Weekend Steam

 The Mrs. and I will be on the road tomorrow, so we are posting the Weekend Steam Picture ahead of our normal schedule. This is from one of our old magazines; click on it to enlarge. If you haven't read the post on corn cribs, click on the antique label and roll down.

Crankin' It Up

This evening's selection is a lighthearted vaudeville song recorded by Al Jolson in 1921. This record has obvious wear from repeated playing, so the volume is a little weak. I did a Google search and found a CD with a nice selection of early Jolson recordings. The samples I listened to sound much better than the LP I bought thirty years ago with copies of the same songs. The new technology is making these old recordings available to the masses again. That's good, because the original records aren't getting any easier to find.

Seen One Of These?

This beauty was at Midwest Old Settlers and Threshers last year. A close look revealed that I had never seen an engine like this one before. Instead of a reciprocating steam engine, this machine has a rotary steam engine. Luckily for the visitors to Old Threshers, it was fired up and operated. If you are wondering what kind of sound a rotary steam engine makes, just press your lips together and blow. Maybe the sound is the reason these did not catch on.

A Post From Ernie

From Chapter IX, Detour By Water:

Jack Collins said it was a lie that he told lies. He said he never told anything but the truth. He said he was hunting deer one fall, and a beauty came out of the woods toward him four hundred yards away, so he pulled up and let him have it. Just as he shot, he said, the deer made a lightning reverse turn, and started back for the woods, but dropped dead after a step or two.
Well, they went down and started cutting up the deer. They saw that the bullet had hit the deer in the eye. Suddenly one of the fellows said, "Hey, what's this?" He pointed to a small tree nearby that had been freshly splintered, apparently by a bullet. So they looked around, and traced the splinters over the snow for about fifteen feet, and there lay the bullet. It came from John Collins' gun all right, and he had fired only one shot. Then they examined the deer more closely, but found no place where the bullet had come out. So, the bullet had gone into the deer, and apparently had not come out, and yet there it was on the ground. How would you explain that?
Well, here's the way John Collins explained it "Remember," he said, "the deer made a fast reverse turn just as I shot. Well, what happened was that the bullet went into the deer's eye but the deer changed ends so fast that the bullet, still traveling in the same direction, came right out of the deer's eye the same place it went in, and then hit the tree and bounced off. It was the damnedest thing I ever saw."

From Home Country by Ernie Pyle, William Sloane associates, Inc. 1947

Start Your Collection!

From the Calendar at http://www.wfiwradio.com/:

The Big Muddy Longbeards, Mt. Vernon area chapter of the National Wild Turkey Federation, will hold their 17th annual Hunting Heritage Banquet Dinner and Auction on Saturday, March 22nd, at the Holiday Inn in Mt. Vernon. The doors will open at 5:00 p.m. with dinner at 6:30 p.m. Both live and silent auctions will be held, as well as several raffles including a huge ladies raffle. The proceeds will be used for the restoration and managment of the American Wild Turkey and preservation of the hunting heritage. For tickets, call Tom XXXXX at XXX-XXXX or XXX-XXXX.

If you have been looking for a huge lady to round out your collection, this looks like the place to be. If you are just interested in promoting wildlife, that's OK, too. Go to the WFIW website and click on Calendar if you are interested.

Poets' Corner

THE GRAMOPHONE AT FOND-DU-LAC

Now Eddie Malone got a swell grammyfone to draw all the trade to his store;
An' sez he: "Come along for a season of song, which the like ye had niver before."
Then Dogrib, an' Slave, an' Yellow-knife brave, an' Cree in his dinky canoe,
Confluated near, to see an' to hear Ed's grammyfone make its dayboo.

Then Ed turned the crank, an' there on the bank they squatted like bumps on a log.
For acres around there wasn't a sound, not even the howl of a dog.
When out of the horn there sudden was born such a marvellous elegant tone;
An' then like a spell on that auddyence fell the voice of its first grammyfone.

"BAD MEDICINE!" cried Old Tom, the One-eyed, an' made for to jump in the lake;
But no one gave heed to his little stampede, so he guessed he had made a mistake.
Then Roll-in-the-Mud, a chief of the blood, observed in choice Chippewayan:
"You've brought us canned beef, an' it's now my belief that this
here's a case of `CANNED MAN'."

