Sears offered about 370 designs of kit homes in the early years of the 1900s. During their 32 years in the kit home business, Sears sold about 70,000 of these houses. Sears also sold kit barns. While doing research on Sears Homes in Illinois, I was told about this Sears Barn outside of Mattoon, Illinois (see picture below). It was built in the early 1920s and is still in beautiful condition today.

I’m often asked for more information about barns, but I’m not the expert on this topic. All that I need to know about barns came from The Book of Barns, by Rebecca Hunter and Dale Wolicki. According to this interesting little book,  Sears started offering barns in 1911, when four barn designs first appeared in the pages of the Sears Modern Homes catalog. In 1915, a few hog houses and chicken coops appeared. In 1918, the first speciality catalog appeared, featuring barns and other outbuildings.

Rebecca and Dale’s research shows that part numbers (originally used to facilitate construction of these DIY kits) can be found on the framing members of the Sears kit barns.

Purportedly, there is a Sears barn at Montpelier (Virginia), the home of James Madison and his wife, Dolly.

Sears Barn in Mattoon, IL

So begins this advertisement for roofing that I found in a November 1911 American Carpenter and Builder’s magazine.  I know that back in the day, the swastika was an image from eastern philosophies, intended to denote peace and good things. Perhaps that’s why this roofing manufacturer included it on his product?

In the early years of the 20th Century, a wealthy Pittsburgh businessman died of radium poisoning. His death was the direct result of drinking a medicinal tonic known as Radithor. Mr. Eben Buyers was found to have 73.66 micrograms of radium in his body, and attending doctors reported that “even the air he exhaled was radioactive.”

An autopsy showed that the cause of death was “radiation poisoning.” From drinking water. Radioactive water.

The full account of this story can be found in the 1936 book, American Chamber of Horrors; The Truth About Food and Drugs by Ruth deForest Lamb. It’s a great read and an interesting book.

In the early 1900s, government officials did not have the legislative authority to remove Radithor from the market because existing laws did not empower officials to seize “dangerous drugs, unless their labels misrepresented them” [ibid, p. 74).

In other words, Mr. Eben Buyers knew he was drinking radioactive water. However, he probably didn’t know what he was doing to his body. The first two weeks, he found that (as promised), he felt better than he had in years. But that happy result did not last very long. When he was hospitalized, the first thing they did to poor Mr. Buyers was to order x-rays.

An expert was summoned to examine the x-rays. Dr. Flinn, Ms. Lamb states, had been involved in the radium watch-dial cases. Ever hear about that? I hadn’t, until I read this book. Seems that a few women workers were poisoned as they toiled away, painting radium (yes, real radium) on watch-dial faces. The luminous paint, the employer promised was “harmless,” and many of the so-called “Radium Girls” even applied the paint to their fingernails.

Mr. Buyers and Mrs. Brown (Lash Lure Lady) were two of thousands of reasons that facilitated the creation of the FDA. And upon the creation of the FDA, the first product they seized was Lash Lure. But today the FDA has become highly politicized and one of the products that needs to be examined and eliminated is Aspartame. Originally developed as ant poison, it is a neurotoxin and has been linked to a wide-range of health problems.

More than 75% of the complaints received by the FDA are centered around aspartame. Think about that fact for a moment. Of all the food and drug products offered in this country, more than 75% of the complaints received at the FDA are related to aspartame. The FDA saved us from toxic drinks such as Radithor and now it needs to step up to the plate, abandon politics and take a serious look at aspartame.

For more information, click here:

To read Rose’s newest book, click here:

When I talk to my children about the halcyon days of airline travel, their eyes glaze over a bit. And then I tell them that - back in the day - my mother wouldn’t board an airplane unless she was wearing her white gloves and a fine hat (complementing her perfect outfit).

