Loveliest of all, the magic of this Bungalow shall remain in your heart for all the days of your life..1930s Glamour intermingled with 1940s Homefront Attitude and Style! Hubba, Hubba!
Pin Up Girls Adore Quite The Stir Bungalow!
Quite The Stir Bungalow, Gettysburg, PA
Ahh...you've happened across Quite The Stir Bungalow Blog quite unexpectedly right?
Need a break from rushing full tilt down busy city streets where all eyes are focused on the day ahead and the persons' back in front of them? Transport yourselves into history with overnight accommodations at an historical small town all-American '30s and '40s Bungalow where everyone looks you in the eyes, gives you a hearty fare-thee-well and always knows your name.
Be our guests through this Blog, as we share the attitude and style of the 1930s through the 1940s,and yes...glamour of Quite The Stir Bungalow!
The era of radio voices wisped into WWII homes with regularity during the 1940s. The Red, White and Blue American family gathered together, with kith and kin, around their living rooms and kitchens to listen to the radio news. GI Joes or Janes and Rosie The Riveter would tune in, when time would allow, by the lights of dingy factory break room or nightly by a comforting radio glow.
Americans listened, intently, as history unfolded a swathe of grandeur or milieu of terror across radio airways. Every man, woman and child of the 1940s was enlightened of sorrow, joy, hope, laughter, tragedy and war. Astounding events that shaped our very lives today were sent to them yesterday. A link to the outside world could be had by simply listening to radio and the confident assuring radio broadcasters of The Greatest Generation.
Humility must always be the portion of any man who receives acclaim earned in blood of his followers and sacrifices of his friends.
General Dwight D. Eisenhower
We are not retreating -- we are advancing in another direction.
General Douglas MacArthur
On the whispered wings of golden silence, I left my vigil at Ema Mims bedside. Ever so tenderly, I closed the door to her familiar, warm bedroom leaving behind the scent of talcom and liniment.
Somewhere from the depths of this gracious old home of my childhood memories, the willing ancient boiler could be heard gently purring whilst sending a swirling brew of warmth through the flooring grates. As I moved forward, at once deeply entrenched in my reveries, I gingerly sidestepped the scattered long loved ancient rugs that lay upon the wooded floor. Their weave unmistakably bore the intricately worn and woven footsteps of Emas' life well loved and lived.
Here too, within this room sheltered from the dark of the night beyond, there was no escaping the sounds of a howling winter storm breathing heavily unto Gettysburg, with a fervor worthy of the horses of the apocalypse. I acutely feared the Gettysburg roads leading both inward and outward to town were closed, most certainly by now. Gettysburg was isolated and on her own.
I lingered a moment beside the small upright blonde piano before pressing onward to the kitchen beyond. There, propped stalwart upon a tediously and delicately embroided runner and amidst dried rose petals, lying haphazardly upon the piano, were the faces of my past and Emas' yesterdays' singing out to me. My eyes alighted, in particular, upon a fading to white sepia picture of Ema and her young sister, Claire. Ema, her back to the cameras' eye was poised, pulling Claire through mountains and mounds of snow in a gay rustic child's sleigh. Ema was dressed in a high collared, fine woolen coat and gloves and a durable knitted and bobbed hat. The household budget would only strain so far for utility and rarely ever vanity and fashion, I had recalled Ema remarking in the past.
Aunt Claire, much younger than Ema, clutched a blanket in her toddlers' stout arms, as she laughingly embraced the cool sting of the winter air and the sluice of snow parting beneath the sled blades. Claire, Ema had said, was a naturally, all precocious child and her smile captured a million hearts in the luminous glow of her exhilaration. These innocents, I thought, tis a blessing that they did not know all that life had held in store for them in their years to come. Claire was spared the knowledge that her young life would be cut short in her blossoming womanhood, more's the pity, for I would have loved to have met this vivacious, adventurous and unyielding woman of Ema Mims recollections.
Absently, moved by unbidden and powerful emotion, with a slow sweeping movement, I reached forward to caress the unyielding glass frame picture of these sisters engaged in the serious business of play.