Well, though I'm not strong on the Dago in song, that sure got me goin' for fair.
There was Crusoe an' Scotty, an' Ma'am Shoeman Hank, an' Melber an' Bonchy was there.
'Twas silver an' gold, an' sweetness untold to hear all them big guinneys sing;
An' thick all around an' inhalin' the sound, them Indians formed in a ring.

So solemn they sat, an' they smoked an' they spat, but their eyes sort o' glistened an' shone;
Yet niver a word of approvin' occurred till that guy Harry Lauder came on.
Then hunter of moose, an' squaw an' papoose jest laughed till their stummicks was sore;
Six times Eddie set back that record an' yet they hollered an' hollered for more.

I'll never forget that frame-up, you bet; them caverns of sunset agleam;
Them still peaks aglow, them shadders below, an' the lake like a petrified dream;
The teepees that stood by the edge of the wood; the evenin' star blinkin' alone;
The peace an' the rest, an' final an' best, the music of Ed's grammyfone.

Then sudden an' clear there rang on my ear a song mighty simple an' old;
Heart-hungry an' high it thrilled to the sky, all about "silver threads in the gold."
'Twas tender to tears, an' it brung back the years, the mem'ries that hallow an' yearn;
'Twas home-love an' joy, 'twas the thought of my boy . . . an' right there I vowed I'd return.
Big Four-finger Jack was right at my back, an' I saw with a kind o' surprise,
He gazed at the lake with a heartful of ache, an' the tears irrigated his eyes.
An' sez he: "Cuss me, pard! but that there hits me hard; I've a
mother does nuthin' but wait.
She's turned eighty-three, an' she's only got me, an' I'm scared it'll soon be too late."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

On Fond-du-lac's shore I'm hearin' once more that blessed old grammyfone play.
The summer's all gone, an' I'm still livin' on in the same old haphazardous way.
Oh, I cut out the booze, an' with muscles an' thews I corralled all the coin to go back;
But it wasn't to be: he'd a mother, you see, so I --slipped it to Four-Finger Jack.

From: RHYMES OF A ROLLING STONE by Robert Service, 1912

Weekend Steam

Doing a 180 for the return trip, this scene is on the Western Maryland Raliroad in the spring of 1999. Do a search on YouTube and you will find many videos of this tourist attraction.

Endorsement

I am pleased to report that the CD of Carson Robison songs arrived on Friday, and it is a GREAT record! There are 26 tracks of old songs and there is NO needle hiss, NO scratches, and NO pops! They must be reading the master recordings with the new laser technology, because the quality is incredible. You will want this CD if you like old cowboy/country music. It cost only $11.99 plus $2.49 shipping, and was delivered in four days. Here is the link again: http://www.artistdirect.com/nad/store/artist/album/0,,4169077,00.html

Crankin' It Up

Tonight's selection is the ever popular Smiles by Lee S Roberts, a familiar name to player piano afficianados. This song was written in 1917, and is a marker for the end of an era. Romantic songs, songs about Mother, minstrel songs, and Great War songs all were part of a genre that mostly disappeared after Smiles. The Jazz Age began in 1920 with the recording Whispering by Paul Whiteman, and recording and performing styles would undergo rapid changes when microphones came into use in the mid-1920's. Note the barbershop type of ending on this song...it made me smile.

Thought Process

I saw this image on a blog from Colorado which is mostly about skiing, mountain biking, and other outdoor recreational activities. Ski areas have always fascinated me when I see them, because I have never heard of any protestors trying to stop one from being constructed, and there are a lot of acres of trees wiped out to make a ski area. A few posts away from this picture, the blogger was telling about Outdoor magazine dropping the use of subscription cards. He was glad because they were going to be SAVING TREES! Another post showed a mountain biker on a trail where at least a foot of soil had eroded away from hiker and biker use. The blogger didn't mention saving soil; he probably is not aware of the recreational impact on the great outdoors. While he is having a micro brew in the lodge tomorrow I will be cutting more firewood. The last time I looked, my trees were getting farther ahead of me. If he drinks light beer, is he saving barley?