Praise the Lord and pass the oatmeal

“The language of Jefferson’s Declaration of Independence clearly depended on the Mecklenburg Declaration, which was the work of 27 oatmeal-eating Calvinists, a third of whom were ruling elders in the Presbyterian church.

“One Hessian officer, writing home during the war, said, ‘…. Call it not an American rebellion; it is nothing more or less than a Scotch Irish Presbyterian rebellion.’ ”

— From “Five Cities That Ruled the World” (2009) by Douglas Wilson

(Listeners to “A Prairie Home Companion” may recall sponsor Mournful Oatmeal, billed as “Calvinism in a box.”)

Pictured: “Hornets nest” pinback button, probably worn on Meck Dec Day.

Cussing with Impunity

Cover of Herbert Hyde recording

You may have heard about an Orange County Superior Court judge’s recent ruling that a 98-year-old state ban on profanity is unconstitutional. The news has traveled far and wide. The story has also caused some to recall another time when the state ban came under scrutiny.

In 1973 two state senators proposed an amendment calling for Swain County’s removal as one of two counties exempted from the ban (the other is Pitt County). The possibility that cursing would be outlawed in Swain County led Buncombe County representative Herbert Hyde, a son of Swain County, to take to the floor of the House chamber in defense of his native county’s exemption. Hyde, who was known for his oratorical skills, quoted the Bible and Shakespeare in his 8-minute speech and discoursed on Cherokee culture. The Cherokees, he said, do not curse and their language does not include swear words. But Hyde’s oration is best remembered–and often titled–for words that he didn’t utter: “Mr. Speaker, there oughta be somewhere a person can cuss without breaking the law.”

Nevertheless, when Hyde ran for Lieutenant Governor in 1976 his campaign distributed a recording of the famous speech using the apocryphal lines as its title. The liner notes for the recording point out that “a specific price tag has not been placed on the recording. However, Herbert Hyde will be most grateful for the contributions you make to his campaign.” The flimsy disc itself is attached to the sleeve on top of a picture of Hyde.

Hyde portrait

The Buncombe County representative’s bid for lieutenant governor was unsuccessful. But his oration may have played a part in keeping Swain County a safe haven for cussin’.

We’ve got Hyde’s full speech digitized and ready for your ears.

Paperweight survived (too bad bank didn’t)

This mirror-paperweight (3 1/2 inches diameter) shows off the elegant Citizens National Bank building mentioned by Catherine Bishir.

The swastikas, though jarring now, were a common symbol of good luck before being hijacked by the Nazis in 1932.

Watch Charlotte Grow (but not THAT fast)

This pinback button would’ve been produced shortly after the creation of the Greater Charlotte Club, forerunner of the Charlotte Chamber, in 1905.

To the surprise of no one who has observed the city’s unrelenting boosterism over the years, the stated population projections proved wildly optimistic: Not until 1940 did Charlotte inch past 100,000 — and then only after insisting on a census recount. (Sports columnist Furman Bisher, then covering a city beat for the Charlotte News, later recalled “great municipal exuberance.”)

In 1960 the city hit another landmark, and of course the News was eager to tout it: “Swelling her chest like a lady trackster, Queen Charlotte broke the 200,000 tape….”

‘Setting the pace for others to trace’

Eugene “Genial Gene” Potts, one of the “Original 13” black radio announcers in the South, began his 30-year career at Charlotte’s WGIV (“We’re G.I. Veterans”) in 1948.

His trademark was a rhyming, rap-like patter invented to overcome a stammer — as in “We’re setting the pace for others to trace.”

A man sought for killing a police officer once walked into WGIV and proposed a deal: Play a song for my mama and I’ll surrender. Potts played it, then dialed the cops. The man went peacefully.

Isn’t this a cool design? Wish I knew who did it.

Grab a shovel, everybody — you too, Raleigh

On this day in 1913: As part of his proclaimed Good Roads Days, Gov. Locke Craig, clad in overalls, takes up a shovel on a Buncombe County work crew.

Craig’s call for two days of volunteer maintenance on the state’s dirt roads elicits mixed response. In Guilford County more than 1,000 men show up; students at State Normal and Industrial School for Girls put 400 rakes to use. At Chapel Hill, acting UNC president Edward Kidder Graham takes the lead in leveling Franklin Street. Lenoir College students, according to The Charlotte Observer’s correspondent, “livened up the occasion by giving cheer after cheer for Hickory and Governor Craig.”

In Raleigh, however, “There was practically no response on the part of citizenship. . . . ”

Pictured: From the Good Roads lobby, a gorgeously utopian pinback button.

National Golden Queen, where are you?

“A major promotion during 1956 was the National Golden Queen Festival, presided over by Queen Shirley Bagwell. Many beauties from the four major tobacco raising states entered the Queen’s contest, and Governor [Orval] Faubus of Arkansas was a key speaker….”

— From “Selma’s Colorful Century, 1867-1967”  (selmanc.info)

Whatever happened to the National Golden Queen Festival?

And to Shirley Bagwell? She was also a semifinalist in the 1956 Miss USA pageant, but lacking a photo I can’t say for sure this is her royal depiction on the pinback button. Is there a Golden Queen expert in the house?

Vanderbilts don’t welcome ‘newspaper notoriety’

On this day in 1897: President William McKinley, en route to Washington by train, arrives in Asheville for an overnight stay at the Biltmore House.

George W. Vanderbilt is out of the country and has left in charge E.J. Harding, who precipitates a minor flap by briefly refusing entrance to the White House press. “Mr. Vanderbilt does not like newspaper notoriety,” he explains, “and neither do I.”

Pictured: “Real photo” mirror/paperweight, early 1900s.

Remember when Krispy Kreme took Manhattan?

krispykreme

“I spent many hours happily gazing at doughnut machines but avoiding doughnuts until last summer, when the Krispy Kreme doughnut craze began to sweep New York and I got hooked. The modest, clean Krispy Kreme doughnut store on W. 23rd Street, with its retro green Formica tables and red and green neon ‘Hot Doughnuts Now’ sign, has become a shrine, complete with pilgrims, fanatics, converts and proselytizers — the sort of religious experience New Yorkers like me are far more receptive to than the ones that actually involve God. The Krispy Kreme Original Glazed doughnut is yeast-raised and light as a frosted snowflake. It is possible to eat three of them in one sitting without suffering any ill effects….

“The store on W. 23rd Street has its problems — neighbors complain about the constant smell of sugar and frying oil — but they are not financial. The [owners] say the store will gross more than a million dollars in its first year, and in December they opened a second store in Harlem across from the Apollo Theatre.”

From “Sugar Babies” by Nora Ephron in The New Yorker (Feb. 17, 1997)

Alas, the intervening years have been cruel to Winston-Salem’s “religious experience,” and nowhere more so than in New York City, where as best I can tell only the Penn Station location remains.

Pictured: Gift shop pinback button, probably unauthorized.

Greeting-card prices track fall from grace

In a bookstore the other day I noticed a wide-ranging line of greeting cards called Quotable Notables. Priced at $3.95 each are scores of die-cut color images of historical figures (e.g., Einstein, Picasso, Freud, Emily Dickinson, Frank Lloyd Wright, Mark Twain) and current politicians (the Obamas, the Clintons, Sarah Palin), along with a choice of stick-on quotes.

In sync with their career arcs, George W. Bush, Dick Cheney and John McCain have been marked down to $2.

One former candidate, however, has fallen even more precipitously — to 75 cents! Care to guess who?