Arkansans definitely did play April Fools' jokes in 1920. I know from my sainted father's personal testimony.
By his account, teens in Mississippi County — at least once — hauled a Model T Ford onto the roof of a store. More than once, they picked up and scooted an unpopular neighbor's outhouse two feet beyond its pit just before daylight. Then they hid behind a woodpile to wait for him to hustle out of his house while unhitching his Union suit.
Sadly, those pranks do not appear to have been recorded in the Arkansas Gazette and Arkansas Democrat, at least not during the week of March 28, 1920. That might be because March 28 brought down a deadly pack of tornadoes across the Midwest, killing 165 people. Pulaski Heights was hard hit. And the archives don't include a March 29 issue of the Gazette.
But hold back your dismay a bit, Friend Reader. Several of the items that did make the daily news that week read as though written for April Fools'.
In the March 28 Gazette, a news service story reported the reaction of "Chicago girls" to medical findings delivered by one Dr. Lewinson Brown to the New York State Medical Society. He said that kissing should only be done in the evening — after the lips had been well sterilized by sunshine and fresh air.
One Chicagoan, Byrdie Schade, agreed that kissing in the morning was worse than a cocktail before breakfast. She had been kissed as early as 4 o'clock in the afternoon, "but that was at the railroad station, and he was going away to war."
Ethel Donovan, stenographer, said that it was probably OK to kiss a baby in the morning -- but you must always kiss babies on the back of the neck. She did know a girl who had been kissed in the morning, and that girl had cold sores.
Glory Devine, chorus girl, confided: "I never have been kissed in the morning as I never get up before noon, but it must be awfully crude — like eating your desert first."
The March 29 Democrat reported that "an ambitious young distiller of the corn" had asked the Garland County sheriff if he could buy one of the worms — cooper coils — the sheriff had at the jail. "I think I can fix you up. Come right along with me and we will look these worms over," said the sheriff.
Once the youth selected a coil, the sheriff refused to sell it separately; the boy must buy a kit, he said. The would-be distiller mulled this over and agreed. He said he could pay on the installment plan after his still made a profit.
He said he had plenty of corn "to hum" and that he could get a supply of sugar before he left town.
So the deal was almost set, but, the sheriff said, the young man needed to stop by the grand jury to have his purchase authorized. The sheriff made sure the jury was in on the joke. After a 30 minute interview, the young man caught on that he might be in trouble. But, turns out, they weren't inclined to charge him for just "wanting something."
After he emerged, the sheriff asked how it went.
"That there is the most askinest bunch of fellers I ever seen on my life," he replied in a hurt voice. "They ast me more foolish questions than I was ever ast in my life. They butted in a powerful lot with my bizness and I ain't a comin' back here any more either."
The sheriff jailed him just long enough to get him to cough up the name of whoever had put him up to soliciting the sheriff. The grand jury took the rest of the day off.
The March 30 Gazette reported that a crowd of people had gathered around the foot of the free bridge for "a very exciting few minutes" to watch an alligator swimming up the Arkansas River.
Policeman G.W. Jarry, C.J. Baker, Sam Hamilton and other prominent citizens sent for guns, and about 40 shots were fired at this beast. When it failed to turn up its tail or even move, Baker trained a pair field glasses on it:
It turned out to be a log.
The same day's Gazette reported a slump in the mouse market, a big slump. Columbia University in New York needed large stocks of the little rodents for experimental purposes but was having trouble finding suppliers.
The price of mice had fallen so far below pre-war level that breeders had gone out of business.
Hosts of mice were required during the war for medical experiments and high prices offered for them by the government stimulated the breeding of these animals. When the armistice was signed the breeders were caught "long" on mice and they found themselves carrying a heavy overload of a useless commodity.
Also March 30, both newspapers reported that soldiers who served in the U.S. Army during the World War had gained 3.35 pounds per man, on average. This seems credible considering hunger and poverty were common across the nation and especially in states like Mississippi. The military supplied three squares and a bunk or cot or blanket; many soldiers didn't have three square meals a day back home.
But the rest of the data is a tad less obvious. According to statistics compiled for 876,159 men, the newspapers reported, the average man grew 0.23 inch while on active duty. Possibly the effects of malnutrition on young adults might explain this, too. Another explanation could be that somebody measured the men barefoot as they came in and wearing shoes when they left. During the time when thousands were pouring into Camp Pike for duty, the Gazette did report seeing barefoot black men get off the train. If Helpful Reader has information on how soldiers grew taller while weighted down with kit, please share.
The March 31 Democrat reported that Gov. Charles Brough had effectively nullified an antiquated law by pardoning four Arkadelphia men who were convicted of selling cigarettes and fined $10 and court costs. Arkansas once upon a time banned the sale of cigarettes. Who knew?
That day's Gazette also reported results of a "religious survey" made by something called the Inter-Church World Movement for Arkansas. The report had found a church that listed three members: one was dead and the other two had moved to Oklahoma.
Have I mentioned yet that the week of March 28 was Coffee Week at the Kempner Theatre? Both papers carried swell ads from manufacturers Canova, Betsy Ross, Luzianne, Sol H. Jol and a roasting house, Plunkett-Jarrell. The theater was showing a "great industrial picture" about coffee titled The Gift of Heaven.
This interesting picture tells the story of two loves — the love of man for woman — and the love of both for the world's greatest beverage.
Coffee Week ended April 3. So I will leave you with this: The April 3 Democrat reported that Miss Bessie W. Newsom, formerly of Hot Springs, who graduated at the head of her class from George Washington University Law School, had gone to Oklahoma City "to engage in the practice of law." That headline?
Arkansas Girl to Practice Law
But it was true.
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Style on 03/30/2020