Historical Project: Pickling Vegetables

Dusty D loves food--salty, savory food. And we have a "hundred- year- rule" in the house--we don't eat anything that wasn't eaten a hundred years ago. Why do we have this silly rule?

One reason is economy. Dusty D loves to cook and likes to think I can save lots of money by cooking everything from scratch.

Two is for health reasons. Neither of us feel as good when eating anything processed, even a store-bought cookie, much less a TV dinner (that's out, violates 100-year rule) or cereal (at $4 a pound, or, meat prices, I'll have a nice steak for breakfast instead of a sad little bowl of flakes, thankee) or whatever.

Bratwurst is processed--but they sure were eating sausage 100 years ago. That's in! Beer? Good heavens, the Egyptians made it. In! Whole chicken? Yep, I can make that baby stretch throughout an entire week, including lunches. Chicken nuggets? Nope. And so on. But we're not total sticklers--we do buy sugar for instance. Michigan Made Beet Sugar, I hasten to add. But I do make all our bread and the yoghurt we have every day for breakfast.

OK, all that said, while filing the other day I found a neat handout that local apiatrix Lisa Bashert had given me on how to pickle veggies. My mouth started watering, remembering the Tony Packo pickled vegetables I'd eaten as a child growing up near Toledo. And he made it sound so easy--and I had lots of dill growing in the garden! My sweetie got so interested he made a special trip for garlic and then I was off to the races.

I cleaned and chopped garlic (6 bulbs), carrots (6), a head of cauliflower, a handful of radishes, a big white onion, and grabbed a handful of dill from the garden. Here's the first layer in the crock pit crock.

Here's the crock filled with beautiful vegetables, layered with dill. I had to gently shake the crock to help the vegetables settle into a tightly- packed mass. Sprinkled a pinch of chili seeds on top.

The brine is 3/4 unit of salt per 10 units of water, so I added 3/4 cup of salt to a pitcher and added 10 cups of water.

The recipe also includes 1/4 cup of vinegar per gallon, so in went 1/4 cup of apple cider vinegar, plus a sploosh--the crock volume is a bit over a gallon.

I filled the crock almost up to the top and got my cleaned plate. I positioned the plate right on top of the veggies and weighed it with a washed gallon jar fulled with water. Added the last bit of brine to bring it right up to the lip of the crock, making sure every vegetable is perfectly covered.
Covered the whole thing loosely with a plastic bag to keep dust out and there we go. It should be ready in 2 weeks...but we're already planning to start another crock next week. We'll see how it goes--it could be a complete disaster, or a source of wonderful healthy snacks, side dishes, and lunch tidbits.

So the only thing to remember is:

3/4 units salt per 10 units water for general brine, plus 1/4 cup vinegar per gallon of veggies.

Below are scans of the original flier if you'd like to try this too. Wish me luck!

Manhood Lost, and How Restored

Dusty D has always been fascinated by the fact that so many medicines were accidental side discoveries, like Viagra.

Viagra was initially studied as a drug for high blood pressure and heart conditions. When in tests Pfizer found it had the side effect of inducing erections, they simply switched the marketing plan. Their advertisements did their best to induce insecurity in otherwise normal men--in my opinion. Pfizer did this for money.

At least it has some alleged effect, unlike whatever snake oil cure huckster Chas. J. C. Kline is pushing. One of the aspects of the whole patent medicine world that most fascinates me is the amorality of the makers of useless "cures," and how the substances were marketed to people with real diseases, before the Pure Food Act in 1906. Much money was made at the expense of suffering people. Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose.

1920 Ypsi Telephone Directory Was Only 9 Pages Long

Belleville's was only two. Willis, one. And all of the Washtenaw County phones were listed in a mere 47 pages.

Ypsilanti's population in 1920 was a little over 7,000 people. Only 1,971 residents owned a telephone: just 28%.

In the directory, addresses could be vague. "One residence, for example, that of John Hamilton, was listed as "Congress Street near limits." Addresses of those outside the city limits were usually listed as 'farm, Ypsilanti township.' If a visitor did not know where the farm was located he could find it simply by asking."