Emas' words, echoed to me from another treasured day and cherished moments spent together. While she harvested a summer gardens bounty,I ...as ever, watched on in undying devotion and love. It was a brilliantly white sunny day then, as we sat near the smoke bushes in the rear yard. The ever industrious bees could be heard buzzing monotonously amidst the old fashioned cabbage roses. The cloying scents of Bee Balm and Lavender intermingled with the curious, but familiar sound of the occasional whish snap of freshly laundered crisp cotton sheets drying where they hang swirling in the ocassional breeze. This grandeur of setting altogether painted a beautiful memory for me.
And so it began, as always before. Ema Mims and I huddled together in the sheltered comfort and warmth of her bedroom as the winter winds whipped a cresendo of frightening chill and fury upon us. Her porcelain hand rested cooly in my own youthful hand. As I had always done, I sat still upon the vinyled green hassock at her side, while the warm glow of lamp light danced upon her fine silvered hair.
Except for the ticking of the now ancient enameled clock at her bedside and the shifting of logs within the fireplace, the only sound was that of Emas' soft and weakened voice punctuated by the raspiness that age often imbues upon each of us.
Her entire countenance was transformed and her face grew slack as she prepared to answer. She visibly relaxed into repose as she slowly and bit by bit, unwound the gossamer threaded reel of her cherished memories. Those lovely hazel eyes, dimmer now, were yet sequined with gold and the moments of history known uniquely and only unto her...
It seems that I can recall it was so very cold back then, those winters of 1941. I was fourteen, let's see, yes, I was fourteen just that year in August, 1941. The wind that night wasn't unlike this night Jolene. But there was snow, oh my that snow...she rasped. It reached right to the window sills of our out kitchen where mother kept the lard. That old man winter reached into our very soul, it seemed and rattled the bones. And, I can remember now as though it were yesterday. Mother , herself, had done her best to block the windows and doorways from the draft. Of course, I had held the bulk of the weight of those quilts.
Father was gone that winter for quite a spell at a time, what with the war just starting and him headed out to find a job, just any work would do. He'd taken one of the last trains out of Gettysburg in 1941 headed for Baltimore, because we so needed the money to tide us over. I'll remember that the next December, 1942, if I recall correctly yes, yes... it was the last that old train blew out of town. Wasn't easy at all for mother to see him go. It was so hard Jolene, you can't understand the hardships we endured then. We didn't have anything to speak of, the four of us, we were just humbled to have warmth at night and mighty blessed for any dinner of roasted beef and turnips from the cold cellar.
It's so cold, isn't it? Ema began to fret and listlessly fumbled for the natted afghan resting upon her stomach. Gently, I drew the afgan closer to her frail chest. It was a blessing that mother had hung the worn patchwork quilts to keep the draft out and a blessing to have those old quilts too.You remember your Aunt Claire don't you, Jolene? I nodded for I knew well the story, told and retold, but Ema did not notice my gesture, so lost in her reveries she was.
Yes, that December or was it January, Aunt Claire had the croup. Fact was, the whole town was dealing with some ailment or another, it seems. Oh, the chest liniment and Castor oil flew heavy that winter. Wasn't any use to visit the doctor then, Jolene. Unless we were on our death bed or in labor, as mother said, we weren't making any pricey visits to the doctor. So, at fourteen, and with no prospects in sight, or was it fifteen, and Claire seven, we didn't see us going into labor anytime soon then...she smiled that old glorious smile of her youth ... but there were manys the times we were on our death bed, or so we thought.
"Ema Mims? Ever so gently now...steady old gel. It's alright, ... Ema...there, there darling...here take the tissue? Wipe your tears, now?"
"Ema...Ema tell us about your memories? Why not at the beginning, the very beginning... as you feel comfortable dear and as far and as wide as your memory will carry you, darling". There, there now,...it's alright, go on now...".
"What's that? Yes, Ema, I'll hold your hand. Good, good! I'd love to hear of your winters"...first...
Read on gentle readers, of "Ema Mims"...enjoin her in reveries and memories as she shares of life and, particularly her life in the Gettysburg she knew during the 1930s and 1940s! You may just find yourselves enchanted as you enter a world of Emas' , our parents' and grandparents' yesterday.
Soon, very soon, we promise all the world of beauty shall pour forth...and we must make haste for time, memory and fancy is fleeting!
In honor of the first and third loves of my childish youth.
Amidst the plethora of treasures within this Bungalow, there are remarkable mementos and memories from "The Greatest Generation". And, naturally, you will find World War II memorabilia is interspersed in the mix of the bounty too.
