Newspaper History

Category: Newspapers

This is the parent category for all individual newspapers.

  • Der Inspector

    From the Harrisburgh Telegraph, March 9, 1914. By Wing Dinger.

    Up in Albany der bunch
        Of Lawmakers got busy
    Discussing Tangos, Castle Walks
        Und other dances dizzy.

    Vun chap said, “Ugh, dey neffer saw
        Such sights in grandpa’s day
    As can be seen most any night
        About der cabaret.

    “You’ll see a couple slide about,
        Ven suddenly dey slip
    Und mit der knees dey hit der floor,
        Dat’s vat dey call der dip.

    “Or maybe in der middle of
        A dance der girl vill faint,
    Her partner holds her off der floor,
        But she unconscious ain’t.

    “Dat only is anudder stunt
        Dat makes der dance unique,
    Und dere’s a heap of udder dings
        About vhich I could speak.

    “But vat I want to say is dis,
        Dese dances shouldn’t be,
    So I vill resolution dat
        Ve name a Committee.

    “Und it vill go about der State
        Investigating dings
    About dese naughty dances, und
        Make some recommendings.”

    Und ven der news got spread abroad,
        Such crowds you neffer saw
    For jobs on der committee to
        Inspect dose dances raw.

  • Deception in Cactus Centre

    From The Sun, March 8, 1914. By Arthur Chapman.

    We are strong, down here in Cactus, for the majesty of law,
    But a heart throb’s sure to stop us ‘ere we make the halter draw;
    That is why we freed a hoss thief that was caught near Bridger’s Buttes,
    Though he rode Slim Johnson’s pinto and he trailed three stolen brutes;
    We was all prepared to send him where he’d join more of his kind
    When he says, “Gents, just one minute, in my shirt front youse’ll find
    A package that I’d gaze on, if it’s all the same to youse.”
    So our leader reached in, rough like, and drew out two baby shoes.

    Well, we stood around there awkward, and we sorter scuffed our feet;
    You could hear our spurs make music, and it sounded soft and sweet;
    We was due to start proceedin’s, it was gittin’ cold and late,
    But somehow we’d lost our ferver to enact the role of fate;
    We jest milled there in the moonlight, and nobody said a word;
    Some was lookin’ to their saddles, but at last Bear Hawkins stirred
    And he freed this hoss thief feller, and we rode away by twos,
    ‘Cause you can’t hang anybody who is packin’ baby shoes.

    Yes, of course the law was cheated, for we found the game was old;
    He had worked the same at Sage Crick, and at Range View, we was told;
    And he never had no children, and the shoes he’d simply found;
    Such we learned, with other details when the story got around;
    But in spite of all the laughter that we’ve drawed down by our act
    We would play the same cards over—that’s a cold, hard twisted fact;
    So we scorn the jeers of Piñon, and we don’t mind Lone Tree’s hoots,
    ‘Cause we know they’d do what we done when we found them baby boots.

  • He Kicked the Dog

    From the New York Tribune, March 7, 1914. By Arthur C. Sharp.

    Sued in the Municipal Court for $100 because he caused the death of a bulldog belonging to Antonio Angarano, Arthur C. Sharp has filed his answer in poetry. The verses read:

    Now comes defendant and submits
    His answer to the court. Admits
    That at the time and at the place
    He kicked said bullpup in the face.

    Admits he lives in Syracuse—
    Denying that is little use.
    All other things in said complaint
    Are here denied because they “Ain’t.”

    Defendant, answering plaintiff’s claim,
    For further defense to the same,
    Alleges that said dog was bad,
    Ugly, vicious, cross and mad.

    And often in a rage would fly
    At dogs or people passing by,
    And for a long time he had stood
    A nuisance in the neighborhood.

    Defendant says that on this day
    As he was passing on his way,
    He saw before his horses’ feet
    This bulldog fighting in the street.

    Defendant, trying to do right
    Endeavored then to stop the fight;
    Alleges that said dog was wild
    With hunger, and his temper riled.

    And at aforesaid time he tried
    To breakfast off defendant’s hide.
    Defendant, showing common sense,
    Then kicked the pup in self-defense.

    Wherefore, defendant now insists
    Plaintiff’s complaint should be dismissed,
    And if the action he has lost
    Demands that plaintiff pay the cost.

  • A Dozen Men in One

    From the Newark Evening Star, March 6, 1914. By Thomas F. Porter.

    How many men fail of success
    And bring upon themselves distress,
    Because year after year they wait
    Ere they their powers concentrate.
    They flit about on roving wing
    And never stick to anything;
    So of each task they undertake
    A failure they are sure to make.

    A while they work with zeal intense,
    But soon a different task commence,
    When, meeting with some slight reverse,
    They change again, perhaps to worse;
    And so they turn about, and shift,
    With no direction idly drift,
    And think, like many another dunce
    To be a dozen men at once.

    Noting how little some folks work,
    Their tasks they are inclined to shirk;
    Seeing how others forge ahead,
    To follow them they oft are led;
    Unsuited to the work, they fail,
    And then at Fate they wrongly rail,
    Or, making but a slight advance
    Claim that they never had a chance.

    Though there are dangers in a rut,
    To this our eyes we must not shut:
    If we in some one line would win,
    At once our task we must begin,
    And not too much our powers divide
    Upon a thousand things outside;
    Nor e’er attempt, in work or fun,
    To be a dozen men in one.

  • Still Waters

    From the Newark Evening Star, March 5, 1914. By Edgar A. Guest.

    Kitty never had no use for men,
        Seemed to us she’d rather read an’ sew;
    None of us could ever point to when
        She had ever entertained a beau.
    Every time a feller came to call,
        Kitty never had a word to say,
    Never even showed him to the hall
        When at 10 o’clock he went away.