This video - introducing the first jet service on Pam Am really shows another era in flying.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bKqQgNZylLw&feature=related

Back in the day, Ladies Home Journal magazine really was about women and housing. Today, it’s more about high-fat cake recipes and low-fat diets, but that’s another story…

In the first decade of the new century, Ladies’ Home Journal consistently featured a majority of articles centered on homeownership. The February 1911 issue was devoted to the new housing style:  Bungalows. One headline said,  “The Bungalow, because of its easy housekeeping possibilities is becoming more popular every year and bungalows show what can be done with a little money wisely spent.” The same issue featured these articles:

When you build a little house (common mistakes to avoid)

How I built this house for $700

The Bungalow - from $250 - $2500

What I did with an old farmhouse

Two houses built for less than $1500

What can be done with old houses

A fireproof house for less than $4000

If a woman must earn her living at home (A house planned by a woman to meet this need.)

It seems as though that the ladies were ahead of the men on this bungalow thing. Whilst Ladies Home Journal was promoting bungalows, American Carpenter and Builder described them as “tiresome.”

Craftsman houses and odd bungalows will have their day. People may like them now, but it is an extreme type and will become tiresome in course of time. The uncompromising squareness in the craftsman style, with its small wall space does not permit of much artistic decoration (June 1913).

Within the pages of the 1920s LHJ, I was delighted to discover this advertisement for a catalog of mail-order kit homes. The next picture below features a real, live GVT #633 in Roanoke, Virginia.

Advertisement in LHJ for Gordon Van Tine/Wardway Homes

Wardway Home in Roanoke, VA

Dr. Joseph Lister - a 19th Century physician - is largely responsible for the bungalow craze, but that’s one tidbit that I’ve never seen in my books on architectural history. The fact is, Joseph Lister and his germ theory dramatically changed the way Americans thought about their homes.

For so many years, mothers could only watch as their young children died from any one of a myriad of “common” diseases. And then in the late 1800s, Dr. Joseph Lister discovered that germs were culprit. Mothers and fathers, weary of burying their infants, had a new arch enemy: household dirt. As is explained in the 1908 book, Household Discoveries and Mrs. Curtis’ Cook-Book:

Not many years ago disease was most often deemed the act of Providence as a chastening or visitation for moral evil. Many diseases are now known to be merely human ignorance and uncleanliness. The sins for which humanity suffers are violations of the laws of sanitation and hygiene, or simply the one great law of absolute sanitary cleanliness… Every symptom of preventable disease and communicable disease…should suggest the question: “Is the cause of this illness an unsanitary condition within my control?”

Now that the enemy had been identified, modern women attacked it with every tool in their arsenal. Keeping a house clean was far more than a matter of mere pride: The well-being, nay, the very life of one’s child might depend upon a home’s cleanliness. What mother wanted to sit at the bedside of their sick child, tenderly wiping his fevered brow and pondering the awful question: “Was the cause of this illness an unsanitary condition within my control?”

Because of Dr. Lister and his germ theory, the ostentatious, dust-bunny-collecting Queen Anne, with its ornate woodwork, fretwork and gingerbread fell from favor with a resounding thud.

Simplicity, harmony and durability are the keynotes of the modern tendency. The general intention seems to be to avoid everything that is superfluous; everything that has a tendency to catch and hold dust or dirt. Wooden bedsteads are being replaced by iron or brass; stuffed and upholstered furniture by articles of plain wood and leather. Bric-a-brac, flounces, valances and all other superfluous articles are much less fashionable (from Household Discoveries and Mrs. Curtis’ Cook-Book).

Remember the movie “It’s A Wonderful Life”?  There’s a 1920s scene where George Baily and his girlfriend pause in front of the massive Second Empire house. It sits abandoned and empty, deteriorating day by day.  This was not an uncommon fate for Victorian manses in post-germ theory America. Who knew what germs lay in wait within its hard-to-clean walls?

The February 1911 Ladies’ Home Journal was devoted to the new housing style: Bungalows. One headline said, “The Bungalow, because of its easy housekeeping possibilities is becoming more popular every year.

And all because of Dr. Lister.

(By the way, Dr. Lister did not invent the popular mouthwash but it was named after him and his discoveries.)

