Comic Postcards

"Je vous l'offre de bout cœur." Translated as: "I offer you this with all my heart." [Thanks to John FitzGerald for the translation.] A French real photo April Fools' Day postcard from 1912.

"1899 - A Carload of Corn from ________."

"This beats walking. Monongahela Incline, Pittsburgh, Pa."

Cousins of Alfred E. Neuman perhaps?

"Unlucky days for getting married. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday."

"The Fireman. A Dealer in Chops." Axe chops, of course, not pork chops!

To My Valentine A lobster I am and always will be; But won't you have pity and please marry me? The early twentieth-century meaning of "lobster" was similar to today's " sugar daddy ." -------- Postmarked: Richland Center, Pa., Feb. 13, 1912. Sent to: Miss Lizzie Krout, Lansdale, Pa. Message: Guess.

"They are on the way now. Harrisburg, Pa., ________. Dear ________. We are pleased to inform you that we are forwarding today--____ letters ____packages. And we have noted your change of address on our records. J. A. Johnson, manager. The Harrisburger, Harrisburg's newest hotel, Harrisburg, Pa. U.S.M. Doc Rankin."

"Thanksgiving Day. I wonder why they are feeding me so lately."

"With my compliments." Why would someone be giving away lemons "with my compliments"? It helps to know that handing someone a lemon in the early twentieth century when this postcard appeared was actually a way to say "scram," "beat it," or in the parlance of the day, "skidoo" or "23 skidoo." For more information about "23 skidoo" and how it related to lemons, see Skidoo 23 Is Now 37 :

"And were it not for Friday's pain, that sadly comes in Thursday's train, I should be full of gratitude!"

"Out for a stroll in the park. Entrance to Highland Park, Pittsburgh, Pa."

Original caption: "I am pushing on the lines. Will show you a full line of samples about...." With written additions: "I am pushing on the lines. Will see you about next Saturday if plans pan out O.K. Shall I bring a trunk? Store's not open Sat., so if you come home, come to end of line, [or?] phone from square." A salesman normally would have used a postcard like this to notify potential customers when he'd arrive at their location to show them samples of his merchandise, but instead the sender of this card has altered the message to arrange a time to meet a friend or relative.

"The Weary Farmer (Up to Date), designed & pub. by Frank W. Swallow, Exeter, N.H." I'm not sure why Frank W. Swallow of Exeter, New Hampshire, published this early twentieth-century postcard, which ridicules the "Weary Farmer," his family, and the hired help for living a life of luxury. One clue might be the well-off real estate dealer, who's standing in front of his office, where the sign says, "No deserted farms left. Fair farms, $5,000.00 to $50,000.00." Was there an economic downturn at some point that caused families to abandon their farms? Did Swallow feel that some farmers and real estate agents were profiting from the misfortune of others? I haven't solved this mystery yet, but in the meantime here's the cast of characters portrayed on the card: The Farmer is fanning himself while lying on a hammock and sipping sweet cider from a straw. The Hired Man is sitting beneath a tree as he smokes a cigarette and reads a dime novel ( Diamond Dick ) with his unused shovel and hoe by his side. The Son is out on the golf course. The Real Estate Dealer is wearing expensive clothing, including a diamond ring. An automobile is parked in front of his real estate office, where there's a sign that says, "No deserted farms left. Fair farms, $5,000.00 to $50,000.00." The Hired Girl is sitting in a rocking chair as she dries the dishes. The Wife and Daughter are dressed in fine clothes as they sip their tea. The Cow , however, is toiling away on a treadmill, supplying the power and the raw material--milk--for the butter and cheese machines, which apparently provide enough income to allow everyone else besides the cow to live a life of leisure.

"You know I love you, but you had better ask papa, as I just cantaloupe [can't elope] with you." See also I Just Can't Elope! :

This is a postcard addressed on the verso to "Mrs. D. P. Conklin, Highland Mills, N.J.," but otherwise there's no handwritten message, stamp, or postmark. A lemon with a Christmas greeting might seem like a work of Dadaist art to us today, but this postcard actually had a specific meaning in the early twentieth century when it was created. To "hand someone a lemon" meant—often with humorous or joking intentions—"scram," "beat it," or—in the terms of the fad it was associated with—"skidoo" or "23 skidoo." In another postcard example, this connection between lemons and skidoo forms the basis of a message on a Valentine's Day card (see below): "To My Valentine / 'Tis a lemon that I hand you / And bid you now 'skidoo,' / Because I love another— / There is no chance for you!" In a third instance, a postcard (below) depicts a hand reaching out to offer the viewer three lemons. You had to know, of course, that being handed a lemon signified "skidoo" in order to realize that the caption, "With my compliments," was meant sarcastically. So how did lemons become associated with skidoo? A fourth postcard (below) may provide the answer. The postcard is printed in bright yellow and green colors, and lemons appear in the middle of the card and in each of its four corners. The puzzling message on the card begins,"Skidoo 23 is NOW 37," and then continues, "Turn around the card and I hand you a—." Rotating the postcard so that the text is upside down reveals that the letters and numbers of "NOW 37" turn into the word "LEMON" (this trick is known as an ambigram , in case you were wondering). So, to put it all together, this postcard illustrated that being asked to skidoo—or more colloquially, telling someone "23 skidoo"—was the equivalent of being handed a lemon! And, of course, the reverse was true—if you received a lemon, you'd better skidoo!

Postmarked Washington, D.C., Feb. 13, 1907, and addressed to Miss Camilla Paule, 3322 Newark Street, Cleveland Park, Washington, D.C. No message or signature other than what's written on the front of the card (in German?--I had trouble deciphering it). "Serie 319" printed on the back of the card.