Paul Minor

Delving Into Yester~Year

Local historian and writer Paul Miner takes items from The Republican’s Yester-Year column to develop an interesting, informative and often humorous article.

To the Editor: Much study has been devoted to the snore. The Reverend Thomas De Witt Talmadge weighed in thoughtfully in August 1883. “Some of the best men who have ever lived have occasionally indulged in it. There are species of snoring that are positively impressive and suggestive.”

The nationally known reverend, having no objection to snoring, “if it is well done,” described more types of rhonchus log sawing than I thought possible. The Republican shared.

Those are: the confusing snore, guttural snore, roaring, choking, skirring, easy, strangulated, crashing, ripping, rousing and “snore all together.”

I assume the last is when bedmates, however so many, cooperatively, simultaneously and possibly in harmony snore. Nothing wrong with that. No one can be accused of keeping others awake during such a stertorous cacophony.

Talmadge offered more. There was snore-down, dignified (I fall within the category), the ecstatic snore and the melancholy one. Another was triumphant.

Talmadge claimed to have heard all in “the course of half an hour.” I’ll not detail further other than observing wildcats and hyenas were mentioned.

One snore he overlooked is the sermon snore. I’ve heard it. Perhaps his oratory was so thunderous none dared fall asleep, or it could be not heard above his din.

Admonitions for good health and long life in February 1882 advised against sleeping in a draft while ensuring proper ventilation and “don’t go to bed with cold feet.” Whose?

Dunking the feet in hot water as a counter-irritant warded off pain, disease and sleeplessness. The ensuing rush of blood to the feet reduced blood that was “crowding into the head.”

Briskly rubbing the scalp “may attract outwardly the blood previously pressing the internal organs.”

Elsewhere, a “sun-purified” room was recommended. Rival paper The Gazette later that year called sunshine “the very best soporific.” Laudanum was the worst.

“It is plain that the poor sleepers should pass as many hours in the sunshine and as few in the shade as possible.” Secluded plants and ladies accustomed to sunshades exhibited “injurious effects.” Verily, “the invigorating powers of sunlight is infinite, and he whose skin is tawny seldom requires a pill.”

Mothers gave their kids Castoria to aid sleep. Castoria also cured colic, constipation and diarrhea (I’m confused), killed worms, promoted digestion and tackled eructation (belching).

Wetting half a towel cured sleeplessness by placing it at the back of the neck and pressing upward “to the base of the brain.” Imagine the pressure required. The dry half of the towel was to be fastened over “so as to prevent the too rapid exhalation.

“The effort is prompt and charming, cooling the brain and inducing calmer, sweeter sleep than any narcotic.”

Having a bath towel handy and no narcotics, I exhaustingly experimented with fastening techniques. Rubber bands were too tight, adding to my misery. I keep bungee cords in my truck but I was unwilling to step outside while pressing a half-wet towel to my brain. Small-town neighbors are inclined to misinterpret; they tend to talk.

I finally wrapped another towel around my head and tucked the end in at the top, avoiding suffocation by employing a straw I hadn’t used from my last visit to Taco Bell. I remembered at the last moment to remove my hand from the cocooning cotton envelope. It didn’t work but I don’t think I snored. Late in 1889, a towel again was recommended for insomnia brought on by “nervousness directly traceable to the optic nerve.” This time, the towel was folded around two pieces of ice spaced apart enough to fit over each eye. The sufferer prone in bed, sleep ensued shortly.

I rather prefer an 1870 insomnia article The Republican somehow missed, but Evansville readers endured instead. Sufferers were to turn their eyes to the right, left, up or down as far as possible, and then commence to roll them around in their sockets continuously until sleep puts an end to it. Suggested time: roughly three minutes, five at the most.

“It not merely diverts thought into a new channel, but actually suspends it.” Deliberately concentrating on the subject keeping one awake was considered impossible.

“As long as (the eyes) are moving around, (the) mind is blank.”

Paul Miner Lizton