Uncle John’s Legendary Lost Bathroom Reader

by Bathroom Readers' Institute

  THE PRESIDENT: James Madison (1809-1817)

  NOTABLE FIRST: First president to weigh less than his IQ.

  BACKGROUND: Madison, the unofficial “Father of the U.S. Constitution,” was only 5'4" tall and never weighed more than 98 lbs. as president. One historian has called him “a dried-up, wizened little man”—and observed that when he went walking with his friend Thomas Jefferson, the two looked “as if they were on their way to a father-and-son banquet.”

  More Americans die in January than in any other month.

  THE PRESIDENT: John Tyler (1841-1845)

  NOTABLE FIRST: First president to elope while in office.

  BACKGROUND: On June 26, 1844, the 54-year-old Tyler sneaked off to New York City with 24-year-old Julia Gardiner to tie the knot. They decided on a secret wedding because supporters were worried about the public’s reaction to their 30-year age difference. It didn’t matter—the press found out about it almost at once. Ironically, Julia turned out to be just about the most popular part of Tyler’s presidency. (P.S.: They had seven kids—the last one when Tyler was 70.)

  THE PRESIDENT: Herbert Hoover (1929-1933)

  NOTABLE FIRST: First president to have an asteroid named after him.

  BACKGROUND: No, it’s not in honor of his presidency. In 1920, Austrian astronomer Johann Palisa discovered an asteroid and named it Hooveria, to honor Hoover’s humanitarian work as chairman of the Interallied Food Council, which was helping to feed starving people in post–World War I Europe. Said Palisa, “It is a pity we have only a middle-magnitude asteroid to give to this great man. He is worthy of at least a planet.”

  THE PRESIDENT: Jimmy Carter (1976-1980)

  NOTABLE FIRST: First president to see a UFO.

  BACKGROUND: One evening in 1969, Carter and a few companions saw a “bluish...then reddish” saucer-shaped object moving across the sky. “It seemed to move toward us from a distance,” Carter later told UFO researchers, “then it stopped and moved partially away. It returned and departed. It came close...maybe three hundred to one thousand yards away...moved away, came close, and then moved away.” He added: “I don’t laugh at people anymore when they say they’ve seen UFOs.”

  The U.S. government spends $79 million a day on “intelligence.”

  COLD FOODS

  The title doesn’t really mean anything. We had a bunch of stories about food we wanted to use, and “cold” was the only thing we could think of that the foods had in common.

  SWANSON TV DINNERS. When Carl Swanson stepped off the boat from Sweden in 1896, the only thing he owned was the sign around his neck that read, “Carl Swanson, Swedish. Send me to Omaha. I speak no English.” Someone sent him to Omaha, where he started a grocery wholesale business that grew into the largest turkey processor in the United States. When his sons took over the company after his death, they began expanding their product line beyond turkeys. Two of their first additions: frozen turkey and fried-chicken meals they called “TV dinners,” packaged in wood-grain boxes that simulated televisions. (Swanson didn’t only intend that the meals be eaten in front of the TV—it also wanted to associate its “heat-and-eat miracle” with the magic of television.)

  Swanson’s first TV dinners bombed. The sweet potatoes in the turkey dinner were too watery, and customers complained that the fried chicken tasted like bananas—a problem caused by slow-drying, banana-scented yellow dye that leached from the cardboard box onto the chicken. Swanson fixed the first problem by switching to regular potatoes; it solved the chicken problem by giving the boxes a longer time to dry. (What did it do with the chicken that had already been contaminated? It sold it to a Florida food chain that said its customers preferred the “new” banana taste.)

  ESKIMO PIES. Christian Nelson owned a candy and ice cream store in Onawa, Iowa. One day in 1920, a kid came into the store and ordered a candy bar...and then changed his mind and asked for an ice cream sandwich...and then changed his mind again and asked for a marshmallow-nut bar. Nelson wondered for a minute why there wasn’t any one candy-and-ice-cream bar to satisfy all of the kid’s cravings—and then decided to make one himself: a vanilla bar coated with a chocolate shell. Once he figured out how to make the chocolate stick to the ice cream, he had to think of a name for his product. At a dinner party, someone suggested “Eskimo,” because it sounded cold. But other people thought it sounded too exotic—so Nelson added the word “pie.”