    Jim, we used to think, was jes’ as queer,
        Women used to scare him to a chill;
    When the girls come visitin’ us here
        He jes’ spent the evenin’ sittin’ still.
    “Women ain’t fer me,” he used to say,
        “I can’t get accustomed to their ways,”
    Then he’d grab his hat an’ run away
        Jes’ as though his mind was in a daze.

    Jim an’ Kitty scarcely ever spoke,
        Least we never saw ‘em, if they did;
    Never heard ‘em ever pass a joke.
        Much beneath still waters, though, is hid.
    Both of ‘em lived on the farm for years,
        Never once we saw ‘em arm in arm;
    But you shouldn’t judge from what appears,
        Leastwise if you’re livin’ on a farm.

    Kitty disappeared one mornin’ bright,
        All that day we looked in vain for Jim;
    But they both came back again at night,
        Kitty, smiling, hand in hand with him.
    Seemed they both had tired of single life,
        So she said, while brushing back the tears,
    Parson Brown had made ‘em man an’ wife,
        An’ they’d been engaged for twenty years.

  • The Picture That is Turned Toward the Wall

    From The Detroit Times, March 4, 1914.

    Far away, beyond the glamor of the city and its strife,
        There’s a quiet little homestead by the sea
    Where a tender, loving lassie used to live a happy life,
        Contented in her home as she could be.
    Not a shadow seemed to cloud the sunshine of her youth,
        And they thought no sorrow her life could befall,
    But she left them all one evening, and their sad hearts knew the truth
        When her father turned her picture to the wall.

    There’s a name that’s never spoken and a mother’s heart half broken,
        There is just another missing from the old home, that is all;
    There is still a memory living, there’s a father unforgiving,
        And a picture that is turned toward the wall.

    They have laid away each token of the one who ne’er returns,
        Every trinket, every ribbon that she wore;
    Tho’ it seems so long ago now, yet the lamp of hope still burns,
        And her mother prays to see her child once more;
    Tho’ no tidings ever reach them what her life or lot may be,
        Tho’ they sometimes think she’s gone beyond recall,
    There’s a tender recollection of a face they never see
        In the picture that is turned toward the wall.

  • A Change of Plan

    From The Detroit Times, March 3, 1914. By Berton Braley.

    He’d read all the dope on attending to work
        And toiling to suit your employer;
    He knew that to loaf or to laze or to shirk
        Was quite an ambition destroyer;
    So he plunged into work with a zest and a vim
        And he did more than double his share of it;
    He needed a raise, for his wages were slim,
        But he knew that the boss would take care of it!

    For hadn’t the books made this simple fact plain—
        That people would recognize talent;
    That if you would work with your might and your main
        The boss, with a manner most gallant,
    Would give you a raise, though you said not a word,
        To show you were worthy of credit;
    So he toiled and he sweated, but nothing occurred
        And life didn’t go as he’d read it!

    The boss was aware of his merit, all right,
        But he said, “Why the deuce should I raise him
    So long as he’s willing to work day and night
        For what his position now pays him?”
    But weary with waiting, the worker grew wise;
        He said to himself, “Why, dod rot it!
    These books on success are a bundle of lies”—
        So he struck for a raise—and he got it!

  • The Chronic Invalid

    From The Topeka State Journal, March 2, 1914. By Roy K. Moulton.

    Old Ez Binks has always been
        Sort of saller like and ailin’;
    Folks cannot remember when
        Ezra’s system was not failin’.
    Folks say he enjoys poor health,
        And ain’t happy less he’s sickly;
    When a new disease comes out,
        Ez grabs onto it right quickly.
    He’s had every known disorder
        That the doctors have invented,
    And he’s nearly crossed the border
        Five times, but was just prevented.
    When Ez Binks was twenty-one
        Typhoid fever nearly took him;
    He got over that and then
        Chills and fever grabbed and shook him.
    Chicken pox and scarlet fever
        Came, and then appendicitis,
    Measles, mumps, lumbago, grip,
        Rheumatism and tonsilitis.
    Ezra now is ninety-four,
        At his fate he still is railin’;
    He has not improved a bit
        And his health is still failin’,
    But he will keep right on livin’,
        Chronic sick folks have that way;
    And it looks as though they’d have to
        Shoot old Ez on judgment day.

  • The Last Word

    From The Commoner, March 1, 1914. By Berton Braley.

    When the voice of the people speaks loud enough
        The deafest of magnates can hear;
    The proudest of bankers is cowed enough
        When the thunderbolts crash in his ear,
    And the Masters of Money grow humble,
        Their arrogance dwindles from sight,
    When they hark to the menacing rumble
        As the people speak out in their might!

    When the voice of the people speaks loud enough
        It’s only a fool who’s defiant;
    It’s only a blind man who’s proud enough
        To think he can conquer the giant—
    The giant so slow in the waking,
        So mighty when once under way,
    That wise men, with knees that are quaking,
        Give heed to his voice—and obey!

    The people have labored and plowed enough,
        They are restless and weary of strain—
    When the voice of the people speaks loud enough
        The Will of the people shall reign!

  • A Dream

    From The Topeka State Journal, February 28, 1914. By Roy K. Moulton.

    Last night as I lay sleeping,
        I had a dream so fair;
    Methought I owned a hundred banks,
        With money everywhere.
    My home was on Fifth Avenue,
        My servants all content;
    It never strained my purse a bit
        To pay for clothes or rent.

    I owned all sorts of motor cars,
        A nifty yacht and plane;
    I rode where’er I pleased on earth
        And o’er the bounding main,
    And in the midst of all my joy
        I got an awful shock;
    My banks were closed by order of
        My old alarum clock.