Let me ask you something. Seriously - I want you to clear your mind. Forget whatever may be nagging you at this moment and focus on this sentence:
How intimidated would you be if a hearse tried to pull you over?
Don't read on just yet; give that question the intellectual scrutiny it deserves. Perhaps you should go back and reread it a few times. Recline in your chair, and just think about it.
I ask, because today I am in the mood for a laugh. As I write this article, a chilly and wet rain is whipping the maple leaves outside my window. They seem to be waving me off - don't bother coming outside. It is positively wretched out, but I do not have any reason to leave the comfort of my home. I feel good, energetic. Today is a good day to have a laugh.
Now back to philosophy. How would you feel, if a hearse tried to pull you over? I ask, because I decided to go through an old stack of newspapers, to find as many odd tidbits of humorous news as I could. I had scarcely begun, when I unearthed this gem.
According to the Milwaukee Sentinel from Wednesday, Aug. 23, 1939, a dispute arose in Fond du Lac over the purchase of a new police squad car. The chief of police argued that their current patrol car, a touring model from 1926 is in such poor condition that it is actually unsafe to operate. He describes how haywire holds the brake rods in place, and only one brake actually works. The tires leak prodigiously. There is no spare tire, the battery must be charged weekly, and the lights are "as dim as candles." Moreover, oil must be added every single day, it only travels 8 miles per gallon of gasoline burned, and has racked up 148,000 miles. Only the siren works reliably.
To this the city council (including Mayor Promen) remarked helpfully, "Perhaps a local mortician would have an old hearse for sale. A hearse would do all right for a squad car."
In lieu of the current crop of high school graduates, here is something of relevance. The Milwaukee Sentinel of Aug. 4, 1939 ran this headline, "Youths Lack Authority but Surely not Ambition." Two young men fresh out of high school, penniless, and without work decided to begin their very own enterprise. They erected a sign in a vacant lot, "Thiede and Jessen - We do Anything." Smaller placards advertised their ability as a "Detective agency." "We'll push your baby buggy," "Want an escort? See us," and my personal favorite, "Learn to drive the T-J way." According to the story, "The boys will tackle any job, and are not reticent about it."
Unfortunately, some things never change. Thiede and Jessen face three charges from police: using a lot without the owner's consent, erecting signs without permission, and operating a business without a permit. Still, T-J resolved to go to court to straighten everything out. In fact, they had already been hired to investigate two cases: a car burglary, and were offered a $10 reward to track down a peeping Tom.
Brevity is the soul of wit. As such, I have to relay this next blurb verbatim. This, from the Milwaukee Journal of Sunday, July 16, 1939. The headline: It Wasn't an Earthquake that Shocked Town's Folk. "Frank Cecchini ran his automobile into a power pole, toppling a 60,000 volt transmission line onto a 4,000 volt distribution line. In the next few moments:
Sheets of flame ran up and down the walls of Charles Elliott's house. The motor in the refrigerator melted. Fuses popped like firecrackers. Mrs. Elliot, holding a candle for her husband, was blown out the back door. Herman Bruns' house was shaken off its foundation. An unidentified man said he was shaving with an electric razor and the electricity burned his face. Officials from the electric company said it was miraculous no one was killed."
This story occurred in Antioch. Just one more reason to move to California, I guess.
Finally, in conclusion, I must leave you with a front-page news item that only a non-parent such as myself would find amusing. If you are a parent, maybe you should not read on. Let me preface this by pointing out that the baby is just fine. A headline from the front page of the Milwaukee Journal, Aug. 20, 1939: "Baby in Buggy Hitches a Ride at 60 Miles per Hour."
Baby Eileen, 17 months old, set a speed record when her carriage was accidentally pulled 6 miles (repeat, 6 miles) over a rough and bumpy country road. This occurred when the driver, Joseph Hezel, "finished his beer in a nearby pub and started off in his motor car," unaware that the carriage had hooked to his rear bumper. He was pursued by pedestrians, which he failed to notice as he reached speeds of 60 miles per hour.
Don't feel bad for the baby - she loved it. Witnesses recall seeing the baby clap her hands and laugh at the crowd pursuing the unlikely caravan. When the mother and baby were reunited, little Eileen was reported to be playing with the chinstrap of the helmet of a police officer who was holding her.
Again, the baby was not hurt. Want to know the best part of this saga? There appears to have been no charges filed in the incident. I wonder if Mr. Hezel was pulled over by a hearse?
