The Pacesetter House of 1951

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This Pacesetter House of 1951 is setting the pace a little bit too fast for me. Because a fireplace is supposed to be relaxing to sit by, right? And to me, this looks a little too much like a test pattern.

I used to really like the test pattern – when I was about three. Yes, back in 1965 I used to love getting up a little bit before 6am, which was when Sunrise Semester came on, and watch the test pattern. For those of you too young to have savored this amazing visual treat, the test pattern was black and white geometric stuff that TV stations showed on your screen when they were off the air. Yes, even the TV stations used to clock off and sleep for a few hours every night, back then.

designobserver.

The test-pattern tiles aside, what also bothers me here is the grey carpeting on the ceiling. It looks like the room is standing on its head, so to speak. Maybe that’s just me, though. I wish we could see the rest of this Pacesetter house. Imagine what the bathroom tiles must be like! I love the coffee table and the sofa, though.

What do you think?

The Postman Always Brings Advice

It was a dark and stormy afternoon. Very dark. Very stormy. And my mind – my mind had gone absolutely blank. What was I supposed to be doing, anyway? Where was I? And for heaven’s sake, what was that big pile of dirty dishes doing in my sink?

Then suddenly, the doorbell rang.

A strange postman was there. He handed me a glowing white packet with no address on it. “This, ma’am, is an Idea Booklet.”

“I don’t understand,” I said. “I didn’t order anything at all from anyone.”

“Well, the folks at Upson Panels, they thought that all the homemakers out there would like to know how you can have lovely crackproof walls and ceilings with washable, non-dust-catching surfaces.”

“Gosh, that does sound exciting,” I said. “There are plenty of cracked walls and dusty surfaces in here.”

“New arrangements and decorating schemes, too,” he said. “Go on, have a look. Thousands of other homemakers have been thrilled with the schemes the Upson folks have come up with. And their lives are never the same, folks tell me.” And then – all of a sudden -  he had vanished into the peculiar darkness.

“My new Idea Booklet!” I said, as I closed the door and sat down on the settee. I flipped the booklet open and stared at the blank pages. “Where are all the ideas for my ceilings and walls?” 

And then – I don’t know how to describe it – these new panels started growing up out of the floor, covering the walls. They glowed faintly with a green light. And then I heard the dishes rattling in the sink.

The house was getting some ideas of its own. I knew things were about to change.

[From Ladies' Home Journal, 1945.]

The Giant Telephones

We noticed them right away.

How could we not, they were five times the size of anything else in the house. I don’t know where they came from, but one day there were three giant telephones living at our house. Really! My brother said they were from the Planet Gigantus, where everything is really, really big. And Dad laughed at first and said they’d grown up big and strong because they ate up all their canned green beans, but he was kidding. I think.

Our regular phone must have got scared, because it was gone the morning after the Giant Telephones appeared. I guess it ran away. My brother said one it got eaten, but I can’t imagine how.

The big yellow one took over the kitchen. It watched Mom carefully. Sometimes we thought it wanted to try cooking something. Mom told us they were the newest fad in home decor, although they did take up – well, an awful lot of space.

The white one was my favorite. It decided to stay in the den, I guess it liked TV. It didn’t cause too much trouble. It was polite and didn’t stand in front of the screen – well, not too often, anyway. Only when it didn’t like the show Dad had picked out. And it only rang when there was a scary movie on and it got a little upset.

But the blue one was temperamental. It was a real princess phone – the Bell of the ball  – so only the boudoir would do. It used to sidle over to the bed and stare at anyone who dared to get in it, as if they were trespassing. It rang shrilly every time it wanted to sit at the vanity table. When it did, you’d better not be in the way! And you have no idea how hard it is to put lipstick on a rotary dial. Besides, even if you do – it’s still just a phone.

[Many thanks to Millie Motts.]

The Green Stampede

It’s Friday, let’s play a game! How many of the “lovely gifts” from Green Stamps can you find in Mrs. Irish’s house? I’ve made this one extra-large so you can see better.

I’m guessing the pink plastic grapes and the orange dishes that match the plastic oranges (I think they came as a set).

The doggie? The Where-the-Wild-Things-Are Scary Plant in the background? You be the judge.

If you can’t see anything interesting, feel free to make things up.

Slightly boring Fun Fact: I went to the Green Stamps store once with my mom in the late 60s – yup, there was at least one in Manhattan! And I don’t remember much, but there seemed to be a lot of brass tube-y items like cheap TV stands. I don’t think we went back after the one time. But she used to paste those Green Stamps in the little books like nobody’s business. Did anyone else go to the Green Stamps store? Do tell!

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My friend Barbara at the delightful if I didn’t have a sense of humor has asked some of us to post a favorite picture on their blogs. Now about a million years ago I posted some family photos over at Virtual Dime Museum, my history blog, and one of my favorite photos ever happens to be over there…so I am going to direct you to this photograph, taken in the early 1890s at Rockaway Beach in Queens, which features my grandmother and her brothers and sister.

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I said it over on Virtual Dime Museum but it probably bears repeating, because I know that not everyone reads both blogs – I am working seriously on a mystery novel (which takes place in Victorian-era Brooklyn, with a female detective, so VDM links up with my research pretty well, mostly). I am really having to consciously allocate daily work time for it. So – I will really try to keep up with all of my favorite blogs, and comment when I can, and Twitter (and do a little bit of  EC)  – when I can, just not as much as before…

Doc Glueky Is In the House

Let YOU repair my furniture? Like I’m going to let an adhesive-obsessed friend of Snow White’s into my house, armed with a bottle of  super-glue. No thank you, Doc “Glueky.” I guess that is an in-joke, your name. I don’t get it though.

