Montage from 1979 promotional brochure.

Ypsilanti: A city you can be proud to call "home." "Without blowing its horn, Ypsilanti also admits to being rich...rich in industry, rich in commerce, rich in community-minded residents." From 1970 promotional brochure.

Onetime Ypsi store: Hayward's. For the Now Generation. Also: The Johnny Carson Collection (downstairs). From 1970 city publicity brochure.

City Hall "cheese grater" facade, from 1970 Ypsilanti publicity brochure.

Ypsilanti Little League Pioneer Carolyn King

Thanks to iSPY for publishing my story on onetime Ypsilanti Little League pioneer Carolyn King, whose insistence on playing on the local team led to a nationwide change in Little League's erstwhile ban against women.

A new documentary film about Carolyn's life, featuring many scenes of old-time Ypsi, will be screened during the Heritage Festival. "The Girl in Center Field" will be shown at Ypsi High School on Saturday, August 21, at 8 p.m. Not sure if there's a charge but don't think so.

Thanks to Absolute Michigan...

...for re-publishing my "carpocalypse" story, first published in the Ann Arbor Chronicle! Yay!

That's quite the compliment and I appreciate it! Thank you, Absolute Michigan.

Technology of Our Childhoods

Dusty Diary was studiously reading old 1973 microfilm reproductions of the Ypsi Press last week in Halle Library. I was researching the story of Ypsilanti Little League pioneer Carolyn King for a story for iSPY; should be in the next issue.

As usual, my scholarly pursuit almost immediately devolved into being distracted by random tidbits in the old papers. I was printing out pages showing 70s fashions while snickering when I came upon a story about how the library was a newly dynamic spot, packed with new technology. The story was accompanied by a pic of this little guy watching...a film strip.

Ah, film strips.

wave of nostalgia

Remember film strips? The boring, didactic messages, the little "BOOP" sound that told the teacher to advance to the next image? Sometimes the teacher messed up and had to search for the right image; at any rate, no matter how bad the film strip was, it was better than doing actual work. Perhaps the Dreamland could revive the notion of film strips in an edgy retro manner. I for one kind of miss this artifact of my childhood (sigh). Here's an extra-cheesy example, from 1948.

Carpocalypse, Or, Sometimes Dead Fish Smell All the Way to Lansing

Now here's a story I am proud of.

You know the poison rotenone was used to try and stop the Asian carp in the Chicago shipping canal. But did you know it was used a generation ago to try and purge Ford Lake? Unfortunately, the well-meant attempt led to a bit of a disaster...and, um, a statewide ban on rotenone.

Yes, Ford Lake, which has absorbed everything from PCBs to heavy metals over the industrial era, led to the BANNING of yet one more poison. Just a tad ironic in my opinion. Anyways, read my long-winded tale of the event in today's Chronicle! Thanks to my editor and captions-writing expert Dave Askins!

High School Pranks

It's a persistent urban myth that someone or other moved "the cow" from its perch atop Carry Dairy to some high school or other. The son of one of the original owners told me it never happened--the cow weighs 2,500 pounds, after all.

But Big Boy? Yessiree; here he is atop Ann Arbor's Pioneer High School, as documented in the May 30, 1973 Ypsi Press. He was swiped from a restaurant in Saline and hoisted atop the school via ropes. A crane was needed to de-hoist him.

Ah, youth. Have you ever taken part in a high school prank?

"Bringing Up Father" Cartoon with a 70s Twist

Y'know that old, stylish, funny cartoon "Bringing Up Father"? Starring the social-climbing Maggie in a state of constant exasperation with her unrepentant, corned-beef-and-cabbage-loving husband Jiggs? You may recall that's where the now-forgotten term "Jiggs dinner" comes from.

I associated this cartoon with the first third of the 20th century or so. Imagine my surprise when I found it in some 1973 Ypsilanti Daily Presses I was perusing! Turns out the strip ran from 1913 to the year 2000!

What struck me was that in the 1973 strips, a new character was introduced to update it. Check this dude out. He wears pants with pink flowers on them. He has a groovy 70s haircut. He says "man" at the ends of sentences. He's a hippie. Guess what his name is.

Groover.

Y'know, like "Grover" but with an oo, as in cool cat.

Some shots of Groover (bah, microfilm machine wouldn't print whole strip, sorry):




So what's the verdict? Does the presence of Groover make you feel that this venerable strip is fresh and relevant? Assuming this were 1973.

Ypsilanti City Council Faces Crucial Technological Upgrade

Kind readers, you all know the city budget is tighter than wet lederhosen on a prize hog (coining a phrase, there). As taxpayers, would you feel comfortable at this perilous juncture with a $721,000 outlay for dubious new technology? One that had never been tested or used before, and which would eliminate several city jobs staffed by neighbors and friends...assuming the darn thing worked?

