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Colorful Characters

Philosophers

Whenever someone starts to talk about philosophers in general, somebody in the group says he thinks they’re a gloomy lot, always pointing out the follies of the past and predicting some sort of doom for the future. But what better is there to do than philosophize after our dancing days are done, and we nurse our sciatica by the fireside? And sooner or later we get around to reminiscing about colorful old-timers and comparing them with people today.

Those old-timers didn’t live under the current pressures; life was far more simple and people lived pretty much as they pleased. We think of many of them as “characters,” though they had a lot we don’t have because they retained the individuality with which they were born. Our own modern lives have honed even the roughest and toughest among us down to a nice round smoothness that not only gathers no moss . . . but is apt to wind up as nothing but sand.

So, when we speak of those old characters, we’re talking about people who stood for something and refused to be lost in the sands of the sea. Despite a few faults, there’s much to admire in the individuality of the lone wolves, the go-it-aloners, the dissenters, hermits and “aginers”.

How can we help but glory in the “colossal gall” of Mark Twain who put American vernacular into prose and color into conventional English; or admire Sinclair Lewis whose Main Street prodded the smallness out of our small towns; and do anything but revere Will Rogers. His candid comments wrapped with nothing but rope, could make even a king look like an ordinary kind of guy. And make him like it, too!

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Polite people

To be polite means more than wearing a surface veneer because, as an old Mammy often said to her young charge: “You mind your manners, honey-chile, ’cause some day dey is comin’ back in style again!” Thus the little fellow learned early in life that politeness is much the same as an air cushion; maybe there’s nothing in it-but it sure can gentle the jolts!

Enthusiast

There’s a very special quality about an enthusiast when you consider that enthusiasm can convert drudgery into a crusade, and even cloak menial labor with glory. Yet, enthusiasm itself is hardly enough-unfortunately it isn’t a self-sustaining thing. It may flare up quickly as the excitement of a kid with a box-top to mail. . . but often it is no more lasting than the match that burns itself out. Today’s rapid pace takes more than fleeting flames of something as fickle as enthusiasm; the important thing now is continuing stimulation. Just “getting a kick out of” one new thing after another doesn’t carry with it the sustained glow of dedicated devotion to duty.

Tolerant

In order to be considered tolerant, one must recognize that everyone has a right to his own ridiculous opinion. There’s nothing finer than the person who practices true tolerance, but frequently, the phrase is abused and oftentimes by those who are deeply religious people . . . because they are not tolerant of those who don’t believe as they do. Probably Quakers go down the tolerance trail farther than any other sect, but some of these sometimes feel the strain. Richard Nixon tells of a Whittier, California Quaker who was spattered from head to toe by a speeding driver who ran a red light. Standing at the curb trying to collect himself, our friend recalled his teachings of toleration and muttered: “May thy soul find peace. And the sooner the better!”

Flatterer

When a flatterer pays a compliment and an embarrassed friend says, “Flattery will get you nowhere” that’s utter nonsense! Everyone is pleased by praise and attention, and tender words for women and flattery for men, have been known to work wonders when everything else has failed. Don’t sweet young things practice the theory that a little flattery now and then makes husbands out of single men? Take a look at Mr. Milquetoast. He’s the kind of guy who can’t lick his own weight in mice-yet he always falls for his wife’s sweet talk when she tells him he has the physique of a half-back and as much appeal as Apollo!

Everyone basks in the popularity of a V.I.P., and most of us know one or two who carry a heavy load yet never up-nose the rest of us. They know how to make people feel they’re big shots too just because they’re acquainted with “himself” . . . One of these can get a lot of mileage out of his malarkey among men . . . and as a wizard of ooze, his way with women is smoother than saddle soap.
Flattery will get you nowhere? Humbug!

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The patient kind

Doctors are not the only ones who need patients. Patience and energy don’t go together, and some of the most frustrated people we see are the energetic fireballs who haven’t learned about patience. A patient man is one who idles his motor when he’d rather strip his gears-it takes time for him to realize that even a waiter finally comes to him who waits.
The secret of being patient is to do something else in the meantime, and thus make the waiting time pay.

Screen idolizers

Hysterical, awe-struck demonstrations that go on whenever a celebrity shows up, add up either to fun or to foolishness. It’s a pigmy ego popping off when an impressionable nobody goes into ecstasies because an actor looked in her direction or a singer winked as he went by. It’s newsworthy when a visiting V.I.P. says or does something-but when the press plays up the diet of a screen star’s pet poodle we get a pain . . . and you know where!

