Episode 5 of the

Quills and Cliffhangers podcast

is now available on 

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Fables in Slang Audiobook Part 2

Part Two of our show features the 1899 bestseller, Fables in Slang by George Ade.

I have a classic story for you today, starring a young woman of yesteryear who was looking for Mr. Right.  George wrote these fables during the Industrial Revolution, when women were expanding their roles in society, searching for work opportunities in offices in the Big City, and campaigning for their right to vote. 

You’ll run into some obscure references in this story, so here is some helpful historical information:

This story is set in a town that is so small, it doesn’t even have a name.  George calls a Way Station.  That’s a quick stop on a train route.  In this town lives a shrewd, wealthy businessman, a single father who is raising his daughter.  The author calls the girl a “peach”, which tells us that she is beautiful; however, she has no one to teach her how to develop her feminine charms.  She convinces her father to send her to a finishing school, where her friends reveal to her that life is one big party involving candy, the theater, and the company of charming, well-dressed young men.

A few weeks later, when her frugal father receives the bill from the school, he practically has a heart attack and demands that she return home.  George compares the father to David Harum.  In case you’re asking, “Who’s that?”,  David Harum was the title of an 1898 book about a horse-trader who engaged in unscrupulous business practices.  While we may assume that all of 19^th century society gathered around oil lamps enjoying the great classics, the truth is that 400,000 people were reading this shockingly entertaining bestseller, instead.

Another useful term you will need to know for this story is “drummer,” which was an old-fashioned word for a salesman.  When the drummer, a young tobacco sales rep, meets the daughter in the story, he becomes equally infatuated with her beauty, her charm – and her father’s money.  You can already see where this story is going.

A few minor items to mention:

The daughter takes the drummer for a ride in her Phaeton, which was a sporty, horse-drawn carriage with extra large wheels.

Part of the 19^th century courting ritual, which George Ade mentioned often in his stories, was that the suitor would bring his lady love…marshmallows.

And the daughter builds a shrine on her dresser with candles and a photo of someone named Mr. Sothern.  It took some research to locate him, but I believe this was a handsome young actor, E.H. Sothern, who famously played d’Artagnan in The King’s Musketeers on stage in 1899.

Without further ado, here is…

THE FABLE OF THE BRASH DRUMMER AND THE PEACH WHO LEARNED THAT THERE WERE OTHERS

A well-fixed Mortgage Shark, residing at a Way Station, had a Daughter whose Experience was not as large as her prospective Bank Roll. She had all the component Parts of a Peach, but she didn't know how to make a Showing, and there was nobody in Town qualified to give her a quiet Hunch.

She got her Fashion Hints from a Trade Catalogue, and took her Tips on Etiquette and Behavior from the Questions and Answers Department of an Agricultural Monthly.

The Girl and her Father lived in a big White House, with Evergreen Trees and whitewashed Dornicks in front of it, and a Wind-Pump at the rear. Father was a good deal the same kind of a Man as David Harum, except that he didn't let go of any Christmas Presents. In fact, Daughter was the only one on Earth who could induce him to Loosen Up.

Now, it happened that there came to this Town every Thirty Days a brash Drummer, who represented a Tobacco House. He was a Gabby Young Man, and he could Articulate at all Times, whether he had anything to Say or not.

One night, at a Lawn Fête given by the Ladies of the Methodist Congregation, he met Daughter. She noticed that his Trousers did not bag at the Knees; also that he wore a superb Ring. They strolled under the Maples, and he talked what is technically known as Hot Air. He made an Impression considerably deeper than himself. She promised to Correspond.

On the occasion of his next Visit to the Way Station, he let her wear his Ring, and made a Wish, while she took him riding in the Phaeton. He began to carry her Photograph in his Watch, and show it to the Boys employed at the House. Sometimes he would fold over one of her Letters so they could see how it started out. He said the Old Man had Nothing But, and he proposed to make it a case of Marry. Truly, it seemed that he was the principal Cake in the Pantry, and little did he suspect that he could be Frosted.

But Daughter, after much Pleading, induced Father to send her to a Finishing School in the East. (A Finishing School is a Place at which Young Ladies are taught how to give the Quick Finish to all Persons who won't do.)

At School, the Daughter tied up with a Chum, who seldom overlooked a Wednesday Matinee, and she learned more in three Weeks than her Childhood Home could have shown her in three Centuries.

