Not a big Halloween-enjoyer at this point in life, but that doesn't mean we can't do something about the day in Bleat style: Ads!
It didn't used to be a major cultural event to which the entire society was bent, but they did have some references.
1928.
The basic iconography hasn't moved in a century.
I don't know what an O. S. Clown is. Yama-Yama . . . some fakir / yoga reference? I find many mentions in old newspapers, but it's always a reference to someone's costume.
Well:
Ginger is referencing Bessie McCoy, who popularized the song. On her site we get the definition: "a comical bogeyman who is "ready to spring out at you unaware," and McCoy's performance is described thus:
She was given the "Yama Yama Man" song in the 1908 revue The Three Twins. She became famous for her lazy, husky singing while performing unusual acrobatic dance routines while dressed in a clown's pajama suit with a fool's cap topped by a puff ball.
So now we know.
1923:
I think that's an apostrophe hanging behind the witch.
In April, 1929, Charles Guth became Vice-President of the Loft Candy Company when Loft bought Mavis Candies, of which Guth was president at the time. In 1930, he was elected president at a stockholder conference where the police had to intervene to ensure it did not become a riot. He remained president of Loft until he resigned in 1935 amidst a stockholder revolt arising from his using Loft's resources to build his other company.
His "other company" sold soft drinks. Guth had purchased the formula from some twice-bankrupt company called "Pepsi Cola."
Wikipedia also notes:
In American corporation law, the Guth rule now stipulates that no representative of a company should take a business opportunity for himself if the corporation is doing well enough financially to carry out the action, if the corporation is interested in it or if it is reasonably expected that the opportunity will do well and the opportunity is in the company's line of business
He left Pepsi after it became a success and went to Noxie Cola, which was not. Also, he shot his chaffeur to death.
1958, Kansas City Star: Hey, it’s Katz! We just toured their store in the 60s Drug Store Manager section.
Giant Bag of Candy Cigarettes: those were the days.
Bunte-Chase: Was this a name that meant much to people?
In 1954, Bunte Brothers Candy Co. was purchased by Chase Candy Co. of St. Joseph, Missouri, and a new firm, Bunte-Chase, was created. In 1961, the firm closed the Chicago plant, dropped the Bunte name, and returned to St. Joseph.
There were so many independent candy makers, once upon a time. Now we’ve what, two big national brands, and a handful of locals that don’t make much of a splash and cost a lot more?
MMMm mmm, Halloween Donuts! Place your orders now:
Kresge's, as you well know, would turn into K-Mart. Another Main street mainstay:
I went to place my order, and they were all full up! What's a mother to do?
I’m starting to think there is a widely-known association and series of assumptions about donuts and Halloween but no one ever talks about it.
Standing policy not to have political groups convene in the meeting room:
You could see prize champion steers after dinner. Carlot steers.
Carlot? "A shipment of freight of the minimum amount required to secure the carload rate." Surely it had some other steer-specific meaning.
Out of this world? More like shackled to it, albeit in a parallel dimension from which one cannot escape, but can observe the world of the living
With over 80 years of creating legendary chips and snack items under our belts, the Guy’s name is one you probably recognize.
It is not.
Today, we continue on with the tradition of making great snacks that Guy (yes, that Guy) Caldwell started in 1938 with a makeshift peanut roaster in the back of a Kansas City storeroom. Back then, our company was called Guy’s Nut & Candy Company.
Every city had a few of these . . . well, guys. And I don’t think they were artisanal nut experts. They were working-class men who got into a trade because the barriers to entry weren’t high, the competition wasn’t brutal, and a fellow could meet his obligations in life if he really hustled and sold hot nuts and crispy chips.
At one time the company had 1,000 employees in its Liberty, Missouri plant. It was sold to Borden Food Corporation in 1979. Borden sold it in 1994. It went into bankruptcy in 2001.
It has since emerged from bankruptcy and is now based in Kansas.
So someone bought the brand and the goodwill.
Adults went downtown to a hotel for their parties, it seems.
Boarded up now.
The Aladdin closed in 2020; plans are underway to convert it to housing.
Now let's jump to 1968.
Big ad. We'll look at some constituent elements.
I can feel the sharp jagged edges of that pumpkin.
Twelve hundred souls.
Safe to say this building was automotive-related, once; you can make out VEHICLES.
And carriages!
Looks like Purina up there on the adjoining building. The checked pattern indicates this could be a palimpest, with both signs pushing Purina.
The brothers might be pleased to know it’s still standing and serves a purpose, but they’d wonder what the hell that awning was.
Oh, it’s going to be one of these towns, isn’t it.
Not a cheerful streetscape, what with the weeds - er, flowers? But that’s one of the better murals I’ve seen.
Perhaps there’s a rule: the better the mural, the worse the town.
No, I don't think that's it.
Peculiar windows, too close together. I suspect there was a cornice that gave them a bit more context.
Not a happy result.
It’s as if the bottom floor is supposed to fool us into thinking it’s not related to the rest of the structure. Would be an odd thing to make us want to think.
Old fake-stone facade.
There’s a chance that’s also the firehouse, no? Or was.
I can’t possibly imagine why.
The Ss, by the way, are probably attached to long metal poles that hold the walls in. Don’t see that very often in small towns past the first hundred miles of the East Coast.
Tidy enough, and nicely maintained.
“Ahh, just use the plans for a Post Office.”
It looks to be one piece, and then again, it doesn’t.
The absence of a window in the between-spot suggests a load-bearing wall.
DJD 1894: the first building, or the triumphant proclamation upon finishing the addition?
They all have the original cornices, but there’s a shabbiness to the place.
If you haven’t noticed, there’s a lot of Buckaroo revival around here. Alas.
I like the way the middle window stands on tip-toe:
Not too old for these parts, but old.
It’s a city of cornice one-ups-manship!
Another old fake-brick building.
Who built it?
Good ol’ EB.
Typical of the whole place - some good stock, some interesting details, but careworn.
Twelve hundred souls. 
