It is possible but unlikely that there are men and women around the world whose memory is so long that they can remember a time when the existence of zippers was completely unknown. Zippers today appear in a multiplicity of places. They are on our clothes as well as on some of our plastic bags that we put into the refrigerator. They are on our luggage, and there are some foods and medicines that come in what are now called “Ziplock®” bags. Indeed at this point zippers have become ubiquitous throughout Western society.
Needless to say, this was not always the case. Baby boomers and those citizens who are now approaching their sixties will deny that this was ever a zipperless society. To those whose memories are a bit shorter than mine, I suspect that they believe that zippers are timeless devices and were delivered by some celestial beings as part of our heritage. But that is not the case. My memory is that before the 1940s, zippers were unknown to Western civilization. If they existed during World War II, they would have been denied to the general public on the grounds that metal was used to construct zippers. If my experience is any criterion that might be relied upon, it is clear to me that zippers were unknown until near the end of the Second World War. During the roaring twenties and during the great American Depression of the 1930s, America and the rest of the world depended upon buttons. Buttons are not glamorous but in point of fact they get the job done. In clothing, they held things together and prevented public nudity which is a virtue in itself. Even fan dancers relied on buttons. Some sixty years later, during the 1990s, when editorials reminded Bill Clinton, the President of the United States, that he should “keep his zipper shut” would have proved incomprehensible to those of us who endured the tribulations of the twenties and thirties. In passing, it should be observed that in the cases of certain Governors of the great states of New York and New Jersey (Spitzer and McGreevey), perhaps the same advice should be applied.
During the period before the Second World War, buttons appeared everywhere on men’s clothing. There were buttons of course on shirts just as there were buttons also on men’s trousers. The most important part of men’s trousers is the fly. My recollection is that there must have been three or four buttons on men’s flies in addition to the top button which gathered the left and right parts of the pants together. It goes without saying that buttons had a time span before they would come off. At an early age I learned to replace the buttons on my clothing using a large needle and a thick thread called “Coats’s Number 9 Thread” which would guarantee that the buttons would stay around for a while.
In those bygone days, there were men who wore suspenders which were attached to buttons inside or outside the waistband of the trousers. In the front of the pants I believe there were four buttons, two on each side, for the use of suspenders, with one or two buttons at the back side of the trousers. When a man lost a button on his suspenders, it was a very mild embarrassment. Losing a button on the fly of men’s trousers or even two was a major embarrassment. Buttons would come off from ordinary wear and tear and certainly they would come off when the clothes were laundered or cleaned. Before appearing in public, every man would make certain that his buttons were in the proper state of mind. So you can appreciate that my skill with Coats’s number 9 thread and a thimble was well appreciated by the young gentlemen who wore my clothes and walked in my shoes.
As I have said, buttons were ubiquitous. Ed Dady, who served in the United States Navy during World War II, reported that on one of his early uniforms there were 13 buttons on the trousers. You may recall that in the beginning there were 13 states that constituted the United States of America. Whether those 13 buttons commemorated the original states or whether the difficulty in tending to so many buttons was intended to preserve the chastity of American sailors is not for this essay to contemplate. Sailor man Dady was a good man with the needle, as a needlepoint plaque that hangs on my wall will attest. Perhaps Ed Dady and Ed Carr should have stuck to their sewing instead of going to work for the Bell system. In my own case, after I joined the United States Army, which was a zipperless society until sometime after I left the service, I found that military laundries do not repair the buttons that are torn loose during the washing process. And so, in view of this situation, I kept a supply of buttons, Coats’s number 9 thread, a thimble, and a big needle on hand to repair the wounds inflicted on my clothes by the Army’s laundries.