It’s one thing to drop by Chicago’s Svithiod Club when Lauritz Melchior comes to town and catch him giving out with a spontaneous aria as he’s been known to do after an “acquavit” or two; but when Wiggly Willie’s train comes down the track and a horde of squealing bobbysoxers jams the station traffic-that’s something else again. When these teenagers pass out all over the place because they got a peek at the back of his head, what else can you say of them except that they’re a bunch of crazy mixed-up kids?

Flappers

When today’s generation asks, “What was a flapper?” the best way to explain is that fads and fancies since the Roaring Twenties have gone through a series of changes, fluctuating between starchy and casual, formal and flapperish.
In those Twenties, the modish gals of the moment were called “flappers” because, along with the clutch coat and cloche hat, went big black galoshes with buckles-similar to snow boots that men wear now in a blizzard. Only, the girls didn’t hook the gol-derned buckles, they walked with them open and flapping like fins on a seal. Hence-”flappers!”

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Active Americans

Being active marks the difference between having a wistful yen to do a certain thing and having a burning desire to accomplish it at any cost. The desire itself resembles warm water in a boiler; it doesn’t produce any steam. There has to be fire and force before the water will come to an active boil.

None of us is responsible for all the things that happen to us, but each of us is responsible for the way we respond to what does happen. It is characteristic of the active drive that most Americans enjoy, that they believe many things come fastest to him who won’t wait. This trait of activity sets them apart from most other people.

Bastard

One of the most talked about but least seen people, is the bastard. He has been variously defined. Mr. Webster says he’s “a natural child begotten and born out of wedlock.” To my cussin’ cousin he’s anybody who doesn’t agree with him; and to the County Clerk in Izzard County, Arkansas, he was the local Justice of the Peace.
Not long ago a couple from the hills came to this J.P. and said that now that their son was old enough to start school, they thought maybe they’d better get married. The Justice agreed, and asked for their license. When they handed it to him, he looked it over carefully and told them: “This is all in order except it doesn’t give the age of the bride; I know you’re old enough, Ma’am, but this license has got to show that you’re of marrying age. I could insert your age for you, but it wouldn’t be legal to do it that way.”

So, the couple returned to the Clerk who obligingly inserted the proper figure, and the pair went back to the J.P. He scanned the document a second time and shook his head: “That’s what I was afraid of; he inserted your age in a document that had already been sworn to; he should have issued a new license with your age appearing on it, and then had that new one sworn to. You’ll have to go back again.”

So the couple repaired to the clerk a second time and he grumblingly filled out the new form and affixed his seal. With that, the pair went again to the J.P., and after he’d checked the paper, he performed the ceremony. “Now,” said the happy wife, “our son is legitimate.” At that the J.P. explained to the couple that a marriage is not retroactive, and so the boy was still a technical bastard. “He is?” questioned the surprised wife. “Why . . . that’s what the clerk said you was!”

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The Helpmate

In some ways a successful political leader may be captain of his fate, but in many matters he takes orders from his mate. A few men have foresight, but all women have insight and the corridors of Congress are crowded with ambitious women pushing their husbands ahead. No woman makes a fool of a man, but many of them have made a man of a fool. Lobbyists stand in awe of feminine intuition, that womanly way of reading between the lies . . . and they speak of Solomon as the wisest guy in antiquity because he had the advice of so many. Another school of thought advances the theory that God made women last because He didn’t want any advice while He was creating man.

Our guest today is living proof that there is always a chance that a woman will give a man an opportunity to develop his natural capacities, and he’ll take it.

Royalty

Some of us look with disdain upon royalty’s unearned gains, a reaction Elizabeth dispelled when she moved among us and captured our affections by proving herself every inch a Queen.

Royal rank involves infinitely more than acknowledging curtsies and adulation; there’s an endless devotion to endless duties that demand more self-discipline than most of us could muster. In her royal capacity a Queen endures the strain of smiling until her muscles tremble from fatigue and she suffers exhausting hours when she stands supported by two tired feet. The wear and tear of being the constant center of attention is tremendous; pomp, protocol and tradition forbid her the freedoms of the ordinary girl who can powder her nose, straighten her hose, and slip a cramped toe from her patent pump.

Harry Truman used a folksy expression before Elizabeth ascended to the throne. He smiled when he met her and said, “Ever since I was a boy I’ve dreamed of seeing a pretty princess-and here she is!”

