All-Sports Library (1905-1906): “Five Big Cents of Reading” about “Clean Sports” and the “Life Strenuous”

All-Sports Library. New York, N.Y.: Winner Library Co., 1905-1906. (Cotsen RCPXC-9721333)

The dime novel, like all subgenres of cheap or pulp fiction, enjoys a reputation comparable to the chapbook in the history of young people’s reading.  The story goes that no good can come of consuming them, but they will be devoured.  There is at least one shining light in the mounds of trash: All-Sports Library (February 11, 1905- March 3, 1906), with its “best tales of athletic sports” supposed to “teach the American boy to become an athlete and lay the foundation of a constitution greater than that of the United States….This love for the ‘life strenuous’ is making itself manifest… Recognizing the ‘handwriting on the wall,’  we have concluded that the time has arrived to give this vast army of young enthusiasts a publication devoted exclusively to invigorating out-door life.”This nickel weekly with its big color cover ($2.50 per year) was published by Street & Smith on 7th Avenue in Manhattan, which poured out cheap paperbacks, weekly magazines, and comic books from 1888 until 1959, when it was bought by Condé Nast (Shown above, volume 1, no. 1. Cotsen RCPXC-9721333 Story papers).  All but two of the 30,000-word stories in its 56 issues were written by John H. Whitson under the name of Maurice Stevens.  He was probably paid by the word.

The hero of  All-Sports Library was a boy from a small town in New England: JACK LIGHTFOOT, the best all-round athlete in Cranford or vicinity, keen of eye, clean of speech, and, after he had conquered a few of his faults, possessed of a faculty for doing things while others were talking, by degrees caused him to be looked upon as the natural leader in all the sports Young American delights in—a boy who in learning to conquer himself put the power into his hands to wrest victory from others.

The list of Jack’s adventures in All-Sports Library from number 16 to 50.

At the beginning of the run, Jack and his band of steadfast friends could be found playing the national sports of  baseball and football, branching out into lesser diversions such as hockey and trapshooting. Occasionally Jack’s leadership abilities were engaged by a mutiny by his team in the gym or foul play by the opposing team.  As the year 1905 progressed, Whitson, aka “Maurice Stevens” was obliged to go farther afield to keep his readers’ interest alive. On a winter hunting trip, the intrepid Jack brought down multiple bull moose with his favorite firearm.  The story was supplemented with a timely column by “An Old Athlete,” who was responsible for the feature “How to Do Things:” instructions and pointers on the construction of  snowshoes at home. Did All-Sports Library scrupulously exclude the ladies from its clubhouse?  Not entirely–their enthusiastic presence during games, cheering on the sidelines kept morale high.  Pretty sisters in distress provided the manly and virtuous Jack the opportunity to come to their rescue.  Kate, of the thick tresses and flashing eyes, accidentally encountered on her way home a young man under the influence of alcohom, who tried to obtain a nonconsenual kiss. This unhappy incident has been abridged to omit the passage where Jack disarms Buck of a wickedly sharp knife before it can be used on him. But not without a struggle to master his rage when he wants to turn the knife on Kate’s assailant.
Contrary to the conclusions that could be drawn from the scene above, Kate was no wilting flower.  She was a plucky girl, more than capable of coming to Jack’s rescue when he found himself at a disadvantage in some encounter. Every issue a number of young subscribers wrote in to the editor. “Jack Lightfoot the Second” in Elizabeth, New Jersey wrote about his sister Beth, who was his best friend and preferred playmate. Among the things they did together was retreat to his den and read the weekly.  “Maurice Stevens” was praised to the skies, naturally.  Considerable anxiety was expressed over height and weight: subscribers were always submitting their vital statistics to the editor in order to find out if they were too thin, too fat, or  too short for their ages. Others cheerfully confessed that they were real bookworms and testified that All-Sports Library was their all-time favorite (their dads read every issue cover to cover).  True fans kept all their issues of All-Sports Library in a binder.  To the right is a specimen of a rousing cheer for the magazine. The uniform tone and style of the letters is somewhat suspicious: either they were rewritten into conformity or some member of the editorial staff created them out of whole cloth.  Is it a coincidence that this letter suggesting that readers would really like to hear about Jack’s experiences at boarding school appeared before the scene shifted to his new school, where the older boys subjected him to hazing, going so far as to tie him to a railroad track (he was able to loosen his bonds and escape before the train came down the tracks).In March 1906, subscribers were notified that their favorite weekly was going to be suspended and consolidated with Tip Top Weekly, where they would be treated to the farther adventures of the peerless Frank Merriwell and his friends.  But this was not the end of Jack Lightfoot and his jolly bunch. Waste not, want not, must have been a byword at Smith and Streeter, because the content of All-Sports Library was recycled in three additional publications: the New Medal Library, Sports Stories, and Round the World Library.

