Some historical treasures are just too important to
lose.
Bill
ions of dollars are spent each year on the preservation of old
homes, personal items, battlefields, natural wonders, and
documents, but there is one important item of history which
nobody seems to be interested in preserving for
“posterity.” I
refer, of course, to that structure in which many older folks
have spent a considerable amount of time – the outhouse, or
“loo.”
Yes, my friends, that song that your parents sang to
you, when you were knee high to a short grasshopper, was about
a trip to the outhouse; “
Skip
to my loo, my darling.
Since it is quite possible that some readers might be
unfamiliar with the outhouse concept, perhaps I should
describe a typical outhouse and explain its use.
Back in the days of yesteryear, most people didn’t
have indoor plumbing in their homes.
Most homes had a hand-pump outside, and they would
carry water inside in buckets, where it might be heated, used
for cooking, or bathing. Often,
especially in the summer, family baths were taken outside in a
number-2, or number-3 washtub and, also typically, this was
weekly affair. Since
most homes had no indoor plumbing, these homes had no flushing
toilets inside them. This
made it necessary that some sort of structure be prepared
where folks might go to relieve themselves.
So, they dug a hole in the ground, usually a round hole
about 6 feet deep, they built a small building around it and
then they built a box over the hole, with a round-ish opening
in the top of the box. Then,
they had themselves an outhouse, or a “privy” as these
structures were often called.
Sometimes, folks installed a small door, which was
hinged, that could be closed to cover the hole.
As far as I know, toilet paper hadn’t been invented
in those days. Instead,
most people used pages torn from old catalogs.
I always looked forward to those Sears Roebuck sale
catalogs because the paper upon which they were printed, was
much thinner, and therefore, much softer than the regular
catalogs. While
I’ve never personally experienced such, I’ve been told
that before Sears Roebuck and other businesses started mailing
out their catalogs, many people used corncobs in their
outhouses, and corn pulled to make roasting ears was a special
outhouse treat because they were much softer than corncobs
that had been pulled for the making of grain.
(I report; you decide.)
Back then, when everybody had an outhouse, talking
about such was, indeed, a social faux pas, but times have
changed. Back
then, folks were concerned about social correctness, but now
we have evolved to the point where we are in an anything-goes
society, but political correctness is in vogue.
So, now that such topics can be discussed (even in
mixed company) and since few of these structures have been
preserved, it is important that stories of their use be
preserved for their historical value, and for the education of
our offspring.
While most outhouses only offered a seating capacity of
one, some were called two-seaters, three-seaters, or even
four-seaters. I’ve,
personally, never seen anything larger than a two-seater, but
such were known to exist in heavily populated areas.
Actually, the only two-seater that I ever saw was the
one at church, and, as I recall, visiting a two-seater alone
was a frightening experience for children.
That particular 2-seater had an outside door latch on
it – just a short strip of wood with a single nail in it
that one could turn to a horizontal position to keep the door
shut. My friend,
Jerry, liked to sneak over and latch that door when he saw one
of the girls enter the outhouse.
He had a lot of fun from that prank until he performed
his trick when his cousin entered the privy.
She was a rather large girl.
She simply hit that door hard enough to pull the nail
out of the latch. Shortly
thereafter she proceeded to teach Cousin Jerry some manners.
Jerry decided that he had outgrown childish pranks.
Jerry had previously perfected another outhouse prank
– one that required some careful engineering.
The church outhouse, like most outhouses, had a vent
that ran from inside the “box” out the back of the
building. Jerry
went inside the outhouse, and very carefully measured the
distance from the top of the “box” to the middle of the
vent hole. He then
made a small bend to one end of a coat hanger, measured off
that distance, and put another bend in the coat hanger at that
point. In the
summer, wasps were always readily available, so he would catch
a wasp, cut off its stinger, tie the live wasp to the bend in
the end of his coat hanger and wait for an unsuspecting soul
to enter the outhouse and sit down.
Then he
would quietly slide that bent coat hanger through the vent
hole, turn the coat hanger in such a way that the wasp could
lightly brush the behind of the unsuspecting outhouse user
with its legs and wings. Although,
as pranks go, this one was well-engineered, and certainly one
that would get a rise of its victim, Jerry was quickly caught,
and his mother strongly advised him concerning the drawbacks
of the plan’s continued usage.
The fact is that you could say she
showed him the error of his ways most convincingly.
Well, it was most convincingly for most of us, but
Jerry was always a slow learner.
Visiting the outhouse was a rewarding, yet
sometimes, disconcerting experience.
Here, I must digress, and state that I’ve never
really known anyone who skipped to a loo.
Ran, perhaps, but never skipped.
After all, how many folks skip to the bathroom in our
modern age of indoor plumbing?
Obviously, an outhouse visit could be rewarding due to
the relief it offered, but these structures were not usually
the best-kept part of the household.
Consequently, one might find him, or her self, sitting
there admiring the wasp nests and how much each one had grown
since his/her, last visit.
Indeed, outhouses were usually somewhat cooler than the
outside temperature, and this made them a good place for
snakes to find a respite from the sun.
Imagine how put off you might be if you had to make a
mad dash for the outhouse only to get there to find a snake
stretched out across the very place where you were anxious to
sit. Now, imagine
your feelings if the snake was stretched out across the back
of the seat, and you were in such a rush that you didn’t see
the snake until after you sat down and had your pants around
your ankles. As I
said, using an outhouse could be a disconcerting experience.
Of course, the outhouse could be a place of relaxation
and contemplation, just as the bathroom is today, especially
for men. One could
sit there, smoke a cigarette, and consider the details of some
particular project, but even that could prove to be hazardous.
Such was the case of a friend of my father, who made
such a visit to his own privy.
He was comfortably sitting there, quietly enjoying a
relaxing smoke, until he dropped the butt of his finished
cigarette between his legs and into the hole.
Then, he suddenly found himself flying through the air
into the briar-patch, along with the splintered remains of his
outhouse! He was summarily reminded that, just the day before,
he had poured some gasoline into the hole to kill the wasps,
which were nesting inside the box.
Oops! Luckily,
the man didn’t sustain any major injuries, but it was quite
a while before he could sit down again.
As important as the outhouse was, folks rarely used
them at night, mostly because of the inconvenience, but also
because there was no light in most of them.
Instead, most folks maintained a device commonly called
a slop-jar in their bedroom for night use.
This was the basis for the joking question, “What’s
the difference between a rich girl and a poor girl?”
The answer was, “The rich girl has a canopy over her
bed, and the poor girl has a can-o-pee under her bed.”
I feel better now that I’ve done my part in the
preservation of our American heritage.