What sort of doctor are you, anyway? If you cannot remember your pants in the morning, I hardly think that you are up to making diagnoses. Still, I suppose that it is nice of you to offer to repair my furniture (though the implication that it is all falling down around us is a trifle rude, you must admit).

Perhaps the Wicked Queen could hire you to glue her magic mirror back together. And you might want to suggest a course of self-esteem-based therapy as well. Or maybe you could repair a few gingerbread cottages. The Necco Wafer roof tiles do tend to fall off when it rains (they melt, too, but that’s another problem). And Grace the Card Table Lady from yesterday’s post could have availed herself of your services before rushing out to buy new card tables. She might want to work on the whole issue of peer pressure, too, while you’re at it.

From Popular Science, April 1941.

Santa Takes A Break

The dog is really cute. Love the doggie! He is not taking any breaks though, no sir, though he will be pretty soon, I hope.  He might not want to wear that outfit for too long. Kudos and a large dog biscuit to you, my friend.

But the Jolly Life Size Santa? I find him a little – off-putting. What’s he doing hanging around outside the house, anyway? Shouldn’t he be getting things ready for the 24th? I know I am. Wrapping, panicking, tidying up, trying to find that terrific gift I bought back in September and hid in such a great place that now I can’t find it (true story).

The Life Size Santa is 5’9″ (which is “almost six feet tall,” apparently – maybe he has 3″ heels on those boots) and you stuff him full of newspaper and place him in a lounging position by your door. Or on your roof or “by the fireplace” (mind the plastic though).

But I kind of like how he’s sitting on the fence, looking so carefree, even though it’s his Busy Season. He must know some good relaxation secrets. Or else he’s delegated everything to the elves. He is the CEO after all. And he was made in Miami, so he’s probably been in Florida all year, relaxing.

Maybe he could just come inside for a minute and help me find that gift I hid so well last fall.

[From Life, November 19, 1971. Really big version here. Not as big as that Life-Size Santa, but still.]

Window Pain

This storm window clearly did not come with any instructions. Rule #1: do not attempt to walk through it.

Because that’s one thing you can’t protect your family (or anyone) from: being stupid enough to walk through a storm window. A storm window that they are holding in front of them!

Installing in minutes just isn’t soon enough for this lady. They should have installed it in the few seconds they had before she came crashing through the front door.

From Popular Mechanics, October 1956.

Dishenfranchised

Velvet suds and sparkles?
What a load of crock
If you’re in the kitchen
With a bossy clock.

She’s just acting happy
With that stupid watch;
Her bottle’s full of Ivory,
Too bad it isn’t scotch.

Soap suds are not velvet,
Sinks are not a spa;
Baked-on crud is lousy
And no kind of Shangri-la.

Still and all, Nice going, lady!
Those are mighty lovely hands
Soon they’ll toss that noisy pocket watch
In with the pots and pans.

[This ad is from 1942 and the bigger version is here at Ad Access.]

Ode On A Can Of Old Dutch Cleanser

It’s contest time! Old Dutch Cleanser had a contest in 1942 in which one had to complete a little poem in order to win lots of very green money (as you can see, it will make you simper when you hold it close to your face).

OK, so here’s what we have to do – we will be filling in the last line of this immortal verse:

“I Like Old Dutch Cleanser”
Said A Housewife named Knight
“It’s so safe and so fast

…Though my hands look a fright
…And the sink looks all right
…I’ll be done by midnight
…Though the difference is slight
…She’s just being polite
…It cleans better than Sprite
…And it doesn’t ignite!

There are probably some Knight jokes in there, possibly about the Round Table, but I don’t think I can find them right now. I was thinking about Old Dutch Cleanser anyway because I was writing about it over on The Doubletake yesterday – when you win the contest, you’ll be so grateful to that Old Dutch Cleanser can, you may want to make it a little sweater. If you do, the pattern is over there.

[From Life, March 30, 1942]

More Books: The 1930s Home and The 1940s Home

The 1930s Home
by Greg Stevenson
Oxford: Shire Publications, 2009
40 pp.



The 1940s Home
by Paul Evans and Peter Doyle
Oxford: Shire Publications, 2009
48 pp.

These two informative books, companions to The 1950s Home which I reviewed here last week (the link is at the end of this review), give the retro enthusiast a comprehensive look at the British home in the middle decades of the 20th century. Lavishly illustrated with photographs, ephemera and wonderful period advertisements, all three of these books take one through a good overview of British architectural design, house construction, furnishings and decor, and gardens. 

The 1930s house, whether a suburban villa, a Moderne bungalow or a “Tudorbethan” mock-historical semi, was a charming blend of old and new styles which still holds up well in today’s housing market. Houses were built in quantity for new home-owners who took advantage of good mortgages and good prices. The homes reflected the smaller, servantless households of the 1930s, with fitted kitchens and well-lit, efficient spaces.

The 1940s was, of course, a decade dominated by wartime shortages and hardships. So it is no surprise that a good part of The 1940s House is dedicated to discussing items such as bomb shelters, blackout curtains, and the simple, modern and rather attractive Utility furniture which the British householder could purchase with ration coupons. Though, as Evans and Doyle point out, the 1940s are often remembered as a drab, dull period in house decor and design, this is not entirely so. Shortages forced designers to create furnishings and kitchenware from interesting materials- such as aluminum and plastics. The streamlined look of decor presaged the modern, forward-looking ideals of 1950s design.

I very much enjoyed reading all three of these books and would recommend them to anyone interested in the history of mid-20th century British homes. Stevenson also lists “Places To Visit’ and a short bibliography at the end of The 1930s House, which is most helpful. My review of The 1950s House is here, and all of these books may be ordered from Shire Books.