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Poetry: Edgar A. Guest

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Joe Offer 27 Aug 06 - 11:50 PM
Ferrara 27 Aug 06 - 11:17 PM
katlaughing 27 Aug 06 - 11:05 PM
GUEST,Art Thieme 27 Aug 06 - 10:20 PM
Bill D 27 Aug 06 - 10:19 PM
Jerry Rasmussen 27 Aug 06 - 10:10 PM
282RA 27 Aug 06 - 10:07 PM
Bill D 27 Aug 06 - 09:59 PM
282RA 27 Aug 06 - 09:59 PM
Amos 27 Aug 06 - 09:52 PM
282RA 27 Aug 06 - 09:48 PM
Bill D 27 Aug 06 - 09:39 PM
Peace 27 Aug 06 - 09:21 PM
Bill D 27 Aug 06 - 09:19 PM
Bill D 27 Aug 06 - 09:16 PM
Peace 27 Aug 06 - 08:43 PM
Jerry Rasmussen 27 Aug 06 - 08:40 PM
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Subject: RE: BS: Edgar A. Guest
From: Joe Offer
Date: 27 Aug 06 - 11:50 PM

It seemed the only poet my dad liked was Edgar A. Guest, who lived a few streets over from Dad's boyhood home in Detroit. When I was young, I used to think Guest's poetry was incredibly corny, and I used to tease my dad about him. I got into trouble for that more than once, because I was a pretty merciless tease. I looked at a book of Edgar A. Guest's poetry recently, and I was surprised that I liked it. I hated myself for that, I'll tell ya.

I thought there was a connection between Edgar A. Guest and WJR, the clear channel, 50,000 watt radio station in Detroit. Turns out I was right - Edgar A. Guest recided poetry on the station's first broadcast; and his son, "Bud" Guest, was host of the Guest House radio program on WJR, which was enormously popular in Detroit at one time.

-Joe Offer-
Here's a bio of Edgar A. Guest from the Michigan Journalism Hall of Fame:
    Edgar A. Guest (1881-1959) was born in Birmingham, England, and brought to the U.S. by his father in 1891. He began as an office boy for the Detroit Free Press in 1895 - the start of an affiliation that would span almost 65 years. In 1898, a temporary assignment on the exchange desk, where filler verse and feature items were clipped for reprinting, led Guest to submit a few poems of his poems of his own to the Sunday editor. Soon he had a weekly column of verse and observations called "Blue Monday Chat," followed by a daily column, "Breakfast Table Chat." By 1908, "The Poet of the People" was working almost exclusively in meter and rhyme. Guest's popularity spread like wildfire among Free Press readers who asked for collections of his folksy verses. He authored 20 such books and for more than 30 years there wasn't a Free Press that didn't carry his verse. His work eventually was syndicated in more than 100 newspapers. The recipient of the Free Press' Golden Keystone and Silver Keystone awards, Guest was also honored by a Detroit school and a Boys Club of Detroit building, which carry his name. As a civic leader, he received numerous awards, including honorary degrees from Wayne State University in 1936 and Michigan.

Wikipedia has some information on Clear Channel stations here (click), including a list of them. Many of these stations go way beck to be beginning of the history of radio braodcasting. I had an old Crosley radio that had the Clear Channel stations marked. When I was about ten, I spent many late-night hours listening to these stations and making a list of all the stations I found. WABC (click) has some great information about its history as a Clear Channel station. Don't confuse "Clear Channel stations" with "Clear Channel Communications", the largest radio company operating in the United States, based in San Antonio, Texas.


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Subject: RE: BS: Edward A. Guest
From: Ferrara
Date: 27 Aug 06 - 11:17 PM

My folks had his book "Just Folks." I loved it. It was a tiny little thing. Have no idea where it disappeared to.

