Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Tag: Broken Arrow (Page 77 of 141)

This Dedication goes out to…

Remember radio dedications? (I know many of you don’t – but play along with me here…)

Deejay: That one went out to Little Mary from her special someone…

Little Mary, listening to her plastic transistor receiver: Oh, brother – that’s the WRONG song! It’s OVER between us!

Those were the days, all-righty.

Before radio broadcasting, of course, there were different dedications. More paper oriented. Like – in books. Oh, the stories held between the covers of those books! Spies. Politics. Vampires. Forensics.

Romance.

And not confined to the chapters of the author’s plot.

Those dedications.

Like the book dedicated to the recently deceased Queen Victoria, who held the keys to the British palace (and Royal Watercloset) for nearly seventy years. When she died in 1901, publishers set about creating souvenir books they could sell. Talk all you want about remembering Her Highness – they really just wanted to make a buck. Er – pound, that is. Pounds and pence.

Even on this side of the Atlantic. You remember all the attention over Princess Diana and lately – the new Royal Baby. A ready-market for book printing.

Back in 1901, the World Bible House of Philadelphia published “The Life and Times of Queen Victoria.” The title actually encompasses four paragraphs of such things as Early Life, Charming Home Life, Wonderful Growth of the British Empire, Etc. (The Etc isn’t mine; it is actually included on the title page.)

A pretty nice book for its time, in truth. Embellished, it says, with more than 100 Superb Engravings.

More than 600 pages, it says.

But – in fact, it’s a pretty skinny little book. That’s because it’s a salesman’s copy. In those days, many books were sold by subscription. Sort of like buying Girl Scout Thin Mints before they’re actually baked and boxed. In front of the book’s back cover are about half a dozen blank pages, lined like a high-school spiral notebook. Subscriber’s pages. If you wanted to buy the actual book, you’d put your name and address down in the same way we do with our Girl Scout Cookie salespeople. In the case of this book – $1.75 for the fine cloth binding. $2.75 for the book in Genuine Full Morocco Leather with gilt (gold) titles and page edges. (Go for the leather!)

No subscriber names are included in this copy, but on the last free page after the back-page ad is an inscription that would have been lost to time except I checked thoroughly to see if anyone had signed up to buy one.

You can click on the image to read what “Miss Effie DeWitt Cooperstown” penciled in. (Or you can just read my transcription right here: “Always remember Sunday Sept the 21 – 1902 at Versailles. It was there that E. G. Tarrant & E. M. Dewitt met, and won one another.”

Since she calls herself Effie DeWitt, I assumed the two must have married after pitching woo. (That was the way they said it – before even MY time.) It isn’t clear what Cooperstown she is from or what they were doing in Versailles. Or even which state (or country) Versailles is located. Heck, it might have been the Versailles Restaurant in Miami, Florida: home of traditional Cuban dishes in a casual atmosphere. (And why would those Hispanic dishes be served in a place called Versailles, in Miami Florida? One of life’s mysteries!)

Wait! Perhaps HE is Mr. Tarrant, and she’ll become the Mrs. later! Ahhhh – Using only initials: more intrigue and deceit!

Regardless, I have good feeling about Miss Effie. (I told you there are stories to be found in these old books!)

Then, there is the other inscription in a second volume encountered today, which caused me a double take. I’m blaming it on the handwriting. It’s found on the first end page inside the front cover of a book of Tennyson’s poems, given over on Christmas day with these words:

To Jennie E. Dudley – by her faithful underrated husband. Dec. 25, 1879.

Oooh. There’s some sarcasm! Read in some strong irony there! A little nudge, nudge…

What?

Oh.

Make that – faithful and devoted husband.

A completely different story.

No medals for these Broken Records…

Sometimes I hear things as though it’s the first time ever. This morning it was an expression from Channel 6 meteorologist Mike Grogan – a Tulsa native, by the way, and Union graduate. He noted that the weather forecast was beginning to:

Sound like a broken record.

Now, Mr. Grogan is not at an advanced age. Quite to the contrary. So, I was surprised to hear him use an expression I grew up with – almost literally.