Quite unexpectedly, I came upon the most wondrous gift of all, yet this Holiday Season.
How glorious can you imagine anything to be as what was experienced in and of a discovery only last evening? Allowing myself a bit of time to indulge in historical revery, at the Bungalow, I often browse amongst the memorabilia that had left its mark upon history in a large way. This particular night, I alighted upon history in the form of a WWII helmet resting, if possible, both stalwart and at ease upon a camp stool. Held within the heavy dull metal of the helmet, was a stubborn removable lining... which naturally intrigued. With no little difficulty, I was able to wedge the lining of the helmet from it's outer casing of the heavy metal where it had lain silent, for perhaps, years...
The heart skipped a beat or two and began racing as the decal revealed all of the world of glory to me by the glimmer of chandelier light. Gold with blue print, a red keystone and a black swastika on either side of a horses' head (be that the Knight?)
One can only imagine a brave soldier, a stranger, far away from home and longing for family. Engaged in mortal combat for our country, he most certainly may have used this very helmet to rest his weary head before "falling in" early the next morning, for you and I. Godspeed noble, brave, gallant,young, fine fighting men!
Soldiers of and in your youths, sailors of the seas, pilots of the skies, you are encouraged to reminisce, if it so pleases you.
Oh, Give Us A Home Where The Bungalow Roam and the skies are not cloudy all day!
Did I just sing BUNGALOW ROAM? I fear, yes. Oh go on, scoff if you will!
As I wander around this Bungalow, Quite The Stir, right here in Gettysburg, PA and perhaps strain on tip toes reaching upwards whilst lowering the folding attic stair steps or mayhaps adjusting a transom here and sliding a wooden pocket door there...I find myself actually singing these words aloud. In my interaction with magnificent architecture, detailed arts and crafts and pure history, I find the beauty of music. It is my hope that by the time you've arrived at the end of this simplistic tale (and re-read, tweeted, face booked, whistled and woofered), you too will be singing along with us all the praises and beauty of the "Bungalow as she roams"...alongside all of America, and ROBUSTLY too!
It's rather nice to know Quite The Stir didn't make room, or give way to build modern day homes! No sir, the owners of this little Bungalow, past to present, held stalwart in the face of modern progress! How's that for a quotation? "Held Stalwart In The Face Of Modern Progress". Thank you Gettysburg Springs Hotel, thank you Mr. MacPherson, thank you Orin, thank you John Knickerbocker, thank you Edith, thank you Mildred, thank you Robert, thank you Jolene. Me, Jolene, what? Why I'm just a 'lil ole Bungalow enthusiast gal!
Well, 'lil ole Bungalow enthusiast gals have been know to say, "HERE'S A BIG HUGE LARGESS OF TIFF TOFF GUESS WHAT?" I didn't know it before, but after a year and a half of intense research, I now know "These historically preserved Bungalows are HOT PROPERTY" and I'm glad the temptation to resist change roared a bit here at 500 West Middle Street in Gettysburg, PA!
Historically preserved Bungalows are perpetually, being sought after more and more each day by historians, preservationists and enthusiasts of bungalows, arts and crafts and purveyors of the early 20th century!
Enough said, but, only after all that follows, (a jocular and hardy hi ho jab to the ribs on enough said!)
"Whether people are fully conscious of this or not, they actually derive countenance and sustenance from the 'atmosphere' of the things they live in or with. They are rooted in them just as a plant is in the soil in which it is planted." Frank Lloyd Wright.
Frank, (I like to call him Lloyd, but that's personal) "my old compatriot in my dreams of architecture", I finally understand what you meant by that eloquent statement NOW although I'll admit, the meaning alluded me for a while. That statement rallies to remind me of much more as it relates to Quite The Stir Bungalow. Once upon a time, not too long ago someone once hazarded a query of me, "Who, exactly, do you think you are?" I now, unlike then, ponder the question and hestiate not! My response to that evah so bold question is "Well, here is exactly who I think I are...among other adjectives, I am a Bungalow enthusiast!
After a bit of pondering that age old question, we'll give you a positively resounding....Maybe!