By asking? Is there an app for that?

What would happen today if you were to knock on a door and ask where someone nearby was? They might call the police.

At any rate, the article lists those who had phone numbers 2-9. To call local dry goodsman W. H. Sweet, you could dial, simply, 10. If the user could figure the phone out, that is: "the telephone was apparently still a somewhat baffling apparatus to residents here judging by the multitude of warnings and instructions contained in the book."

Historical Ypsilanti Horses Profiled on AnnArbor.com

Here's a fun li'l story just right for Friday: a story I wrote on historical horsies in Ypsi. I hope you like it!

Mystery Artifact Update

The long-lost Mystery Artifact has finally returned, from an unauthorized leave of absence. BAD MYSTERY ARTIFACT! At any rate, this was the object:

...and we DID have a winner, Lisele! She guessed, "I'm gonna call this a work light or task light. Looks like you pound that pointy end into the wall to provide a temporary light while you work on some project. Then you pull it out again with the loop end. Analogous to the caged task light hanging above my sewing machine in the basement."

That's exactly correct. In my ever-useful 1902 Sears, Roebuck catalog, I found one for sale. It's called a "Miner's Candlestick," but in a catalog sent out to an agrarian society, I'm confident that this was used on farms for early morning milking and other tasks where folks would need what is a period flashlight. Congratulations, Lisele!

Mystery Artifact has been naughty lately, so Dusty D is making a change. I'm consolidating our 2 weekly Mystery Artifacts into 1 and will publish them in both here and on annarbor.com out of consideration for folks who don't want to go to annarbor.com & register & all. That should make things easier for readers and easier for me to rein things in a bit. Thanks for your patience!

Saline's Sweeney Todd?

Sylvan township resident August Gates had had enough. He was convinced that Saline butcher Joseph Schmid was stealing his cows. All the time he'd spent feeding his cattle, sheltering them, hoping--hoping!--to make enough money from them to eke through another winter--this was too much. He lodged a formal complaint with the authorities.

And then he disappeared.

"The case was a peculiar one, in that the complaining witness could not be found or anyone who knows anything about him, although a number of persons talked with him before and at the time he made the complaint."

Schmid was discharged.

(shiver)

Several Speeders Voluntarily Increased Their Own Fines

It was a gray October day during the Depression.

The men arrested for speeding sullenly waited their turn in court. Some slumped in the seats.

One sat hunched over, propping his forehead on his palms, staring at the floor. Another sat holding his hat, watching the judge.

How much will the fine be? How will I be able to afford it?

We didn't even have dinner last night.

I have no idea what we're going to do for Christmas--the two youngest are so looking forward to it.

Billy wants some ice skates. There's no way I can afford skates.

The "speeders were brought before Judge John H. Riopelle, suburban justice of the peace," noted the October 1, 1930 Ypsilanti Daily Press. "

"Instead of cash fines Judge Riopelle assessed the speeders so many pairs of shoes, explaining his reasons."

"Twenty-two children of the suburb of Ecorse, who couldn't go to school because their parents couldn't afford shoes for them, were entering classes today, each one shod in brand new footwear."

"Several speeders voluntarily increased their own fines."

One Reason Why Typhoid Fever was Prevalent in Early Washtenaw County

What were slop buckets or slop jars? Here's a quote from someone who used one:

"Furniture in the lean-to [kitchen] had the cook stove, a working area, a big wooden box for the wood and a "slop bucket". This bucket caught vegetable trimmings, the scrapings of plates (left over food) and dish water [no plumbing!]. It was emptied into the trough for the hogs."

Do you have a slop bucket? Dusty Diary does; a repurposed coffee can with sealing lid under the kitchen sink for coffee grounds, eggshells, and vegetable scraps only. It gets dumped out in the compost heap and rinsed in the rain cistern between uses. The only difference is I don't put my dishwater in the slop jar. And when we empty a new coffee can, the old one is retired, just for sanitary reasons.

