Old news articles (M)

[allergyboy2001]

I used to have access to a newspaper archive site. I was curious what people said years ago about handkerchiefs, nose-blowing, etc. I'm transcribing a few as I have time, and will post them here. Feel free to comment, add others, or whatever. They are not in any particular order and some may be more interesting than others.

1/ Huntingdon Daily News, January 5, 1932, Page 4

NEW YORK INSIDE OUT by Sam Love

We was coming down from Dyckman street on the subway the other afternoon and he tells me to go into the car ahead and sit down. So I goes in an sits down and the first time we stop at a station he comes on in and stands near me. Then he pretends like he’s got a bad cold all of a sudden and he walks over and takes my handkerchief out of my coat pocket. He just jerks it out, blows his nose on it and stuffs it back and walks away. You ought to hear that car laugh. We worked it in different cars all the way down to 50th street. Only it was his handkerchief all the time.

2/ Goshen Daily Democrat, April 25, 1904, Page 2

IN RED BANDANNA DAYS.

The Sonorous Blast of Deacon Pongram Did Duty as a Foghorn for Fishermen.

“In the days when men carried red bandanna silk handkerchiefs in their coattail pockets,” said Mr. Bugleton, according to the New York Sun, “men blew their noses with a far finer flourish and effect than they do now: far more grandly and sonorously. There was something about the great soft square of silk that tempted the staidest of men to display it, and by the loudness of the snort he made one could take the measure of his dignity.

“There were men in those days who, when they blew their noses, positively caused the buildings they were in to shake. I recall one old gentleman in particular, good old Deacon Pongram, who, when he stood up in church, in the seashore town in which he lived, and in which I was born, and with solemn stateliness drew forth his voluminous red bandanna, blew a blast that reverberated through every niche and corner of the sacred edifice and made the windows tremble. And once—I well remember it—the good deacon’s nasal sonorosity was put to good account.

“A man came silently into the church one March Sunday morning after the service had begun. He marched straight to Deacon Pongram's pew and bent over and whispered something to him. It must have been something serious that could bring the man into church after service had begun; and when we saw Deacon Pongram, after listening for a moment to him, stand up in his place at the aisle end of his pew and reach around into his coattail pocket, draw forth his great red bandanna, and then proceed to blow his nose most vigorously and resoundingly, and then saw him step from his pew and stalk solemnly down the aisle in the wake of the man who had come for him so mysteriously, why, we knew that there was something important on hand.

"And ten minutes later we heard a sound surprisingly like that of Deacon Pongram's nose—a mighty blast, coming from the direction of the shore, half a mile distant, and a minute later we heard the sound coming regularly at minute intervals; members of a congregation even so decorous as ours looked around at one another and smiled, for we could all guess what had happened.

"Ours was a fishing village, and we had men out always braving the deep and coming on the coast, making for our harbor at all times and in all sorts of weather. We had a dozen fishermen out that Sunday morning, and our men knew every inch of our harbor as well as they knew their own dooryards ashore—when they could see it. But as all signs fail in dry weather, so all landmarks fail in a fog; and this was a densely foggy morning, and our men were coming home in this fog.

"Now ours was a bold and rocky and dangerous coast and we maintained on the shore in our town for just such emergencies a foghorn, whose sound on such occasions had been familiar to every inhabitant from time immemorial, blowing to guide our fishermen home. On this morning the foghorn had broken down. Just what had happened on this occasion I don't remember, for I was very young at the time, but I think they said the diaphragm had broken, or something. But. anyhow, the foghorn had broken down, and the minute it gave way and would no longer sound its deep, hoarse blasts, the foghorn keeper, a man of readiness and resource, knowing that the lives of the fishermen might depend upon it, made for the church to get Deacon Pongram. It was he that had come silently that Sunday morning down the aisle at church to the deacon's pew—he that Deacon Pongram, after one resounding flourish, had followed from the church to the foghorn station on the shore; to take the place of the disabled foghorn.