Firstly, we'll need to explain what a Bungalow is all about. Secondly, we'll hope to offer up some magnificent historical treasury, trivia and facts about Bungalows, just to reflect upon, that is. Finally, into this wonderful Bungalow mix we'll bring to you, we'll be sure to toss in some most searching and daunting introspective questions you'll be wanting to ask yourselves!
With a few salty phrases bantered about such as "They don't build them like this anymore!", and "You should see the built in ironing board!" you may just have your answer to the question, Could I Be A Bungalow Enthusiast Too?
So, give us a few, will you? ...and we'll return...with a bit more on these "swell" little Bungalows and... while were at it? We'll croon a bit about, our near and dear to the heart, Quite The Stir Bungalow in historical Gettysburg, PA and what we're all about too!
Get your Bungalow Dancing Shoes on now! Please enjoy the Christmas Story while you wait...
We'd be oversimplifying things if we said we'd keep this brief...bah that's pure bunk!
Let's talk Pin-up gals who were so gorgeous they could pop the rivets out of a B-47 Bomber in the line of their indirect fire! These were real beauties, box office queens, cheescake idols and ideals of glamour!
You could've seen these pin-up gals painting the night and day through any number of ways.
From Variety magazine to newspapers, tabloids, and local rags...a painted mast head, er...figure on planes and ships, a quintessential ornament that was pasted over every interested fellas locker and calendars, pictures, movie screens, ...these pin-ups had it going on along with everyone jumping in on the World War II bond drive efforts and photo ops! Hunker down, bunkers away,...incoming Bombshells were legends of iconic beauty and physique and could draw the public attention... boy howdy!
Hollywood industries, radio, television, writers, producers and beauty pagents (there's another story upcoming soon wink, hint, wink)...they grabbed at the chance of molding and sustaining Americas' perception of the glamourous pin-up gals! The public demand for glamour and allure found these pin-ups in celebrity photographs, footage, publicity shots...a hot commodity!
Did you know it's said that empires were founded on the "talents" of pin-up gals, poetry flowed from their inspiration, stories prolifigated at the memory of their dark slash of ruby red lips, gossip scandalous and incessant, followed their lead and movies filmed and movie goers applauded their talents. And, the public and gossips loved them or reviled them!
"A bevy of lovelies from a far, great and wide universe". Jolene
SCREECH....halt....stop....OH-DAD-E-OH ...do you want to hear more? Sure you do...
For all that going on, oh ye iconic of lithe figure, glamourous, long to die for and fight for legs, lips, eyes, silken hair, ... in whatever form fitting attire they donned...verily ideal of glamour be still thy fickle American hearts...these Pin-Up gals were also objects of spoof , parodie and satire. That was good or bad but not necessarily unavoidable (shore n begorren) WHY what with the fact they were... the subjects of motivations, quotations, publications, notifications, adaptations, salutations, adorations, imitations, emulations, inspirations, infatuations, exaggerations, affectations, co-agulations (whoops), impersonations, imaginations, agitations, and adulations!
So, did these "hot properties of stage and screen" beauties emanate, exist or co-mingle of in or from a far, great and wide universe ? Well, here is the scoop...they were the girl next door. As the legend goes, "she was discovered in a drug store" is very true and apt in quite a few instances according to history. Whether found "discovered" by a talent scout, pushed forth by an over anxious mother pushing forty or a father driven to distraction, these gals hailed from every imaginable walk of life.
Mistresses of skill and due dilligence, whatever else, make no mistake that rather than the exception, these women were either or both of fluff and stuff resolve, determination and fortitude! With hard boiled femme fatale glamour that was all business alongside "wildfire determination" , wit and with beauty and raw animal magnitism...they combined to fuel the WWII GI Joes' escapist fortitude necessary, in part, to keep America free!
These women were irresolute and tireless in encouraging and entertaining civilians on the "homefront" and performing for our fighting troops at war overseas! They engaged their " fighting prowess" of pretentious personality and glamour with a great heaping measure of patriotic aid to help encourage Americans and boost morales.
In part, they changed America in infinite ways with the glamour and attitude of their trademark images. They encouraged, enamored, engaged and bolstered America, both men and women, with much that is lovely. These glamourous personnas kept the homefires burning bright on the long and cold, stormy, firey, shrapnel and strafe filled nights for those gallant US forces in the direct line of theatre fire.
