Seen any funny typos in the paper lately? Sure, sloppy spelling and fractured syntax occasionally elude the overworked copy editors of 2011. But the real howlers, the kind that can land a hapless editor in the boss's office, are rare. After poring over thousands of old newspaper pages dating back to the 1860s, I've concluded that amusing typos were more common in the days of handset type and a minimalist approach to proofreading.
From the New York Graphic, via the Minneapolis Tribune:
|I doubt the Albert Lea Enterprise published any amusing typos in the late 1800s under the sober leadership of Clint L. Luce, who also served as the Freeborn County coroner. (Photo courtesy mnhs.org)|
Funny Typographical Errors.
Some typographical errors are very funny. In a New York paper recently the words “This Port Said is” was rendered “This,” Pat said, “is,” and “Put out the flag” appeared as “Pat cut the hog.”
When B.F. Taylor’s poem on Burns’ Centennial was telegraphed from Chicago a few years ago, the first line, “Heart of leal! Can this be dying?” appeared in the papers coupled with the operator’s warning, “Robert Burns is passing by heart of lead can this be lying?”
Horace Greeley wrote at the head of an editorial, “William H. Seward,” and it came out “Richard the Third!” A New Haven editor wrote, “Is there balm in Gilead?” and was surprised at table next morning to read, “Is there a barn in Guilford?” The sentence, “Americans are generous and forgiving,” was recently transformed into “Americans are Germans and foreigners.”
But the worst, perhaps, is that quotation made by a distinguished literary review, 'Tis true, 'tis pity, pity, 'tis, 'tis true,” which came out in proof, “ 'Tis two, 'tis fifty, 'tis fifty, 'tis fifty-two.”
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Minneapolis Star editors used a funny-looking spelling (ludefisk) for Scandinavia’s funny-smelling food (lutefisk) in this page one story from January 1951.
Thirty-two men accused of kidnapping and assaulting a German-American farmer they suspected of holding "disloyal" views received a hero's welcome in Luverne, Minn., after a U.S. District Court jury ruled in their favor. Their defense: He had it coming.
The forecast for Armistice Day 1940, as reported in the Minneapolis Morning Tribune dated Nov. 11, gave barely a hint of what was to come that day: "Cloudy, occasional snow, and colder, much colder."
Here a nameless Tribune reporter spins a ghost story worthy of any campfire. The scene is set near an abandoned graveyard in northeast Minneapolis, most likely Maple Hill Cemetery, the city’s first, established in 1857.
Two eye-catching stewardesses, Gladys and Gloria Thorvaldson, landed on the cover of the Minneapolis Tribune's Sunday Picture magazine in January 1966. The identical twins, natives of Manitoba, joined Northwest Airlines during the golden age of air travel. The pair teamed up to serve hot meals, fill drink orders and turn heads aboard the sleek but smoke-filled jetliners of the era.