It's 1905. What does The American Home have for the American Home?

They must have been so damned hot, that’s all I can think about:

We’ve discussed American Standard here before, so I won’t retread the history. Note that the three pieces cost $101, and in 1905 money - well, 1914 money; that’s as far back as the calculators go - that would be $2,500.

You can get a cheap enameled tub today for $120 at Lowe’s. You could buy the whole set and have scratch left over for an air conditioner, which you might not need all the time because you’re not dressed from neck to ankle.

There’s a term you don’t hear any more:

The heaters outlast the building. You have a vision of them standing in the sky, connected to quivering pipes, after the bricks have fallen to the earth.

But why would you want to add more? Because you’d taken out a wall, perhaps, and enlarged a room.

Which is why the bricks fell.

Photographs of the President, cutting down trees, haying in the fields, and enjoying himself generally.”

I don’t think they released photos of him enjoying himself specifically.

There’s a cover online at Google’s Arts & Culture Whatever; I have color-corrected it for your viewing pleasure.

Stop blindly grabbing bottles from the cabinet and chugging them down in the hopes your bowels will loosen! You will take poison! Rather, the other wrong poison! Also, make sure you store your poison near the medicine!

The Lincoln Trust Building was a handsome piece of early 20th century Filedrawer Style. And there’s a tale.

A 1962 "renovation" removed or covered up many of the building's interior features. By the 1970s, the spector of civic planning loomed over the Title Guaranty, as it was in the path of a plan to create a linear green park from the Arch to the Civil Courts and beyond. Conceived in 1907 - a time when St. Louis was crowded to bursting and desparately in need of green space - the plan was horrifically outdated by the late 70s, as St. Louis was hemoraging population and downtown had lost significant skyscrapers at a frightful rate.

Looks like another City Beautiful / White City urban redesign; seems odd they’d dust it off in the 80s. Alas:

the combination of ribbon-cutting politicians, business interests in the "half mall" plan, and outdated notions of progress were too much. The Title Guaranty Building was demolished (by conventional means, rather than the dramatic implosion which befell the neighboring Buder and International) in 1983.

Today the sleek, bland Gateway One Building stands on the Title Guaranty's former site... surrounded by largely unused green space, parkland which the depleted city has constantly struggled to bring to life.

Bland? Sleek? Ugly piece of junk.

For the 1%:

The pieces that survived probably consisted of a few end tables, which spent their last years in the tumble-down apartment of a great-great-grandchild.

Taste is relative, of course but I think that’s relatively ugly.

Gee, if only we knew more - but we do!

Heywood Brothers was established in 1826, Wakefield Company in 1855. Both firms produced wicker and rattan furniture, and as these products became increasingly popular towards the end of the century, they became serious rivals In 1897 the companies merged as Heywood Brothers & Wakefield Company (this name was changed to Heywood-Wakefield Company in 1921)

Thanks, obsessive completist wikipedia editor!

Still around - although whether the original firm is still in existence or the unused name was bought by another company, I can’t say, and to be honest, I don’t care.

Furniture, toilets, poison, bandages: these are the ever-lasting basics. Behold, the always-popular In Of Accident Case:

You can buy these things now, in a different form, but I don’t think they have Surgeon’s Lint.

Finally, this marvelously self-satisfied ad:

Technical achievements and Ideas! That’s what we’re here for. To invent. To improve. To imagine and make it happen. To focus the sun’s reflected light and burn a hole in an enormous book floating in a gas nebula.

No, wait, that’s God’s job.