(Sort of) new photograph of Ruth Manning-Sanders

Finding photographs of folk- and fairy-tale author Ruth Manning-Sanders has been a long, rarely successful journey. The first photo I discovered, sometime in 2010, was a grainy image from the 1972 reference work Third Book of Junior Authors. I've found a handful of others over the years, including an excellent portrait shot. A roundup of those efforts can be seen here. But it's still like finding a needle in a haystack; if there isn't a family member out there holding onto a secret stash, then it might be that very little else will turn up in the future.

So I was thrilled when I discovered the above photograph printed on the dust jacket of Manning-Sanders' 1964 hardcover The Red King and the Witch (a collection of retold gypsy folk tales). The nearly three-inch-wide black-and-white photo shows Manning-Sanders sitting on the front leg of a circus elephant.

A new photo!

(New to me.)

Well, sort of.

This is actually the original photograph that was modified (it received an "elephant-ectomy") and used for that grainy portrait that appears in Third Book of Junior Authors. So, while this is a better and much more complete photograph featuring Manning-Sanders, it's not new, per se.

Further, it seems, based on her outfit and the elephant's head-covering, to have been taken on the same day as this previously known Manning-Sanders photo...

So that would mean The Red King and the Witch dust jacket photo is circa 1935, was taken at Tom Fossett's Circus, and features Lizzie the elephant.

While we're discussing The Red King and the Witch, here are a few more tidbits:

1. Manning-Sanders biographical information from dust jacket: "Mrs. Sanders, whose life has been far from dull, describes her childhood as 'extraordinarily happy ... with kind and understanding parents and any amount of freedom.' With her two sisters, she spent long summer holidays swimming, boating, climbing hills and '(running) ... wild generally.' At home in Swansea, they had 'literally thousands of books' and Mrs. Manning-Sanders read — as Dylan Thomas so aptly put it — 'everything and all the time with my eyes hanging out.' She later became a Shakespeare scholar, married a Cornish artist and began marital life in a horse-drawn caravan, travelling all over the British Isles. When circus life caught her fancy, she promptly went about actively participating in Rosaires' Circus — even entering the lions' cages. Today, a widow, she lives in Bristol with her daughter and two grandsons, making use of the life of action and excitement by communicating that verve in the books she writes for young readers."

This is one of the few overt biographical mentions I've found regarding the death of her husband, George Manning-Sanders, in 1953. And, while there is a mention of her daughter, Joan, and grandsons (Christopher and John Floyd), there is notably no mention of her son, David. I know that David, born around 1915, served as an Acting Major for the Royal Engineers during World War II, but I've never found any confirmation of his fate beyond that. The lack of references to him after the war might, sadly, tell us all we need to know.

2. Manning-Sanders' foreword to The Red King and the Witch:

All the stories in this book were told by gypsies. A few of them (Brian and the Fox and The Little Bull-Calf, for example), were told in English. But most of the stories were told by the gypsies in their own language, which is Romani, and were taken down and translated by scholars. The stories came from many different countries; for the gypsies, who are believed to have lived originally in India, have wandered all over the world. And, as they wandered, they picked up more stories from whatever country they happened to be in, as well as repeating to the people of that country the stories they had brought with them.

Through the years, as they were told and retold, the stories became altered, sometimes not very much, sometimes greatly. It all depended on the particular fancies of the narrator: an ogre might become a dragon, a prince might be put in the place of a princess, or a poor boy in the place of a poor girl; but the idea at the back of the story would remain. For instance, you all know the story of Cinderella, but you may not know The Tale of a Foolish Brother and of a Wonderful Bush, which is just a Polish gypsy's version of the same idea.

And now, since it may interest you to see what the gypsy language looks like, here is a familiar fairy tale ending in Romani:

T'a doi jivena kano misto.
(And they live there happily to this day.)

Lost Corners: The Skyrim dog tale

I was not surprised when the Library of Congress announced recently that it's changing course and will no longer archive every single public tweet. It seemed like a Sisyphean task from the start. It's simply not feasible to store and catalog the hundreds of millions of Twitter posts each day, and this move will also save future historians from having to sort through 23 billion tweets along the lines of "OMG is that [bleeping] referee blind??"

