Saturday's postcard: This summer camp skunk is gr-r-reat

I love this 1968 fill-in-the-boxes summer camp postcard from Kellogg Company. Sure, it's just advertising and wiring kids to eat Tony the Tiger's Frosted Flakes. But in the grand scheme of things, that's far from the worst kind of indoctrination.

Here, from Wikipedia, is more than you ever wanted to know about Tony:

"Tony began to be humanized in the 1970s; he was given an Italian-American nationality and consumers were briefly introduced to more of Tony's family including Mama Tony, Mrs. Tony, and a daughter, Antoinette. Tony was a popular figure among the young Italian-American population and it showed in 1974, where he was deemed 'Tiger of the Year' in an advertising theme taken from the Chinese Lunar Calendar. ... Later that year, Tony graced the covers of Italian GQ and Panorama. ... In addition to Tony's success, during this decade, son Tony Jr. was even given his own short-lived cereal in 1975, Frosted Rice. [Martin] Provensen's original art design for the tiger has changed significantly over the years, as Tony the whimsical, cereal-box-sized tiger with a teardrop-shaped head was replaced by his fully-grown son Jr., who is now a sleek, muscular sports enthusiast."

Getting back to the postcard, the illustration is gorgeous and, of course, I'm a sucker for the cute skunk, given that I'm currently looking after them nightly here at Montebello Manor. They're such cute critters! 

Related posts

• Guide to American summer camps from 102 years ago
• Mom's postcard from camp: "Please come and get me"
• Plot thickens in Mom's attempts to escape summer camp
• The best thing to do at summer camp
• Postcards to send home from summer camp
• Light & shadow & Lochearn

Snippets from the April 24-30, 1971, edition of TV Guide

Let's peer inside this defaced, 54-year-old issue of TV Guide for April 24-30, 1971. Specifically this is the Chicago Metropolitan Edition. This is all the stuff that was on TV when I was just 4 months old. Under editor Merrill Panitt, it features articles and reviews by Neil Hickey, Cleveland Amory, E. Joseph Bennett, Dick Hobson, Richard K. Doan, Judith Crist and Bill Davidson, among others. 

In a biography of Walter Annenberg, the website Immigrant Entrepreneurship states: "(TV Guide) Editor Merrill Panitt and (publisher) Walter Annenberg fully understood that television had to appeal to a wide audience in order to be profitable, but they also pressured television networks to raise the quality of programming. For that matter, TV Guide encouraged networks to end the practice of single sponsorship for programs, because giving networks the final say over scripts might improve quality. ... Walter and Merrill Panitt encouraged readers to tune into symphonies, ballets, and public broadcasting. In 1961, they used their platform to petition the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) to enforce the stipulation that stations air programs 'in the public interest' in order to renew their licenses."

1. Up first is a page from the day-by-day TV Movie Guide. This is what was available to watch. It was still about a half-decade before VCRs began to trickle into American homes and before cable services such as HBO began to be available. So unless you had an 8mm film projector, this represented what you could watch at home, in the Chicago area. It wasn't an awful selection, though! You could start your Saturday with a Blondie movie, watch the Val Lewton-produced western Apache Drums, be thrilled by Hammer's The Curse of the Mummy's Tomb and fall asleep to Laird Cregar in The Lodger. Or maybe something else on Saturday's list strikes your fancy.

2. "Hot Dog" was an NBC documentary series for kids that was hosted by Jo Anne Worley, Jonathan Winters and Woody Allen (!) but ran for just one season. Those few who watched and remembered it seemed to love it. One reviewer on IMDb wrote in 2006: "'Hot Dog' was unlike all the other kids' fare on Saturday. No animation at all. The cast were asked to explain things like 'How do they get toothpaste in the tube?' Woody Allen and Jonathan Winters of course came up with bizarre answers. Then we'd see how it's really done -- a filmed piece set to music, no narration, would take us through the process start to finish. The show was fun, interesting, original and different. Wish I could see it again."

