We have another circus-themed edition of “Old Maid,” this time in an undated deck from Whitman.  Quite the breezy design, isn’t it?  And here’s the Old Maid.

(Posted by Doug Skinner)

An article in this Sunday’s New York Times celebrates an organization  dedicated to the historical documentation of local ullage (in this case, “local” meaning the 1/3 of the nation comprising the West).

ByJESSE McKINLEY

TWAIN HARTE, Calif. — Strange where a road trip can begin: a dorm room, a bar stool or Page 283 of the W.P.A. Guide to California.  Among the sites given plaques by California members of E Clampus Vitus are the grave of the unknown prospector on a lonely stretch of Route 395 near Mono Lake.

It is on Page 283 that a reader can find the barest mention of The Order of E Clampus Vitus, one of the oldest and oddest entities in a state known for having a few, a Gold Rush-era organization whose goofball sensibilities are offset by a single, serious pursuit: a tendency to plaque all things historical, an obsession that continues to this day.

With little more than mortar and their ever-present red shirts, the Clampers, as the organization’s members are known, have placed more than 1,000 bronze, wood and granite plaques throughout California, from the remote stretches of coast to mining towns like this one, in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada.
Read More…

The Western states seem to get short shrift when it comes to documenting the odds and ends of history.
Sometimes, among easterners and westerners alike, I sense a misconception they hold in common: that history begins “way out west” sometime in 1848.  In contrast to eastward-leaning regions of the US,  the West’s relatively recent (European, non-missionary)  settlement,  its expanses of – still, miraculously – sparsely-populated and rarely traversed land, and stubborn myths such as that California is a personal tabula rasa for the taking or that, as Gertude Stein put it, “there is no there there,” perhaps help to perpetuate this bias (whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing is another matter).  And the unique people, places, and events that once helped to define the Western Experience would have remained lost, overlooked, and forgotten, if it weren’t for the efforts of dedicated individuals* and organizations like the Order of E Clampus Vitus.

Unfortunately for the likes of me, women (it would seem) cannot join the Order. The issue of gender parity among para-professionals in the ullage field is certainly something to consider in depth. But for now, I’ll just raise a mug of Moose Milk, and thank the Clampers from the bottom of my Californian heart.

 *sadly, often considered in those parts to be “eccentric”

(Posted by Lisa Hirschfield)

We offer here my talk on school lunches, from “Through the Blackboard.”  It’s stored on another page, so as not to clog the home page.  Happy reading!

(Posted by Doug Skinner)

[Read more →]

“Sky Trails,” a 1951 miniature game from Russell, was a bit more complicated than most.  There are two kinds of cards, Map Cards and Route Cards.  The Map Cards can be laid end to end to show the route from San Francisco to Shanghai; the Route Cards show the destinations along the way.  The objective is to collect all of the Map Cards and three consecutive Route Cards.  I’ve selected Shannon, Ireland: land o’ hoein’.

(Posted by Doug Skinner)

Since everyone’s talking money and politics these days, I thought it reasonably acceptable to make a contribution to the conversation in this forum.

I think the idea of ullage can be a tool. As (or if) you find yourself ever more embroiled in the struggle mentioned above, you might also find that it comes in handy. The next time you think you need a little help defining some alternative conditions that could govern your life, consider the ullage.

The social, economic, and political upheaval of the moment presents a timely opportunity to ask yourself how might the “other part” – however you may define that – help you recognize what you truly value, what you love, how you work, how you spend your time, and with whom you spend it. Seems pretty simple, but sometimes it’s easy to lose sight of the simple things, especially when it comes to self-governance. Just achieving and maintaining self-governance is hard enough these days. In this sense, and at this particular time, in this particular culture, (I hate to say it) the personal is always political.

US Government promotes creativity in a time of crisis and despair, WPA poster circa 1936

So, rooting around in the ullage might yield some forgotten (or supposedly obsolete) possibilities when it comes to all this. And maybe they will prove obsolete, or futile, or not up your alley. But you’ll never know unless you try. And thus, the ullage is always political.

For another and far less abstract take on this, read on…

(posted by Lisa Hirschfield) [Read more →]

We check in again with our friend, the Old Maid, and find her taking in a local circus.  This 1959 edition from Ed-U-Cards has a distinctly cartoonish touch; perhaps an animator was moonlighting.  And here, as is customary, is the Old Maid herself.

(Posted by Doug Skinner)

We welcome you to “Through the Blackboard,” the Ullage Group’s third cornucopia of oddball stuff — this time devoted to the theme of education.