"And the fishermen coming on the coast that morning, guided by its hoarse, warning voice, wondered at the strange sounds that the foghorn gave forth.

" 'The old horn must have a cold this morning.' said one; and

" 'It's got a chunk of fog in its throat I reckon.' said another.

"But when they had come ashore they discovered that it was not the foghorn that they had heard at all, but Deacon Pongram, standing on the headland by the disabled foghorn's side, and blowing his nose for them. And thereafter, and as long as he lived, Deacon Pongram, rich before in the esteem of his fellow citizens, had a new title to the respect of the entire community as the man who had saved the fishermen.

"But now men no longer blow their noses as they did in the days of Deacon Pongram. with fine flourish and effect, with the resounding sonority of a trumpet: for that old-time, time-honored and once familiar mannerism has passed away, along with the red silk bandanna.”

3/ Carlisle News, January 19, 1906, Page 4

Only Blowing His Nose

H.D. Waldron, a prominent East Chicago young man, was hauled to the Hammond city prison recently on the charge of Mrs. William Shery, 814 Hoffman street, Hammond. The woman accused Waldron of insulting her. She alleges that the East Chicago man while walking down the street past her home waved his handkerchief at her while she was sitting at her parlor window rocking herself.

Waldron was astonished when he was placed under arrest and did not even recognize the complainant when she confronted him at the police station. He admitted having taken out his handkerchief when he passed the Shery home, but said that he did so merely to blow his nose, and denied having even waved the handkerchief.

Judge McMahon was impressed with his innocence and discharged him from custody, exclaiming that ''the lid isn’t on so tight in Indiana yet that a man can't blow his nose on the street without getting arrested for it."

4/ Independent Press Telegram, May 26, 1975, Page 11

Call Policeman – he delivers (by George Robeson)

DON MOLMAR wants me to say something nice about the Long Beach Police Department. Here we go, Don, are you ready?

"Something nice."

Okay, I said it. The rest of the story is the return of Mr. Molmar's wallet, which he lost in some unknown place. The place is unknown, because he carries his wallet where he carries his handkerchief and he blows his nose a lot, which causes him to whip out his handkerchief, which sometimes causes the wallet to fall out of his pocket.

Having suffered since childhood from post-nasal drip, or "Robeson's Disease," as it is called in medical journals, I can understand his problem.

5/ Mansfield News Journal, May 1, 1957, Page 12

As Usual, Congress Does Nothing Until Last Minute, by Frederick C. Othman

Washington – Maybe it’s a little early to be calling this year’s legislature the do-nothingest Congress. Possibly the boys will get around soon to their work.

They have been sitting so far on their handkerchiefs. In session they’ve been now since Jan. 1, but nary a law of importance have they passed…

6/ Wisconsin State Journal, September 24, 1961, Page 50

Harry Juster, “Clothes Make Your Man”

Dear Mr. Juster: This question arose at our card club. In which pocket should a husband carry his handkerchief…the one that’s used, not the breast pocket kind. Some thought the right front pants pocket. Others said the back pocket. Which of us is correct? Mrs. W.R.

At one time men daintily carried their handkerchiefs in their coat sleeves—and if the vogue for eliminating pockets continues, we may have to go back to that practice! Seriously, there is no rigid rule. Usually, the right rear pocket is the most popular parking place for a handkerchief. However, as it may create an unsightly bulge in the current, trimly-designed trousers, many men are using on of the inside breast pockets of the coat.

7/ Wisconsin State Journal, January 10, 1943, Page 11

Curious over Navy Uniform? Here Are Some Explanations:

…When an enlisted man first enters the [US] navy, he usually is annoyed by the almost complete absence of pocket space. But he soon learns numerous tricky ways of compensating for this lack – such as carrying his handkerchief under his blouse and over a shoulder, and keeping his pocket comb behind the lacing on the back of his trousers. …

That's it for now...