  What professionals are most likely to become alcoholics? Barbers, say drug treatment experts.

  MINUTE MAID ORANGE JUICE. In 1942 the U.S. Army announced that it would award a $750,000 contract to any company that could produce an orange juice “powder” cheap enough to send to troops overseas. After three years of intense research, the National Research Corporation (NRC) developed a way to concentrate and freeze orange juice, and was working out the bugs in the drying process. It won the contract—but just as it was lining up the financing for an orange juice plant, the U.S. dropped the A-bomb on Hiroshima and World War II came to an end.

  Convinced that powdered orange juice had a future, the NRC decided to forge ahead with its efforts to perfect the drying process. To raise money for the research, the company decided to unload some of its backlog of frozen concentrated orange juice. Marketed under the name Minute Maid, the stuff sold so well that NRC went into the frozen orange juice business instead.

  ICE CREAM MISCELLANY

  Ice Cream Sodas. In 1874, soda-fountain operator Robert M. Green sold a drink he made out of sweet cream, syrup, and carbonated water soda. One day he ran out of cream...so he used vanilla ice cream instead.

  Ice Cream Sundaes. It seems ridiculous now, but in the 1890s, many religious leaders objected to people drinking ice cream sodas on Sunday. It was too frivolous. When “blue laws” were passed prohibiting the sale of ice cream sodas on Sunday, ice cream parlor owners fought back—they created the “Sunday,” which was only sold on the Sabbath; it contained all of the ingredients of a soda except the soda water. A few years later the dish was being sold all week, so the name was changed to sundae.

  Baskin-Robbins 31 Flavors. After World War II, Irvine Robbins and Burton Baskin built a chain of ice cream stores in southern California. One day in 1953, Robbins says, “we told our advertising agency about our great variety of flavors and we said, almost in jest, that we had a flavor for every day of the month—thirty-one. They hit the table and said that was it, the thirty-one. So we changed the name of the company to Baskin Robbins 31. Like Heinz 57.”

  The White House receives an average of 75,850 pieces of correspondence every day.

  RUMORS

  Why do people believe wild, unsubstantiated stories? According to some psychologists, “rumors make things simpler than they redly are.” And while people won’t believe just anything, it’s surprising what stories have flourished in the past. Many of these tales are still in circulation today...

  RUMOR: Wint-O-Green Lifesavers can kill you.

  HOW IT SPREAD: In 1968 Dr. Howard Edward and Dr. Donald Edward wrote a letter to the New England Journal of Medicine warning that the eerie green sparks given off when you chomp on the Lifesavers could—under certain conditions—start a fire. Some possible conditions in which the Lifesavers could kill you: if you ate them in an oxygen tent, a space capsule, or in a room filled with flammable gas. (No word on whether anyone as ever actually chewed Wint-O-Greens under such conditions.)

  WHAT HAPPENED: The letter inspired a number of researchers around the country to experiment with Wint-O-Green Lifesavers to see what made them spark, and to see if the sparks were indeed dangerous. Their findings: The sparks are caused by methyl salicylate, the synthetic crystalline substance that’s used for flavoring instead of real wintergreen oil. The sparking effect is known scientifically as “triboluminescence,” which is what happens when a crystalline substance is crushed. And since the spark is a “cold luminescence” and not a real spark, it can’t cause an explosion. (Even so, researchers advise, if you are still nervous, ju
st chew on them with your mouth closed.)

  THE RUMOR: Silent-screen starlet Clara Bow slept with the entire starting lineup of the 1927 USC football team.

  HOW IT SPREAD: The story was started by Bow’s private secretary, Daisy DeVoe, whom Bow fired after DeVoe tried to blackmail her. DeVoe got back at her by selling an “inside story” account of Bow’s private life to Graphic, a notorious New York tabloid. The USC rumor was only part of the story; DeVoe also claimed that Bow had had affairs with Eddie Cantor, Gary Cooper, Bela Lugosi, and other celebrities.

  Home video sales and rentals are the biggest source of income for movie studios.