I have little doubt that the important tweets will be saved. Between the efforts of the Internet Archive, the historians who curate everything uttered by very stable geniuses and yours truly, who prints out funny tweets and sticks them inside books, I think we'll be good.

But there could, of course, be Lost Corners. That's a great danger, now that the Library of Congress has jumped ship. So this ongoing Papergreat series will continue to work to shine a spotlight on portions of the internet that might disappear in the digital sands of time. Or in the fires of World War III.

In this case, it's a 2016 Twitter thread by Patrick Lenton (@PatrickLenton), that lends some comic insight into the immersive depth of play offered by modern video games — The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim in this particular instance.

Patrick was just minding his own business, trying to save the world from ogres and dark wizards, when the game presented him with a dilemma.

He detailed that development, starting with this April 4, 2016, tweet...

worst part of Skyrim was when I found that dog whose owner died in a cabin, and then I of course had to adopt the dog bc i'm not a monster

— 🐶🌸🌼Patrick Lenton🌼🌸🐕 (@PatrickLenton) April 5, 2016

I have collected Lenton's entire story, verbatim, as detailed in his long Twitter thread. Some of it is very R-rated, but that's the tale that's being told. This isn't exactly a Ruth Manning-Sanders fairy tale, though I think it says as much about our times as her stories say about the cultures and concerns of the past.

worst part of Skyrim was when I found that dog whose owner died in a cabin, and then I of course had to adopt the dog bc i'm not a monster

and I fucking love this dog, but i'm wondering around trying to solve quests and save the world and junk, but this good dog

his good dog always tries to help out fighting giants and dragons, and it's like 'NO DON'T HURT MY DOG'

and i have to fight like 300% harder to save my dog from being eaten by a dragon and i've honestly never been so anxious

so then I find out that I can build a homestead and my dog can live there, so the next four days of my life are building shit

while bandits and dragons still attack my dog while i'm bloody mining ore and building a goddamn solarium for my pooch

and then the dog won't stay in the house, and I discover I have to adopt a child first, and the child has to like my dog

so i go to an orphanage, to discover they are being mistreated by an evil woman, so I kill her

but then I can't adopt a child any more because they are free! So I wander Skyrim looking for a parent-free child somewhere

and I don't even like children

and then finally I find some girl begging in Whiterun, and she's all like 'thanks Mum!' (I play a lady cat-wizard)

and then I discover that the girl WON'T MOVE INTO MY HOUSE BECAUSE I DIDN'T MAKE A PROPER BED FOR HER

SO I DECIDE TO BUILD A NEW HOUSE, ON A FUCKING LAKE BECAUSE I FIGURE IT WILL BE A GOOD PLACE TO RAISE CHILDREN OR WHATEVER

BUT FIRST I HAVE TO BECOME A THANE OF FALKREATH AND DO ALL THESE QUESTS TO HELP PEOPLE BEFORE THEY GIVE ME A PLOT OF LAND

and my dog is STILL following me around STILL nearly dying in every fight, and I'm just a tense, scared motherfucker

anyway, then I meet another goddamn dog on the road, but it's a fucking demon dog, and it comes with me too

and it's like - months have passed by in the game, the world is being invaded by dragons, and I'm just focused on real estate

finally i build my new lakefront house, and go find my daughter (who has been living on the streets for about two months)

it's like - LITERALLY, beggars can't be choosers, but bc i didn't make a nice bed for her, she sleeps on a bench in Whiterun

and she moves in to my house, which is right next to a cave of wolves and a necromancers summoning circle, but whatev

and I walk into the house, with my goddamn dog, waiting for her to adopt my dog so I can go save the world

and she's ADOPTED A FUCKING RAT

AND SHE'S FLOUNCING AROUND WITH A GIANT RAT

in the meantime, I get married to a lady named Mjoll the Lioness, bc she's hot to trot and will be a good lesbian mother

and weirdly, her 'friend' Aerin, moves into our house too

and it's like - do we have a polyamorous relationship and are raising our homeless daughter and her rat? bc that's cool

so I'm like 'i'll go and find a brother for my new daughter' and he can adopt the dog. Hopefully.

and it works out - the boy wants my dog, my dog likes the boy, everything is fine, the dog has been successfully adopted.

and finally i can go back to being the saviour of Tamriel.

although I then discover that Mjoll's "friend" Aerin keeps yelling 'stupid dog' at my gorgeous dog.

so I waited until he was outside and I try to make him fuck off back to his OWN HOUSE

my theory was that I could shout him into the lake? anyway, I misjudged and shouted him into the necromancer circle

and he died

and my wife saw me kill him, and attacked me, and I didn't want to kill her, so i ran away

so I just never went back to my house, but even though I destroyed my marriage and killed a man

i know that my dog is safe.