Who of these pin-ups did not give voice to the WWII heart?
They were fashion models, consummate professionals, swimmers, actresses, dancers, glamour with a captiol G of revolutionary genre, sophisticated, urbane, blunt, bawdy, or fickle. These star studded vibrant, sulky, sirens of womanhood...revolutionized and paved the way for todays' women. These pin-up gals, these "sometimes" bad gals brought an era of change. These screen siren images of America certainly made headlines in their niche and full measure of fair share as torches of the heart!
Whatever the case and whatever you take away from all of this, these pin-up gals ushered in a renaissance paving the way for much that has since followed for womens' equality.
Yes, "sometimes" bad gals can bring on an era of "good" change, too! Hubba!
Here is a little note of must have commonly shared knowledge from history: Betty Boop, 1930s is the earliest known, first animated, most famous sex symbol!
When Jolene Macks created a group on Dreamers into Doers with the purpose of meeting other members of the site, she wasn't sure what to expect. Three months and 29 members later, a trip to New York City is in the works!
Jolene has enlisted the help of fellow members Rachel Gaffney and Terry Grahl, and the trio is creating a Dreamers into Doers outing that will include a trip to see "The Martha Stewart Show," a tour of the Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia offices, volunteering at a women's shelter, and much more. It should also be noted that Jolene, Rachel, and Terry are making this dream come true with the help of other members of Dreamers into Doers, and we're very grateful to everyone involved.
Want to be a part of this trip?
Join the Group Now
Take Part in the Dreamers' Conversation:
What do you like the most about our website? Tell Us!
Next week, we'll return to our Doer of the Week feature. Let us know why YOU should be a Doer of the Week!
You could paint the town red with your fellow Dreamers!
Quite The Stir Bungalow Enthusiasts and Readers...Care To Join Jolene, Terry or Rachel in a Contribution for a Local Womens' Shelter in NYC?
Actress, singer, dancer and indisputably the number one Pin-Up girl of era-WWII-May we present Betty Grable?! And why the appeal of this Pin-up gal? Oh, yes, somewhere in the dregs of history, it comes to the forefront of ones' mind...the legs! Indescribable legs! And, those legs were insured to the tune of $1,000,000 with Lloyds of London!
We'll be sharing indescribable moments of glamour and glory of the Pin-up gals, the gals that stole a million WWII fighting soldiers' hearts...and soon! Rest assured, America, Ports 'O Call far and wide and our Aussie friends...for along with the glamour of the Pin-Up Gals, we'll pay homage to and remember "the gals", American Sweethearts, Keepers of Home, Hearth and HEART that GI Joe "left behind"!
Hubba, Hubba most fine Bungalow readers...Brace Yourselves!
It is a special and sacred privilege,... my fellow Bungalow enthusiasts, lovers of history, all things Gettysburg being both great and small, intermingled with a few New York attitudes or so... to recount the following history, myth or legend! Hubba, Hubba!
As you grow more curious by the moment...allow what follows not to be a digression or an irreverence of the truth. Rather let us venture to remind you that the history and lore we will share, in picturesque methods and written word, are derived from bits and pieces gleaned by bits and pieces with a (quite frankly) incurable romantic at the helm of this unraveling, unwinding, revealing, revelling and de-fragging a bit of history!
Our research began, in earnest, by attempts to discover the first resident of Quite The Stir Bungalow. It was in research that we understood the following story’s true scale of irony, which made it even more amazing touching and whimsical!
Shall we begin to connect New York, Washington Irving, only one of the legends of American literature ("The Legend of Sleepy Hollow""A History of New York" and "Rip Van Winkle")"Father Knickerbocker" and Gettysburgs' Quite The Stir Bungalow? Well, I'll venture, by the gleam in your eyes...yes!
Father Knickerbocker, The Legend and the Myth
Actually, the first Knickerbocker was a real person, as far as scant account reveals to us. Harmen Jansen Knikkerbakker (later Knickerbocker) migrated to the newly renamed English colony of New York some time in 1674.
Knickerbocker is a Dutch surname and references the oldest of New Yorker families, for the most part of Dutch origins, and very likely among the first socially prominent families of New York. Many are the generations of New Yorkers, in particular, and Knickerbocker kin who proudly claimed to be descendants of Father Knickerbocker, despite his beginning and no doubt to the contrary, fictional roots. Yes, Father Knickerbocker was once a revered and rivaled "symbol" of old NY, and sometimes known as the equivalent of Uncle Sam, claimed as forefather of many a Knickerbocker!