That was the choice that faced the City Council in May of 1973 as the city pondered whether to buy...its first computer.

The IBM "System 3" was an enormous hulk of a thing that used a punchcard system. It promised to provide a modest speed-up in Ypsilanti's processing of voter information and several other tabulation-type tasks. It was really just a glorified Babbage machine with an electric plug. The "System 3" was introduced in 1969 and discontinued the year I graduated high school and is already collected in historical museums (pass the Geritol).

"Ypsilanti's City Hall may soon enter the electronics age," announced the May 15, 1973 Ypsi Press story by Barney White headlined "Computer Proposed for City."

"At Monday Night's budget hearing, city council heard a presentation from IBM representative Ann Olson, who suggested the city purchase a $151,000 [$721,000 in today's greenbacks] "System 3" computer.

"Describing the device as in the 'small to medium size range,' Ms. Olson said a number of municipalities, including Westland and Dearborn, have converted their business operations to computer systems.


"Presently, most city hall functions are performed by hand, though some, such as tax billing, are 'farmed out' to conputer concerns.

"The presentation follows several months' study by city officials, according to City Manager Peter Caputo.

"The computer cost, plus the approximately $12,000 salary of a full-time 'data processing coordinator,' would be paid from the city's federal revenue-sharing funds.

"According to Ms. Olson, purchase of the System 3 could save the city nearly $40,000 over a five-year period compared with costs under a lease arrangement.

"The System 3, she continued, can, among other things, perform 38,000 six-digit additions a second, process 25 checks a minute or 1,000 new voters in 20 minutes."

"Currently, it's about 10 minutes per new voter," Ms. Olson said, "that's a mammoth job and we can do it in 20 minutes."

When Dusty Diary's husband, a Java programmer, heard the figure of '38,000,' he chuckled. "Do you know how many operations per second a computer can handle nowadays?" he asked. I did not--what, do I look like an encyclopedia? "Several hundreds of millions...and that's on a little computer like that [gesturing to my Mac]." Plus I gather the System 3 was not entirely electronic...as I said, more like an electrified mechanical Babbage calculator. It was a semi-mechanical computer. Which is pretty cool. Not entirely unlike my 1930s cast iron gas station cash register that I recently snagged, which is entirely mechanical. (A story for another time).

The article continued, "The device would not become rapidly outdated, she added since 'the system does have growth capabilities.'" Heh.

"The computer memory banks can be increased five times by the addition of more equipment, the printing speed by as much as five and a half times and the storage by 20 times.

"The System 3 also maintains good resale or trade-in value, she said."

It was DARN NOISY though!


"Human Rights Party spokesman Jim Scherer, a member of the audience, opposed purchase of the IBM computer.

"'We have another factor for council to consider,' he said, 'that is that IBM is one of the major war contractors in the Indochina War right now.'"

"Councilman Lawrence J. Lobert agreed with Scherer, saying he would not support purchase of the system. Some other council members indicated they would base their decision on the needs of the city and the merits of the computer." --Ypsilanti Press, May 15, 1973.

From the Obituary Files

Dusty D was working on obits again today in the Archives. This one is for Mr. & Mrs. David F. Johnson.

In many old obit photos of car crashes, the level of damage to the car is alarming. In this photo of what appears to have been a four-door sedan, the entire front half of the car is utterly destroyed.

The only consoling thought is that likely the couple did not suffer.

This story dates from 1970, when seat belt usage was rare. Here's an interesting paragraph on the subject from the Harvard School of Public Health:

"The big jump in U.S. seat belt use came between 1984 and 1992, when usage rates went from 14% to 62%. In 1984 the U.S. Secretary of Transportation ruled that passive restraints (e.g. air bags) would not be required in motor vehicles if more than 2/3 of the nation's population resided in states with mandatory seat belt laws (meeting five specific criteria). The auto industry, which had long fought passive restraint requirements for their vehicles, immediately began a massive lobbying campaign to enact state seat belt laws, forming a new organization, Traffic Safety Now, to spearhead the effort. While no state had a seat belt law in 1983, by the time Traffic Safety Now closed its doors in 1992, 42 states had enacted seat belt laws. In a ironic twist for the auto companies, but of great benefit for safety, it was ruled that many of the state laws did not satisfy the criteria in the regulation, and the U.S. ended up with both state seat belt laws AND automobile air bags."

Luckily belts, air bags, and built-in crumple zones are now standard and used, so that there are fewer accidents as awful as this one.

Ever Wonder What Happened to the Old Ypsi Press Delivery Gang?

Hey, ever wonder what happened to the old gang who used to hang out on the Ypsi Press loading dock, bikes parked nearby, waiting for their papers?

Dusty D has just finished a three-month investigation, at her own expense, to track down these onetime Ypsi boys, and see how their early experiences as hard-working Press paperboys shaped the rest of their lives.

