#44 – Potty Time or Where We did our Business and I don’t
mean our jobs, I mean, our labor, I mean, oh, heck, you know what I mean!
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| Taken from a booklet of Pennsylvania German humor[1]. |
Yes, I really do mean “potty time”. Now those who have,
for reasons I am sure I can’t fathom (except for my poor wife who is sort of
required to read them [although “required” is probably too strong a term to be
applied here, and for which my use of it here will bring a few “comments” from
Phyllis, for sure!]), been reading these posts on any kind of a regular basis,
know I have a real problem passing up a good pun when I happen upon one and
this topic has already presented me with more “punny” opportunities then I can
(hardly) resist. But resist I must.
I realize, of course, that “Potty Time” is a rather
strange subject around which to build a post but, heck, it is part of life, there’s
no two ways about it (well, there really ARE two ways – RON!), and oh, the
contraptions we invented, and the methods we utilized, to get the job done, in
more ways than one!
However, resist I must! I really do want you to keep
reading and any puns offered on this topic just might prove to be cause for
someone to raise a stink.
Resist, Ron, resist. For Gosh sakes, don’t piss anyone
off – RON!!!
The problem with this topic is its sensitivity. I suppose
due to the nature of the topic, as a society, we tend to shy away from
discussing it. So instead of just talking about it as we might most any other
topic of interest, we talk around it. We use euphemisms and indirect language
trying to be polite and not embarrass our listener/reader. I could probably
write a full post just on the various terms we have used for, well, you know, “going”.
Some of the ways we discuss this topic are more embarrassing than if we had
just come right out and said “urine” or “pee-pee” or “feces” or “do-do”! Some of the terms are downright vulgar, yet
their use has resulted in some of the names we have given to the process and/or
the tools we have invented to assist us through the process.
For example, take the word “Crapper”, a word often used
instead of the word toilet.
Or let’s not! One MIGHT assume that human refuse is
included in the definition of the word “crap”, thus a “Crapper” would be a good
term for a tool that exists to collect your “crap” and flush it away. If you do
make this assumption, you would be incorrect. The true story is told by this
web page (CRAPPER),
but has to do with Thomas Crapper, the inventor and owner of the company that made
certain toilets in Great Britain. By the way, he didn’t invent the flush
toilet. He just invented what he thought was an improvement, put his name on
it, and sold it all over England.
If you make a product, the natural thing to do is to put
your name on a label and apply the label to the product. It’s called marketing.
Unfortunately, unattractive results often result from such actions especially
when mixed with the sense of humor American soldiers stationed in England
during WWI carried around with them. I suppose this is something on the order
of the exception that proves the rule. And since it does not help me make my
point, I will cease to so digress.
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| Yes, that is the Drumyngham toilet. In case you are interested, and I know someone is, the white bucket beside the toilet is a diaper pail from my past. It now serves as a place to hold the fresh rolls of toilet paper waiting for their turn on the toilet paper dispenser! That was Mom’s idea. |
A convoluted example of what I’m getting at is found in
the word “toilet”. When I think of that word, I think of a piece of equipment,
usually made of porcelain, found in the bathroom, such as the one seen here. The
name’s origins, however, begin with a small piece of cloth. To learn about the
road the cloth took to become porcelain, jump to this webpage: toilet.
Going on the assumption that you have read that piece
about the toilet, it is interesting to take a look at the word “commode”.
This word is often used to mean that same thing that we call the toilet – that
(usually) white (usually) porcelain piece of equipment in the bathroom. So, we find
that, in addition to the cloth-to-porcelain road, there is another road that
goes from a chest of drawers to porcelain! However, in the 1890’s, a commode was a very
specific piece of furniture, not with drawers, but with a compartment in which one
hid their chamber pot!
Here we see a typical, not-very-fancy, Commode. Some are
fancier. The one we see here once graced the home of Elmer and Ella Drum. It
probably first graced the home of Elmer’s parents’, Nathan and Mary Drum. On the
left we see it as it would usually be sitting in the home. In the middle photo
we see the lid has been raised to expose an inner cap. In the third photo we
see the cap has been set to the side to expose the pot. This pot can be removed
to be emptied and cleaned. Once replaced, the cap is returned and the lid is
closed.
