A NICKEL’S WORTH OF NOSTALGIA FOR OLD GEEZERS, FOGIES, AND CODGERS


The speech patterns of my parents had Elizabethan overtones. For example, if my mother were to be told that her seventh child had become an Anglican priest or a Baptist Bible-thumping preacher, she would have fainted. Upon regaining consciousness, I am certain that she would have said, “Well, I swan!” The term “swan” is an Elizabethan and/or Appalachian term used by my mother and her country friends to express complete astonishment. I suspect that the Archbishop of Canterbury would also have fainted and said, “I swan!” if this old geezer were to be installed as a priest in his Communion. But he is much more entitled to use Elizabethan terms than was my mother.
When my mother had enough of her sister Nora’s roasted goose and home-made beer during Prohibition, she would refuse a second helping on the ground that she was “tight as a tick” or “tight as a June bug.” I have no idea whether ticks and June bugs qualify as Elizabethan English but they are included here for the sake of making the nostalgia record complete.
When I began to think about the use of the ancient term “swan,” it set me to thinking about other similar obsolete and un-used expressions in the English language. I have no hope of listing them all but a few come to mind without hesitation. The reference in the title to geezers, fogies, and codgers, is not used very often any more. All of those words should be preceded by the adjective old, as I have never heard of a person being referred to as a young geezer, fogy or codger. But those terms used to be used frequently and thus qualify for inclusion in this small essay about nostalgia.
Another piece of this title also qualifies for inclusion in an essay about nostalgic remembrances. These days a nickel buys almost nothing. Even the parking meters have been adjusted to accept only dimes and quarters. As a young man, I can remember when Wings Cigarettes were sold for a nickel and until well into the 1950s, a nickel would buy you a pack of Wrigley’s Spearmint, Doublemint, or P.K. chewing gum. For those who can remember the events that took place prior to World War II, P.K. chewing gum came in sugar-coated tablets much like Chiclets rather than in sticks. There were people who insisted that P.K. chewing gum would cover up the smell of alcoholic beverages. That claim was not backed up by the American Medical Association. For those interested in trivia, the P.K. stood for Phillip K. Wrigley, the gum manufacturer.
It is my hope in this essay to offer a few words that are perfectly acceptable but are no longer used. If time allows, I intend to offer a thought or two about business enterprises that no longer exist.
To start with words that modern-day journalists avoid, there is the term “yonder.” In Elizabethan and/or Appalachian English, yonder could be used to describe going to heaven or going to a far-away place such as my parents’ home town. A two-mile trip from my parents’ residence to Gualdoni’s Grocery Store would not qualify for going “over yonder.” But a trip to Columbia or Kansas City would be considered as going “over yonder.” Another example would be the hymn, “When the Roll is Called Up Yonder, I’ll be There.”
Poets often use “yon” in place of yonder. That is fine with me as long as it rhymes. In any case, yon and yonder are an exercise in nostalgia.
When I hear politicians and preachers use the term “cain’t,” I am similarly given to nostalgia. When the term “can not” is abridged, it is ordinarily pronounced as “can’t.” But one way or another the term “cain’t” has survived all of these years. It is still prominent in Southern rural speech. It makes no sense but, to these ears, it brings back recollections of my childhood.
Then there is the term “shucks.” The term “shucks” is always preceded by the connecting phrase of “aw.” And so it is when a man hits a home run, he will tell the announcer in modest terms that “Aw shucks, I could have struck out on that same pitch.” We don’t hear “shucks” any more to speak of but it brings back pleasant memories and thus qualifies for its place in the Nostalgia Hall of Fame.
Then there is the term “reckon.” I suppose that people who use that term currently might be classified as speakers with rural backgrounds. But that word has always had an attraction to me because it is a modest term. In effect, “reckon” means “to think.” If a real estate dealer were to say, “I reckon that house ought to be worth $500,000,” he would get my attention and probably also my trust. If the newsreaders on television would slip a reckon or two into their announcements, they might grab and hold my attention. But nobody but a country speaker uses “reckon” much any more.
In the old days when crude oil sold for between $5 and $10 per barrel, gasoline at retail level was offered at 20 to 25 cents per gallon. Now that was for “regular.” If your engine was talking back to you with sharp pings, it could be fixed by taking on a tankful of “Ethyl” gasoline which had an additive that made it high test. Today, if someone asked a filling station attendant for Ethyl gasoline, I reckon his question would be answered with a blank stare.
Then there is one other term that seems to have no currency these days. That is the term “felicity.” There is a reporter with The New York Times who has Felicity as her given name, but felicity in the middle of a sentence seems to have gone out of style. I tend to regret that.
I realize the foregoing words are little used these days and it is far from a complete list. There are those who might say that this small number of words merely constitutes a “lick and a promise.” But I do not intend to “plum wear out” all of my references because I am a young old codger. For those of you who have known me for more than 50 years, I am sure that you will realize that I am just “joshing.” And finally, whatever happened to the words, “two bits,” and “six bits” which represented 25 cents and 75 cents in American currency. Anyone who sings the old tune of, “shave and a hair cut, six bits” is thoroughly out of date because that work will probably cost you more than $25 these days. There are many words and phrases that are not used in current speech but if nothing else, perhaps my readers will search their minds for nostalgic words that bring pleasant memories to mind.