However, in all actuality (as best we can surmise)again for the history and anals of New York, Father Knickerbocker was the fictional character of Washington Irving, who wrote under the nom de plume of Dietrich Knickerbocker the book, History of New-York .
Through Washington Irvings' writings (1809, and other succesive stories), the image of a benign father figure captured the cities imagination! The city's most popular symbol of the late 19th and early 20th centuries "Father Knickerbocker", was characterized with cotton wig, three-cornered hat, buckled shoes, and, knickered pants.
A part of creating lore and mystique arose in NY.
In summarization, indeed there seems to be abundant proof, that there existed a beautiful bit of nonsense, surrounding "Father Knickerbocker" all rooted into a captive and disconcerting compromise of truth!
Searching through scattered accounts, disturbing historical/comedic mention and great gaps of actual accounts of reference to Father Knickerbocker, some untenable chronicals, fiction (or not!), illustrations, imagination flights of fantasy and daydreamers... history re-affirmed and further cemented that "Father Knickerbocker" is a mythical NY Legend based in real life. Shock value and applause here.
THE SOUNDS OF THE HOLIDAY DOOR DECORATING CONTEST sponsored by GCVB in historical Gettysburg, PA finds Quite The Stir Bungalow Swing Dancing, Jitterbugging, rounding the corner and nearing completion with their WWII era kitchy submission!
VISIT Gettysburg, and while you're at it... "jitterbug" on by, 500 West Middle Street for a "look see" at a Genuine Bungalow decked out for the Holidays, '40s style!
And remember, kids?...Tell Mom To Buy You Bond Bread! Hubba! Hubba!
From Creators of Quite The Stir Bungalow
We Proudly
Introduce Bungalow Radio
The era of radio voices wisped into WWII homes with regularity during the 1940s. The Red, White and Blue American family gathered together, with kith and kin, around their living rooms and kitchens to listen to the radio news. GI Joes or Janes and Rosie The Riveter would tune in, when time would allow, by the lights of dingy factory break room or nightly by a comforting radio glow.
Americans listened, intently, as history unfolded a swathe of grandeur or milieu of terror across radio airways. Every man, woman and child of the 1940s was enlightened of sorrow, joy, hope, laughter, tragedy and war. Astounding events that shaped our very lives today were sent to them yesterday. A link to the outside world could be had by simply listening to radio and the confident assuring radio broadcasters of The Greatest Generation.
Humility must always be the portion of any man who receives acclaim earned in blood of his followers and sacrifices of his friends.
General Dwight D. Eisenhower
We are not retreating -- we are advancing in another direction.
General Douglas MacArthur
Today, through gauche words that lack the lustre and polish called for, we endeavor through intent, to celebrate history! We pay homage to The Pioneers, The Women, The Wasps, and forever, The Flygirls!
Climb and soar with these Immortals of the Air! Join as we fly into dawns' bomb bursting sky 'neath the sheltered wings of history, and aside, very possibly, the greatest women pilots of all time! Even the most tacit of readers may be moved in their approval and wonder by these brave women who engaged the altitude and far reaches of the skies! Find yourselves perched high atop images painted here, through their history, and yearning to take flight alongside their labor of patriotism, love of America, their consuming passion for flight all intermingled with adventure...
The Flygirls are a classic case and embodiment of remarkable women doing remarkable jobs, in remarkable times, and under remarkable circumstances. Having the appropriate descriptive quotation on hand at this, the exactly right moment, escapes one. To that end, we offer up this powerfully poignant verse as a tribute to them.
High Flight
by John Gillespie Magee, Jr.
Published in 1943, this is a transcription of the original manuscript in the Library of Congress
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sun-ward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds, – and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless falls of air...
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, nor eer eagle flew –
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high, untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.
Sound off, Bring it on Down...Let's do proceed onward, thoughtfully and gingerly to surmise an answer to the questions that follow... Who were these whiz girls flying at 2200 hours, wearing flying jackets, helmets, gloves and goggles? They not only could fly, but indeed they tested flight! Who were they, in approaching the speed of sound more than satisfactorily by all intents and purposes, proving true Sir Isaac Newton's first law of motion which states that objects in motion will continue to move in a straight line at a constant velocity unless acted on by an outside force?