Now she began to see the other Kind; the Kind that Wears a Cutaway, with a White Flower, in the Morning, a Frock, with Violets, in the Afternoon, and a jimmy little Tuxedo at Night.

For the first time she began to listen to Harness that had Chains to it, and she rode in Vehicles that permitted her to glance in at the Second Stories.

She stopped wearing Hats, and began to choose Confections. She selected them Languidly, three at a time.

Then the Bill to the Way Station, and Father down with Heart Failure.

She kept Mr. Sothern's Picture on her Dresser, with two Red Candles burning in front of it, and every time she thought of Gabby Will, the Crackerjack Salesman, she reached for the Peau d'Espagne and sprayed herself.

One Day when the Tobacco Salesman came up Main Street with his Grips, on his way to visit the Trade, he met the Drug Clerk, who told him that She was Home on a Visit. So he hurried through with his Work, got a Shave, changed ends on his Cuffs, pared his Nails, bought a box of Marshmallows, and went out to the House.

Daughter was on the Lawn, seated under a Canopy that had set Father back thirty-two Dollars. There was a Hired Hand sprinkling the Grass with a Hose, and as Will, the Conversational Drummer, came up the Long Walk, Daughter called to the Hired Hand, and said: "Johnson, there is a Strange Man coming up the Walk; change the Direction of the Stream somewhat, else you may Dampen him."

The Drummer approached her, feeling of his Necktie, and wondered if she would up and Kiss him, right in broad Daylight. She didn't. Daughter allowed a rose-colored Booklet, by Guy de Maupassant, to sink among the Folds of her French Gown, and then she Looked at him, and said: "All Goods must be delivered at the Rear."

"Don't you Know me?" he asked.

"Rully, it seems to me I have seen you, Somewhere," she replied, "but I cahn't place you. Are you the Man who tunes the Piano?"

"Don't you remember the night I met you at the Lawn Fête?" he asked; and then, Chump that he was, and all Rattled, he told her his Name, instead of giving her the scorching Come-Back that he composed next Day, when it was Too Late.

"I meet so many People traveling about," she said; "I cahn't remember all of them, you know. I dare say you called to see Pu-pah; he will be here Presently."

Then she gave him "Some one's else," "Neyether," "Savoir-Faire," and a few other Crisp Ones, hot from the Finishing School, after which she asked him how the Dear Villagers were coming on. He reminded her that he did not live in the Town. She said: "Only Fahncy!" and he said he guessed he'd have to be Going, as he had promised a Man to meet him at Jordan's Store before the Bank closed.

As he moved toward the St. Nicholas Hotel he kept his Hand on his Solar Plexus. At five o'clock he rode out of Town on a Local.

Moral: Anybody can Win unless there happens to be a Second Entry.

*          *          *

And so Will, the brokenhearted tobacco sales rep, left the small town on the five o’clock train and was never seen again.  But we can hope that the daughter eventually found the man of her dreams, who kept her in marshmallows and took her to the theater every weekend.

The Quills and Cliffhangers Podcast is available on iTunes and CastBox.

Episode 4 of the

Quills and Cliffhangers podcast

is now available on 

Castbox.

Fables in Slang Audiobook Part 1

Recently we acquired a first edition printing of Fables in Slang by George Ade, published in 1899.  The stories in this collection are so entertaining, so over-the-top, that we decided to share a few of them with you.

*          *          *

George Ade is often compared to Mark Twain.  Both men were born in the Midwest in the 19^th century and wrote for newspapers as young men.  Gifted with wit and humor, the two authors enjoyed long and celebrated careers.  However, while Mark Twain’s books are still in wide circulation, the works of George Ade are not as well known today.  Nevertheless, George is finding a new audience among 21^st century readers due to his gently satirical – and timeless -- take on life and relationships.

Released in 1899, Fables in Slang became a bestseller.  One of the first things I noticed about the stories is that George capitalized many nouns, and sometimes verbs, for no apparent reason.  This peculiar habit adds to the silliness of the stories.

George also had an efficient and quirky way of describing characters and their predicaments, in a few, quick strokes of the pen.  