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Blondes

Our speaker is a normal man-he takes a second look at every blonde. He favors flaxen haired damsels . . . and doesn’t overlook the raven beauties or the sultry brunettes who choose to become what gentlemen prefer. He tells of a corn-tassel-top who brings out the explorer in men; she wears black garters in memory of those who have gone beyond. She’s looking for the right guy-but keeps having fun with the wrong ones.

There are all sorts of blondes; the glamorous gal who can’t keep out of arm’s way; the doll with designs in her eyes as well as her dress; and the gold-digger who brings out the animal in men. Mink! When any of these peroxided sisters enter a room, they make every unbleached wife stop, look-and bristle!

“Gold Diggers”

The “gold digger” tag for a certain type dame, went out when we went off the gold standard . . . but don’t let that fool you into thinking that through the fluctuations of our diminishing dollar, some dolls don’t still purr for their fur. It isn’t true that a gold digger didn’t want to marry; it probably was that she never found the right amount, and never took a man for granted as long as he could be taken for anything else. Gold diggers remained true to their type . . . they knew a good thing when they saw it, and none had her heart so badly damaged that money wouldn’t cure it.

Dowagers

She was a buxom gold coast dowager at least sixty-in both age and girth. She was a stubborn stout in her velvet gown and diamond tiara. Whenever she moved, the glare of her jewels was as bright as the headlight of the Super Chief in the desert at midnight. She always carried a dirty look in her hand, one that she held up to her eyes to look over every situation and prove that she was right.

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Maidens

A maiden is a maid in waiting for some guy smart enough to make money but stupid enough to give most of it to her. Some maidens change their ways-but their designs stay the same. They listen to a man’s voice for an engagement ring, then get a wedlock on him. One reason why they’re such live wires is because they wear so little insulation.

Indian maidens had heap big fun in the buffalo grass with a beau and error, but the modern miss knows how to stay on her toes to protect herself from a heel. She knows the difference between a proposal and a proposition, and that her biggest asset is a man’s imagination. Nothing keeps a maiden on the straight and narrow so much as being built that way; she’d rather be well formed than well informed, and she asks in her prayers to be looked over-but not overlooked.

Girl Scout Leaders

We’re coming into the season when Girl Scout leaders plan their spring and summer schedules; any Dad elected to repair last winter’s damage at camp appreciates the work of these leaders. It takes a lot of planning to harness the energies of growing girls. The first ten minutes of a meeting go toward quelling the giggles, and if one of them mentions the current singing crush … it takes ten more to squelch the squeals.

There’s much more to scout leadership than teaching bobby-soxers the scout oath; their leadership wields a strong influence in molding these malleable young minds and in convincing them that the scout rules they live by now are an ideal code of conduct for life.

A few years from now, today’s scouts will be tomorrow’s professional women and housewives. Guiding them toward these destinies is a large order. Doctors can give counsel on good health, then go con-ventioning and ignore every caution -but scout leaders counsel and advise on a code by which they personally abide.

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Husband

A husband is a bachelor who lost his liberty in the pursuit of happiness. Our guest is one model husband who’s given his wife the best ears of his life. He thinks he’s a cock pheasant in a chicken run but all he runs around the house is the errands; his wife takes charge of the kids, the servants, the dog and the parakeet. She lets him say what he pleases to the goldfish.

Yet with all this, he’s lost when his wife’s away and he’s off the leash-maybe because he’s never footloose or fancy free long enough to get used to freedom. She knows he’s like a cigar-not much good once he’s gone out. Our guest will make every effort to break down this buildup, and insist that he’s the boss in his household. But a man with a line like that will lie about other things too!

Little Girls

Between babyhood and maidenhood lies the baffling land of girlhood-the period that embraces doll days, the ugly duckling stage, and the “I hate boys” phase … but through them all, little girls are about the nicest thing that can happen. Maurice Chevalier sang it for us in “Thank Heaven for Little Girls.”

A wonderful bit of a angel dwells in every little girl-along with an impishness she uses as a pickin’ string once she has a lasso ’round your heart. Whether she’s ladylike as lace or baking mud pies on the steps; whether she’s fraying all your nerves or sitting still in her Sunday best, she’s either the sweetest or the sauciest little lass in the world. She shows her Motherhood instincts when she drags her doll by one foot, or turns into a tomboy ‘ere she learns that her strength lies in her weakness. She can shriek the worst, grate your nerves the most, pout the prettiest, dig at your dignity the deepest, and register nothingness more when you want to show her off … then, wide-eyed, become the biggest flirt when it’s time to correct her!