Who were these women, this cadre and cultivation of beautiful dishes, (in keeping with the 1940s ebullience of slang...hubba, hubba!) social grace and talent who remained unparalleled and displayed exemplified prodigious behavior beneath outrageously difficult contempt and misunderstanding? Why did they choose to overcome the biases and challenges of women's ability and yet were able to stand heads above others? Who were they to dismiss the timeworn idea of using women in the military prior to the start of World War II...yet, most certainly serving as pilots and using their skills to that end?
And why did these women do what they did? Because they had to? Because it was long ago by a mis-stroke of destiny implanted in their genes? Were these women, first and foremost, radicals? Or were they great women at great moments emerging upon history with their passion ignited and playing out?
These questions certainly titillate the senses of inquiry and resonate with many!
WHO BUT PONIED UP FOR THE LEGEND AND GALLOPED INTO AMERICAN CHILDRENS' HEARTS? WHY THE ANSWER TO THAT QUESTION IS....THE LONE RANGER, OF COURSE! He grinned in the face of death and grinned death in the face! The Lone Ranger had grit and so can all of America..that means YOU!
The epic tall western tale had its start as a local radio show from WXYZ/Detroit and debuted in 1933 as perhaps one of radio’s best-remembered dramas, The Lone Ranger!
Although the show was aimed at young audiences, at least half of the show’s listeners were adults! Hubba!
"The Lone Ranger Tale" is now a golden classic! While donning a mask and riding a white stallion named Silver, The Lone Ranger avenges along side his very own sidekick, the white knight of native American Indians,... Tonto. The duo brought down many a dastard of the wild and wooly west with some "Silver" fast riding and some dead straight shooting! Man of mystery, masked idol of millions, with his never ending supply of silver bullets and one singular goal! That goal? To avenge evil-doers of the West and provide law and justice to guileless, hard-working cattle drivers and marms like you and me wasting away in rustlers' gulch!
Mystery and illusion intrigued, and "by cowboy howdie", The Lone Rangers' appeal of legendary words, along with black eyed mask did indeed intrigue raspy radio listeners and static television viewers! What a swell ride everyone all enjoyed in The Lone Rangers hey day!
Now entrenched in American vocabulary and a spontaneous tribute to the imagination, memories and wishful thinking of Americans, Rossini’s “William Tell Overture,” heard a heyday ago and still known today, assures everyone within hearing distance that the masked legend, "The Lone Ranger" was and still is somewhere on the elusive American front and on the job! “A fiery horse with the speed of light! A cloud of dust and a hearty ‘Hi-Yo, Silver!’ The Lone Ranger!”
The pair, the iconic duo, The Lone Ranger and Tonto enjoy a powerfully significant presence in history, and salted the American public with words to enrapture their hearts.
Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear. From out of the past come the thundering hoofbeats of the great horse Silver! The Lone Ranger rides again!"
WELL, I JUST HAVE TO PLAY THIS AGAIN, GENTLE READERS! NATURALLY!
Everywhere the public visited, there could be found The Lone Ranger appeal broadly singing and pistol whipping out for attention! Ten cents and a box top, a pledge, or a loaf of bread could buy any child The Lone Ranger immortality! And yes, there were the "Radio Premiums"! Hi Ho Silver!!!!!
One way into the American Public Heart was the offering of radio premiums! During the 1940s and onward, and over the course of many radio and television programs many radio premiums, kitchy ideas or "souveniers" were offered to viewers. (Note: Radio Premiums were supreme souvenier giveaways offered to listening/viewing audiences to entice and capture their hearts and imagination! )
Some premiums popular to viewers of The Lone Ranger were The Lone Ranger Masks, Six-Shooters, Six Shooter Rings, creed and the Lone Ranger Deputy Badge. Some of the premiums employed a large bit of silver bullet appeal to children, others offered miniature pistols capable of emitting a shower of sparks!
And, if you are able to recall radio premiums you'll agree " to know these premiums are to love them and drive mother into virtual pandemonium until you had attained your hearts' desire of possession!"