At the end of 1944, I was very fortunate in being chosen as the Crew Chief to bring back the oldest C-47 (DC-3) in Europe to its maker in San Bernardino, California. This happened in Naples, Italy. The plane was flown from Naples southward into the large American-British base at Accra in what is now called Ghana. When I presented my travel orders to the Quartermaster there, they issued me a piece of luggage called the B-4 bag. This was a marvelous piece of luggage with zippers fore and aft as well as inside and outside. I retained this B-4 bag even after the war because it could carry suits and uniforms for days on end without mussing them.
At that point, I had been told that I would no longer be needed in the combat zone and that I could return to my original Air Transport Command unit in Accra, Ghana. On my return trip to Accra, I managed to squeeze eight bottles of Budweiser into the side pockets of the aforementioned bag, which made me very popular with my friends in Accra.
My research for this little essay included an inquiry into women’s dresses, about which I know very little. I consulted with a gentle lady, Hana Fischer Davis, who originally comes from Holomóc (phonetically Olomotz), Czechoslovakia. Hana reports that in the pre-war period that we have under discussion here, women’s dresses had no zippers. They relied entirely upon buttons. I tried to be as polite as possible when I inquired about dresses that had buttons down the back. Hana led me to believe that sometimes those buttons could be buttoned before the dress was donned but on other occasions, if it was impossible to reach the buttons, a friend – preferably a female friend – could do the honors.
Now before this essay is completed, it is important for your old essayist to state that he believes that zippers are a great boon to civilization throughout the world. I am fond of zippers but my fondness for zippers does not bar me from having a great liking for the existence of buttons. From time to time, zippers get off the track, which causes enormous consternation. But buttons are always there, and they present no great impediment when they fall off.
There is one further thought here having to do with the zippers on men’s trousers. When men’s trousers incorporated zippers, they included also on the waistband a button. The zipper could be pulled up and the button could be buttoned and the belt could be fastened and everything would be right with the world. In recent years, however, the top button has been replaced at the waistband by hooking devices. In many cases during the manufacturing process, the hooking device becomes squashed, making it nearly impossible to fasten the waistband. I suppose that trouser manufacturers are intent upon saving every fraction of a cent from eliminating buttons in favor of the hooking devices. But it appears that those devices will be with us and I suspect that we will have to live with them.
Now as I have said, I have no debate with the existence of zippers. On the other hand, I wish to point out that buttons have their merits as well. I suppose that if Bill Clinton were told to keep his buttons buttoned, it would not have the panache of the headline which told the former President about keeping his zipper locked up. But that is of small moment. I have a fondness for buttons and Coats’s number 9 thread. A man who thinks highly of buttons and Coats’s number 9 thread can’t be all wrong. I rejoice in the fact that in this essay I have come to the defense of buttons. That seems to me a holy and patriotic endeavor.
Finally, there is one other thought to be offered in defense of buttons. As far as I know, every man’s suit coat has four buttons on each sleeve, slightly above where the sleeve comes to an end. Curiously, there are no button holes to go with these buttons. Therefore, scholars such as myself must conclude that these buttons are sewn on the sleeve for the purpose of decoration and the enjoyment of the owner of the coat. These sleeve buttons, as useless as they are, may attest to the defense of buttons as a general proposition. If that is the case, then they are welcome to this space in the essay that is being presented to you on this occasion.
E. E. CARR
April 23, 2008
Essay 310
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Kevin’s commentary: A little time on Google reveals that allegedly, men’s sleeves were fitted with buttons to prevent people from wiping their noses with them. In a more extreme take on a similar idea, another article alleged that Fredrick the Great of Prussia insisted upon the buttons to keep his soldiers looking prim on the battlefield, and preventing them from wiping gore and sweat off their faces with their sleeves. Apparently nobody in these scenarios would think to simply use the other side of the sleeve. Who knows.
In other news, sewing a button back onto a coat is about the only thing I can do with a needle and thread. When I was younger, I learned a stitch called the “whip stitch” which is a very basic way of fastening two things together, and which is used for precisely nothing because it looks terrible. But I bet I could still do that.