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Monday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
How intimidated would you be if a hearse tried to pull you over?
Don't read on just yet; give that question the intellectual scrutiny it deserves. Perhaps you should go back and reread it a few times. Recline in your chair, and just think about it.
I ask, because today I am in the mood for a laugh. As I write this article, a chilly and wet rain is whipping the maple leaves outside my window. They seem to be waving me off - don't bother coming outside. It is positively wretched out, but I do not have any reason to leave the comfort of my home. I feel good, energetic. Today is a good day to have a laugh.
Now back to philosophy. How would you feel, if a hearse tried to pull you over? I ask, because I decided to go through an old stack of newspapers, to find as many odd tidbits of humorous news as I could. I had scarcely begun, when I unearthed this gem.
According to the Milwaukee Sentinel from Wednesday, Aug. 23, 1939, a dispute arose in Fond du Lac over the purchase of a new police squad car. The chief of police argued that their current patrol car, a touring model from 1926 is in such poor condition that it is actually unsafe to operate. He describes how haywire holds the brake rods in place, and only one brake actually works. The tires leak prodigiously. There is no spare tire, the battery must be charged weekly, and the lights are "as dim as candles." Moreover, oil must be added every single day, it only travels 8 miles per gallon of gasoline burned, and has racked up 148,000 miles. Only the siren works reliably.
To this the city council (including Mayor Promen) remarked helpfully, "Perhaps a local mortician would have an old hearse for sale. A hearse would do all right for a squad car."
In lieu of the current crop of high school graduates, here is something of relevance. The Milwaukee Sentinel of Aug. 4, 1939 ran this headline, "Youths Lack Authority but Surely not Ambition." Two young men fresh out of high school, penniless, and without work decided to begin their very own enterprise. They erected a sign in a vacant lot, "Thiede and Jessen - We do Anything." Smaller placards advertised their ability as a "Detective agency." "We'll push your baby buggy," "Want an escort? See us," and my personal favorite, "Learn to drive the T-J way." According to the story, "The boys will tackle any job, and are not reticent about it."
Unfortunately, some things never change. Thiede and Jessen face three charges from police: using a lot without the owner's consent, erecting signs without permission, and operating a business without a permit. Still, T-J resolved to go to court to straighten everything out. In fact, they had already been hired to investigate two cases: a car burglary, and were offered a $10 reward to track down a peeping Tom.
Brevity is the soul of wit. As such, I have to relay this next blurb verbatim. This, from the Milwaukee Journal of Sunday, July 16, 1939. The headline: It Wasn't an Earthquake that Shocked Town's Folk. "Frank Cecchini ran his automobile into a power pole, toppling a 60,000 volt transmission line onto a 4,000 volt distribution line. In the next few moments:
Sheets of flame ran up and down the walls of Charles Elliott's house. The motor in the refrigerator melted. Fuses popped like firecrackers. Mrs. Elliot, holding a candle for her husband, was blown out the back door. Herman Bruns' house was shaken off its foundation. An unidentified man said he was shaving with an electric razor and the electricity burned his face. Officials from the electric company said it was miraculous no one was killed."
This story occurred in Antioch. Just one more reason to move to California, I guess.
Finally, in conclusion, I must leave you with a front-page news item that only a non-parent such as myself would find amusing. If you are a parent, maybe you should not read on. Let me preface this by pointing out that the baby is just fine. A headline from the front page of the Milwaukee Journal, Aug. 20, 1939: "Baby in Buggy Hitches a Ride at 60 Miles per Hour."
Baby Eileen, 17 months old, set a speed record when her carriage was accidentally pulled 6 miles (repeat, 6 miles) over a rough and bumpy country road. This occurred when the driver, Joseph Hezel, "finished his beer in a nearby pub and started off in his motor car," unaware that the carriage had hooked to his rear bumper. He was pursued by pedestrians, which he failed to notice as he reached speeds of 60 miles per hour.
Don't feel bad for the baby - she loved it. Witnesses recall seeing the baby clap her hands and laugh at the crowd pursuing the unlikely caravan. When the mother and baby were reunited, little Eileen was reported to be playing with the chinstrap of the helmet of a police officer who was holding her.
Again, the baby was not hurt. Want to know the best part of this saga? There appears to have been no charges filed in the incident. I wonder if Mr. Hezel was pulled over by a hearse?
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Monday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