But according to this ad from the 1902 Sears, Roebuck catalog, slop jars could also be relegated to a sickroom as a commode, or, in the case of the second one, used both for a kitchen slop jar and a commode. "Does not have to be empty until filled, no matter how long it stands."

Makes you wish you could go back in time and go on a lecture circuit, talking about germ theory and hygiene, given the many, many instances of (fecally-borne) typhoid fever listed as cause of death on old death certificates. There were a lot of everyday things about life a hundred or so years ago that do give me a chill.

Can Anyone Tell Me Why Home-Based Gasoline Lighting Systems Never Caught On?

A reader of my "Must-Have Appliances" article in yesterday's AnnArbor. com kindly sent me this picture of a lighting system I'd never been aware of, for people not connected to city gas.

It's a home-based gasoline lighting system, featured in the March 1912 Popular Mechanics. The ad claims the "Instanto" system is "as perfect, handsome, and modern as city gas. . . Fuel is gasoline; perfectly safe."

The Ann Arbor company was looking for salesmen. "A splendid opportunity right now for hustling agents in large cities to sell to owners of summer cottages, country homes, and resorts."

The lamp fixture itself is lovely. The thought of gasoline running in pipes through my walls in every room of my home is less lovely. One wonders how long the Superior Manufacturing Company was in business. Thanks for this fascinating ad and new thing, reader!

Wednesday Mystery Spot: Stumped Us All

Yep, stumped me too. The picture a reader sent in is, as he says, "It's the extreme eastern edge of the area either known as Waterworks park, or, the City's composting site - whichever you prefer." Ohhhh. I've seen the big piles of stuff in the composting site, (and a few mysterious bricks that may be from the old water works), but I didn't go to the rivers' edge that day!
The reader also sent in a photo with a wider view that includes the Factory St. Bridge. The view is from the waterside eastern edge of Waterworks Park looking southish.
He adds, "Not sure what the history of the spot is, though some readers might know. I assume the area's that way because of the former site of the "water works"."

The laurels of victory go to this kind reader, who did indeed stump us all!

So. Naturally I wanted to do as well as the reader did, and looked until I found this photo. Can you hazard a guess where within the City limits this is? Answer next Wednesday!

The 5 Hottest Must-Have Appliances

...over on annarbor.com, raht cheer.

Readers might have seen 1 or 2 before, but the others are new. Enjoy!

The Slow March of Electrical Appliances in Ypsilanti

Dusty D was surprised to see this 1956 Ypsilanti Daily Press ad for an electric clothes dryer. It made me remember how slowly it took Ypsilanti to adopt electricity and how strenuously the electricity company advertised its service and wares. Quick recap of when ads for various electrical doodads appeared in the local papers:

1907: "A Mistaken Idea about Electric Light" ad; also, demos of electric stove.

1919: Various ads pleading with Ypsilantians to have their houses wired, then buy: electric washing machine, grill, iron, sewing machine, toasters, "cleaner."

1933: Bonus ad, at right, to try the new electric stoves with a "free" trial. (Yes, they had started demonstrating these in town in 1907!!)

But it's not till 1956 that the ad for an electric dryer comes along. This can't be because the technology was difficult--if anything, it seems simpler to me. A spinny thing and a hot air thing, right? And lint trap. So why didn't the electric companies dream this up and create a need for it sooner? My guess would be that hanging wash outside is really less of a problem than the problems solved by the earlier appliances.

Do wonder though: why were Ypsilantians so slllloooowwwww to adopt electric STOVES in particular? Seems like a trivial question...but as James Mann says, "The history is in the footnotes."

Allie McCullough, Othello, and Texting

Dusty D has been reflecting on the fact that in the last diary excerpt, Allie said she had been reading "Othello." Not for school, but for leisure. She said she didn't like it much--which means she was also able, at 16 years of age, to assess and evaluate one of the greatest works in the language. She absorbed the content and formed an opinion.

Dusty D does not know of any 16-year-old in Washtenaw County who would not only read Othello for pleasure but be able to express an opinion on it.