3. The Sunday morning religious shows included "Mass for Shut-Ins." The history of the broadcast is discussed in an article on the website of the Historical Society of Quincy & Adams County. It notes: "The origin of the popular religious program began with casual conversation during a meeting of the Knights of Columbus Fourth Degree in September 1962. Father George McDivott, a Franciscan priest at Quincy College, suggested that the Knights of Columbus Fourth Degree sponsor a televised Mass for nursing home residents, the homebound and others unable to attend weekly services in their churches. ... WGEM-TV, the NBC station in Quincy, agreed to record the Mass at its studio at 7:30 p.m. Saturdays and televise it the following Sunday mornings. The Knights took on the responsibility of designing and building the set. (Bert) Wensing built the altar, and donations provided the crucifix hung behind the altar, along with linens, candles, cruets, hosts and wine the Mass required."

4. This episode of the news show "Cromie Circle" featured some compelling topics, back when news shows were much more intellectual, education and quiet than they are today. According to the website "History? Because It's Here!" Robert Cromie did it all at the Chicago Tribune, handling World War II coverage, sportswriting and book reviews. "WGN television broadcast 'Cromie’s Circle' from 1969 to 1980 and WTTW television broadcast 'Cromie’s Book Beat' nationwide from 1964 to 1980. As a reporter, he was enchanted with people and their life stories and he despised injustices and revealed them through vivid newspaper stories," the website notes.

5. Here's part of an interesting full-page advertisement urging people to invest in full-acre parcels in Meadview, Arizona. "People are moving into Arizona to escape congestion, strife and bad weather," the advertising copy notes. "The U.S. Census Bureau predicts Arizona's population growth at twice the national average in the coming decades." Indeed, Arizona's population was 1.7 million in 1970 and is about 7.6 million today. Meadview didn't quite fulfill its promise, though. About 1,400 people live there today and it's an unincorporated community with limited local infrastructure.

6. Want spooky movies? Here are some TV Guide ads for spooky movies. Strait-Jacket is a William Castle film written by Robert Bloch and featuring Joan Crawford at her Mommie Dearest scariest. The College Girl Murders (1967) is the U.S. release of the West German thriller The Monk with the Whip, one of many Edgar Wallace adaptations. Screaming Yellow Theater was hosted by the famous Svengoolie.

7. Speaking of spooky, the 1970s pretty much belonged to Vincent Price. In addition to his Hollywood movies, he was everywhere else, too: guest appearances on TV shows, talk shows, game shows, commercials, voiceovers and more. Here are a couple items from this issue of TV Guide:

8. Finally, I thought this was an interesting excerpt from an article by Richard K. Doan about the "happy talk" approach (sort of) taken by WABC Channel 7's evening news broadcast in New York City. Whether that was a good development in the long run for TV news is up for others to decide. I suspect it had a mixture of positive and negative consequences, though. We could probably use a bit more good cheer and positivity these days, so long as it's grounded in truth, and not misinformation or gaslighting.

Bookstore bulletin board, late summer 2025

Changing Hands Bookstore, Phoenix

September 9, 2025

Book cover: "Rotisserie League Baseball" (1984)

Preface: Creating fantasy baseball worlds took on many different forms for me in the 1980s and 1990s. It probably started for me, as with thousands of kids, when my friends and I played backyard wiffleball. The batter might declare himself to "be" Mike Schmidt, while the pitcher "was" Nolan Ryan or Tug McGraw. Circa 1982, we had Intellivision's Major League Baseball cartridge, and I would write out lineups featuring actual MLB players, keep score and compile the players' pitching and hitting statistics over multiple games. Baseball is the No. 1 reason for my love of math. I love calculating batting average, on-base percentage, slugging percentage and ERA. I love using algebra to project how many doubles a player might finish the season with if he has 17 doubles through 45 games. Sometimes, to occupy myself during a quiet afternoon, I would create imaginary players out of whole cloth and write out their entire 20-year career statistical arc, Baseball Register style, calculating each season's batting average (or ERA) and then the career totals. As I went along, I'd make up a story in my head for how the player's career went with injuries, trades and accolades. There was an intense period in Florida of laying out the cards and playing Statis Pro Baseball. Then came computers. I spent countless hours with fantasy teams I constructed on MicroLeague Baseball in the late 1980s and then APBA Baseball for Windows in the mid-1990s through early 2000s. But what about "fantasy" or "Rotisserie" baseball, as most people know it? The process of getting together with a group of friends, having a rollicking, daylong preseason auction to build rosters, making roster moves and trades throughout the season to chase stolen bases, home runs, saves, etc. I only had the pleasure of doing that for four or five years in the late 1990s, as a member of a Maryland-based league called the NWBL (my team was named the Jeltz Fan Club). But I had been aware of "roto baseball" for a long time before that, thanks to today's featured book...