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| This is a nice Chamber Pot suitable for most middle class bed chambers. It once resided under a Drum-owned bed. My mom was apparently using it as a place to keep her pennies. Utilitarian, for sure, but I wish I could ask her if she realized the irony of her doing this in a vessel some might have said was once used to “spend a penny”. Click on PENNY for more on THAT euphemism! By the way, the linked web page also mentions the word “Loo” as a word used in England for the bathroom. I don’t have a clue why they used the word Loo, but their doing so always caused me to wonder if that is actually what is being talked about in the nursery rhyme “Skip to the Loo”! |
Which brings us then to the Chamber Pot, itself. Well,
now this is getting easy. A Chamber Pot is a pot one keeps in their bedroom, or
bed chamber as it was once referred to. Most people just kept their chamber pot
under their bed, especially if they didn’t have the space, or money, or both to
own a Commode.
Of course, the chamber pot is the vessel one used to
collect, not their pennies, but their bodily waste during the night thus saving
one a trip outside to the Outhouse or, as it was sometimes called, the Privy
(short for private). This is how we got around to using the term “potty” for
going to the bathroom, which, as I’m sure you’ve quickly grasped, is yet another
euphemism.
An “Outhouse”, for the uninitiated, is basically a shed
built over a pit dug in the ground. Usually a bench was built inside for
sitting and a hole was cut into the bench for the waist materials to fall
through into the pit below. No heat in the winter but warm enough in the summer
often with lots of flies, spiders, and other such similar creatures to keep you
company while you “go”.
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| On the left we see a typical outhouse. This one is on the Fuehrer/Yanac Farm in Drums. It was built about 65 years ago to replace the original outhouse that was once located just to the left of this one, once the older one was no longer serviceable. Obviously this building is no longer in use as an outhouse. It now serves as a storage shed and, as I unfortunately found out the hard way, home to some paper wasps. No worries, I'm sure the burning sensation above my right eye will go away eventually. On the right is the well-ventilated outhouse interior showing the focal point (and, therefore, the purpose) of the structure. |
There is more on “Outhouses” later in this post, but first, we still have some business to do with the chamber pots because all of this stuff about chamber pots reminds me of a
story[2].
A young fellow enlisted in the
Army and left home for the first time. After a short while, he wrote home to
his mother.
Dear Mom, I like the Army life
pretty good. About the only thing that I miss a lot is my pot – I miss the pot
under my bed.”
Mom replied saying she was so
glad to hear from him as she did so worry about him, and she was:
so glad everything is working
out so nice for you – even about the pot – you know you always missed the pot
when you were here at home, too, remember?
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| Here we see a Fuller Brush Man with his suitcase probably full of brushes. My wife’s mother, Mary Dupuis, was once visited by a Fuller Brush Man, probably around 1950, and here is a letter opener, made of plastic, left behind as a “gift” for looking over his samples, perhaps for even making a purchase, to prove it. |
Speaking of missing the pot brings another story to mind.
At one point in our history, men would be hired to go door to door selling one
thing or another. Probably the most famous of these was the “Fuller Brush Man”
but there were many others; all typically called “Traveling Salesmen”. Sometimes,
especially in the more rural areas, these salesmen would “put-up” overnight at
the homes they visited. This story tells about a Traveling Salesman who put-up one
night with a Pennsylvania German family. He was assigned to sleep in their young
son’s bed, along with the son.
At the appointed hour they climbed into bed and, just as
the man was about to fall asleep, the little boy suddenly jumped out of the bed
and knelt at the bedside, hands clasped as if in prayer. The Man wanted to give
a good example to the child so he, too, got out of the bed and knelt down on
his side. The little boy looked at the Man, studied him for a moment, apparently
trying to find the words he wanted to use, then blurted out in all his angelic innocence,
“Gee, Mister, Ma’s gonna give you Hell tomorrow morning when she finds out! The
pot is under THIS side of the bed!”[3]
Once upon a time we had W.C.s (Water Closets). These were
rooms into which water was piped for washing. Water, properly managed, could
also be used to flush stuff away, like human waste. That’s a lot better than
running outside to the Privy in the middle of the night or emptying a smelly
bowl of “stuff” each morning!! So, inventions were invented to do such a job
and what better place to put them than in the water closets? Oddly enough,
however, the aromas that go with the waste not yet flushed often caused people
from certain cultures and beliefs to separate the W.C. from the bathing room (again)!
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| This is the building my Flat was in; first window, upper left. Below that is a closeup of my balcony. |
When I was living in Botswana, in 1980-1981, the Flat
(apartment) I was living in had a W.C. and a Bathroom. True story (although I
know this sounds like an urban legend. By the way, I was not the American in
the story, but I was a witness to this happening. Those of us “in the know” got
a good chuckle out of it. We didn’t make a friend that evening but it goes like
that, sometimes.).