  WHAT HAPPENED: The surviving members of the 1927 team deny the story is true. Author David Stenn tracked them down while researching his biography Clara Bow: Runnin’ Wild. They admit that Bow often invited them to her parties, but they were entirely innocent—Bow didn’t even serve alcohol. Even so, the tabloid story destroyed her career: Paramount Studios refused to renew her contract, and Bow “spent the greater part of the rest of her life suffering a series of nervous breakdowns in sanitariums.”

  THE RUMOR: Sesame Street is planning to “kill off” Ernie, the famous muppet of “Ernie and Bert” fame.

  HOW IT SPREAD: The Children’s Television Workshop believes the rumor started somewhere in New England after the 1990 death of muppet creator Jim Henson, who was Ernie’s voice. CTW denied the rumor, but it quickly gained strength; according to Ellen Morgenstern, CTW’s spokeswoman, “We’ve also heard that Ernie was going to die of AIDS, leukemia, a car crash....Someone in New Hampshire even started a letter-writing campaign to save him.”

  WHAT HAPPENED: Sesame Street, the Children’s Television Workshop, and PBS have repeatedly denied the story. As Morgenstern puts it, “Ernie’s not dying of AIDS, he’s not dying of leukemia. Ernie is a puppet.”

  THE RUMOR: Corona Extra beer, imported from Mexico, is contaminated by workers at the brewery who regularly urinate into the beer vats.

  HOW IT SPREAD: Corona Extra beer was introduced into the United States in 1981. It immediately became the brew of choice for southern California surfers. The fad quickly spread—and despite almost no advertising, by 1986 Corona had become the #2 imported beer in the nation. Less than a year later, however, the brand’s importer, Barton Beers of Chicago, was inundated with rumors that Corona was contaminated with urine. Barton traced the rumor back to a competing wholesaler in Reno, Nevada.

  WHAT HAPPENED: Barton Beers sued. In July 1987, the wholesaler settled out of court, and agreed to declare publicly that Corona “was free of any contamination.”

  What’s the biggest dating turn-off for American women? 74% say foul language.

  THE RUMOR: Newspaper baron William Randolph Hearst started the war in Cuba. The legend goes like this: In 1898, Hearst sent the famous artist Frederic Remington to sketch the war for the Hearst newspapers. The only problem: There was no war in Cuba—and Remington didn’t think it would ever start. He cabled to Hearst, “Everything is quiet. There is no trouble here. There will be no war. I wish to return.” Hearst cabled back, “Please remain. You furnish the pictures and I’ll furnish the war”—and then single-handedly used his newspapers to generate enough pro-war public opinion to actually start the war.

  HOW IT SPREAD: James Creelman, a Hearst reporter, first published the story in his memoirs.

  WHAT HAPPENED: He never produced any evidence to support his charge, and Hearst denied the story in private. Many historians question whether the exchange ever took place...but no one knows for sure.

  THE RUMOR: Cellular phones can give you brain tumors.

  HOW IT SPREAD: In February 1993, according to a news report, “A Florida widower alleged on the CNN show ‘Larry King Live’ that the brain tumor which killed his wife in May, 1992 was caused by radio waves emitted by the cellular phone she used. His wife’s monthly cellular bill was $150, roughly twice the national average....He contends the tumor was near the place the antenna of the phone pointed.”

  WHAT HAPPENED: Stock in some cellular phone companies dropped 6% overnight...but later recovered. Motorola, one of the country’s largest cellular phone manufacturers, called a news conference to cite “thousands of studies” that showed the phones do not cause cancer. The Food and Drug Administration found that “there is no proof that there is a cancer threat from these phones.” But the FDA conducted no independent tests before issuing the statement; instead it relied on information submitted by cellular phone manufacturers. All cellular phones on the market in 1993 tested well below federal guidelines for radio-frequency protection; nevertheless, Motorola advised customers “not to press body parts against the antennas of cellular phones.”

  Poll results: 17% of “Entertainment Tonight” viewers believe Elvis is still alive.

  THE TOUGHEST

  TOWN IN THE WEST

  Think of a typical Western town in the 1870s. Saloons with swinging doors...horse manure all over the street...painted ladies waving at passersby...and gunfights. Lots of gunfights. It was such a popular image that Palisade, Nevada, decided to preserve it. Here’s the story, with thanks to the People’s Almanac.