“Ullage” is a winemakers’ term; it means both the air at the top of the bottle, and the sediment at the bottom.  It’s sometines defined as “deficiency,” or “lack”; in the UK, it can mean “rubbish”; it comes from the French word “oeillage,” meaning “bunghole.”  It’s a word of many beauties, and seems a fitting emblem for those topics that are marginal, contrarian, or obsolete — which is what we’re after here.

We’ve had some complaints about it.  Some people whine that they can’t spell or pronounce it — I’ve heard “you-lage” more than once — and that it’s obscure.  I can only point out that if you can’t handle a simple six-letter word that’s been in the dictionary long before you graced the earth with your presence, then you need to go back to school, fool.  And if learning a new word upsets you so, maybe you’d better just stay at home, play with your toes, and not mix with the grown-ups.

The idea of obscurity is an odd one.  Many people seem convinced that anything they’re not familiar with is hopelessly obscure.  It never occurs to them that there may be another explanation.  One of my fellow cizens accused me of limiting my audience by making deliberately obscure references in an article I wrote.  You see, I had mentioned Nostradamus.  But let me unravel this mystery in verse:

Maureen flies in a rage when Joe
Refers to things she doesn’t know.
For she’s convinced it isn’t right
To be obscure; it’s impolite.
And things she doesn’t know, she’s sure,
Are quite obscure.

Perhaps, though, society’s values are shifting.  For the past few years, anti-intellectualism has run amok, and it hasn’t served us well.  An institutionalized contempt for education, for rational argument, for nuanced thought, has been a flop.  Stupid ideas don’t work.

Building a society on greed and exploitation makes us unhappy.  Huh.

Investing billions in pyramid schemes leads to financial collapse.  Oops.

Stressing religion over science creates a generation of uninformed zealots.  Wow.

Spending twenty hours a day staring at a computer screen erodes social skills.  Golly.

Obviously, things took a funny turn somewhere in those classrooms we spent so many days in way back when.  So, this afternoon, we’ll look into some of the dark corners of the history of education, and of schools.  We probably won’t solve anything.  But it’s a rainy Sunday, and there’s caffeine and alcohol on hand to stimulate the brain.

Speaking of which, it’s time for that sacred ceremony, the opening of the ullage.  We open a bottle, thereby considerably enlarging the ullage, and pour out a swig for our cup-bearers, Geoff and Lynette.  This time we’ve picked that favorite student beverage, beer.  And then: through the blackboard!

(Posted by Doug Skinner)  

A smallish and ullagistic crowd showed up on a rainy afternoon for “Through the Blackboard,” our third public outing.  We started late (there were screens and projectors to wrangle), but after that, all unfolded smoothly.

After a few introductory remarks, Doug opened up the ullage: this time, a Belgian Trappist ale, which was presented to Geoff and Lynette, our hosts at Jalopy.

Doug then performed two of his cranky songs, “Get on the Grid” and “Alphabet,” both, arguably, educational.

Lisa followed with a talk on children’s games and songs; Doug with a talk on school lunch programs in the 1920s; and Lisa with a talk on fraternal and occult societies.  After that, Doug demonstrated a dubious science toy from his youth, by showing moiré patterns on the overhead projector.

During the intermission, the audience was invited to squint through stereoscopes at vintage instructional images selected by Anthony.  Doug also circulated with a Flash-X: a 1969 classroom gizmo that shows simple line drawings at 1/25 of a second.

After intermission, Anthony and guest presenter Mark Newgarden screened two old classroom films, “Emotional Maturity” and “The Thunderbolt Hunters.”  Then we packed up and left to blow the take on dinner, another Ullage Group event fading swiftly into time’s chalk dust.  But there will be others.

(Posted by Doug Skinner)

This example of that old favorite, Animal Rummy, comes from an undated deck from the Warren Paper Products Co.  And a fresh, clean design it is, too.  Good work, anonymous artisan!

 (Posted by Doug Skinner)

In observance of those solemn back-to-school days, the Ullage Group is pleased to invite you to its third fiesta-fiasco of oddities.  Come step “Through the Blackboard” for a Sunday afternoon of unadulterated educational pleasure.

Lisa Hirschfield, Anthony Matt, and Doug Skinner will show and tell about oral traditions of the classroom and schoolyard, antique stereoscopic edutainment, the secret world of occult youth groups, the evolution of the school lunch, and much more.  There will be moiré patterns on the overhead projector, autoharp songs, and a chance to test yourself on a 1969 Flash-X from Educational Developmental Laboratories.  And unlike real school, you don’t have to hide your beer.

It’s all only $5; it’s at 3 pm on Sunday, September 28; and it’s at Brooklyn’s lovely Jalopy Theater.  Directions can be found here.

(Posted by Doug Skinner)