Magazines in the early 1900s extolled the value of cleansers that were effective in killing germs.  These advertisements (see two ads below) are from a 1924 Ladies’ Home Journal. Both promote the importance of germ-killing chemicals for the “safe” household.

Close-up of text

The first time I saw downtown Cairo, I stopped my car in the middle of the street and stared in disbelief. The entire business district, which comprised several blocks of brick streets in beautiful condition, was empty - deserted and devoid of all movement. Had it not been for a piece of trash blowing down the middle of the street, the scene could have been a still-frame.

The stillness, the quiet, the absence of any sign of life was fascinating, yet also left me wondering if the next sound I heard would be the theme from The Twilight Zone with a voice-over by Rod Serling.

Looking at the stunning late-1800s commercial architecture - most of which was in original condition and all of which had been abandoned - my intuitive sense told me that folks had left this place in a hurry. And as I began researching the area, I learned my hunch was on mark.

In the mid-1960s, racial unrest and riots were a sad part of the American landscape, but in Cairo, things went especially badly. African-Americans, weary of Jim Crow laws and disparate treatment, threatened to boycott businesses that employed only whites. White business owners responded by closing their stores. Large numbers of families - white and black - left the area and never returned. The population plummeted. Today, downtown Cairo is a ghost town - an incredible time capsule - frozen in the 1960s. The city that once boasted of 14,000 citizens now has about 3000 people living within its borders.

I’ve returned to Cairo several times since that first visit and each time, I make a point to drive through that incredible downtown area. I park my car and stare. I stare at the old buildings which are in fair to decent condition and still look much like they did when built 100+ years ago. I look at the store fronts whose doorways have not been darkened by a customer in many years. I study the two movie theatres that look much like they did when built in the 1920s and 30s. I take in the long view and look at the streetscapes, devoid of movement or activity.

Just behind those fantastic old commercial buildings lies a seawall and the Ohio River. I do believe that the city could build a fantastic tourism industry off this downtown area alone. I’ve never seen a sight like it.

Apparently, word is getting out, because on my last visit, I saw two tourists taking a plethora of photos of this eerie but fascinating downtown. However, if you decide to visit - come prepared. Cairo has no public bathrooms, no fast-food joints and no public water fountains. About 15 minutes away, just across the Ohio River, is Wickliffe, Kentucky - site of the nearest public restroom. The nearest Burger Doodle is 30 miles southwest in Cape Girardeau.

One thing Cairo does have is plenty of vacant lots, such as 1501 Commercial Avenue. This corner lot is a few blocks from the downtown area and according to the 1922 Sears Modern Homes catalog, it was the site of a beautiful “Elsmore” (Honor-Bilt home).  The testimonial on page 111 of the catalog reads, “Built by R. P. Fitzjearl, 1501 Commercial Avenue, Cairo, IL. He says, ‘Already-cut lumber saves one-third of time. Plans as simple as reading a book.’”

When I drive through Cairo, I look at all those empty lots and try not to think about how many Sears homes have been torn down in the intervening years. Several? Dozens? Or worse?

Thus far, I’ve identified about 30 Sears homes in Cairo. Many are in poor condition and a few more may be torn down before the city awakens to its architecture treasures. The addresses of these Sears homes are at the Cairo Public Library on Washington Street and make for a fun driving tour. Learn more about Sears Homes here.

In May 1911, Sears opened up a mill in Cairo, Illinois. Cairo’s location at the confluence of the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers made it a natural for shipping and distribution. At the turn of the last century, Cairo (pronounced “Care-Roe”) could boast of having four major rail lines, enabling it to become a centralized shipping point for lumber harvested from the South and sent to the North.

The Sears Roebuck Mill, also known as the Illinois Lumber Company, got its start when Sears Roebuck paid $12,500 for a 40-acre tract in North Cairo. 