  ALEGEND IS BORN

  By the late 1870s, the “Wild West” era was winding down. But it was such an entrenched part of American lore that many people hated to see it go.

  One town, Palisade, Nevada, decided to keep it alive for as long as possible—by staging fake gunfights for unsuspecting train passengers on the Union Pacific and Central Pacific railroads, which regularly pulled into town for brief rest stops.

  The idea got started when a train conductor suggested to a citizen of Palisade that “as long as so many easterners were travelling west hoping to see the Old West, why not give it to them?”

  COMMUNITY ACTIVITY

  The townspeople took the idea and ran with it: one week later they staged the first gunbattle in Palisade’s history. The good guy was played by Frank West, a tall, handsome cowhand from a nearby ranch; Alvin “Dandy” Kittleby, a popular, deeply religious man (who also happened to look like a villain), played the bad guy.

  Just as the noon train pulled into town for a 10-minute stop, Kittleby began walking down Main Street toward the town saloon. West, who was standing near a corral about 60 feet away, stepped out into the street and shouted at the top of his lungs, “There ya are, ya low-down polecat. Ah bin waitin’ fer ya. Ah’m goin’ to kill ya b’cause of what ya did ta mah sister. Mah pore, pore little sister.” Then he drew his revolver and fired it over Kittleby’s head. Kittleby fell to the ground kicking and screaming as if he had been shot, and the passengers immediately dove for cover; several of the women fainted and some of the men may have too.

  Q. What’s the world’s largest office building? A. The Pentagon. It holds 25,000 workers.

  Ten minutes later when the train pulled out of the station, nearly every passenger was still crouched on the floor of the passenger compartment.

  A MILESTONE

  That was probably the first faked gunfight in the history of the Wild West, but it wasn’t the last. Over the next three years, the Palisadians staged more than 1,000 gunfights—sometimes several a day.

  To keep the townspeople interested and the train passengers fooled, the town regularly changed the theme of the gunfight, sometimes staging a duel, sometimes an Indian raid (in which real Shoshone Indians on horseback “massacred” innocent women and children before being gunned down themselves), and bank robberies involving more than a dozen robbers and sheriff’s deputies.

  Those who didn’t directly participate in the gun battles helped out by manufacturing blank cartridges by the thousands and collecting beef blood from the town slaughterhouse. Nearly everyone within a 100-mile radius was in on the joke—including railroad workers, who probably thought the battles sold train tickets and were good for business. Somehow they all managed to keep the secret; for more than three years, nearly every passenger caught in the crossfire of a staged fight thought he was witnessing the r
eal thing. The truth is, the town during these years was so safe that it didn’t even have a sheriff.

  NATIONAL OUTRAGE

  One group of onlookers that weren’t in on the joke were the metropolitan daily newspapers in towns like San Francisco, Chicago, and New York, which regularly reported the shocking news of the massacres on the front pages. Editorials were written by the dozens denouncing the senseless waste of human life and calling on local officials to get the situation under control. They even called on the U.S. Army to occupy the town and restore order...but since the Army itself was in on the joke, it never took action.

  Over time Palisade developed a reputation as one of the toughest towns in the history of the West—a reputation that it probably deserved more than any other town, since it worked so hard to earn it.

  Is it the cause or the result? Married men are twice as likely to be obese as single men.

  FABULOUS FLOPS

  These products cost millions to invent. Their legacy is a few bathroom laughs.

  The Studebaker Dictator. Not exactly “the heartbeat of America” when it was introduced in 1934. According to one auto industry analyst, “after Hitler and Mussolini came to power, a name like Dictator was downright un-American.” Yet incredibly, the nation’s #5 automaker stuck with it for three years.

  Bic Perfume. The snazzy $5.00 perfume that looked like a cigarette lighter. Why wasn’t it a hit with women? According to one industry expert, “It looked like a cigarette lighter.” Bic lost $11 million.

  Chilly Bang! Bang! Juice. The kiddie drink in a pistol-shaped package. Kids drank it by putting the barrel in their mouths and squeezing the trigger. Outraged parents—and complaints from officials in at least two states—got it yanked from the shelves.