Here's something to add to Paul's Original Rock Dinner posted last week. It's a stone shaped like a piece of chocolate pie, found by Dr. Charles M. Sheldon of Kansas, sometime circa 1940. The picture comes from The Rotarian (Apr 1944).
Posted By: Alex - Mon Mar 04, 2013 -
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Category: Food, 1940s
In 1939, Kent Knowlton of Randsburg, CA, assembled a curious meal of petrified food for his amusement and that of others.
We have a record that it was still being exhibited a year later. Then, the "Original Rock Dinner" vanishes from history--until this very year!
An article on the "ghost town" of Randsburg features what appears to be a photo of the petrified food, nearly 75 years after its debut. I'd recognize that "cauliflower" anywhere!
As gross-outs go, the notion of a giant head raining its dandruff on helpless humans (or is that a normal-sized head raining on shrunken doll people?), is pretty far up the scale. Not sure, however, that it makes me want to buy the product.
Recent scholarship has traced the roots of Mad magazine's Alfred E. Newman back to the nineteenth century. But I don't believe anyone has ever before noted his resemblance to this animated version of Superman's pal Jimmy Olsen, as seen in the 1942 Superman cartoon "Showdown," embedded above.
How fitting that today both Jimmy and Alfred are owned by the same company, Warner Bros.!
The none-too-subtle message was that if the doctor, with all of his expertise, chose to smoke a particular brand, then it must be safe. Unlike with celebrity and athlete endorsers, the doctors depicted were never specific individuals, because physicians who engaged in advertising would risk losing their license. (It was contrary to accepted medical ethics at the time for doctors to advertise.) Instead, the images always presented an idealized physician - wise, noble, and caring - who enthusiastically partook of the smoking habit. All of the "doctors" in these ads came out of central casting from among actors dressed up to look like doctors.
There aren't that many people who seriously pursue art and wrestling at the same time, but Patrick O'Connor was one of them. Back in the 1940s, he was heavyweight wrestling champion of Ireland, but also had a Greenwich Village art studio. He was an artist of the "conservative Realist and Romantic school." Apparently he viewed art as his true passion. Wrestling was just a way to make money. From The Evening Independent, Sep. 9, 1944:
His portraits were too realistic. If a rich dowager had three chins, he refused to conveniently omit two of them. As a result there was no rush of customers, so the painter turned to wrestling as a means of earning an honest dollar.
Unfortunately I haven't been able to find any examples of his art, except for the ones that can be seen behind him in the pictures below. O'Connor is the one with the beard. The pictures were taken in his art studio.
Paul Di Filippo
Paul has been paid to put weird ideas into fictional form for over thirty years, in his career as a noted science fiction writer. He has recently begun blogging on many curious topics with three fellow writers at The Inferior 4+1.