Now we turn from words that have little currency these days to business enterprises that seem to be no longer with us. There was the Missouri Pacific Railroad, known as the Mo-Pac line. And then there was the
St. Louis-San Francisco Railroad, known as “the Frisco line.” Then there was another railroad known as “MKT” which stood for Missouri, Kansas, and Texas. It was called the Katy line. It had always been my ambition to ride the Pennsylvania steam train from St. Louis to New York over night, but that was not to be. That was called the Pennsy Railroad. On the east coast there was the Lackawanna Railroad, which was known as “The route of the Phoebe Snow.” The Lackawanna burned anthracite coal in its steam engines which emitted much less soot than soft coal. So Phoebe Snow could say that “My gown of white will be alright, upon the road of anthracite.” We don’t get quality slogans like this any more.
My father worked for the Illinois Central Railroad, which named trains after the cities of their destination. For example, there was the “City of Memphis” and the “City of New Orleans.” That company, with all of those mythical and majestic names is gone now. There is Amtrak in its place, which has no melody in its sound and which offers few rhythms that cause nostalgic thoughts to come alive.
A further trip in nostalgia has to do with Pan American Airways, Transworld Airlines, and Swissair. Pan American Airways, known as Pan Am, explored routes all over the world and was particularly helpful to the United States in its military efforts in the Second World War. Pan Am opened the routes to South America and to Africa. But it is gone now.
Transworld Airlines (TWA) was a major carrier. It was based in Kansas City and had lucrative routes to New York City, Chicago, and other points throughout the United States. There is a great sense of nostalgia when you think that TWA flew DC-3s that would land at Lambert Field in St. Louis, taxi up to a gate in the fence, cut the engines, and have a baggage handler open a rear door and get the luggage. The luggage handler would place the bags on a trolley, roll it a few feet to the fence where the departing passengers could come off and grab a bag and leave. I have great nostalgia for that period of time because it certainly beats the luggage system we now have which requires a trip to the terminal with the hope that your bag finally made it on the flight that you were on.
For many years when traveling in Europe, it was my intension to make it to Geneva, Switzerland, before noon with the hope of catching Swissair Flight #1 to New York. That flight departed at 12 noon, not a minute before and not a minute later. The meals provided aloft were exquisite even in coach class. When I quit traveling to Europe some years ago, Swissair seemed to be enjoying great prosperity. But something has happened in the meantime and in effect Swissair is completely out of business. What a crime! I will always remember a Swissair flight from Moscow to Geneva at 6 AM in the morning. The steward looked at me and departed for the galley to bring me a drink of brandy. He said that he often did that for travelers who had endured the privations of life in Moscow. It took another drink of brandy before we hit the ground in Warsaw, an intermediate stop, which meant that breakfast could be served. Ah, but Swissair is no more and all we have left is a feeling of great nostalgia.
Then there were radio and television manufacturers such as Magnavox, Stromberg-Carlson and RCA Victor. All of them seem to have been replaced by Japanese manufacturers. But the Americans sets which marked the coming of television in this country in 1948 and 1949 bring back poignant memories. I am sorry for the demise of American manufacturers.
Finally there are other business enterprises that unfortunately do not exist anymore. One was the Bell System, which of course provided me with employment through its AT&T branch. For those with long memories, the Bell System had an hour of classical music on radio and later on television every week, known as the Bell Telephone Hour. It was the gold standard of broadcasting and anyone who appeared on that program could claim stardom. But the Bell System was done in by the Telecommunications Act of 1984 and there is no more Bell System.
When you think of gasolines, you may grow nostalgic for the fact that there is no longer a Texaco station nor are there any Sinclair stations. The new owners, whoever they are, ordered that all Texaco signs be taken down effective January 1, 2007. I have missed Texaco and its Saturday afternoon radio broadcasts of the Metropolitan Opera, and the dinosaur who represented the Sinclair Gasoline Company. All I have left is nostalgia for those enterprises.
Well, there you have a list of words and enterprises that either don’t exist or are seldom used. I must say that I reckon that I miss them and that qualifies me as a practitioner of the art of nostalgia. The Elizabethan speakers who used “I swan” don’t seem to exist any more and, to tell you the truth, I miss that sort of speech. And finally, I miss the fact that a nickel won’t buy much of anything these days. It is enough to make a man with a case of nostalgia try to become “as tight as a tick” or “as tight as a June bug.”
There may be hundreds or thousands of other good words that have fallen into disuse just as there are dozens of companies and organizations that have been merged into non-existence. But I only promised you a nickel’s worth of nostalgia, not two bits or six bits worth. So you see, I was not joshing you about that promise.
E. E. CARR
April 6, 2007
Essay 244
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Kevin’s commentary: So a “bit” is twelve and a half cents? What the hell? Listen. Here in the states, our systems of measurements are renowned for being indecipherable and needlessly complex – from Fahrenheit to inches and feet, none of it is the least bit intuitive. One of the only sets of numbers that makes any sense in this country is how we count money. One hundred cents is a dollar. Clearly the 12.5 cent “bit” doesn’t exactly fit too well. At least it divides out evenly into a hundred, but still. Cmon.
The most astounding part of this whole essay though was certainly the part about the flight which supposedly “departed at 12 noon, not a minute before and not a minute later.” As someone who recently got stuck with a 6-hour delay, a plane that consistent seems like a pipe dream.

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