*Chachi Arcola was a character on the sitcom Happy Days, many moons ago.
And Here I Thought Arcola Was Just Chachi’s Last Name
Category: 1920s
Coffee Schmoffee
Well, that sounds fine and dandy, but as a person who only puts God-awful stevia into her coffee to prevent sugarbeetes, I can testify that the thought of twice-daily cocoa invites fear.
Although, somehow I can rationalize dark chocolate and Coke and ice cream…
Flapper’s Delight
Deathwish: Upside-Down And Backwards Writing
This could never happen now; they don’t teach cursive in schools any more. But back in the 1920s, Harry Kahne–“The Man with the Multiple Mind”–showed off his penmanship while dangling from the Majestic Theatre in Houston. Crowds gathered to witness the blood rush to his head as he scribbled patriotic lyrics. Don’t worry; he didn’t die until decades later in 1955.
Dude, Where’s My Car?
The beach at Nantasket, Massachusetts was brimming with Ford motorcars on The 4th of July 1925. After a dip in the ocean, how would you find your way back to your car? With such lack of variety in models, how would a 50-year-old man buy a “crisis car”? Could you steal another’s spare tire and afix it to your own vehicle? When did they start marking parking spaces with white paint? Didn’t the black absorb the summer sun?
Fifteen more years would pass before the 1940 Packard offered factory-installed air-conditioning. But even by 1969, only half of all new cars had it. We never had it in our cars in the ’70s. That metal lapbelt clasp would scald the bejeesus out of my skin. Remember how it felt when the vinyl seat ripped the top layer of your thigh skin off?
P.S., where can I get a brassiere like this? This defies gravity.
Fingernail Check 1920
In the 1920s, school concerned not only academics, but deportment and grooming as well.
Barry’s Shine Parlor, July 1929
So much of this pre-Depression image is foreign to me. I’ve never worn a swimming cap in public. Actually, the woman near the eyeglasses display is wearing a cloche hat, designed to let the public know that her hair was bobbed in Flapper style and she was au courant. I bet she could Charleston in that dress like nobody’s business.
I’ve also never had my shoes shined. Up top, it advertises the service as free. Surely you’d have to be buying some of those Goodrich rubber heels to get the deal. And you’d need to tip.
“Pressing while you wait”–never done that, either. I’ll come back later, thanks. And along the far right side, it reads “Heyers Prickly Heat Powder.”
Have you ever applied prickly heat powder to your rash? Gotten your shoes shined? Bobbed your hair? Used Flapper terms like “bee’s knees” and “cat’s pajamas”? Lived through the summer of 1929, believing all was well, only to have the stock market crash three months later?
Milk And Corn Flakes
Lazy Afternoon At The San Jacinto Battleground 1920
Buffalo Bayou Picnic 1920s
Every Last One Bobbed
From what I gather, a “sponsor” was like the head of the pep squad. Betty Greer (“origin of the pep”) had maids, all with modern bobbed hair. But it doesn’t sound like she sponsored in the sense of providing funds. Although–props for your nice pearls and mink stole, Betty. 
And here are the boys for whom they cheered. These youthful guys, born at the turn of the century, long gone.
Most of their kids are probably gone, too. But Berton’s hair lives on forever.
Dog Beds For People
I don’t know if this happens to y’all, but many is the time I’ve passed an aisle of plush dog beds (at Target or Ross or PetSmart) and thought, Dang, that looks pretty comfortable. But then I look at the tag of $39.99 and I’m all Oh, no, Sir. Fact is, we tossed all our dog beds long ago because our dogs stay outside. They are shedders, and I keep a clean house, to the extent that when Stanley Steamer came a couple weeks ago, they said ours was the cleanest carpet they’d ever seen. And it’s eight years old!
Anyway, the point is, if I weren’t so hellbent on order and rules, I might just take one of my cushy couch cushions and fling it on the floor as a makeshift dog mat myself. But that is not how civilized people comport themselves. We do not sit on floors.
So you can imagine my surprise when I was flipping through a fantastic book, The Image Makers, and came upon this sight.
Yes, that’s Valentino himself, The Sheik, the silent film star, sitting on a perfectly good dog mat. But I guess when you’re wearing an Asian outfit, you sit on the floor like Japanese people do when they eat.
That makes my back hurt, just looking at it. Oh, my lumbar! But I tell you what. I think I see a dog bed right there under that jacket.
And while we’re on the subject of beds, let’s talk Valentino’s marital bed. In 1919, he married actress Jean Acker, who just happened to be involved in an all-gal love triangle with actresses Grace Darmond and Alla Nazimova. Acker self-servingly married Valentino to hit control-alt-delete on that threesome, but evidently wanted no part of his body and locked him out of their room on their wedding night. The marriage was never consummated. Not even in a dog bed.
Turns out he died at 31, after surgery for appendicitis and gastric ulcers. I’m not going out like that, just so you know. When the public found out, rioting ensued. People committed suicide. No lie! Over 100,000 folks lined the streets to view his body. Like this lady.
That’s crazy, right? Pretty fancy coffin/deathbed. And speaking of fancy, check out Toto…
I’m sorry, but unless that dog poops gold coins, I can’t see how he needs that. And honestly, it really defeats the purpose of having a mobile dog bed, something to toss all devil-may-care wherever you like. You already know my back hurts. If I’m ponying up big money for a dog bed, there better not be wood involved. It better be all cushion. Or better yet, just like this:
I Don't Get It 