• Title: Rotisserie League Baseball
• Secondary cover text: "The greatest game for baseball fans since baseball"
• Editor: Glen Waggoner (died in 2019 at age 78)
• Introduction: Daniel Okrent 
• Designer: Nicola Mazzella
• Publisher: Bantam Books
• Year: 1984
• Pages: 211
• Format: Paperback
• Price: $5.95 (Converted from 1984 dollars, that's about $18.25 today)
• Back cover excerpt: "Here is the only official guide and rulebook for the exciting new nationwide sensation — Rotisserie League Baseball! Featured on The Today Show, in The New York Times, The Los Angeles Herald Examiner, the Chicago Tribune — it's the greatest game for baseball fans since baseball! You become a team owner. You scout, sign up, draft and trade; keep the stats; call up players from the minor leagues."
• Dedication: to Sandra Kempasky
• First sentence: Was George Foster worth bags of money?
• Last sentence: When we meet again, perhaps a theater near you showing "The Rotisserie League Goes to Japan," let's just say, "Yoo-Hoo."
• Random excerpt from middle #1: The Furriers are a perennial Rotisserie League power because of an unwavering belief in two principles: (1) You can never have too much pitching, and; (2) You must never be too loyal to players.
• Random excerpt from middle #2: Never mind that the news of the world is desperate, as usual. If you're coming down the stretch in a pennant race and the paper says Alan Wiggins stole four bases for you, it creates a kind of euphoria that a grim front page can't take away.
• Random excerpt from middle #3: Pat Putnam delivered 19 home runs for his $1 salary in 1983. Lonnie Smith was once a $2 ballplayer, Dickie Thon is still $3, and journeyman-reliever-turned-ace-start Joe Price will take his 2.88 ERA in the 1984 season for just $1.
• Random excerpt from middle #4: From the section titled "Five Things You Should Never Do": 3. Don't let your computer tell you how to play. Just because you can manipulate numbers virtually without limit doesn't mean who you should.
• Random excerpt from the middle #5: There is a further, transcendent reason why your Rotisserie team's name and heraldry and propaganda merit thought and effort: they can greatly intensify the silliness quotient. (This book was definitely the inspiration for the fact that my MicroLeague Baseball team the Wallingford Smashers had yearbooks.)
• Further reading: "Untold stories of 40 years of fantasy baseball," a 2020 article by Matthew Berry on ESPN.com. It mentions the importance of this 1984 book, with its "weird green cover." 

Milkwalker knows where you live

I drank from a lot of milk cartons during my K-12 school days in Pennsylvania, New Jersey and Florida (maybe that's why I've never had a broken bone). But I never came across anything as creepy as Milkwalker. 

Indeed, Milkwalker is real. Or, at least, the milk-carton public service campaign by Darigold that featured Milkwalker was real. When I first came across Milkwalker in one of my social media feeds, I figured it was too good to be true. It had to be a clever fake, because it looks too much like something that someone would invent as Slenderman's weird cousin. 

But Know Your Meme has the lowdown:

"Milkwalker, an anthropomorphic milk carton, was originally created by Seattle-based dairy and agricultural co-op Darigold, Inc. [in the mid 1980s] as the mascot of the company and a public service announcement character that encourages children to remember their full name, address and telephone number in case of emergencies. On November 28th, 2016, over three decades after its introduction, various images of the obscure mascot began circulating online after it was highlighted by the Tumblr blog Heck-Yeah-Old-Tech."

I even found this short article in the June 5, 1985, edition of the Whidbey News-Times of Oak Harbor, Washington (click to embiggen):

Some folks embrace Milkwalker and reject the creepypasta angle of it being just another thing to fear. In a Facebook comment in August 2024, Holly Gee wrote: "Yes, the milkwalker definitely looks like a spooky cryptid, but I like the idea of him being a force for good, protecting the innocent by milkwalking all over the wicked from the shadows. He's terrifying, but terrifies only the deserving."