THE END. THANK YOU

Taormina, Italy postcard: "The most heavenly spot"

This turn-of-the-century postcard shows a scene from Taormina, an Italian municipality of about 11,000 residents (today) located on the eastern coast of the island of Sicily. It has long been, as you might imagine, a popular tourist destination. It's also a hot spot for writers — such D.H. Lawrence, Jean Cocteau, Halldór Laxness and Truman Capote — who are seeking solitude and inspiration.

Shown in this illustration is Strada san Pancrazio (strada meaning, roughly, "street"). That's the San Pancrazio Church in the distance, in the center of the postcard. San Pancrazio (Pancras) is the town's patron saint.

Here's similar view of Strada san Pancrazio from Wikipedia.

Giovanni Crupi [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

This postcard was mailed from Taormina, according to the postmark, and I believe the year was 1906. There's an "06" in the center of the postmark, and this postcard does not have a divided back. (Though divided back postcards were introduced in Europe prior to 1906, I'm sure there was plenty of back inventory that still existed.)

It was mailed to a woman living at 925 West End Avenue in New York City and the full message is on the front of the card:

"The most heavenly spot yet. The coloring is just as brilliant and beautiful as this. A.W.B."

Business card for the late "Jakey Budderschnip" of Noodle Doosie

On the heels of last week's post about the Soudersburg Motel, here's another vintage Lancaster County business card. It's the calling card of Pennsylvania Dutch folk humorist Jakey Budderschnip.

"Jakey Budderschnip" was the stage name of Melvin J. Horst, who lived from 1928 until 2008. Here are some excerpts from his LancasterOnline.com obituary, which was written by Larry Alexander and published on March 8, 2008:

An icon of Lancaster County tourism and heritage is gone.

Melvin J. Horst, aka Jakey Budderschnip, died suddenly Wednesday at his home on Mount Sidney Road in Witmer. He was 79.

A photographer for more than 50 years and founder of Folk Craft Center and Museum in Witmer, Horst, along with Elmer Lewis Smith, researched and supplied the photos for more than 40 pictorial books on local Pennsylvania-German lore. ...

"There were four or five key individuals back in the 1950s who were instrumental in sparking the local tourist industry," Eric Conner, marketing director of Amish Farm and House on Route 30, said Thursday. "Mel was the last of them. He really helped open up the doors of Lancaster County tourism back then because not many books were written about the Amish and local heritage."

Born in Brownstown, Horst was a photographer for the U.S. Army Signal Corps during the Korean War.

After his military service, he worked as a photographer for Armstrong World Industries and attended Albright College, graduating in 1957 as president of his class.

About the same time, Horst turned his camera lens on Lancaster County, shooting photos of the Amish, covered bridges, farms and other sights that make the county unique.

Fluent in Pennsylvania Dutch, he began immersing himself in local heritage, which led, in 1972, to his opening Folk Craft Center and Museum. In 1998, Horst opened Folk Craft Center Bed-and-Breakfast on the site of the center.

In 1990, Horst created a 52-minute video titled "The Amish," which included images he took as a boy at 14 using a Kodak box camera.

In 1968, Horst added humorist to his resume when he introduced his alter ego, Jakey Budderschnip of Noodle Doosie, a quick-witted Pennsylvania Dutchman with an overly thick accent.

You can see many of the books that Horst provided photographs for at the Folk Craft Center's website. These are very familiar, I think, to anyone who's spent time in a gift shop or bookstore in Lancaster County.

And what about Noodle Doosie, the home of Budderschnip? It's a real place. Or it was a real place. It now goes by the far-less-interesting name of Napierville and it's located in West Earl Township, Lancaster County.