 

The History of Dental Care for Babies: The Anodyne Necklace for Teething

Frustration is trying to soothe a teething baby.  The signs are easy to spot—a bright red cheek, inflamed gums, lots of drool, a fist stuck in the mouth, fussing and more fussing.  Rubbing the gums with a lightly chilled silver spoon or a clean finger wrapped in gauze may provide some temporary relief.  No one will be in a very good mood until the tooth breaks through.  The good news is that the process will repeat over and over again the next six to twelve months until all twenty deciduous or milk teeth come in.

We have known for some time that teething is a nuisance that can be dealt with at home, except in rare cases.  Probably every tired parent today goes online questing for a miracle cure.  Amazon makes it fiendishly easy to obsess over dozens and dozens of teething aides in all sizes and shapes—redesigned pacifers, silicone chew toys, plastic freezer beads, sleek Bauhausian rings that teach how to distinguish shapes and colors, etc. most too cute and reasonably priced to resist the temptation of a little retail therapy.

It was supposed to be simpler once upon a time, but that isn’t really true. In the past, medical professionals believed that teething was an important cause of morbidity because it was supposedly responsible for so many infant ailments.  What remedies were there?  Coral sticks were the rich family’s pacifier.  The more elaborate ones were mounted in silver and  decorated with bells and a whistle, like this splendid one in the Metropolitan Museum of Art to the right.  Surely easy to dent, they look like a gift to be proudly displayed rather like a Tiffany & Co. sterling silver barbell rattle and teether, not sucked by a drooly baby.

Protection from illness or bad luck have been afforded for centuries by amulets of various  materials.  In England, wise women put necklaces of peony roots around the necks of teething children, a practice was well documented in early modern pharmacopias.  White peony roots, necklaces of peony wood beads or seeds are still prescribed for fever, inflammation and pain by practitioners of Chinese traditional medicine.  All these ingredients are available on the web for medicinal purposes, by the way.

In the eighteenth century, the anodyne necklace for babies cutting teeth was one of the most famous (or notorious) of the many branded placebos and quack medicines in a rapidly expanding market.  At 5 shillings, only the well-to-do could afford one. Nevertheless competition was so fierce that consumers were warned away from the counterfeits.  Dr. P. Chamberlen, the supposed inventor without credentials sharing  the same last name a distinguished family of physicians, directed customers to the only authorized retailers, jeweler and goldsmith Basil Burchell and Mrs. Randall.   Do not buy a copy unless it comes with a copy of the 8-page pamphlet, the assurance of authenticity. Pages from Cotsen’s copy are shown at the left.

Mr. Burchell, in Long-acre, Jeweller and Goldsmith… London: Mr. Burchell, [not before 1771]. (Cotsen)

Children who balked at taking a pill would accept a light-weight, pretty necklace around their neck.  It worked its magic through  “a secret friendly sympathetic quality” similar to amber, jet, glass or agate and cited the eminent natural philosophers Robert Boyle and Dr. Willis as authorities.  A token pierced with a hole could be threaded on the necklace for added efficacy. Queen Caroline and Augusta, Princess of Wales, purchased one necklace per child monthly.   The pamphlet also suggested the time-honored method of rubbing the gums with a finger dusted in pain-easing powder also available where the necklace was sold.

These “toys” sold by the thousands to superstitious mothers, were nothing but frauds, raged the physician-author of The Modern Quacks Detected (1752).  He described the case of a woman who brought her feverish baby to him for an examination.  Two teeth were nearly ready to break through, so his recommendation was to have a surgeon slit the gums to reduce the baby’s suffering.  Instead the fearful mother bought an anodyne necklace a few days later, by which time the teeth had cut.  Her claim that the necklace cured the baby was picked up by one of the agent’s scouts and doctored up as a testimonial to be included in advertisements.  “Hocus pocus,” snarled the author.  She could have hung a stick around his neck instead and claimed it was responsible for the baby’s improvement.

Bought of Basil Burchell, Sole Proprietor & Preparer… [London, 1833]. (Cotsen)

His protest was in vain.  Cotsen recently purchased a bill head dated January 12 1833 for Basil Burchell, son of the original “proprietor & preparer of the ANODYNE NECKLACE” still trading from no. 79 Long-Acre.  And who paid 9 shillings for a necklace?  None other than Her Royal Highness, Duchess of Kent, Victoria Saxe-Coburg-and-Gotha, the mother of the future Queen Victoria.

Before laughing at the Duchess’s credulity, stop for a reality check.  Dentists caution against allowing babies to wear necklaces, bracelets, and anklets without mentioning if they are being worn as amulets against distress during teething.  Amber teething necklaces have their advocates and there must be a fair number of them for a medical blogger address the veracity of  claims made for them.  Plus ca change, plus c’est plus la même chose….