I love old magazines; they don’t mince words. In their retelling of how toddler Peter Jackson came to be the “sensation of the late London season” at the Horse Guards Parade, they made sure to make mention that he was only there because his poor father was jobless and had nowhere else to be, since he wasn’t supporting his family. Was that necessary?
Two-year-old Peter, overcome with emotion, could not simply watch the Mounting of the Guard. He had to be a part of it. It was not a protest at all, but imitation in the highest. Slipping away from the supervision of his father, Peter dashed out onto the grounds, secured his toy rifle (albeit on the wrong shoulder), and marched with military form, to the delight of onlookers. In this image, he is shouting an order, immediately followed by a fearful reaction to his own voice, and flees back to the arms of his papa.
Oh, y’all. How do I tread lightly on this image? My first inclination was to Google the opposite of eye candy, which returned “butt ugly.” Honestly. While I feel that is harsh, my eyes nod in accord with Google. These are skivvies best left unseen. It’s curious that LIFE published this at all, in their 7/11/38 issue, referring to Emmy Andersen (whom you will not find made mention of anywhere else on the interwebs) as a “calisthenist and premier nudist of Denmark.” By the way, if you again Google calisthenics, the example it gives is, “Three women swung Indian clubs while performing calisthenics in unison.” That’s weird, right? It’s not just me?
LIFE went on to explain that Andersen had been a solo nudist on a North Sea island for seven years because Denmark frowned on organized skin culture. Don’t Google that term, because it means something else entirely. She arrived in the USA on June 30th to “ascertain the status of nudism in America.” One wonders what she discovered, or when she returned to her homeland, which declared neutrality the following year, and was quickly occupied by the Germans. I, however, am not a Dane, so I don’t have to be neutral. To the exhibitionist with the nylons rolled down, I give a decided thumbs down.
Brothers Fred and Amos Vieira cut ice on their farm pond in Jacksonville, Illinois exactly 100 years ago in 1921. One hopes they never fell through the ice in those heavy jackets, but I imagine, as they were the only two of six sons assigned to this chore, that their competence was high. Ice was stored in sawdust (yes, that’s a thing) for later use. Can you imagine dusty ice cubes in your cocktail? I can’t even imagine a frozen river.
In my newer model sensible Camry, I have two inches clearance between my scalp and the roof. I doubt I could have comfortably driven this sedan with my higher volume 80s hair. But this? This is (quite lit’rally) above and beyond.
This hair style was MADE for buses. Buses offer plenty of room for trendy gals to nod and shake their heads. It’s a good thing no one went jogging back then, because these bouffants would have never fit beneath a ball cap.
Now check out this Sputnik style. How would you travel with this thing? By rocket ship?
In the middle of WWII, Curtis-Wright Cadettes at the University of Texas trained for vital war work, living in the Campus Guild and getting hands-on experience in engineering.
When nightfall came, however, they traded jumpsuits for feminine pajamas and flowy gowns. Or at least they did for this article.
Per https://archives.lib.purdue.edu, the Engineering Cadette Program was started in 1943 at seven universities: Purdue University, Cornell, Pennsylvania State University, University of Minnesota, Iowa State University, Rensselear University, and University of Texas. During their time in the program, the women’s educational and lodging costs were covered by the Curtiss-Wright Corporation, and they received a $10 per week stipend. The graduates of 1943 completed two and a half years of engineering curriculum in ten months. Upon completion of the program, the women were assigned positions in one of five Curtiss-Wright facilities in the country. Once the war was over, the majority of the women were replaced by returning male soldiers.
A horse and rider confidently walk upon the sturdy snow on the roof of Paradise Inn on Mount Ranier.
In the current image from Park Ranger John, you can see that the entrance has hardly changed, minus the snow drifts and one lanky cowboy.
I would imagine that this era of rules and regulations has ushered in a “no horses on the roof” policy. But it must have been a hoot back then!
A member of the Scandinavian crew in Aberdeen, Washington shows how fresh the silverside salmon is, just snared in the lower Columbia River.
Today’s image comes from Hoquiam High School’s domestic science department, where the seated teacher is tending to a wooden skirt made of Sitka spruce veneer, at a comfortable 1/80 inch thickness. Washington state was swimming in lumber during the Great Depression, leading to its use in costumes as well as (yes!) bathing suits. Can you imagine the marks that would leave on your upper thigh, or how it would clickety clack when you walk?
July 6, 1911. It’s hot. It’s humid. It’s New York. Hygiene is sorely lacking. There’s no chilled Coke. No frosty A&W. No Slurpees available. So why don’t we stick some blocks of ice on the hot asphalt of a dirty city street and invite some unvaccinated urchins to come lick it? It’s not like it’s a bat or anything.