Again we turn to former Lancaster journalist (and colleague of mine for a short time) Larry Alexander, who first wrote about Noodle Doosie around 1993 and followed it up with a 2008 piece on LancasterOnline.com. Here are some excerpts:

I wrote a story about Noodle Doosie some 15 years ago, and it became something of a sensation nationally. Shortly after it was published, an Associated Press story about the town also appeared, followed by stories from other news services. The world experienced Noodle Doosie-mania.

The place is easy to find. Just turn onto Hahnstown Road from Route 322 east of Ephrata. Continue to Napierville Road and turn right. Follow Napierville Road to the "T" intersection with Landis Road. Stop your car and get ready to high-five because you are in downtown Noodle Doosie. ...

Pennsylvania-German folklore regarding how the village earned its name involves two overeager men who got into trouble "noodling" with the same woman.

Since its founding in the mid-1700s, Noodle Doosie has spawned enough colorful characters to resemble a Pennsylvania Dutch version of Hooterville.

My favorite is a former Hessian soldier named Gen. Willembrock, who settled there about 1800. About 30 years earlier, while fighting for England in the American Revolution, Willembrock had been captured at either the battle of Saratoga or Trenton, or possibly both. After the war, he decided to stay in America.

Every Saturday night, Willembrock rode his horse to a nearby tavern named Die Rotie Kuh, the Red Cow, which still stands at Red Run and Fivepointville roads. There, at 3 cents a drink, he proceeded to prove that Germans invented beer and beer-drinking.

One night, too inebriated to get on his horse unaided, he was loaded onto it by some of the young bucks of the village. Since the horse knew the way home, they slapped its rump and sent it off, with Willembrock hanging on.

Meanwhile, the young men ran ahead to a stone bridge that spanned Muddy Creek, arriving before the general. They donned white sheets and hid beneath the structure until the general's horse arrived. Then they sprang out in surprise. The horse reared up and galloped away, carrying the pickled general, who hurled unprintable German words loudly into the night.

Check out Alexander's article for more about Noodle Doosie.

Colorful 1960s QSL card from the White Rose City

Papergreat's first QSL card of 2018 is this bright and cheery specimen from the 1960s. (The pre-printed information on the fill-in-the-blanks back of the card has a spot for the date that indicates 196__, which is how we know what decade it's from.) As you can see, the text on the front states:

Greetings from the WHITE ROSE CITY
KCC 3373
YORK • PENNA.
RONALD E. (JOE) SELLERS
835 S. Albemarle St.
There's also the logo boasting "The Colonial Capitol of the U.S.," in reference to York. For the full tangled tale of York's place in United State capital history, one good article to check out is this York Daily Record column by June Lloyd from 2015.

So who is Sellers? Turning back to the York Daily Record, here's a little biographical tidbit about him that I found in the October 2, 1971, issue of that newspaper, in the Social News:

"Ensign Ronald E. Sellers, son of Mr. and Mrs. Willis A. Sellers, 835 S. Albemarle St., and husband of the former Joyce L. Neiman, 1022 Edison St., was awarded a master of science degree in computer science by Pennsylvania State University at the recent summer commencement exercises. Sellers, a 1961 graduate of William Penn Senior High School, was employed by Apollo Ad Service Inc., before entering the Navy in 1963. He received basic training at the Recruit Training Command, Great Lakes, Ill., and advanced training at the Naval Aviation Fire Control Technical School, Memphis, Tenn. In 1965 he was assigned to the USS Independence serving off the coast of Vietnam. Upon his return from Vietnam, he was assigned to Naval Air Station, Oceana, Va., and returned to advance electronics school in 1966. In 1967 Sellers was selected to undergo a four-year college program sponsored by the Navy, and was awarded a bachelor of science degree and commissioned an ensign after completing Officer Candidate School in December, 1970. Sellers pursued graduate studies in computer science, and since completing his studies he has been assigned to the USS Blue Ridge, homeported in San Diego, Calif."

Having graduated from high school in 1961, Sellers would be about 74 years old today. It would be interesting to get in touch with him, ask him about his ham-radio days and see if he wants this QSL card back.