But while Milkwalker seemingly originated with Darigold in the 1980s, how long has it actually been around? Is it, perhaps, ancient? I'll leave you with this curious excerpt from the March 24, 1876, edition of The Stockport Advertiser in Stockport, England. Interpret it as you wish: 

Saturday's postcard: Mountainhome, Pennsylvania (1909)

Today's postcard, mailed in August 1909, features the sprawling Woodlawn House in Mountainhome, a census-designated place in Monroe County, Pennsylvania. You could fit a lot of John-Boys and Mary Ellens in that house. 

According to the Monroe County Historical Association, the three largest villages in Barrett Township "are Canadensis (named for the scientific name for the hemlock tree, Tsugas canadensis), Cresco (once known as Oakland), and Mountainhome (once known as White’s Tannery)."

Woodlawn House advertised aggressively in the Brooklyn (New York) Eagle in 1913 (and probably in other newspapers). The advertisement read: "WOODLAWN HOUSE, Mountain Home, Pa. High elevation. Acc. 25. Trout fishing; 1 mile from sta. Mrs. M.A. Cooper, Prop."

An earlier advertisement touted Woodlawn's farm eggs and milk. I couldn't find any evidence of Woodlawn House still standing today. If you have information, please leave it in the comments! 

This postcard was mailed in 1909 to Mrs. Paul Clemons at the Clemons Silk Mill in Scranton, Pennsylvania. The short cursive message states:

dear Mrs Clemens

we arrived hear [sic] safe hope you are well as it leaves me at present

with love from 

Mrs Rouch [or Roach]

The silk mill made the national news in 1913. The Philadelphia Inquirer reported that on March 25, "a fierce storm that acted every whit like a Western tornado swept over Scranton and vicinity. ... The Clemons Silk Mill, owned by D.G. Derry, of Catasauqua, was unroofed and a 150-foot section of the roof was deposited on the adjacent engine room, partially demolishing the structure. There were 150 girls at work, but outside of bruises and scratches they were uninjured."

This postcard was published by Fred D. Mick of Mountainhome and made in Germany.

Phantom has a new home & I've named a skunk Pinky

Our Household Cat Inventory was reduced by one yesterday when Phantom (above) went to live with a very nice area man who was looking for a sweet companion cat. It should be a perfect fit. Phantom loves getting lots of attention from humans, but tended to get bullied by some of the other cats, especially her brother (half-brother?) Bandit.

Phantom got to take her favorite bed with her (plus toys and treats) to her new forever home and got herself all set for the short road trip before it was even time to leave. 

She's a good girl and I'll miss her. She was part of Orange's litter that was born in our house on June 28, 2022. Growing up, she and her sister Pengin lived in Spokane for awhile before rejoining our family here. (That might be why she was bullied. And/or I suspect that she and Pengin – who also got picked on – were seen as "different" because they possibly have a different father than their litter mates.¹ Though probably the same grandfather. It's complicated.)

Meanwhile, our "baby" skunks that I mentioned exactly one month ago are continuing to thrive. They aren't really babies anymore. Definitely juveniles. There are four of them, and we still have some nights when all four visit. But more typically it's just a couple of them, including the one who is somewhat tame and fond of me. Going against Wildlife Wisdom, I did pet this skunk gently a few times while it was occupied with eating. But I will be smart moving forward and fully cease this practice. It's a bad example, it can make the skunk too tame (endangering it in other situations) and, most importantly, rabies is bad, bad news.

Still, I figure it's OK to name this skunk. I went with Pinky, because I've started to distinguish the different markings on their backs. One has a big black stripe in the middle of the white on the back. One has two small black spots in the middle of the white. And Pinky has an all-white back except for a tiny bare spot where his/her pink skin shows through. Thus, Pinky. Is good skunk.

Footnote

1. Today's Word of the Day, kiddos, is superfecundation.

From the readers: Long's Park mile marker, skeleton bookplate and more

Time for another round of reader comments. Thank you to everyone who continues to read Papergreat, whether it's the new posts or delving deep into the archives.

"Suzi and the Milestone" — helping to market Stel-Mar postcards: Cory Van Brookhoven, who writes the From Brunnerville to Broad Street blog about the history of Lititz, Pennsylvania, comments: "Yes an authentic Turnpike marker that was once next to Long’s Park in Lancaster, PA. It’s been MIA for decades."