On May 21, 1911, The Chicago Tribune reported that Sears intended to build a $250,000 plant. A few weeks later, The Cairo Evening Citizen had doubled that figure and reported “Half a million to be cost of new Sears Roebuck Plant” (July 29, 1911).

In November 1911, Sears ran a two-page advertisement in American Carpenter and Builder Magazine headlined “Great News for Builders.” The advertisement (see below) said,

Shipments have begun from our second and newest great lumber plant in Illinois. We can deliver you bright, fresh, clean lumber at manufacturer’s prices almost as quickly as you can haul makeshift sizes and weatherworn stock from a high priced neighboring lumber yard. Our mill work is sheltered from rain, sun, soot and wind. Our new Illinois plant is located on two of the largest and fastest railroads in the North with direct connections to over 20 different railroads.  (Weatherworn stock was a reference to the fact that, unlike Sears, many mills did not keep their lumber under roof.)

In March 1912, F. E. Van Alstine, Superintendent of the Sears mill was quoted in The Cairo Evening Citizen as saying that Sears had chosen Cairo because of “their low freight rates, superior shipping facilities and other natural and commercial advantages, (which) made the city more desirable than St. Louis, East St. Louis, Paducah (Kentucky) or Memphis” (Tennessee).

But later that month, the rains came and the floodwaters rose, nearly destroying the brand new mill in Northern Cairo. On April 5^th, The Cairo Evening Citizen reported that the “main building of the new Sears Roebuck factory was hurled off its foundation and is leaning toward the east. Just what damage was done to these buildings could not be ascertained, as there was no way to reach them except by skiff.”

In mid-April, the paper said that all seven lumber sheds had been torn from their foundations and much of the lumber inside the sheds had simply floated away.

By August, The Cairo Evening Citizen happily reported that despite the hard times and high waters, Sears Roebuck had decided to remain in Cairo.  It also reported that about half the lumber sheds had been rebuilt and some of that floating lumber had been recovered. The same article reported that the folks at Sears corporate headquarters in Chicago were so pleased with Van Alstine’s post-flood restoration work that they presented him with a brand new automobile.

The mill produced everything for the Ready-Cut (precut) Sears homes except for millwork. The Sears mill located in Norwood, Ohio, supplied millwork; windows, doors and interior trim and moldings.

By the early 1930s, sales of Ready-Cut homes had plummeted and the mill began looking for other ways to generate income. They began building crating material for tractors and other large equipment, including Frigidaire refrigerators and appliances sold by Sears. In the late 30s, the mill produced prefabricated buildings for the camps which housed workers in the Civilian Conservation Corps. Wheeler relates that a typical CCC camp (which included several different buildings) required 400,000 feet of lumber and about 35 of these camps were milled and shipped by the Cairo plant.

In 1940, Sears closed the plant and sold it to the employees. Shortly after the employees purchased the plant, they obtained a contract to build massive crates for shipping B-17 and B-29 bombers overseas for the war effort.

After World War II ended, the former Sears Mill - now called Illinois Lumber Company - drafted and published their own book of house plans and tried to sell Ready-Cut homes again, but without success. The Cairo Evening Citizen relates that the plant was liquidated and closed in November 1955. The article adds this interesting aside:  “Like several other Cairo lumber industries, it slowly died because the wood articles it manufactured were supplanted by iron and steel.”

All that remains today at the site of the Cairo mill are two Sears kit homes - two Rodessas - which were built as part of an experiment in 1921, to prove the superiority of Ready-Cut homes over traditional  stick built homes.

From the 1934 Ladies’ Home Journal comes this not-so-subtle message that if you don’t immediately purchase Djer-Kiss perfume, the only lovin’ you’ll get is when you kiss yourself in the mirror. Then again, if a fella catches you doing this, you can also kiss your dating life good-bye.

Or maybe (after a third read of the text below), the message is, “Buy this perfume and you’ll be so irresistible, you won’t be able to resist your own beautiful self.”