We might need these sweaters for the bomb cyclone and polar vortex

There's Bad Winter Weather™ headed through the southeastern United States and aiming for the northeastern portion of the country. It's threatening to be Especially Bad Weather™ for the Atlantic coastline, from New Jersey to Maine. Some are calling this a bomb cyclone (bakudan teikiatsu), and it's going to be followed, supposedly, by a polar-vortex event (Полярный вихрь) that temporarily turns the Northeast into The Day After Tomorrow, minus the Dick Cheney impression.¹

Anyway ... that's the weather tie-in for today's post, which is something we should all have handy here in the Northeast: sweaters.

Pictured above is the front of a 1955 Knit-O-Graf foldout pattern for a pair of snazzy sweaters, one with hearts and one with snowflakes. Perfect for schmoopies sitting side-by-side in front of the fireplace at the ski resort. Here's an artsy but ultimately ineffective look at one side of the pattern, unfolded...

This 25-cent pattern from the Minneapolis-based company calls for the following "ingredients":

• 4 Ply Knitting Worsted Yarn of All Wool, or...
• ...Blends of Part Nylon and Wool
• 1 pair No. 2 (English No. 11) needles
• 1 pair No. 5 (English No. 8) needles
• Gauge: 5½ stitches and 7½ rows equal 1 inch

The general instructions state:

"Knit-O-Graf patterns are life size. Reductions are made only when it is necessary to show a different back or a right and left sleeve, in which case one of the sleeves and either the back or the front is shown life size. Lay work on graph occasionally to check your size. For ease in following, outline the size wanted with a colored pencil."

Nosing around the internet for some thoughts on Knit-O-Graf, I found a July 2006 post on f. pea, a blog by Fawn Pea, who is "a knit designer, working mama and bumbling gardener in North Carolina." She writes:

"Once upon a time I thought I was going to become the Maven of Knit-o-Graf. I first saw these wacky patterns on VintageKnits.com and quickly became obsessed with owning a copy of the Pixie pattern [see below] and using the graphic to make a stylish yet ironic 1940's retro cardi. Look, they're sitting on toadstools! And look at their little tails... can't you just see those pixies on a grown-up's cardigan, or felted into a sweet purse? Can't you?"

She goes on to detail her quest to find Knit-O-Graf patterns on eBay, discusses how difficult she finds the patterns to use and ends with this cautionary note:

"I think I'll keep the Knit-o-Graf patterns for retro inspiration, especially since one day I'll be able to sell them for a mint on eBay and retire to the countryside to pursue my wildest dreams. ... Hopefully this post has fulfilled its public service in dissuading any unsuspecting knitters who might have tried to fool with one of these patterns. If you do try this at home, be sure to have a good bottle of wine at the ready - you're going to need it."

You should also read Fawn Pea's post so that you can check out the two-dozen comments from other Knit-O-Graf enthusiasts (and otherwise).

While apparently hard to use, the Knit-O-Graf patterns are admittedly cute, in a kitschy and nostalgic kind of way. Here are images of some of their offerings, gathered from the internet. Click on the photos to see the source pages.

Footnote
1. See this January 3 story from The Washington Post's Capital Weather Gang headlined "‘Bomb cyclone’ to blast East Coast before polar vortex uncorks tremendous cold late this week." Also, here's the cute tweet they unleashed upon the world yesterday...

A monster storm is headed for the East Coast, but don't worry, it's only expected to become a [squints at notes] "bomb cyclone" https://t.co/tLjbbRCQiD

— Washington Post (@washingtonpost) January 2, 2018

The Lost Corners of Paul Crockett

In the wake of Charles Manson's death in November, I listened last month to Stuff They Don't Want You To Know's two-part podcast about the life and times of the cult leader/murderer, who was born "No Name Maddox" in a Cincinnati hospital in 1934. (Not exactly a cheery holiday podcast, I know.) As a kid who grew up in the shadow of Manson's crimes and often leafed through my parents' paperback copy of Helter Skelter at way too early of an age, I've always had a level of interest in Manson. So it seemed like a natural bit of closure to listen to the shows.

