Bouncing Around the Internet

Back when my Dad and I went to the Trolley Museum, I took some pictures inside the trolley car of the "old timey" ads.

It struck me how much things have changed or perhaps haven't changed as much as they might need to...


The ad over the "No Spitting" sign and next to the timeless Heinz vinegar ad, was a curious one. Gold Dust? What, do tell, is Gold Dust?

After I googled up a hundred links or so, I found out that this 1921 advertizing sign was for Fairbank's Gold Dust Washing Powder - The Many Purpose Cleaner. The company's logo featured the Gold Dust Twins, Goldie and Dustie, two African-American children surrounded by gold coins; the significance of which eludes me.


Mr. Google tells me this is an ad from 1944 - the cartoony Hilter made me wonder just what they were thinking?


This ad says, The Folding Brownie - almost a Kodak - for pictures 2 1/4 by 3 1/4 inches. Price $5.00 - Iver Johnson Sporting Goods Co., 153-55 Washington Street.

I had to chuckle at "almost a Kodak". I'm sure a lot of youngsters nowadays do not realize that years ago, just about every camera that an ordinary person could afford, was a Kodak (and used gasp! Kodak film!). Intrigued and intent on placing a date on this camera ad, I googled the name of the store selling them.

The Iver Johnson Sporting Goods Co. was located in Boston, Massachusetts and dealt primarily in sporting rifles, handguns and bicycles. The earliest catalogs dates from 1871 and Iver Johnson died in 1895. I like a good wrestling match with Mr. Google and a search for the truth, but I felt a challenge coming on...

Further digging around, led to a New York Times article on a Boston city-wide riot over gambling laws that occurred on September 11, 1919 in which 7 persons died and the Iver Johnson Sporting Good Store suffered "several thousands of dollars" of losses, primarily broken store front windows.

Not to be denied the age of the camera ad, I looked further... and uncovered another article, this one by Edward Park, written in November, 1983 recounting his childhood and early days as a news reporter.

"...Iver Johnson's was a wholesome interest. There I could wander through aisles flanked by baseball bats; through thickets of split-bamboo fly rods and stubbles of short, steel bait-casting rods ...; through an arsenal of rifles and shotguns, ... ; and through a long array of heavy woolen winter clothes and thick leather hunting boots. Boys were under constant surveillance by supercilious clerks. I remember how surprised one of them was the day I actually bought something, but no matter. This was a place in which to build dreams."

After a short sidetrip to look up "supercilious" in the dictionary*, I continued to read.

"Along with the coffee smell was another, equally pervading. One could discern throughout much of downtown Boston, and especially around the North End, the unmistakable aroma of molasses.

'Why does Boston smell of molasses?' I asked my friend. He looked at me curiously.

'Because of the molasses flood, of course,' he said."


My Mom being from Boston, immediately knew of the Molasses Flood, when I asked her about it. Such is the power of 'folklore'.

The Boston Molasses Flood occurred on January 15, 1919, in the North End neighborhood of Boston. A 2,300,000 gallon molasses storage tank burst, and a wave of molasses rushed through the streets at an estimated 35 mph, killing 21 and injuring 150. To this day, residents claim that on hot summer days, the area still smells of molasses.

"Molasses, waist deep, covered the street and swirled and bubbled about the wreckage. Here and there struggled a form — whether it was animal or human being was impossible to tell. Only an upheaval, a thrashing about in the sticky mass, showed where any life was... Horses died like so many flies on sticky fly-paper. The more they struggled, the deeper in the mess they were ensnared. Human beings — men and women — suffered likewise."

"It took over 87,000 man hours to remove the molasses from the cobblestone streets, theaters, businesses, automobiles, and homes. The harbor was still brown with molasses until summer."

I never did find out how old that camera ad was... I got stuck in the virtual molasses...


* Supercilious - showing haughty disdain.