Contrast this to the recent NYT story about a family, each of whose members are avid, day-long users of screen culture. Each member of the family checks their cell or computer first thing in the morning--even before breakfast, to which Mom summons them by texting.

How does a given medium shape its content, and how does that particular rendering of content shape our ideas of the nature of knowledge and communication and our technique of processing it?

Allie's world had one medium: print. Her usage of media involved the active technique of reading, in which the reader is actively making sense of the text, proceeding at one's own pace, and in the quiet of the mind forming questions and making evaluations. The medium allows for long, complicated sentences and ideas which we also see in her pastime of attending her Lyceum oratory club. For fun, she attended several hours of oratory at each club meeting. Don't forget the commencement exercise at Normal, which featured a slate of speakers whose number is unimaginable by today's standards.

The medium's content, in something like Othello, is contextualized. Events take place within a long narrative, like the long political essays in the papers of her day. Information is not a hodgepodge of snippets of decontextualized short bits, as in a modern news show or a text message or the average Internet browse.

Dusty D would posit that the media available to Allie, and the lack of such constant modern-day distractions as cellphone rings, conditioned her mind to be better able to weigh complex ideas, form lucid and organized oratory of her own to read at the Lyceum (where her talents were recognized), and have overall a richer and sturdier life of the mind than the average teen today. Her mind was furnished with Hepplewhite. Not Ikea.

The 1919 Diary of Ypsilanti High School Teacher Carrie Hardy

Part of a year-long weekly serialization of Ypsilanti high school math teacher Carrie Hardy's diary.

Kind readers may recall that Carrie was staying at home, sick, for all of last week. She did not teach her summer-school classes at the high school, and had a house call from Dr. Breakey.

Aug. 10 Sun. Sick.

Aug. 11 Mon. Sick. Heart and nerves troubling [handwriting wobbly & unraveled].

Aug 12 Tues. Dr. Hull & Mrs. Niblack.

Aug 13 Wed. Rob & family came.

Aug. 14 Thurs. Just sick.

Aug 15 Fri. Still sick.

Aug 16 Sat. Sick.

Aug 17 Sun. Rob came alone + was with me until 4:30 car

Comment: Carrie was single and in her 40s in 1919, sixteen years before Franklin D. Roosevelt signed the Social Security Act in 1935 which also created unemployment insurance. One wonders about her state of mind as she continued to languish from her mysterious sickness. She had no husband to fall back upon. Although she owned a Maxwell car, an indication of a measure of income, she lived in an apartment at 233 River instead of owning a home, which may mean that said income was modest. She had a wholly self-reliant life--did she lay awake worrying what a protracted sickness might do to her freedom?

Thanks for reading; tune in next Tuesday for the next series!

You Use Witch Sugar?

Sometimes you see an ad whose picture and text go together so well you think, "Wow--what a great match!"

This is not one of those times.

"Let's see, what image should we, the Farmers and Manufacturers Beet Sugar Association, associate with our underdog product, Michigan Made Beet Sugar?

"Smiling children spooning sugar into their tea? A happy mom adding sugar to cookie dough? A gruff yet lovable dad putting sugar on his oatmeal?

"No, we have a better idea for branding beet sugar into the public consciousness."

This ad has the same "in-house" quality as did the dairy farmers' pro-butter ad from the Oleo Wars in the 1950s. I doubt either agricultural organization had the cashola to hire a snazzy New York ad firm. The fonts are sturdy, the images are earnest, and the conception is a tad low on the wow factor.

Nevertheless, readers, aside from these quibbles, please join me in supporting Depression-era beet farmers. Next time you're in Meijer's or Krogers, go to the customer service area. Slap your hand firmly on the counter and bellow, "Give me Michigan Made Beet Sugar and no other kind!" Then storm out. Join me in boosting Michigan Made Beet Sugar!

Boosting Michigan Made Beet Sugar is best done by thrusting your fist into the air randomly throughout your day--on the bus, in the office, at the family dinner table--and yelling, "BEET SUGAR! BEET SUGAR! BEET SUGAR!" This cooperation will not cost you an extra penny. Michigan Made Beet Sugar: available in the convenient 100-pound sack!

