Sorta like Ella Minnow Pea, except Completely Different.

I know I’m not the only one it has happened to… I know it for a fact, because there was an English gentleman who was notably guilty of mixing up his words – so much so that his name became the descriptive term. Spoonerism: word and phrase mistakes that sometimes end up with comic consequences.

It happened at the cash register today, and it always makes me think of those occasions when such things went from my mouth into a microphone on live radio.

William Archibald Spooner was an Oxford professor in the late 1800s and early 1900s, known for his absent-mindedness and a proclivity for mixing up his words – with unintended results. It happened often enough that they were repeated by his students, and eventually came to be called spoonerisms.

It was my personal practice to plow on when my mouth made a U-turn during a broadcast. My logic? I figured a percentage of the audience wasn’t paying that much attention to me anyway. Another percentage might assume they had misheard, making it their mistake instead of mine. I also figured my radio miscues had a distinct advantage over my friends who wrote for the newspaper: mine were immediately gone into the ephemeral stratosphere (almost always…), but printed mistakes sat around in legible print until they became wrappers for greasy trash or liners for the birdcage.

However. That particular election night, the hour was drawing late, I was growing tired, and the update segment was short. The deejay working the evening shift left his microphone on, to be ready when I finished my couple-of-minutes-long report.

One of the races was for STATE SCHOOL SUPERINTENDENT. Well. It either comes out right, or it doesn’t, and it didn’t. ‘Superintendent’ came out as SCOOPERintendent, which might not have been too bad if ‘state’ and ‘school’ hadn’t gotten garbled as well.

I was tired enough that I didn’t realize the implication of my error until the deejay started laughing, causing me to pause long enough to realize I was announcing the name of our next STOOL SCOOPERintendent.

It wasn’t quite as embarrassing as the live broadcast from a car dealership: Pat FITTER CHEVROLET. I’ll let you swap the start of those words to figure out my spoonerism on that one – one that caused me to be extra cautious in describing where I was for the rest of that promotion. I should have apologized to him then, but I’ll offer it now, a few decades-late. “Sorry about that, Mr. Fitter…”

My error at the register wasn’t even close to some of the classics, like SMART FELLER, which more than likely was invented for effect, rather than being actually uttered by Professor Spooner in his classroom. In fact, the Oxford dictionary only lists one phrase admitted to by Spooner: “The weight of rages will press hard upon the employer.” (The rate of wages…)

As for “It is kisstomary to cuss the bride,” and other such examples, they are more likely in the same chapter as those Yogi-isms attributed to Yankee baseballer Yogi Berra, who said “You should always go to other people’s funerals, otherwise, they won’t come to yours,” but also admitted “I didn’t really say everything I said.”

And there may be a little truth in all of them, even those Spoonerisms, if you just pay attention. As Yogi said…

You can observe a lot by just watching.

Of All the Gin Joints in All the World…

Or in this case, with apologies to Rick in the movie Casablanca: Of all the bookstores in all the towns in all the world, the book walks into mine…

From the First-Time-For-Everything department: among the used books that came in with inventory-adds was a copy of my own book. As it turns out, it is somewhat of a scarce item, these days.

Nils Thor Granlund: The Swedish Showman Who Invented American Entertainment had a tiny press run ten years ago before the title was acquired by McFarland Publishing, which changed the name, among other things. It is still a biography of NTG, an enterprising showman who was once described as the “highest paid entertainer” in the US. He died virtually penniless, despite having discovered and brought to the bright lights some of the top show business people of his time.

Knowing how few copies of the Inlandia Press version exist, it is almost astonishing to have a pristine copy brought into the shop – almost undoubtedly returning to the place where it was purchased (although ten years ago we were in a different location on Main St.). The McFarland publishing contract required the earlier version be pulled from the market, so it is out-of-print, although the McFarland version is still out there.

It’s a bittersweet reunion. The book is an unread copy, without question, which is a little deflating to the old ego. The flip-side is – it is such a nice copy of such a scarce thing, that I’m happy to have it back without it ever having been cracked open!

I glanced inside to remind myself what year it was published (2008), and it surprised me that it was a decade ago. How time flies, these days.

The kicker?

It’s an autographed copy… which certainly devalues an otherwise perfectly-acceptable book.

We’re still serving lunches daily (except Sunday) from 11am to 2pm. Come by and let us serve YOU!

Bridge from the Past

I like to joke that – after coming back from the War in France, they couldn’t keep my grandfather down on the farm, and he moved off to the big city.

Parsons, Kansas.

Actually, Kansas City was the nearest city to the Cass County, Missouri farm where my grandpa was raised, but after serving in World War I, southeast Kansas is where he found work constructing a highway bridge.

It was completed shortly after the war, and survived until about 1978, and my mother seems to recall that it was described as a bridge that went from nowhere to no-place. Other than that, there seems to be blank as to exactly where the bridge was located.

I’m wonder if by posting these pictures of the structure, someone with a long memory might be able to identify the bridge, maybe by using the silos in the background as a landmark. I’m fairly certain the bridge was in the Labette County – Neosho County area of southeastern Kansas.

The pen and ink art is another mystery. I believe it was acquired at an arts festival and the artist’s signature box in the lower-right corner reads ORRIN, but I can’t make out whether the rest of the writing is part of his name or a dating mark. Since he is the author of the piece, it would be nice to have that information to include with the framed artwork.

The piece hanging on the office wall is likely a print, so there could be other copies still out there – perhaps hanging on walls of people better informed than I am.

As for the romantic story associated with it… the telephone company used to employ young women as operators – the people who actually connected the person calling with the person being called, through a thing called a switchboard. Back then, if you picked up the telephone “receiver” and held it to your ear, a voice would inquire: Number, please!

When young John – being the loving son that he was – was compelled to call the folks back in Missouri from his job in Kansas, he would stop in the phone office to make the call. There he met a young phone operator and romance “called.”

So while the bridge did not survive into the new millennium, descendents of those associated with its construction have – some more curious than others about a bridge to a family’s past.

Let me know if you recognize it, or if you don’t, maybe you could share it along in hopes of helping solve this little mystery of the Bridge, the Artist, and the Location – which all figure in the stories of young John and Sylvia and a grandson wanting to pin down the family history!