From "Punch, Or The London Charivari," August 18, 1888
If you hopped into a time machine and arrived in Cincinnati around 1900, many things would not surprise you. The fashions and clothing styles of that era are well known, the music at least somewhat familiar. You would have a hard time finding a hamburger and pizza would be out of the question, but good German fare would be common. What might be most surprising to a time traveler was how quiet the city was in 1900 compared to today.
There are two cartoons illustrating this post, one from 1888, published in the British humor magazine, Punch. The other, dated 1913, is from the Cincinnati Post. The similarities of theme are remarkable. Both hinge on the reader agreeing that mowing the lawn with a pushmower at dawn is offensive and obnoxious, the very height of incivility.
Imagine your own sleeping situation today. Would you even notice if your neighbor hauled out a pushmower at 5:00 a.m.? Between the start of rush-hour traffic, DoorDash and Uber Eats breakfast deliveries, and everyone’s air-conditioning units ramping up for the day, would an old-fashioned pushmower even catch your ear?
From "Cincinnati Post ," April 24, 1913
This reminds us of another attribute of 1900, namely the absence of air-conditioning and electric fans. Throughout the summer, almost everyone slept with their windows open, and many people preferred sleeping on porches covered only by an awning. Consequently, many sounds we might consider quaint today were nerve-rackingly obnoxious in 1900. Among them:
Advertising Parades
Think of it. In an era before radio, before television, before the internet, how could you boost your product beyond print? In 1918, Cincinnati considered a restriction on advertising parades, limiting marching bands to fewer than 10 instruments. The musicians’ union objected vociferously.
Blacksmiths
In 1913, residents of Avondale filed suit against a blacksmith shop near the intersection of May Street and Lincoln Avenue, claiming the early morning clanging forced them to close their windows even in warm weather.
Cats
It’s a common cartoon trope: An amorous tomcat squalls atop a rickety backyard fence while awakened neighbors shy alarm clocks, bedpans and boots at the wailing feline. But it appears to be based on a common situation. When, in 1911, a man on Hewitt Avenue in Evanston got up to yell at a yowling cat, he discovered that his house was on fire. The Cincinnati Post observed that most people would have hurled a bootjack or hairbrush at the beast, returned to bed and been burned up.
Coasters
In 1914, the Safety Director ordered Police Lieutenants to enforce regulations against coasters made by placing boxes and boards atop roller skates on cement sidewalks, an early predecessor to skateboards. The safety of the children was of no consequence, but neighbors complained about the noise.
Farm Animals
Long ago, a common therapy for patients suffering nervous reactions to city noise was to send them to country sanitariums. It was ironic, then, that a city resident complained to the Cincinnati Post [August 8, 1916] about barnyard animals in his neighborhood. “Congested cities are not places for chicken yards and cow pastures.”
Ferryboat Whistles
As far back as 1859, the Cincinnati Press called upon the mayors of Cincinnati, Covington and Newport to halt the “almost constant, hideous noise” of ferryboats tootling up and down the Licking River.
Garden Gates
The Catholic Telegraph in 1900 advised its readers that good neighbors regularly oil their garden gates to eliminate the “aggravating” noise.
Ice Men
In a day without refrigeration, ice was a necessity but, oh! Those icemen! Neighbors near the Ice Delivery Company in Corryville complained to the mayor in 1907 because of the rowdy icemen loading their delivery wagons.
Newsies
Lots of Cincinnati residents wanted their morning newspapers, but few could tolerate the “news butchers” who delivered the daily rag. Apparently hoping for extra sales while servicing their routes, the newsboys kept up a constant patter. When one citizen complained to Health Officer John Landis in 1913 about this racket, the good doctor’s prescription was simple: “Move.”
Pavement
The Elm Street cobblestones as restored in front of Music Hall are charming today but would have been considered a noisy nuisance by our ancestors. As plans developed for the new City Hospital on Burnet Avenue in 1907, one of the physicians involved—a specialist in nervous disorders—begged for wooden-block pavement to deaden the clatter around the facility. Failing to get wood, he hoped asphalt would be considered as an alternative to the nerve-rattling granite cobblestones in use throughout the city. As early as 1887, Third Street merchants lobbied for asphalt paving to cover the cobblestones because the traffic noise was so extreme it interfered with their ability to conduct business.
Republican Poker
The young male members of the Blaine Club, down on Eighth Street near Main, enjoyed a ten-cent-limit game in 1889 that often ran into the early hours. So many neighbors complained that the club’s Board of Directors shut down the game.
Sheep
In 1892, it was still common to graze sheep on the Courthouse lawn instead of mowing the grass. Believe it or not, the munching of the woolly critters was considered too loud to conduct court business. Judge Moses Wilson sent his bailiff to ask Judge Miller Outcalt to keep it down. Judge Outcalt, appreciating the humor, sent back a note, pleading innocence and blaming Judge John Sayler.
Streetcars
George Harper, the principal of the old Woodward High School at Sycamore and Thirteenth streets was apoplectic. In 1897, the city granted a streetcar franchise on the north side of the campus, already suffering from streetcar traffic on the south side. Streetcars are so loud, Harper complained, that students were unable to hear their teachers lecturing.
Street Vendors
Cincinnati’s streets in the early 1900s thronged with peddlers, hucksters, hawkers and drummers. There was your rag-and-bone man, your scissor-grinder, your tamale man, your notions peddler, your junk man, your hokey-pokey man and others. Every one of them hollered to announce their presence or rang bells or banged on a pot. None of them confined their sales to business hours and some of them especially made their rounds at night. In 1908, Cincinnati’s mayor attempted to impose a 10:00 p.m. curfew for street vendors, but enforcement was spotty.
Talking
In 1916, the western hamlet of Cleves declared it illegal for congregations of more than three individuals at a time on the village streets, under penalty of a $50 fine. The village mayor explained that although there had been no serious disturbances, the chronic “thoughtlessness” of the townsfolk had made it difficult for citizens to get a good night’s rest with all that jibber-jabbering.
Facebook Comments