Not sure which message is more disturbing…

Our vocabulary has really undergone many changes in the last 100 years. Below is an advertisement that appeared in a 1904 Ladies’ Home Journal.  At first glance, the phrase “Receipts for Frozen Dainties” conjures up an image of someone leaving the receipt for their Fruit of the Looms outside overnight in a chilly car.

In fact, “receipt” is an old word for recipe, and a “dainty” is not an undergarment but a small pastry - suitable for high tea, I’d imagine.

But laying all that to the side, the clown pictured below looks more like a psychotic axe murderer than a gracious host.

Other than promoting emotional eating, I'm not sure how this image is supposed to help sell the advertised products.

People in general and women in particular have great difficulty telling people, “No.” As a result, we get worn down, stresssed out, double-booked and overwhelmed. It’s not good.

In the book Be Careful What You Pray For, author Larry Dossey tells about an interesting study involving AIDS patients. Researchers found that some of the patients were living well beyond their anticipated life-span. Their secret - a common  personality pattern - was found in the answer to a single question: If a friend asked you to do a favor and you didn’t want to do it, could you refuse the request?

All of the long-term survivors said that, yes, they could refuse a friend.

Perhaps part of true authenticity is allowing a little of that God-given selfishness and self-preservation to bubble to the surface. Children (such as six-year-old girls) do this quite well and quite naturally, too. Grown-up girls, don’t do this so well. But extra-grown-up girls (middle-aged women) sometimes re-learn that a little selfishness can be good.

Women, as they age, start to shed the many layers of fake personas that the world (and/or society and/or parents, etc.) have forced them to cultivate. Buried underneath all those layers of regret and coulda/shoulda/wouldas, you’ll find a woman’s authenticity. And as that true self emerges, women start to find a little peace and a little joy and a little contentment. And that’s when their real beauty starts to shine. And that’s also when their self-esteem starts to recover.

And this helped me to understand another question that plagued me: Why are women so unhappy with themselves? Maybe it’s because they’re so busy playing so many roles for so many people that they have utterly forgotten what made their once-six-year-old heart sing with joy. While countless self-improvement books urge women to get outside of ourselves and focus more on someone else’s real needs, I know plenty of women who need to focus more on themselves, and less on the rest of the world.  As Dossey’s example shows, selfishness has salutary benefits too.

This photo appeared in the advertising section of the 1898 Ladies’ Home Journal. Presumably, it’s an remarkable photo of two little boys, but the term street urchins might be more apropos. However, if you look past their tattered appearance and look into their eyes, these two boys are a little unnerving.

I’m not sure how or why this was considered “good” photography 110 years ago.

Today, it’d just be classified as “heartbreaking.”

Little scary children

Being an intelligent woman in the late 1800s and early 1900s must have been pretty unpleasant. There were few opportunities for smart females to exercise their intellectual prowess, and even fewer thought-provoking diversions. Most women were confined to the kitchen for hours and hours each day. The literature of the day states that the average woman spends 3/4ths of her day in the kitchen.

Now that’s just scary.

The Comfort Swing (shown below) was perhaps a woman’s only solace during such a harried day. If you look at the woman’s face, it also looks like she helped herself to a double-scoop of laudanum before settling into her swing.  (1898 Ladies’ Homes Journal.)

Just a'swinging

This ad from the 1926 Ladies Home Journal was interesting (as they all are) but also had a surprise. Look at this graphic below.  The “economy rules” line in the advertisement makes sense, but “The Little Red Schoolhouse of Retailing”?

To my further shock, a google search for the term “Little Red Schoolhouse of Retailing” turns up zero results.

I’d love to know what that’s about. From my 21st Century perspective, I’d say that A&P was striving to be the antithesis of Walmart.

Interesting advertisement from a 1926 Ladies' Home Journal

Larger view of the same advertisment

Yesterday, a new email appeared in my inbox from someone who’d just read my newest book - The Ugly Woman’s Guide to Internet Dating. She wrote to report that she “loved the book” and was thoroughly enjoying each and every one of the stories.

