On rare occasions, the Minneapolis Tribune of the early 1900s peeled off its topcoat, loosened its tie and offered readers Onion-esque tales like this. Read it in the voice of one my purported former babysitters, Garrison Keillor, for the full effect.
THE VICTIM OF SAD ACCIDENT
Man Pours Cream in Sleeve, Instead of Coffee.
He was a big man with a desperado moustache and a weak chin. His napkin was tucked under his collar and he read a newspaper while the waitress brought him breakfast.
Without raising his eyes from the paper, he grabbed the small pitcher of cream by the circumference, in a manner that would not have been permitted at his home table, and inserted it toward him and under his palm to connect with his coffee. The cream, obeying gravity laws, ran gaily down his arm inside his sleeve.
The waitress tittered. The big man grew fiery red and went out hastily, and he didn’t come back.
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Art Instruction Inc., once located just around the corner from the old Star and Tribune building on the edge of downtown Minneapolis, offered drawing courses by mail for more than a century. Here the Minneapolis Tribune profiles the commercial art school that trained the likes of Charles M. Schulz ("Peanuts") and Carlos de la Vega (who?).
When we sleepily stumbled down the hall to answer the clamorously ringing telephone we made a mental note that it was shortly before 3 a.m. We picked up the receiver, thinking it was Sheriff Roberts calling to say that there had been an accident. Instead it was Mrs. Lloyd Long, playing the feminine counterpart role of Paul Revere, saying "Get up, Al, and listen to the radio, the invasion has started."
Angered because of excessive whispering during a "spelling bee," H.E. Sherman, teacher in the Somers village school was about to administer corporal punishment to a number of his pupils when he was forestalled by an energetic colony of honey bees.
Most of our readers in whose memory is still fresh the fact of the destruction by fire of the Merchants' Hotel, on the corner of State and Washington streets, on the morning of the 4th of the present month, will readily recall the particulars concerning the sad fate of the late Mr. R.A. Cook, of Joliet, who perished in the flames during that memorable conflagration.
Twenty irate office women appeared before the St. Paul city council today and demanded action. They said their nylons have been damaged by soot in the city's loop. William Parranto, commissioner of public safety, explained that such soot falls from the chimney at Saint Paul hotel. The hotel, he said, burns a Wyoming oil which contains a liberal percentage of sulphur.