Tuesday, August 11, 2020

Potty Time or Where We did our Business

#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! 

Taken from a booklet of
Pennsylvania German humor
[1]. 
In our most recent post, we wished the Drums Hotel Happy 200th Anniversary: 1820-2020!! In our posts just prior to that, we had been looking at some rather personal aspects of Drum life in Drums; what we wore, how we got well when we got sick, what we did for a living. Now it’s time for something completely different! This post proposes to answer the question: what did we do when we had to go (and I don’t mean to go see our Aunt Lizzy!).


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.

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.


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”. 

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?

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)!

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.

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.

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.



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.

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