I replied and thanked her for the nice comments and smiled. That book took six years to write. It was the hardest writing project I’ve ever undertaken - period. To hear good things about it is a real balm to this writer’s weary soul.

To purchase one of your very own, click here.

To read another story about Teddy the Dog, click here.

Teddy enjoys my new book

In the weeks ahead, I’ll be traveling to Illinois for a work-related project. As is my habit, I went to travelocity.com to find the best price on airfares. But then I paused. I hopped over to www.amtrak.com and booked a seat on the train instead. Even with an upgrade to a roomette, the cost was only $150 more than a plane ticket.

Yes, it’ll take 20 hours instead of two, but it’ll be a delightful trip. I love train rides, and the longer the better. This train ride will take me through some of America’s prettiest landscapes, including the mountains of West Virginia and beyond. I’m counting the days. I can hardly wait.

Funny thing was, the amtrak website is now reporting that the train is sold out. Seems like lots of people are voting with their wallets. Maybe now we can take away the $13 billion annual subsidy donated to US airlines and give that money to developing a better inter-continental rail system.

It’s time. Traveling by air has become a nightmare, and now we’re being threatened with virtual strip searches. Travelers report being ordered to remain in their seats throughout the flight, with no access to their stowed items. Contrast this to the joy of train travel.

Traveling by train is sheer delight.

Media outlets are reporting that health inspectors found “too many roaches to count” at LSG Sky Chefs kitchens in Denver. LSG are the folks who drive those funny looking trucks up to the airplanes and unload passenger food into the airplane’s galley.

According to the AP (as reported in the San Francisco Chronicle), “inspectors who examined the Denver facility found live and dead roaches ‘too numerous to count’ in several areas of the kitchen, including at least 40 live insects in the silverware station.”

This puzzles me. In the last two years, I’ve never been served anything but pretzels and soda when I fly. What exactly is LSG cooking in their kitchens?

Read more here:

In 1926, Paramount celebrated its 15th anniversary in a big way, with full page ads in several magazines, including the Ladies’ Home Journal. The “blockbusters” advertised on the margins of this large ad are - for the most part - movies that I have never ever heard of.

Will today’s blockbusters leave people scratching their heads in wonderment?

Ever heard of these movies?

Thanks to the miracle of hydrogenation, we have “shortening” products such as Crisco. Shortening, I’ve since learned, is a nice word for white fat products that remain solidified regardless of room temperature. And the process of hydrogenation is also not a good thing.

The word betrays its etymology. Hydrogen gas is forced into shortening products (such as Cricso) to make it more solid. The irony is that, these shortening products were originally marketed as being good for one’s health.

Oopsie.

The jury is still out on hydrogenated oils, but more and more, it appears that foods with hydrogenated oils are extremely hazardous to one’s long-term health.

About four out of five women bought the 1926 Overland Six (automobile) because of its “tremendous power.”  Or so says the full-page ad in the 1926 Ladies’ Home Journal.

For those who slept through Social Studies class, the 1920s were an amazing time in American history. A fine home in a good neighborhood sold for less than $5,000.  In 1924, WLS radio signed on the air. The station’s call letters stood for “World’s Largest Store,” and it was launched as a promotion tool for Sears Roebuck.

In 1920, the 19th Amendment was ratified, giving women the right to vote. Pause for a moment and think about that. I’m a 50-year-old baby boomer and my mother was born before women had the right to vote.

The 1920s also saw an increase of automobile advertisements in women’s magazines. (In 1910, only 5% of women were licensed drivers.) The women were not driving these iron beasties, but they were (apparently) gaining a voice in the decision-making process.

And the number of women drivers increased as the years went by. Perhaps they were inspired by Alice Ramsey. In 1909, this 22-year-old made automotive history when she drove across the country in her 1909 Maxwell DA.  Top speed of the four-cylinder, 30 horsepower engine was 40 miles per hour.

Tremendous power was a radically new concept to women in the 1920s.

The 1926 ad promised "tremendous power" to women who purchased this car

Thanks to Palmolive’s beauty soap, “Youth is being retained.” Or so promises the ad in this Ladies Home Journal from 1926.

