce. As late as 1908 ladies--and others--still flounced out of rooms. It was a very usual method of betraying vexation. Then the practice gradually diminished, and the word disappeared from our literature.

It is true that chorus girls have from time to time used a similar gesture, flirting the skirts upward and outward as they make their exits. This involves using the hands. The real flounce never employed the hands, however. It was done with the hips, aided by the full skirts of the period. Another difference is that while the chorus girl makes the gesture to attract, the genuine flounce was always intended to repel, or at least to rebuke. It never prompted spectators to send notes suggesting a quiet little supper later.

No, not even the chorus girl can flounce today. An approximation can be seen in an occasinal costume play with an all-star cast. But there the best exponents of the art of flouncing are not the younger actresses.

We of today are hampered by two things--the meagreness of skirts and petticoats, and the comparative absence of hips. There are hips today, but whereas they have the bulk, they have not the contour necessary to the perfect flounce. And even old-fashioned hips can do nothing without the long, full skirts of yesterday. Present-day full skirts, sometimes advocated by costume designers, tend to distribute the gathers more or less equally at the waistline, whereas the proper skirt for flouncing should concentrate the gathers at the back, where the greater part of the movement occurs.

The flounce was not one of our most genial gestures, and few have been known to deplore its passing. It is a matter for historical interest, and not for regret.

Josie Turner, The New Yorker, July 23, 1927

I'm inclined to agree with Josie. The only people I ever see flouncing are drag queens, but they do it in a different style: hands on hips and a quick strut off-stage, hoping that their dress billows after them. The "drag flounce" is not meant to repel OR attract, but to be a campy play on the way that divas "leave in a huff."

It's interesting that I can PICTURE the flounce in my head, but I've never REALLY seen anyone do it. I imagine that women in '40s period musicals did it a lot, and I bet that I can find some quality flouncing in "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers" or "Kiss Me Kate."

Potentially True Photographer Lingo

This morning I listened to another episode of the superb radio suspense-horror program "Quiet Please." This one was called "13 and 8" and was about a coded phrase that 1940s photographers supposedly really used.

According to the program, photographers have to be on the lookout for "lens-louses" who want to get in the shot, just so they can see themselves in the paper. Apparently many pictures get ruined if a photographer fails to notice a lens louse.

So whenever a photographer notices one of these people lurking around, he'll yell "13 and 8" to warn the other photographers about the person. They all position themselves to make sure the lens louse can't get in the pictures.

This may not be true, and Google isn't suited to dealing with phrases like "13 and 8." Google removes the "and" so you end up with millions of pages with the numbers "13" and "8" on them. Completely useless.

Still, this reminds me of another potentially true story about early-'40s photographer lingo. Whenever a homicide ocurred in a big city, folks would wander out on their fire escapes to watch the police do forensics work. Some of them were women wearing only bathrobes. Photographers at the scene would try to position themselves under the fire escapes and look up through the grills...if they saw a woman who wasn't wearing underwear they'd yell "beaver shot," and the other photographers would gather around to take sneaky photographs of early-morning vaginas. This is where the term "beaver" comes from, apparently.

Again, I don't know if this is true or not. And you can imagine the sort of pages that Google finds when you type "beaver shot."

The Black Bottom of Sieben und Zwanzig

I remember being 13 or 14 and watching television commercials supposedly aimed at my demographic. Some of them managed to reach me, but many were crude attempts by middle-aged men to entice me with the "slang" that I supposedly used.

In the February 5, 1927 issue of The New Yorker, here's a piece of laughably overdone '20s slang for you on behalf of J. Van Buren Brown, Inc. We'll ignore the grotesque "negro caricatures" in the illustration -- since many advertisements of the time displayed those as well -- and just admire the sound of a 45-year-old advertisement executive trying to sound like a flapper.

(Oh, and the "Black Bottom" was the dance that gradually usurped the Charleston; more frantic, more difficult to master, more hip, and more black than ever):

The Black Bottom of Sieben und Zwanzig (in other words 1927)

Madame, Mesdames, Mademoiselles, and all the other Dames and Selles, lend us your ears for two semi-seconds. We have a word or two to impart about your little tootsies and no pinching of ears or feet involved -- we assure you.

Your little lady-dogs are going to hurt in the Black Bottom rodeo, and hurt awful bad, unless you give 'em comfort of the ultra kind.

Arch Preserver Shoes do just that, beaucoup. Nothing else but. They put so much pep and ginger and all the other things in the twinkling and flashing toes that action is sub-conscious. The best proof is in the strutting. Why not come in and strut a strut or two and prove it?