Oh wow! I used to to drive past Long's Park every day on the way to work. And I saw a performance of Twelfth Night there that used No Doubt's "Just a Girl," circa 1996. I wonder what happened to the marker. Is it in someone's basement?

Cathy's Little Free Libraries in Globe, Arizona: The Family and Friends of Cathy Sanchez-Cañez write: "Thank you so much for featuring our Little Free Libraries in your blog. Since Cathy’s passing, six years ago, we have helped circulate over 12,000 books into the region, including Teacher From Heaven. We appreciate the shoutout, and the effort to keep Cathy’s legacy alive."

You're very welcome. It's a truly wonderful set of LFLs.

Ephemera I wish I still had: Christopher (not me) writes: "Somewhere in storage, I have a self-published book by an unhinged HVAC tech from Milwaukee who claimed that Jesus Christ was part of a 'woodworking and carpentry sex cult.' I treasure it."

I couldn't find any online trace of a book that fits Christopher's description. But there is the (slightly) more mainstream 1970 book titled The Sacred Mushroom and the Cross, by John Allegro, which, according to Wikipedia, "argues that Christianity and other religions originated from ancient fertility cults involving psychoactive mushroom rituals, claiming Jesus was a mythological figure created under the influence of psychoactive substances."

That sounds exactly like the kind of book that would have been published in 1970.

RIP Art Bell, of the Kingdom of Nye: Anonymous writes: "He was the best!"

What are the odds Bell discussed The Sacred Mushroom and the Cross at some point? Or might that have been more of a Long John Nebel thing?

Box of Dennison DeLuxe Gummed Reinforcements: Anonymous writes: "I've been using an old box of De Luxe O gummed reinforcements for about 15 years to reinforce my government three-month calendar display. I believe I have enough until I retire. Just got curious and looked them up. Found your article. Thanks!" 

Sorting out the tiny drawers: I had asked, "How often does one truly need a thumb tack or rubber band in the course of a workweek?" And Anonymous replies: "But how much time does one spend looking for one when one really needs one and doesn't have a place to keep them?"

Which is why we have tiny drawers! And why (ahem) some folks still have Dennison DeLuxe Gummed Reinforcements.

1924 advertisement: "Heaney's Great Milk Can Escape": Anonymous writes: "Did Heaney charge for the secret of how to escape after you'd bought the can, perhaps?"

I'm guessing the $30 covered the construction of the milk and the accompanying directions on its use, which would indeed be the closely guarded secret. And once you bought someone else's secret, there was an incredibly strong honor system not to tell others. You don't want to anger magicians.

Old bookplate featuring a beard-grabbing skeleton: Robin Heisley Helfers writes: "Virginia (Mimi) and Ed were my Great Aunt & Uncle on my father's side of the family. My Grandmother was Effie Mason Heisley. Both sisters were accomplished artists! I'm thrilled to find this unusual example of Aunt Mimi's talent!"

I'm glad I could help in a small way to keep the memory of Virginia Mason Gifford (Aunt Mimi) alive! That's what Papergreat is all about.

Cheerful Card Company can help you earn extra money for the holidays: Anonymous writes: "I worked summers with a group of college kids in the White Plains, N.Y., post office in 1958-60 shipping boxes of their Christmas cards all across the US. That's all we did all day long, loading boxes into dusty canvas mail sacks. By Labor Day, we were in great shape to head back to college."

Excommunicated! A family story (maybe) about Communion cups: Unknown writes: "Do records of the First Reformed Church of Easton or Dr. Kieffer still exist? If they do they should have Mr. Otto's address somewhere in them."

Great question, and that's something I should have mentioned. Yes, church records would be the very best starting place in the next stage of investigating this historical incident. And maybe there's even an official document of excommunication and/or papers regarding the Communion cup issue. And there are a lot of news articles and website that discuss Kieffer, given that he was a noteworthy author, but I'm not sure much of it would contain clues regarding this mystery. The more I've thought about this, by the way, the more I think it's most likely that the John B. Otto who was temporarily excommunicated was the 57-year-old single alderman, and not my great-great-grandfather. Which doesn't make the story any less compelling. It just means my family was not involved.