This ape found his Chiquita Banana.
Although we bristle at this now, this was the reality of a 70s frat “Jungle Party” on 11/11/76. As Bob Wills says, “Time changes everything,” and we can see why.
That’s the great thing about yearbooks; they never get re-edited. So while it reveals a context with which we might now be uncomfortable, it also shows us how far we’ve come.
Summer ends next week, and Halloween will follow, and the next day begins the holiday season. We all know it will pass quickly, as it does each year, and soon we will complain of ice and frigid temps. In any event, most of us will be itching to disembark the burning ship of 2020, whether or not we have life vests like the fellow above.
This particular image was taken from a lifeboat by one of the 1500 passengers aboard the British troopship Empire Windrush. On the last leg of her voyage from Japan, steaming past Algiers, an engine room explosion sent flames and smoke throughout the ship. Lifeboats carried away all women and children, and 750 men were left to crawl down (or in some cases, jump) into the water. Rescue ships soon arrived and picked up every single crew man, save the four who were killed by the actual explosion. No other lives were lost, and it became one of the most successful sea rescues of all time.
The ship did sink after all, but here we see her in better days, in June of 1948, arriving at Tilbury Docks from Jamaica, with 482 Jamaicans on board, emigrating to Britain.
Gordon Foods–for all your nut meat and potato stick needs!
Atlanta was super progressive, offering international albums–even at night!
If you weren’t into modern Boogie Woogie, RCA Victor might be more your style.
Next up: refreshment!
The College Inn looks like the place to be, if you want to sit at the bar and sling back far-flung milkshakes.
And if too much brewski had gotten you soused beyond function, it might be time to call the White Cross.
During the Roaring 20s (as opposed to this current 20s, whose moniker remains to be seen, but I vote for Recovering) flying circuses and wing walkers were all the rage. I find it curious that they simply couldn’t paint in smaller font and thereby include all of the letters in TRANSPORT, but no matter. Although, technically, it could abbreviate TRANSPLANT as well. I would not volunteer for an aerial transplant.
Most of us don’t immediately associate beaches with the city of Cleveland. In fact, I am so full of ignorance about the city, that other than it existing inside of Ohio, I only know that Drew Carey was born there. I also know he was a Marine, and that his middle name is Allison, so that shows how much MORE I know about Drew than his birthplace. So if you’re like me, you will be gobsmacked to learn that they put some sand along the edge of Lake Erie and called it a beach. No sharks? No salt water to sting your eyes? Sounds nifty!
I hear they have freshwater jellyfish, however, but not big enough to give you a painful sting that lasts for two weeks with shooting bolts of pain down your leg, like the fun Gulf of Mexico offers. Cleveland’s Edgewater Beach website says one can enjoy 2400 feet of beach and 1000 feet of swimming access. Let’s go! Any readers done some swimming this summer, either alone or completely disobeying all the laws and engaging with friends and family? I surely have not.
Oh, things were so formal in days of yore! Kempt hair, belts, ties! Nothing like today, where anything goes. You think Millennials have ever worried over which fork to use? You think Generation Z was ever nagged, “No elbows at the table”? Doubtful. At church yesterday, the boy in front of me was wearing flip-flops, and at least two grown men were wearing ballcaps. That would have never flown in my day, but today we are “accepting” and “inclusive” and it’s perfectly fine to show up, dressed like you’re headed down to the “crick” to go frog-gigging or you’re next up to work the pole . Atrocious, especially if you have perfectly good Sperrys (ies) in your closet.
Anyhoo. This here is Puerto Rico in 1939, the year that I associate with both The Wizard of Oz and Gone With The Wind. The lottery had been allowed for 35 years when in 1934, Puerto Rican legislator Maria Luisa Arcelay (evidently some women did yield political power in the 30s) suggested allowing lotteries to be legalized. By December, she had made it happen. In this image, a lottery drawing is taking place before “three prominent citizens” who act as honorary witnesses (no funny stuff!), but regular proles are allowed to attend as well. The smaller cage on the left houses the “number balls,” and the larger contains “prize amount balls.” Sounds like gambling to me, but I’m not one to turn down a flashy Stampede slot machine.
One third of the receipts were distributed to combat tuberculosis in old PR (which had a whopping 5X higher death rate than in the US proper), to relieve the destitute (of which 82% claimed to be in need of financial aid, and BTW, are the destitute ever really relieved, or do they just hang on as dependents to a government who fancies itself their Savior?), and equip hospitals (possibly with PPE). Choir boys then sang the winning number and the respective prize to the crowd gathered outside. Because that’s normal.
I just read that US smallpox vaccinations ended in 1972 when the disease was eradicated. Guess I was one of the last ones to have this scar on my shoulder?
This gal throws much attitude, but I honestly can’t tell if she’s 13 or 23. Huge Jackie O sunglasses, permed bob, lip gloss, tight waist. Love it! While her shirt cuffs are reminiscent of my own tees in 1985, this was actually September of 1975, exactly 45 years ago. That was the year emissions testing on the exhaust analyzer went into effect, and she was watching her go through testing at an inspection station in Cincinnati, Ohio.
What I don’t get is the possessive S after banana. Is the world going bananas? Sure, that’s solid. But banana’s? Certainly it doesn’t own her. She looks like the boss of herself.
Looking très French in his beret and silk apron, sculptor Rene (of course his name is Rene) Shapshak adds the final touches to his clay model of former President Harry S. (“You Dropped A Bomb On Me”) Truman in early 1956 at the Federal Reserve Bank Building in Kansas City, Missouri, the state from whenst Truman sprang. While interweb sources all declare that this would become a bronze bust, to be unveiled in Israel on Truman’s 73rd birthday, I can find no such bronze bust. It would seem the bust itself was a bust.
Over 100 years ago, these Jewish children practiced oral hygiene with a standard “Toothbrush Drill,” popular at New York public schools. Pretty sure these kids didn’t have gingivitis.
Good oral hygiene was also important for these young women during singing class at Jewish People’s School in Otwock, Poland in the 1920s. Note that every single one wore her hair bobbed.
If those girls played their cards right, they might end up with nice Jewish boys, like the ones below at Yeshiva College in NYC, where students were able to “harmoniously combine the best of modern culture with the learning and the spirit of Torah.”
Today let’s pause and be grateful that we have the freedom to worship in our country without being persecuted.