Those of us from other counties not Botswana, were called
expatriates, or “expats” for short. We often socialized (held a party) with
other expats, often from around the world, at our various flats. An American,
newly arrived in Botswana, was attending one such party one evening. The party
was being given by a British expat. This newly-arrived American had to use the
restroom, go to the bathroom, however you want to say it. So, he asked the
British fellow, “May I use your bathroom?” The British fellow looked at him a
bit oddly for a moment and finally answered, “Sure. I guess so. If you really
need to. Why not?” and he directed the American to the bathroom. A few seconds
later, the American was back in the living room looking rather puzzled. “I-I-I
can’t, I mean, where is it, I mean, I can’t go there…” at which point the Brit
jumped in and asked, “What do you mean you can’t go there? What do you mean you
can’t find it? What are you looking for?” “The toilet!” answered the American.
“You don’t have one!” “Oh, you wanted
the WC!” responded the Brit. You asked for the bathroom, not the toilet!” Of
course, the rest of us could no longer keep from laughing. Hey, what do you
want? We were all young and stupid, and probably a tad drunk.
On the left we see my Flat’s WC or
“Loo”. If the photographer made a quarter turn to the right, he’d be looking
into my bathroom. And that is exactly what I did to get this photo of the shower. The below "photo" is actually two photos side by side. The shower is showen on the right. If you entered the shower area and took a peek around the corner to the left of the shower, there was a bath tub. Yes, we had BOTH.
At one time, women had a Dressing Room. Part of the dressing process was to apply talcum powder to help keep sweat under control. Given how people apply names of actions to things, one can
quickly see how the term “powder room” came into use. As rooms were combined into one, the talcum
moved into the bathroom along with the toilet causing some to call it "the powder room". Thus, the phrases “to take a
powder” or “to powder my nose” easily became the same as going to the bathroom,
itself a euphemism for the same thing, and so forth and so on.
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| This picture is actually the area behind the Sugarloaf Massacre Memorial but I thought it depicted the idea quite well. |
So, what this all brings us to is the question, just what
did we Drums do when we needed to take a powder, go potty, spend a penny, hit
the bathroom, or however you want to say it?
Not meaning to sound Biblical but, in the beginning I’m
sure “our” bathroom looked a lot like this photo. Well, I don’t know what
Progenitor Philip was doing in Germany for this task, I suppose a
chamber pot/outhouse affair. If his home was more urban, he might have been
sharing an outhouse that serviced a number of homes (sort of a “the-line-forms-in-the-rear”
type situation).
But once on this continent, what then? Well, things were
not too different over here! If he was living in an urban area, like
Philadelphia, there were the chamber pots and outhouses much like those left
behind in Europe. And, of course, if he was out in the countryside, cutting a
farm out of the wilderness, he most likely had his latrine/privy arrangement. I
mean, what else is there to do?
This would have been true as well for Jacob and his son,
George, that is until the
Indian attack that occurred around 1774. Jacob was killed during that
attack and George’s mother was kidnapped. At that point we lose track of
twelve-year-old George
until he reappears as a Continental Soldier in 1782 and then makes his way to
Drums around 1796. Once there, I’m sure the bushes thing remained in
force for, at least a short time, until the family was established. I think we
can assume, still working in generalities of course, that once George had a
house built, it included a latrine/privy type accommodation.
It appears that once established in this valley, the
Drums lived either in the “urban” Drums Village area or they established farms
nearby. Outhouses and chamber pots would, therefore, continue to be the methods
of choice for them at that time, as well as for George’s son Philip and his
son, John. We believe it was John’s son, Nathan who was the first of “us”, in
addition to his Commode, to have water piped into his house, although a case
can be made for giving that honor to John since, as a hotel keeper, he would
have had the resources.
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| Humorous Christmas Post Card that shows water piped into a home. Some Drum thought it funny enough to save the card, but they, unfortunately for us, didn’t DATE the card. |
To get water into a house, one needs to either hand carry
it, or have an inside hand pump over a well. Hand pumps were
good. Electric pumps are better. If John had water in his 1880 home, it
probably came via a hand pump. Nathan probably had both the resources and the
technology, and the knowledge, to very likely have had both! When Nathan was
living in the Schaffer home near Drumyngham (1904-1908), they used an outside
hand pump (in the front yard) to get their water.
Elmer started off with an outhouse on his Fritzingertown
farm and a hand pump in the kitchen. I’m certain my father would have been able
to tell us exactly when they first had water pumped into their home via an
electric pump. Unfortunately, I never asked him that question and, as I’ve whined
about many times in previous posts, there do not appear to be any documents;
diaries, bills, etc; to help us gain specifics.