“Modern mothers” (who use these products) compete with their “daughters of debutante age.”

Uh huh.

Studies show that when we read so-called “women’s magazines,” our self-esteem plummets several percentage points. Which is good if you’re an advertiser, because that opens the door to the multi-billion dollar “cures” for ugly. Even more disturbing is the allusion here that age = unattractiveness.

In The Beauty Myth, Naomi Wolf writes that women’s magazines make their money by selling women on the idea that they’re suffering from a disease of “terminal ugliness.”

While scanning the pages of these early 20th Century women’s magazines, I was aghast to learn that manufacturers of so-called beauty products have been selling “terminal ugliness” for more than 80 years now.

The saddest part is, we keep buying into it.

“Glorious music reproduced, as you have never heard it before!”

So reads the advertisement in the August 1926 Ladies’ Home Journal. The item being pitched is the latest and greatest from Victrola: The Othorphonic Record Player (with Tungstone needle!).

This must have been a pricey little affair, for the ad reads that an electric motor would increase the Victrola’s price by a hefty $35. However the “hidden electric motor” meant there was nothing to wind!

To my surprise and delight, the word “orthophonic” can be found in the dictionary. It means, “accurate reproduction of sound.”

This ad is quite interesting. Before there was television, apparently families sat around and stared at the radio.

Victorola Orthophonic

Little boys and cute dogs naturally go together - most of the time.

Our little dog (Theodora - or Teddy for short) has been eager to meet our two-year-old grandson and frolic with him and get to know him better, but the little boy has been more than a little wary of the 29-pound Sheltie. And then today, he was sitting on the couch in our den when Teddy hopped up on the couch, leaned against the little boy and went right to sleep.

At first he was ready to get out of dodge, but after a little encouragement, he reached out and started petting Teddy and feeling her ears. He soon discovered that Teddy was soft and sweet and fun to pet.

I’m sure that in the years to come, the two of them will become good friends.

Teddy is a good dog, and our grandson is a sweet boy.

To read more about Teddy, click here.

To learn more about internet dating, click here.

To buy Rose’s newest book, click here.

Reaching out to pet Teddy

This ad is from a 1905 Ladies’ Home Journal, and in the early 1900s, x-rays and radiation was perceived to be scientific and modern and wonderful. I’ve no idea what this advertisement is suggesting, but it sounds like “X-Ray Polish” is a potent little chemical.

I guess this graphic answers the question, how many demons can dance on the head of a stove? I’m not sure. And I don’t know about the one at the bottom, pulling up the banner that reads, “Cut that out.”

Perhaps the devil is in the details.

According to historian Paul Frame, Radium was a newly discovered, valuable commodity in the early 1900s, and was perhaps even more valuable than gold.

Frame writes, “The term ‘Radium’ was incorporated into the brand names of any number of products even when these products didn’t actually contain radium. The same was true for the term X-ray.”

Learn more at his website here.

I'm not really sure what they're selling here

The ad in the Ladies’ Home Journal reads, “A little marvel of of comfort and economy wanted in every home.”

Read the fine print and you’ll soon learn that this little gem combines asbestos and radium (yes, that radium) in one dandy home appliance.

This advertisement from the early 1900s reads, “It is made in two parts: First, a heating pad of stamped steel filled with x-radium (x-radium is a chemical substance recently discovered possessing the same affinity for heat that a sponge has for water); second, a stamped-steel bowl stand, with asbestos mat in the bottom, into which the pad is placed after being heated. Both parts are finely finished, and heavily nickel-plated making a very handsome addition to the dining room equipment.”

The manufacturer promises that this product will “last a lifetime.” Not a hard promise to make, given that the radiation will probably finish them off in short order.

And the manufacturer doesn’t even mention the bonus feature:  Before long, the whole family will glow in the dark, too.

Hey boys and girls, can you say "Radiation poisoning"? I thought you could.

Close up of the advertisement