One thing that struck me, though, was a facet of the Manson story that I'd never heard about. Briefly, when the Manson "family" was staying at Spahn Ranch, one of their neighbors was a middle-aged man named Paul Gaylord Crockett. He had some familiarity with Scientology, metaphysics and coercive persuasion — all of which were part of the "soup" that Manson was using to influence his followers (along with copious drugs). So Crockett quietly tried to counteract Manson's control of some family members. He notably helped Paul Watkins break free from the cult's influence. Watkins would later testify against Manson in his murder trial.

So who was Paul Crockett?

There's not a lot out there about him, especially compared to others in the sprawling Manson saga that has captivated America for nearly a half-century. One of the longest pieces is this 1975 Psychic magazine profile by Gary Richardson. It's well worth checking out.

Richardson, on his blog, is also the source for the information that Crockett died on on January 10, 2014, at age 89.

But there is also — and this is where Lost Corners and the fragility of digital ephemera come into play — Crockett's website.

Here's the URL, for posterity: https://www.thumbtack.com/wa/concrete/therapists/personal-transformation-teachings-consulting

The image at the top of this post, featuring a reflection of Crockett himself, is from the website, which is called Balance Point Personal Evolution School. The "pro" behind Balance Point, based in Burlington, Washington, is described as follows:

"Paul Crockett is a masterful and extraordinary teacher of the nature of reality, transformative processes and universal principles. He provides telephone sessions for his teachings and exploring avenues for achieving aspirations and goals. Paul is very interested in working with individuals who have a desire to deepen personal understanding, are on the path of self-discovery, and regard themselves capable of attaining wisdom. The individuals who are attracted naturally to the teachings Paul has to offer are those seeking the personalized attention and comprehensive learning experience that he offers."

And here are some of the testimonials from Balance Point clients:

• Anita R.: "My session with Paul was 90 minutes and I wish it could have been much longer. Paul has a way of getting to the heart of the issue and assisting in finding the answers to what you are seeking or clarifying issues into terms that make sense. His manner is straight forward yet gentle. He helps you come to the consiousness you have bee looking for. I feel comfortable talking to Paul about any topic and know that this will bring me. My meeting with Paul was in person and I look forward to talking to him again soon on the phone or otherwise. Everyone will find his sessions well worth the time and effort. You will wonder why you didn't do it sooner."
• Holly K.: "Paul helped me get my life straightened out. He is a wonderful sage/counselor who can help you get what you want out of your life. He is honest and real. If you need help, Paul is the person to seek."
• Art B.: "If you are looking for meaning in your life, for a way to change your routine, interested in exploring deeply how the universe works, or simply needing a wise counselor with whom to exchange ideas, Paul Crockett is your man. I have known and worked with Paul for more than 40 years, and in that time I have seen him help people of all ages cure themselves, extract themselves from bad situations, achieve success in their work, or come to a place in themselves where they find deep understanding and satisfaction with their place in the universe. Paul will help you in ways you may only understand after some time, but even a one-time session with him will benefit you."

I wonder if any of these clients knew about the important role that their counselor once played in working to stem the tide of Charles Manson's growing evil. It seems to me that this website, sure to disappear sooner or later now that Crockett is gone, should be preserved.

A mysterious Daisie

Let's start the year with a mystery. This is an old visiting card that I picked up a while back at the antique store in York New Salem. Though fancy around the edges, it's the standard size of American visiting cards — 3½ inches by 2 inches.

Something (now torn) was pasted to the left side of the card, so I can't read the entire name. But what can be seen is A. Daisie Roehrer.

That name is a stumper in the search engines. But if you take into account alternate spellings and misspellings, some possibilities emerge. Here are two such possibilities for Daisy Rohrer:

1. I found mention of a Daisy Rohrer, born in 1886 (no date of death), who was the wife of Orlando Mather Rohrer (1887-1958), a native Pennsylvania. (I generally assume these pieces of ephemera don't stray too far from home.)

2. I also found a Daisy M. Rohrer, who lived from 1877 to 1938 and is buried in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. Thought the dates of birth are different, I don't think we can exclude the possibility that Daisy #1 and Daisy #2 are the same Daisy. (Or Daisie.)

One of the Daisies (Daisys?) seems to have had an adventure in Hawaii, per this clipping from the May 23, 1900, edition of the Lebanon (Pennsylvania) Courier...

Meanwhile, to finish up, here's a closer look at the intricate and tiny bird underneath the "R" on this visiting card.