Elmer did have a Privy. I know because I used it! It even
appears in the next photo. I’ve looked at all the photos mom glued in her
scrapbooks, checking to see if any depicted the outhouse, even by accident.
None do. I guess people were more aware of photo backgrounds than I was willing
to give them credit!!
The below photo is a postcard showing the Fritzingertown
area taken in 1906. The white house in the forefront is the Embling farmhouse
which Elmer bought in 1919. This time, the outhouse can be clearly seen. Even
so, I marked it with a purple arrow. It must not have been in use when the
photo was taken because the door is open. Wait, there is someone in there! On the
left we see a closeup of the outhouse and there is a person sitting in there.
Ok, not really. Although the “close-up” is a photo of that same outhouse, the
“close-up” is actually a photo Dad took of Mom trying to be funny during the
auction in 1965.
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| Clayton, age 9; Eleanor, age 4; Nelson, age 6; Hazleton, PA, 1931. At least that is what Mom wrote on the back of the photo. Although Mom’s Outhouse Story took place around 1939 or 1940, you can already see the three personalities shining through in this photo! Photos of Clayton and Nelson when they were on active duty during WWII are included in the post “And World War II, Too, for Some of Us.” |
Speaking of Mom reminds me of one of her favorite “outhouse
stories”. Yes, my mom did have a few “Outhouse Stories”. This one deals with
her two, much beloved, older brothers, Clayton and Nelson Shearer. Clayton was
the oldest. He was the more serious of the two. Nelson enjoyed a good joke,
both playing them and laughing at them, and he laughed easily. So, the story goes
that in the 1930’s and ‘40’s, when they were growing up, indoor plumbing was a
luxury. The Shearer’s didn’t have a toilet in the house, they had an outhouse,
a “two-hole-er”! A “two-hole-er” outhouse meant it was a two-room shed built
over one large pit, each room having its own hole and door. A common wall ran
between the rooms from ceiling to floor but not all the way down into the pit.
One Easter, family came to visit and their aunt, used to having
indoor plumbing, was hesitant to use the outhouse. Finally, it became
necessary, so the aunt entered the left side. After giving her enough time to
get situated, Nelson took Clayton’s newspaper, rolled it much like you might to
swat a fly, and crept into the right side followed by Clayton. Reaching down into
the hole with the newspaper in hand, Nelson stretched his arm over toward the
left and in a quick upward motion, swatted the aunt “right on her bare arse”
(as mom told it). One can imagine the chaos and screaming and running and
threatening that then took place as all parties tried to escape from both sides
of the outhouse. Nelson stayed away from home for a few days after that.
Clayton was angry because he lost his newspaper. No word on if the aunt ever
visited again.
Although I did use Elmer’s outhouse, my
outhouse-experiences come mostly from my 18 months in Botswana where outhouses
were the method of choice for many of the villages we visited there. I remember
being in one village and having need to “go”. This village’s “public outhouse”
was made of metal. It had obviously been servicing that village for a very long
time. It was quite rusted. As most people know, men urinate from a standing
position. So, as I began to accomplish my goal, I heard an odd noise – sort of
a cracking sound. At that same moment, I perceived a sudden downward drop of
about an inch or so. Smart fellow that I am, I realized the floor was caving in
and I knew what was beneath that floor! I’ve never completed doing that kind of
business so quickly, before or since!! As you can imagine, I got out of that
“house” as quickly as possible. My only hope is that they have since replaced
that structure!!
Well, that about closes the lid on this topic and I must
say, I am just pooped! I hope this topic wasn’t too embarrassing, I wouldn’t
want anyone to feel flushed! Don't worry, we’ll wipe things clean in our next
post. Sorry, but I’m on a roll. (LOOK. A person can only hold it in for so
long!!)
Someone asked me the other day how I write these posts. I
said that it is mostly a process of finding a bit here and finding a bit there,
adding them together and drawing the story out of the result: two parts existing
evidence, one part imaginative logic, so to speak. I refer to those bits of
information as “dust”. Our next post is covered in such dust, or, rather, the dust
is covered by the post! Join us on September 8, 2020 for #45: Dust, an examination
of some of that dust and what/how we can learn from it.
[1] Aurand,
Jr., A. Monroe, Penna. “Dutch” Joke Book: Wit and Humor of the Pennsylvania
Germans, (Lancaster, PA: The Aurand Press, circa 1950’s).
[2] Aurand,
Jr., A. Monroe, This story
has been altered slightly from the original as printed in the booklet.
[3] Aurand,
Jr., A. Monroe, This story has been altered slightly from the original as
printed in the booklet.
