Description To early Parlour entertainment

To Early Parlour Entertainment

In their day, grandma and grandpa didn’t have TV, radio, AM and FM, stereo records, consoles, and maybe not even a gramophone, but they did have something hat was just as entertaining. It was a visual art that entertained both young and old. The stereoscope, a hand-held double lensed wooden gadget through which a viewer peered at the double-picture cards placed in a holder at the front. The viewer could move this holder back and forth to only one complete, detailed picture was seen. Those picture cards were wonders of the photographer’s art with depth that was three dimensional.

Practically every household had at least one. The cheaper ones were made of wood without any trim. The higher-priced sets were fancied up with bits of silver trimming, and the eye-piece was padded with purple, red or gold plush.

Every household, too, had stacks of stereoscope cards, bought in the bookstore much the same as the coloured slides are purchased for slide- projectors, or table and hand viewers of today. Those old-time picture cards covered just about every subject that might be interest: cities, wars, churches, ships, and “other views.”

The general run of these picture cards were kept on the parlour table the “other views” were purchased and kept hidden by grandpa. These were sold “under the counter” much the same as the “party records” were sold a few years ago, and about the same as the “party films” are sneak-bought today.

While the women of those days were busy talking of cooking, sewing, mending, children and church, the men would sneak off to some secluded spot and “have a peek” at grandpa’s private collection. The pictures that grandpas had were mostly of buxom girls of the times, for in those earlier days, a beauty had to be buxom to be attractive.
Some of the “nifty shots” grandpa showed to his male friends were in a series of four to eight pictures, such as a bedroom scene where a burglar had entered, and while the husband sleeps on, the nightie- clad wife steals the show by posing in front of the surprised burglar.

There were other pictures in such collections grandpa favored, such as the series of the husband favored, such as the series of the husband playing “Kiss Me Quick” with the pretty cook whose flour-covered hand leaving an imprint on the back of his coat, which becomes a dead giveaway when the wife discovers the tell-tale male.

The entertainment value of the stereoscopes of earlier years was such that neighbours endeavored to have different view-cards from those of their friends, for it was part of every social gathering to bring out the views and discuss the collection of scenes. These stereoscopes were a relief from the old family-picture album, which, in its time, was always brought out so that visitors to a home had to “enjoy” looking at the stern-faced people of the portraits.

The stereoscopes were sometimes a help to young people of the times. In those days it wasn’t considered “the right things to thing” for a young man and a young woman to sit too close to each other. And mother, busy plying her knitting needles, and sitting straight-backed in the same room, was there to see that there was plenty of space between the couple on the horse-haired sofa. But the family stereoscope gave the young the chance to get closer. After all, mother or no mother, someone had to change the picture-cards, and the young people found ways of secretly holding hands while gushing over the stereoscope views.

But like many other things of the past, the stereotypes were superseded by other forms of parlour entertainment, particularly with the coming of the gramophone. The old views were packed away, to gather dust for many years until collectors began to search for such items.

For a time, after the old stereoscopes were re-discovered in the electronic age, it was customary for many to have these items of by-gone parlour entertainment placed on the top of the television cabinet. The novelty of the two home visual sets were conversation pieces, but this seems to have died out, leaving the TV sets to usurp the parlous of today.
Roland H. Sherwood, (D.LTT)
Historical Writer