A little girl can muss up your home, your hair, your dignity; spend your time and try your temper-but when your patience is ready to pop she turns into a little angel and you find yourself lost all over again!

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Types People Talk About

The people we meet along life’s pathways put on the world’s greatest show of shows. Some performers entertain us with their admirable assets, others limp through the program as liabilities. Some play up their vices, others turn to virtues. Most of them are sincere, but now and then we watch a phoney go through his act. There are a few comics, but the majority are serious, sober people. There are types that are typical and those that are colorful. . . what a kaleidoscope, this passing parade! Appearances so often are deceptive-just as today’s dollar is; it looks as it did ten years ago, but there the similarity stops. It is often necessary to talk of a type of person and these generalities can be adjusted to fit.

Wolf

Even when knighthood was in flower, a wolf could make news-remember Red Riding Hood? Today a young lady doesn’t run into only one wolf in a lifetime, she finds them on every corner and in the middle of the block. These predatory males are guys who know all the ankles; tall, dark and all hands they’re single men with a double purpose. The age of a wolf is an undetermined thing embracing terrific teen-agers; college kids too poor for etchings (they ask a co-ed to come-up-and-see-the-handwriting-on-the-wall); prowlers who trip the night fantastic; and worn out roues wearing faces filled with broken commandments.

Old Rou

Spring brings everything out into the sunshine, from crew-cut youngsters on scooters to romantic old roosters sporting talc at their temples. Some of these big dame hunters won their first girls on a bicycle built for two- now they’re playboys dabbling in stocks and blondes . . . romantic old duffers who enjoyed every decade of a riotous life with a last ditch buoyancy that makes Don wan by comparison. Usually they are amorous old goats-every other inch a gentleman. Girls keep running through their minds-they don’t dare slow down to a walk. One deserter from the ranks of these roues fell for the frills of a charming widow. She turned him into a house-broken husband-a tired old tomcat who wants only to hurry home and purr by her fireside.

Cad

A heel can be a hero in rusty armor but a cad is just a low-bred bum who clings to the bottom rung of society’s ladder. He may be blessed with a chess champ’s mentality but his pick-pocket instincts pop out. His frustrations and complexes he blames on his Father, because “the old boy never applied the paternal board to my understanding during my formative years.” On the sands of time he doesn’t even leave the marks of a heel.

One cad was the offspring of a pair of bad ancestors. His father was a petty thief, his mother a kleptomaniac. After Willie was born the doctor missed his watch and didn’t find it until the nurse unclenched the wee fellow’s fist. A cad never will admit that he’s a self-made problem child. One of them spent a fortune to cure his halitosis-only to find that his friends didn’t like him anyway.

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Secretaries

A prime requisite of even the comeliest, most capable cog in the office machine is the ability to get along with people. Thus, the secretary needs to be a combination of competence and curves with beauty and brains well blended. She needs to master grammar as well as Gregg (to revise her head man’s tense without losing the sense). She makes his appointments, buys his tickets, hunts his gifts, covers up for his cussedness, sews on a loose button, and keeps his bank account balanced.

A secretary is a lesson in diplomacy for she has to stay gracious as a gal in a plantation mansion despite the boss’s indolence, frustrations, and five o’clock dictation. She remembers his friends as well as his foes; his favorite brand, pet peeves, old clients, new accounts, tastes, wastes and false hastes . . . the things he likes and those he doesn’t. She reminds him when his hair needs trimming and his shoes need shining and when he blows his top and abuses his fellow man-hers is the chore to stop the roar and cover up his discourtesy.

Meantime and in between time, she must look like a girl, think like a man, act like a lady, and work like a dog! In this poetic resignation, unaddressed and unsigned for obvious reasons, a secretary summarizes her trials and tribulations:

Dear Boss:
I am tired. I’m quitting this game.
My head has gone dizzy, my back has gone lame.
My seat is all calloused, my hand’s paralyzed
From taking dictation. God help my poor eyes!

I’ve finished the brief in the Worcestershire case … a sloppy memento of this awful pace.

The Writ of Attachment was served on the Bank.
Defendant just called he thinks it’s a prank.
Miss Pewster was in and she asked that you ‘phone,
Your wife’s raising hell, says she’s so much alone.
The stamps are all gone, you need a new chair,
Your nails could stand trimming; remember your hair!
I cleaned out the bottles and cigarette butts.
You’ll need a new steno for THIS one’s gone nuts I

Keywords: Public Speaking, Public Speakers, Public Speaking Tips, Public Seminar Speaking