Their stories can now be told.

Although BIRK KLEINFELTER in this picture is folding a newspaper, he looks as though he's shaking a martini. In that, the picture is strangely prescient, since Birk went on to become a part-time bartender at the Sagging Hammock in Milan, Michigan. He attributes his success to his early Press exeriences. "If not for the Ypsilanti Press," Birk told this reporter, after making her one of his custom Dirty Elbows, "I'd be a nobody." Birk was the Sagging Hammock's Employee of the Month in October of 1992.

BRENT BRADFORD always did have a keen eye for money. Who can forget his hilarious stunt in middle school--"borrowing" the lunch money from the cafeteria cash register? How we laughed! And he wrote that beautiful poem afterwards about what he called his "vacation" in juvenile detention--it even rhymed. Brent's history is a bit blurry for a few years after his formative Press experiences and he won't discuss it--who knows what that scamp was up to--but he's recently surfaced in a pre-manufactured micro-estate homes community in the Thumb, where he breeds fighting pit bulls. A wordsmith since youth, perhaps he's working on a book of poetry about his handsome animals!

EUNICE SNORD was cut out to serve God from his earliest boyhood days. When other Ypsi kids were fishing for carp in the Huron, Eunice was watching "The 700 Club" and making plans. Big plans. Today he runs a successful religious business right from his own home down by the river! Eunice can mail you everything from magnetic rings dipped in Lourdes water to holy candles, ballpoint pens personally blessed by the Pope, and your own lucky lottery numbers. Of his early Press experiences, Eunice says, while lighting up an odd-looking cigarette, "I remember those days, I think."

GODFREY POMERANIAN leveraged his pivotal Press experiences into a lucrative career. Now second-in-charge of canapes on the Royal Malthusian Cruise lines, he has nowhere to go but up. "I run it all--the sardine plates, the lutefisk table, the carved walrus centerpiece. I don't actually carve it--you have to go to school for that. But I do arrange it, and I put those little paper things on the tusks there." When not plying the sunny waters between Greenland and Iceland, back and forth, Godfrey likes to stare vacantly off into space, or nap.

Godfrey never dreamed that his character-building experiences as a young Press delivery boy would result in such a glamourous career--but it did! Why don't you sign up your young'un for the kinds of boy-building, healthy, uplifting experiences that the "old gang" has benefited from? Remember, "The Ypsi Press Delivers!"

The Concrete Origins of Ypsilanti's Heritage Fest

Curious about when and how Ypsilanti's Heritage Fest started out? Take a gander at my story about when it all began, in today's AnnArbor.com.

Mad props to Tom Dodd and James "Bad Boy" Mann for their invaluable help in writing this story! (flashes historical gang sign).

The Inaugural Iteration of Heritage Fest Was Not Derailed by the Untimely Death of Morris the Cat

But it was arguably a close call. The local paper certainly took note.

On Thursday, July 13 1978, the Ypsilanti Press reported that Morris, the beloved star of cat food commercials, had passed away in Chicago at the age of 17. The paper ran a photo showing a leonine Morris perched on "some of the hundreds of fan letters he received each week," said the caption.

A couple of days later, the paper gave a heads-up on its upcoming Sunday stories. "The death of Morris the Cat has left a void in the cat world," noted the blurb. "In his Sunday column on the Editorial Page, Managing Editor Joe Matasich tells how one local feline took the news."

On Sunday, the Press published that promised editorial. It is Dusty Diary's privilege to reprint it here in its entirety.

"When a member of the family, or a friend dies, we humans have a way of expressing our sorrow," Matasich philosophised.

"But what do you tell your household girl cat when the Clark Gable of the feline world--Morris of 9 Lives fame--kicks the bucket at the ripe old are of 17? (That's equal to 90 human years).

"Do you shake her paw? Give her more vittles? Less vittles? Write a message in the sand in her litter box?

"We checked folks out at other cat houses and it seems the problem was probably universal.

"Our snobby Motu went under the bed and sulked for hours when we broke the news that the star of TV commercials had checked out of this world.

"We offered to send a note or flowers to his owner Bob Martwick of Chicago.

"Even a pledge to offer up a Mass wouldn't budge her.

"But in true Morris style--aloof, finicky, stubborn, and independent--Motu hung in there under the bed and didn't come out until 4 a.m. when she directly walked up the patio screen.

"We took this as an indication that old cagey Morris made it Upstairs.

"Anyone who went from a mangey car rescued from an animal shelter after an alley brawl to 10 years of TV stardom just has to go on to higher things.

"Contrary to the Detroit News headline that: "Morris the cat--sorry, he didn't have 9 lives."

"Morris does live on.

"Out on the Merrill. In the heart of Motu."

"P.S. How do you explain to neighbors when your kitty slinks around with a black paw band for three days?"