Monday Mystery Artifact on AnnArbor.com...

...see if you can guess! It's here.

The 1874 Diary of Ypsilanti Teen Allie McCullough

Part of a year-long weekly series of excerpts from Ypsilanti teenager Allie McCullough's 1874 diary, from the last year of her life.

You may remember that last week Allie was still having fun during her summer vacation; learning how to make decorative flowers, spending time with her sisters, and spending time with her Uncle John, who was eating meals at ALlie's house till his wife, away on a trip, got home (this was in the days before Ramen noodles...).

Aug. 7 Fri. Got a letter from Carrie N. tonight. Had a call. Worked all forenoon at the ---- and pieced all of the afternoon. Marion and Ma went out riding tonight after supper and I had to do all the work alone. Broke a dish [hmm, just coincidence I'm sure --ed].

Aug. 8 Sat. Broke another dish this morning. Took a good bath this afternoon. Pieced almost all the time. Mrs. Williams called. Went up town with Ma to get some meat. Miss H. and Fred M. were here when I got back. Will came and took Marion and I up to get some ice cream.

Aug. 9 Sun. Was sick almost all day, so of course, did not go to Church. Read some of Othello. Cannot say that I admire it very much if some do. Went and took a long ride with Uncle John, Marion, and Will. It did me ever so much good.

Aug. 10 Mon. Joe came down in the morning, made quite a call. I went up there in the evening. We took a long walk and Joe was going home to piece with me, when who should come up but Clayberg. He and Joe came home with me and then went back with Joe.

Aug. 11 Tues. So very warm all day that I did not dress half decent. Took a long, long sleep in the afternoon and then had some callers come. I was provoked but had to go in and see them just as I was. Joe W. came down in the eve. Got a letter from Mary.

Aug. 12 Wed. Marion and I went out in the country in the morning a little after seven to get some apples. Got back before noon. Went in the afternoon up to the Church. Stayed a little while. We are going to have a young ladies society. Went to Joe's and spent the rest of the afternoon and evening.

Aug. 13 Thurs. Made exquisite bouquet this morning and wrote a letter to Carrie N. Mrs. Guy came in the afternoon and took marion home with her. Joe W. came and stayed quite a while in the afternoon.

Aug. 14 Fri. Mrs. Williams was here and spent the afternoon. Had a pleasant time. Went up town in the afternoon. Saw Mr. Newton and Durbin. Had not mailed Carrie's letter so gave it to them. Did up every bit of the supper work and broke a dish [goodness, third one in a week! --ed.]

Thanks for reading; Allie's diary returns to Fridays this week; tune in this coming Friday for another chapter!.

"Dear Old Ypsi (my home town)..."

As regular readers know, over the past 2 months or so the Ypsi Archives staff has been sorting through a literal truckload of boxes of newspaper clippings from the clippings archives of the erstwhile Ann Arbor News.

This indexed library of clippings dating back to the 50s was to have been discarded when the News closed, until one of the Archives' most energetic volunteers dashed over to AA and salvaged it for us.

The Archives is sorting out the articles and filing them away. Here is one. Did you know you could at one time, on a lazy Sunday afternoon, get popcorn in Prospect Park and watch a baseball game? Dusty D did not.

This 1972 recollection by Lorretto Green offers more details of the old days in Ypsilanti for your enjoyment. (Click on article for larger image).

Friday Historical Tidbits

...is over on AnnArbor.com right here. Enjoy!

Bok Bok!

Dusty Diary officially turns into a decrepit old biddie today.

Dusty Diary secretly enjoys being a decrepit old biddie. At last, a license to be cantankerous, costive, and curmudgeonly. At least I can still correctly spell "curmudgeonly," which not every curmudgeon can do, dangit.

Dusty Diary got a deep, dark, glass of Guinness for her birthday, which is the perfect beverage for toasting another year on this earth, and just about as much of a present as Dusty Diary deserves. Off to go take a dust bath now. Bok bok!

