American Flyer

American Flyer box label, a photo by d.d. tinzeroes on Flickr.

This was a lovely surprise. I recently got the kids (and me!) some G-scale electric toy train stuff. The extra track received today was in a box which turned out to be an older box turned inside out. I was about to recycle it when I noticed the American Flyer box label afixed to the inside wall. Its an old label but its barely faded at all and its not stained or wrinkled, really. I just cut the cardboard so I have the label only and ditched the box. Might look nice in a little frame, I dunno. I love little scores like this.

I can't recommend this.

We went to the Mult. Co. Fair at Oaks Park. We brought our own sandwiches and stuff but we craved a side of fries. The vendor tents could only provide us with these 'fry bricks,' which I cannot recommend. Under different conditions, namely, extended frying to create crisp fries, it could be good. Instead they are just barely cooked, and the brick name merely a portent of things to come.

the pilgrim, being an extreme case

A HAPPY QUARTETTE

   The city refrigerator is now engaged in cooling off four fire-water fiends [?]. One of those, Maxiel [?], the pilgrim, being an extreme case, is booked for fifteen days; another named Cook, gathered in by Officer Jerelaman [?] night before last, is under a three days term; the other two were capture by the marshal yesterday morning, while disporting at the foot of L street. The latter will be examined this morning. As misery [?] loves company, the quartette is not entirely devoid of consolation.

-May 30, 1883

["The pilgrim, being an extreme case." Yes, who can forget Maxiel, hapless pilgrim to Jerusalem, waylaid in remote Portland, Oregon, succumbing to and gaining notoriety with the local magistrates for Biblical consumption of beer and spirits. This news piece comes from the 'East Portland' column, a few years before Portland merged with East Portland and Albina. In East Portland, bars could not be open on Sundays. The bars complied, and simply let customers in through the back doors - "front door's locked, sheriff, we're closed!"]

Canned corn

Failed bus stop breakfast.

left a lead mark on his underwear

FOUR SLUGS IN HIS BODY AND NOT KILLED
   On Saturday, the 28th ultimo, at Marshfield, Coos County, D. J. Delauney shot F. A. Anderson with a double-barrelled shotgun, loaded with slugs, bullets and small shot. DeLauney fired at night from his window, the victim being about 100 feet distant in the street. Six of the shot or bullets took effect. One entered the left breast and ranged inward. Another penetrated the scalp near the crown of the head, passed under the skin and next to the skull for a distance of two or three inches, and passed out. Another struck on the outer side of the left leg, half-way between the knee and the hip, and passed out. Another struck about the center of the left thigh, ranging in towards the bone. Another passed through the victim's trousers, left a lead mark on his underwear and burnt a round hole in the skin of the leg beneath, and sixth struck the right hand, between the knuckles of the first and second fingers, followed the bone and came out near the wrist. The reason none of the shots were fatal, is that the assailant used too much lead and not enough powder in the charge. Anderson will recover. Cause of the shooting was alleged intimacy between the assailant's wife and Anderson. DeLauney is a steamboat engineer, and Anderson a livery stable keeper.

-April 5, 1885

[Not enough powder in the charge - that's what Mrs. DeLauney said! ZING! That said, Mr. Anderson might have the world's greatest bar bet-winning story from this: "so, there was me and the steamboat engineer's wife in the kitchen, and the man hisself walks in the door, swears he's going to kill me, and runs upstairs! So I hitch up me trousers and start running down the road and KA-BLAMMEY he give me both barrels, and ssswifft! In and out of me hand (indicates a scar) and noggin (indicates another)!" Bartender: "A'yup, Anderson wins the fiver!"]

Aggressive, complicated, sharp as a diamond.

sahb4, a photo by simonhenry700 on Flickr.

Julie loved Tubby and he showed her the sort of vulgar respect he reserved for his favourites. She was fascinated by his books and toy soldiers. He'd read all the books and enjoyed the soldiers, but he had no proprietal feelings towards them. He'd brought both collections from Alex Harvey. They had identical tastes, he said, and Alex got bored with it all, needed some money and sold it for its market price.
He was a classic mixture, Alex. Aggressive, complicated, sharp as a diamond, Glaswegian. Dead now. What can you say? We were trying out some work together just before died. His Jacques Brel stuff, which he growled in a kind of Mississippi Clydeside, never sounded more sardonic, and he could shout out a blues with the best. Another Star Club vet.
Not always an easy man to work with, Alex had read more books than the British Librarian.

-Michael Moorcock, 'King of the City,' page 73 (2000)

The people's servants

The

GREAT SHERMAN CIRCUS

and troupe of

EDUCATED HORSES

Will pitch thier tent and give exhibitions in the following cities and towns on the following dates:

Lebanon, 6th                  Eugene, 13th
Albany, 7th and 8th        Salem, 15th, 16th
Halsey, 9th                     Fair Grounds during
Harrisburg, 11th                  the week
Junction City, 12th          Portland, 23th, 20th

Dates to follow the above in Oregon and Washington Territory will be published in this advertisement as soon as necessary to notify the public.

The people's servants,

C. & J. SHERMAN, Prop'rs and Managers

-September 12, 1882

[Y'know, the first time I saw this little illustration and read this little ad, I was like "Educated Horses... AND a man in a tutu! Nostaglia, TAKE me AWAY!" Then I (sadly) realized it was just the horse's tail. Also impressive: that horse is running with its stomach about a foot off the ground.]

a true sign of culture in decline

moorcock, a photo by matt_really on Flickr.

"He wondered by these people embraced family life with such relish.
Perhaps their peculiar tribal habits, their vague liberalism, their inactive agrement about what angered or disgusted them, were means of maintaining a status quo to which they were as committed as any of their more frankly rapacious contemporaries. He had grown impatient with their discussions about H-Bombs, vivisection, dying fish, Women's Rights and clubbed seals while they ate and drank as much in an afternoon as people living a few hundred yards away could buy in a fortnight. He started telling them this. Their hypocritcal posturing was a true sign of a culture in decline. When he informed his wife he was voting conservative in last year's election she had decided they were incompatible and made him leave." (Michael Moorcock, 'Mother London', 1988)

Pearlized Pink and Orange

Marc Bolan, a photo by Miss-Dandy on Flickr.

I like how some elements of this photo undermine the professional rock star photo lighting and color of this glamour shot. Namely, the pillow on the rocking chair and (especially) the window. What is that out there? Someone's garage?

Let me try

Neverread and thought lost

Was rooting through the attic and found my copy of Hammett's "The Thin Man." I started reading this ten years ago but ran away when the constant inebriaism made me uncomfortable (I know, strange! but true).

After spending the last year and a half acquainting myself with books of the well-written type, I've been dabbling in 'classics' (Moby Dick)*, some of which I would rather call 'adventure' novels and some would call 'boys adventures' (Treasure Island, Captain Blood). So it seems quite conveniently timed to be going through a box at this juncture in my reading life and come across 'The Thin Man.' So much so that it might leap the que and be the follow up when I finish 'Moby Dick'.

-d.d.

* Tip of the hat to Mr. Collision for getting me thinking about books I've never read.