Here is an example from…

THE FABLE OF THE SLIM GIRL WHO TRIED TO KEEP A DATE

THAT WAS NEVER MADE

Once upon a Time there was a slim Girl with a Forehead which was Shiny and Protuberant, like a Bartlett Pear. When asked to put Something in an Autograph Album she invariably wrote the Following, in a tall, dislocated Back-Hand:

"Life is Real; life is Earnest,
And the Grave is not its Goal."

That's the kind of a Girl she was.

In her own Town she had the Name of being a Cold Proposition, but that was because the Primitive Yokels could not Attune Themselves to the Views of one who was troubled with Ideals. Her Soul Panted for the Higher Life.

Alas, the Rube Town in which she Hung Forth was given over to Croquet, Mush and Milk Sociables, a lodge of Elks and two married Preachers who doctored for the Tonsilitis. So what could the Poor Girl do?

In all the Country around there was not a Man who came up to her Plans and Specifications for a Husband. Neither was there any Man who had any time for Her. So she led a lonely Life, dreaming of the One—the Ideal. He was a big and pensive Literary Man, wearing a Prince Albert coat, a neat Derby Hat and godlike Whiskers. When He came he would enfold Her in his Arms and whisper Emerson's Essays to her.

But the Party failed to show up.

*          *          *

George Ade wrote these fables during the Industrial Revolution.  People were leaving farms and small towns and moving to big cities.  In this era, women gained more independence, education increased in importance, and opportunities to build fortunes abounded.  George’s writing reflects this dramatic change in the American way of life.

His stories are typically short and energetic.  Just as they’re getting started, suddenly they’re over.   Perhaps our great-great-grandparents liked their entertainment in short sound bites, just as we do today.  In the tradition of Aesop’s Fables, George tacked a moral onto the end of each story.  The moral might make sense…and then again, it might not.  

Most of the stories flow very well, considering how long ago George wrote them.  The American English language has evolved just in the past decade; imagine the changes wrought by nearly 120 years!  It’s inevitable that some of his references are a tad obscure, so the modern reader has to interpret the author’s meaning from the context of the sentence, the paragraph, and the entire story.  These fables are therefore like a game, a verbal maze with twists and turns.  

The next story I would like to share with you is about an obsessive baseball fan.  Considering that baseball was invented only about fifty years before this story was written, the sport already had loyal, rowdy fans who could talk about nothing else.  

And now…

THE FABLE OF THE BASE BALL FAN 

WHO TOOK THE ONLY KNOWN CURE

Once upon a Time a Base Ball Fan lay on his Death-Bed.

He had been a Rooter from the days of Underhand Pitching.

It was simply Pie for him to tell in what year Anse began to play with the Rockfords and what Kelly's Batting Average was the Year he sold for Ten Thousand.

If you asked him who played Center for Boston in 1886 he could tell you quick—right off the Reel. And he was a walking Directory of all the Glass Arms in the Universe.

More than once he had let drive with a Pop Bottle at the Umpire and then yelled "Robber" until his Pipes gave out. For many Summers he would come Home, one Evening after Another, with his Collar melted, and tell his Wife that the Giants made the Colts look like a lot of Colonial Dames playing Bean Bag in a Weedy Lot back of an Orphan Asylum, and they ought to put a Trained Nurse on Third, and the Dummy at Right needed an Automobile, and the New Man couldn't jump out of a Boat and hit the Water, and the Short-Stop wouldn't be able to pick up a Ball if it was handed to him on a Platter with Water Cress around it, and the Easy One to Third that ought to have been Sponge Cake was fielded like a One-Legged Man with St. Vitus dance trying to do the Nashville Salute.

Of course she never knew what he was Talking about, but she put up with it, Year after Year, mixing Throat Gargle for him and reading the Games to him when he was having his Eyes tested and had to wear a Green Shade.

At last he came to his Ninth Inning and there were Two Strikes called and no Balls, and his Friends knew it was All Day with him. They stood around and tried to forget that he was a Fan. His Wife wept softly and consoled herself with the Thought that possibly he would have amounted to Something if there had been no National Game. She forgave Everything and pleaded for one Final Message. His Lips moved. She leaned over and Listened. He wanted to know if there was Anything in the Morning Papers about the Condition of Bill Lange's Knee.

Moral: There is a Specific Bacillus for every Classified Disease.

The Quills and Cliffhangers Podcast is available on iTunes and CastBox.