The Murder of Carter Deatherage

A sadder and more sordid Depression-era story could hardly be found.

Published on AnnArbor.com, here.

The Casual Racism of the Past

This advertising postcard likely was stacked on the counter of a Michigan hardware store in the past, just as ads and leaflets are stacked on the counter of your bank these days. It's quite unusual that this bit of historical ephemera was preserved.

The racist depiction of the black women speaks for itself, but it's interesting to note the details. You can see two wash basins in each kitchen, for washing and rinsing dishes. There are also what appear to be wood stoves in each kitchen.

Hard to date this item but I'd guess from the fonts used that it's around 1890 or so--but would be happy to be corrected if I'm wrong.

The company name of "Acme White Lead and Color Works" suggests that there was lead in at least some of their paints--paints covering the wall of even the kids' room. People of a century ago lived amid an invisible throng of hazards and poisons--it boggles the mind at times.

The 1919 Diary of Ypsilanti High School Teacher Carrie Hardy

Part of a year-long weekly serialization of Ypsilanti high school math teacher Carrie Hardy's diary.

Kind readers may recall that Carrie was still suffering from sickness, with her colleagues taking over her classes and Dr. Breakey stopping by now and then.

Aug. 3 Sun. No school for me. Very sick. [Handwriting shaky, distinct from Aug. 1 handwriting]

Aug. 4 Mon.No school for me. Very sick [handwriting shaky]

Aug 5 Tues. Sick.

Aug 6 Wed. Sick.

Aug 7 Thurs. Sick. Last day of school. Miss Wigle, Louisville, Ken. taught for me.

Aug 8 Fri. Sick. Dr. Breakey + James gone to cala. [California?] Dr. Hull is coming.

Aug 9 Sat. Sick.

Aug. 10 Sun. Sick.

Thanks for reading; tune in next Tuesday for the next series!

Monday Mystery Artifact

Last week's Mystery Artifact was a toughie, I'll admit. It was hard because, instead of an artifact you might have recalled from your grandmother's house, the mystery was a specialized job. This job was done at the various hydro-powered mills around town, such as the Peninsular Paper Mill. The mill in the photo was one belonging to Henry Ford.

This man is "clearing the rake." The rake is the series of wooden slats he's standing on--a wooden grill or comb that kept branches and trash out of the water stream providing power for the mill, so the machinery wouldn't get all clogged up. In the summer, this man would be clearing branches and storm-washed waste out of the rake. In the winter, he would be chipping ice off the rake.

One former Ypsilantian died this way, when he slipped off the icy Peninsular Paper Mill rake into the freezing Huron.

Let's hope this week's Mystery Artifact is easier! Take a peek at this doodad and see if you can guess what it is! It has a modern-day analog, so it's still around--just in a different form. Good luck!

New Monday Mystery Artifact on AnnArbor.com

If you'd like to guess, please do! It's here.

Allie McCullough, 1874 Ypsi Teen Diarist and Locavore, Giggles at the iPhone

Here's part of today's NYT's full-page ad for apps for your iPhone, one of which is the $3.99 "Locavore" app. "Eating local fruits and vegetables is healthy for you," the ad helpfully explains. "Now your iPhone will tell you what food is fresh in your area and direct you to a nearby farmer's market."

The app is symptomatic of a longing for groundedness and meaning absent from the average daily cubicle-worker's life, where meaning and personal accomplishment at the end of 8 hours of pecking on a keyboard is absent.

The app also presumes the user's ignorance of a farmer's market in one's own hometown, a situation that would have been laughable to 1874 Ypsilanti teen diarist Allie McCullough. Regular readers know well that she spent much of her free time receiving calls from friends, making calls on friends, or participating in social events with friends at the Lyceum, at Sunday school, or at gatherings. Instead of consulting her iPhone, Allie would just have asked one of the many friends she had contact with throughout the day where the market was.