It's important to note as an aside for history buffs and as it relates to The Lone Ranger, during World War II, the premiums offered may have adapted to the trends of society but did not lose their lustre! For example, in 1942 The Lone Ranger program offered a brand Blackout Kit and the Atomic Bomb Ring (aka the Lone Ranger Atom Bomb Ring.) This ring was a miniature spinthariscope (look it up yourselves) that had small amounts of radioisotope within to produce the scintillations caused by nuclear reactions. Upon removal of the tailfin apparatus, though, the "bomb" body bore resemblance of a silver bullet. Now what was mother thinking then?
As time would have it, and as World War II moved onward, restrictions were placed on manufacturing materials everywhere as the needs of war resources increased . What resulted was a change in premiums manufactured. Thank goodness (in some cases)! And, most every premium available took on the material element of cardboard, wood and cloth.
So, what's this all coming down to? Aside from a tribute to The Lone Ranger series, writers and producers and audience of the era and in keeping with this classic western genre theme, (phew!) I'm jumping into the saddle, but before I go, I appeal and enlighten you a bit...
The Lone Rangers' view of whitecapped mountains, eco-friendly buzzards and a heaping horizon of prickly cactus and rocky shelved cliffs of the pristine west have me virtually jumping to navigate the troubled water holes and deserts of Outlaws!
"Whether you like them or dislike them, don't you just get choked up thinking about the sizzling classic western genre of The Lone Ranger? Seriously, don't you just love the embodiment of heroism in the dashing, form fitting shirt and pant wreathed in the carbine belt and six shooters of The Lone Ranger?! Doesn't that just blow a breath of romantic tizzy your way?
Now step aside, while I lope brazenly into the deepening sunset, Quite The Stir Bungalow types! I'm looking for me some public trust, while matching wits and deterring hog tying, dog eared, snake eyed cattle rustlin varmits! What's more? While I'm at it, I'm earning my Lone Ranger Badge, my mask and Notification Code NOW! Those outlaws are going to feel the weight of my wrath as I too race toward another thrilling adventure at Quite The Stir Bungalow in Gettysburg, PA! That being said "PARDNER" , it's familiar territory to me, but maybe stranger to some, The Lone Ranger Creed! I'm living the "creed" and conducting myself by a strict moral code. How About You?"I believe.....That to have a friend, a man must be one.
That all men are created equal and that everyone has within himself the power to make this a better world. That God put the firewood there, but that every man must gather and light it himself.In being prepared physically, mentally, and morally to fight when necessary for that which is right. That a man should make the most of what equipment he has.
That 'this government of the people, by the people, and for the people' shall live always.That men should live by the rule of what is best for the greatest number.That sooner or later...somewhere...somehow...we must settle with the world and make payment for what we have taken.That all things change but truth, and that truth alone, lives on forever.
In my Creator, my country, my fellow man."
A word from our WXYZ Radio Sponsor:"Regularly eat Bond Bread today".
In memory and tribute to the talented actors of The Lone Ranger, in particular Clayton Moore, The Lone Ranger and Jay Silverheels, Tonto-- and others who live or may have since passed on to the "Cowboy, Spur Jingling Heaven In The Wide-Eyed Red Horizon Sky" we remember Clayton Moore, in his comment summing up the series and legends : "It's the good guy in the white hat, fair play and honesty, the settling of the Old West. Don't forget the cowboys, the trials and tribulations they went through. What we have now is because of our ancestors and pioneers."
The era of radio voices wisped into WWII homes with regularity during the 1940s. The Red, White and Blue American family gathered together, with kith and kin, around their living rooms and kitchens to listen to the radio news. GI Joes or Janes and Rosie The Riveter would tune in, when time would allow, by the lights of dingy factory break room or nightly by a comforting radio glow.
Americans listened, intently, as history unfolded a swathe of grandeur or milieu of terror across radio airways. Every man, woman and child of the 1940s was enlightened of sorrow, joy, hope, laughter, tragedy and war. Astounding events that shaped our very lives today were sent to them yesterday. A link to the outside world could be had by simply listening to radio and the confident assuring radio broadcasters of The Greatest Generation.
Humility must always be the portion of any man who receives acclaim earned in blood of his followers and sacrifices of his friends.
General Dwight D. Eisenhower
We are not retreating -- we are advancing in another direction.
General Douglas MacArthur
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