The primary job duty of Miss Electric Sign was to endure being dangled from a crane beside electric signs.
But she also had to sing the anthem of electric signs:
What would everyone do if there were no bright lights?
Would our nation be grand if signs weren't there to show the proper way to everyone in this land?
Time - Mar 25, 1966
Lancaster Eagle Gazette - Sep 19, 1966
A study published in the June 1968 issue of the
Quarterly Journal of Studies on Alcohol involved giving chimpanzees and orangutans as much vodka (mixed with fruit juice) as they wanted to drink in order to find out if they'd become alcoholics.
Reportedly the chimpanzees were enthusiastic drinkers and became drunk repeatedly. But oddly, the orangutans, although they drank, never showed any signs of intoxication.
I'm curious to know more details about the study,
but unfortunately the article itself is locked behind a paywall.
Central New Jersey Home News - Aug 22, 1968
In 1968, TWA introduced "foreign accent flights" on its domestic service. Travelers could choose to go on a French, British, Italian, or American-themed flight. The stewardesses were dressed in uniforms inspired by the respective countries. For instance, on the British flights the stewardesses wore an "English serving wench" outfit.
Time - Apr 24, 1968
More info from TWA Museum Guides Blog:
Begun on April 1, 1968, "Foreign Accent Service" was TWA's attempt to leverage its international image to attract passengers to its domestic U.S. flights. Certain longer-haul flights (such as New York - Los Angeles) were themed to create a foreign, cosmopolitan atmosphere. It could have been French, Italian, British or American (an inquisitive young visitor once asked our guide what was "foreign" about the American theme). To "brand" that experience, hostesses were outfitted in one of four appropriately themed uniforms, made from paper (that's right, paper). Hostesses donned the uniform prior to the flight and disposed of it when the flight was over...
These "wear once and dispose" dresses were designed as wrap-arounds, secured with velcro fasteners. Hostesses typically carried a pair of scissors and tape to adjust the length. The promotion was short-lived. Logistical problems involving coordination of the dresses with the flight's theme developed and supply problems meant later uniforms had to be constructed with a lighter-weight paper, which was more prone to tearing. Some senior hostesses were reluctant to wear the dresses, including legendary flight attendant, Ida Staggers. Ms. Staggers, hired in 1936, was not pleased with this promotional role. Despite a large financial outlay for logistics and advertising, the program died quietly, never making it past 1968.
Hollywood Studio Magazine - July 1968
Sports Illustrated - Mar 25, 1968
In the 1960s and '70s, female employees of Canada's National Parole Board got to compete for the honor of being chosen Miss National Parole Board.
Whoever was chosen Miss National Parole Board could then go on to compete to be "RA Queen of the Year." As far as I can tell, RA stood for 'Recreation Association.' It was the government organization that sponsored a beauty contest for Canadian civil service workers.
Miss National Parole Board would compete against other title-holders such as 'Miss Fisheries,' 'Miss Defence Production,' 'Miss Solicitor-General,' and 'Miss Canadian Penitentiary Service.'
Insight (The National Parole Board Newsletter) - Summer-Fall 1968
Insight (The National Parole Board Newsletter) - Fall 1969
Ottawa Citizen - May 1, 1968
In 1966, Golfcraft of Escondido, California debuted a robot golfer whose job was to test new golf clubs and balls. They held a contest to name him, and after receiving over 1500 entries decided to call him "Mr. Analyst."
More details from the
Long Beach Press-Telegram (Aug 21 1966):
The perfect golfer is Mr. Analyst, a robot whose job it is to scientifically test and analyze new designs and materials for golfing clubs. He works for Golfcraft, a manufacturing firm based in Escondido.
The robot is the answer to all those who have ever left a course in disgust, muttering something about that not being a fit game for man or beast.
Mr. Analyst is the product of the tinkering of William J. Glasson, a golfer who also has concluded, from time to time, that it was a game fit not for man or beast.
Glasson started toying with his mechanical monster while trying to figure out scientifically how to lower his five handicap on the links. At the time he had graduated from Massachusetts Institute of Technology and was working on the Falcon missile.
"The monster was still a crude thing then," Glasson reminisces, "mounted on a wooden tripod. And I had to crank it manually to get it to work. At first it would only hit the ball about 125 yards. But, after making several modifications and adjustments it started belting it 200 yards and I got excited about its possibilities."
At a recent demonstration, the robot showed graphically how it has been improved by socking balls one after another in low, screaming trajectories to a distance of 400 yards on the fly. Even that isn't the most amazing aspect of its skills. Its accuracy at this distance is what is truly amazing. All the balls landed within a circle only 15 feet in diameter.
image source: Offbeat Golf (1998) by Bob Loeffelbein
Glasson was granted
patent no. 3,373,612 for his invention. His patent drawings show a non-humanized version of his machine.
The creator's Wikipedia page.
Each song gets a "spacey" intro, metaphorically placing you in a Martian auditorium.
An early case of "stolen valor?" Or more akin to the
transit fanatic Darius McCollum, who keeps trying to drive subway cars?
LIFE MAGAZINE has a much more detailed report.