But likely she knew already. Advertisements in the papers of her day usually lack addresses. Everyone knew where Samson's variety store was, where the post office was, where the grocers were (who accepted local farm produce to sell, which ended up on Allie's table long before "locavore" became trendy). It would have been silly to print an actual address. Ypsilantians were deeply tied to the community.

Now we need a shiny gadget to tell us where, in our own hometown, we can go and buy arugula, in the modern-day farmer's market cruiser's impotent tribute, via pricey purchases, to people who actually still work the earth and receive the tangible successes and failures from it that our own lives lack.

Allie would have laughed at our foolishness.

Mystery Artifact Update

My apologies if you looked for Friday's Mystery Artifact--I have one, cued to go on Mondays from now on, same as the (different, take a peek at that one too if you like) Mystery Artifact that I do for AnnArbor.com on Mondays. I figured that saves time for readers who enjoy M.A. and would like to look at both. So tune in next Mon for a double M.A.

Historical Band Organ Show in Riverside Park

Have you ever been seduced by a machine?

This one is a valentine, suspended in time.

It is like, at the bottom of the papers in your desk drawer, the yellowed valentine from the one that got away.
The first of the many hole-punched paper rolls, powering these machines, that mesmerized me. Melody flows from this roll of unorthodox lace.

Dusty D watched the punched-out holes in the paper while listening and "saw" the music as it happened. A diagonal row of holes meant an ascending or descenting arpeggio. A long slitlike hole gave a drawn-out, held musical note, and a small round hole gave a short note.

The paper is rolling over a brass cylinder with a horizontal row of holes. When the moving paper's holes match those in the brass cylinder, the match activates an individual pipe or xylophone key in the organ, due to a differential in air pressure. The organs run on pressurized air generated from big bellows within them.
The drums on either end of the organs (here, the two round white discs) have their own holes on the brass cylinder -- slightly offset from the cylinder's horizontal row of holes corresponding to the other musical components.

Why?

Because it takes longer for the pressurized air to reach the faraway drums on the ends of the organ, so the drums are cued slightly earlier by the brass cylinder's offset holes so that they end up being in time with the rest of the music.

Dusty D lives for such details.

You think I'm kidding that I was rooted to the spot, staring agog at these paper rolls. Ha! Take a look for yourself to see how fascinating it is to watch music being made! And to hear the kind of music I heard today. The bit at 1:06 is particularly good.

The rolls are based on the Jacquard loom, which ran on punch cards and was the precursor to the computer. So this band organ is the second cousin, twice removed, to your laptop.

This spectacular organ was near the entrance of Riverside Park, on a trailer like the other large band organs, making a tinkling, pipe-organing clangor of enchanting beauty and nostalgia.

In back, the owner explained the works. Large horizontal bellows powering all the instruments are in the cabinet where his right hand is. He was one of about a dozen band organ owners who displayed their intricate old beauties. There were instruments once used as carousel organs, and also "band organs," which were large contraptions meant to replace live bands. They operated in dance halls and roller skating rinks back when.

This organ was painted with a lovely rural scene.












Next to it, the wife of the organ owner had her own charming crank organ.










She showed us the workings inside.












Handsome man cranks crank organ. It is literally impossible to crank this organ without breaking into a smile or giggling. So fun.







This intricate organ had two duck figures whose heads rotated back and forth. Some meddlesome child had his hand around Mr. Duck's neck, apparently trying to break it off. Dusty D's husband immediately and quietly said to him something a whole lot more diplomatic that I would have, and the brat left.
Bellows in organ. The second roll is for activating the head motion of Mr. & Mrs. Duck.









Some organs were "powered by MIDI," whatever that means, and had computers. I kinda thought that was cheating. But also fascinating -- if we think of a band organ as the weird offshoot of proto-computers, here was its great-great-great-great grandcousin, the laptop, come back to power his ancestor. Pretty cool!
In Depot Town, street organ grinders filled the air with tootly, tinkly period music; charming.







Street Organ grinder near the erstwhile Cady's. Dusty D left the festival mesmerized and utterly enchanted.







Last, below is someone's video roundup of today's show in the Park; enjoy!