The Town's Elite Take Up Knee-Breeches
A satirical poem mocks Aberdeen's socialites for adopting the latest high-fashion trend.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
An idea somewhat eccentric has seized some bowling swells, Which they calculate will raise them in the eyes of certain belles, They may meet with vulgar buffets and occasionally a snub, But they're going to wear knee-breeches is the Knickerbocker Club. Holy smoke, but 'twill be funny when Kinnison we see With brief and boyish pantlets reaching scarce below the knee, And a long and ambling body which should be stuffed up with grub, Oh, he will make a shiner in the Knickerbocker Club. And Stapp, the portly doctor—say, won't he get a blast When he promenades the sidewalk with his trousers at half-mast; J. J. Johnston, Brauer, Paine, and Parnell, the jolly stub, They are sure to knock us silly, the Knickerbocker Club. If the scheme materializes we will see most any where Some shapely calves a-roaming 'round—like at a country fair; High water pants will be the rage in this proud social hub, And unholy hose be worn by the Knickerbocker Club.
“High water pants will be the rage in this proud social hub, And unholy hose be worn by the Knickerbocker Club.”
Local newspapers have a long tradition of roasting the 'swells' in town. While Aberdeen's economy was then rooted in timber and milling, the desire of the local elite to mimic the fashions of coastal metropolises—even to the point of absurdity—remains a classic piece of small-town cultural friction.
From readers
No comments yet. If you know something about this story — a correction, a family memory, a source — it belongs here.