I’m assuming that you folks under a certain age would more quickly associate the phrase “broken record” with someone like Olympian Michael Phelps. That athlete alone has broken more records in the past decade than the entire broadcasting industry. Broken records – the type that had songs recorded on them – weren’t confined to radio, but when your record began skipping during the live afternoon program, a lot more people heard it.

Maybe you’d be in the breakroom refilling the coffee cup or visiting the porcelain lounge – always with one ear listening to the on-air monitor – when the song would hit a passage, hiccup, and repeat. Prehistoric times, you know. And it rarely happened when you were right there, at the control board.

Vinyl records.

45 rpm’s even. (You can Google it.) We called it skipping. The needle would be tracking along and hit a scratch or a piece of overlooked lint and the song would “skip” back a groove. And then, do it again. And again – until it was jostled, bumped, or smacked ahead.

One summer, during a “remote” broadcast, I was spinning records from the sidewalk in front of a business and the records started skipping. One after another. (We had some known skippers that always hung up at the same spot. I hear those songs on the radio now and expect to hear the repeat.) Turns out, the sun was beating down so intently that the vinyl was warping, sending the needle over a surfer’s wave so dramatically that several had rebound bounce-skips.

I could go on and on about those old times, but then – I’m beginning to sound like a broken record.

Then, there was the young fellow who took a look at the machine on the window seat (you can see it like he did by clicking on the image, and notice it’s sitting on an old vinyl-playing turntable…) and called out, “Mom! Look at that old, old computer!”

She gently corrected him as to what it was.

I wouldn’t have cared if she had used a phrase besides – “Old Days.”

Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main St. Broken Arrow OK!

A Dickens of a Day…

The lady came back to the checkout counter and glanced at her companion, then looked me straight in the eye and said, “Tell her about William Wallace.”

Smack me. What?

Do I have a forehead tattoo? History Geek? Maybe inked in Old English Script?

Alas – the gauntlet was thrown down.

“Do you have a couple of hours?” I asked the companion, then gave the four-minute synopsis of the Scottish legend who gathered the always-feuding clan families together long enough to defeat the British in 1297.

I wasn’t around back then, but it is known as the Battle of Stirling Bridge. You’ve guessed by now that she had me pegged correctly. Truth is – I am a bit of a history nut.

But – what came over that woman to suddenly demand a medieval dissertation of me? We had not been talking about Scotland, bagpipes, broadswords, or even history. Well, I did mention the year 1847 when I was showing her the date on an antique copy of The Pickwick Papers.

Maybe I’ve the late afternoon scent of a kilted Highlander. I’ll hit the deodorant stick after I rub off that head-tattoo.

Not a historic day, here in the Rose District, but it has been somewhat history-oriented. Sold a copy of Beowulf. George Orwell. Fahrenheit 451.

The nice lady who pressed me for a lecture on the Old World had just purchased an illustrated edition of Oliver Twist. Of course, a good day is made even better when a copy of Dickens goes home with its new family. Honestly, that lady was after my heart: she asked about the book because of the George Cruikshank illustrations.

Dickens went through several artists during the course of his writing career, but his books were loaded with drawings, a fact that nearly shot me down in freshman English. We were reading a Tale of Two Cities. (In truth, the rest of the class was reading the assigned work.)

I wasn’t reading. Not a bit.

Mike Green – my aspiring artist friend – and I were too busy drawing freehand copies of the wonderful Hablot Knight Browne illustrations. It was a competitive thing. A sketcher’s version of a footrace. We’d both begin the hour with a blank piece of paper and a Parker brand ink pen, then before the hour was up, we’d pass the finished drawings around in secret for our fellow students to grade. (Click on the image for a better look at Browne’s skill. It’s an illustration from Tale of Two Cities of the sort we plagiarized during class.)

Some days Mike had the better drawing. Other times, I got the nod. Neither of us got the plot of the Tale, since we hadn’t read a thing beyond the captions accompanying the illustrations.

I’m ashamed to say it was years and years later when I finally sat down with Charles Dickens and he became my best friend. At least, he became my best dead literary friend. And Oliver Twist is a favorite acquaintance – especially the George Cruikshank illustrated version.

There’s a copy over there waiting for its new family.

Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main St. Broken Arrow OK!

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