Project Gutenberg has the following links on their list of "G" authors :

Guest, Edgar A. (Edgar Albert), 1881-1959

    * Wikipedia
    * A Heap O' Livin' (English)
    * Just Folks (English)
    * Making the House a Home (English)
    * Over Here (English)
    * When Day is Done (English)


One of his most famous poems, which I think was in the Just Folks books, was
It Couldn't Be Done

As I say, I liked his stuff a lot when I read it but perhaps wouldn't like it quite so well now. :-) Bill is fond of quoting another bit of doggerel about Guest:

Edgar A. Guest
Was never at his best.


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Subject: RE: BS: Edward A. Guest
From: katlaughing
Date: 27 Aug 06 - 11:05 PM

LOL, Art!

BillD, I was going to say that first poem of his sounded like a take on Riley. Thanks for the link.


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Subject: RE: BS: Edward A. Guest
From: GUEST,Art Thieme
Date: 27 Aug 06 - 10:20 PM

When I first found Mudcat, I used to sign in as "GUEST, EDGAR A."

Art


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Subject: RE: BS: Edward A. Guest
From: Bill D
Date: 27 Aug 06 - 10:19 PM

In the south we fear the fer for fir, so we fare no further.


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Subject: RE: BS: Edward A. Guest
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 27 Aug 06 - 10:10 PM

Well, Golly Shucks and all them Bobertisms. You folks is sure smart. Thanks fer all the answers. In the north we say fer, for fir.

Jerry


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Subject: RE: BS: Edward A. Guest
From: 282RA
Date: 27 Aug 06 - 10:07 PM

According to Wikipedia, Guest was born in England but emigrated to the US and began writing for the Detroit Free Press. He lived in Detroit the rest of his life, I guess, and died here in 1959, meaning my life and his managed to overlap just a bit.


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Subject: RE: BS: Edward A. Guest
From: Bill D
Date: 27 Aug 06 - 09:59 PM

A picture of Guest and his tribute to James Whitcomb Riley

yep, corny...but friendly. Would that all Guests be as nice.


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Subject: RE: BS: Edward A. Guest
From: 282RA
Date: 27 Aug 06 - 09:59 PM

Well, I just did a check (ain't the internet wonderful?) and found out "The Face on the Barroom Floor" was written by Hugh Antoine D'Arcy in 1887.

But did Guest did write "Castor Oil"--I remember that from when I was a kid.


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Subject: RE: BS: Edward A. Guest
From: Amos
Date: 27 Aug 06 - 09:52 PM

When You Know A Fellow

When you get to know a fellow, know his joys and know his cares,
When you've come to understand him and the burdens that he bears,
When you've learned the fight he's making and the troubles in his way,
Then you find that he is different than you thought him yesterday.

You find his faults are trivial and there's not so much to blame
In the brother that you jeered at when you only knew his name.
You are quick to see the blemish in the distant neighbor's style,
You can point to all his errors and may sneer at him the while,

And your prejudices fatten and your hates more violent grow
As you talk about the failures of the man you do not know,
But when drawn a little closer, and your hands and shoulders touch,
You find the traits you hated really don't amount to much.

When you get to know a fellow, know his every mood and whim,
You begin to find the texture of the splendid side of him;
You begin to understand him, and you cease to scoff and sneer,
For with understanding always prejudices disappear.

You begin to find his virtues and his faults you cease to tell,
For you seldom hate a fellow when you know him very well.
When next you start in sneering and your phrases turn to blame,
Know more of him you censure than his business and his name;

For it's likely that acquaintance would your prejudice dispel
And you'd really come to like him if you knew him very well.
When you get to know a fellow and you understand his ways,
Then his faults won't really matter, for you'll find a lot to praise.



Wal, he's pretty corny, all right...


A


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Subject: RE: BS: Edward A. Guest
From: 282RA
Date: 27 Aug 06 - 09:48 PM

Didn't he write "The Face on the Barroom Floor"? (which was my face the other night until a buddy helped me up)

And wasn't he from Detroit?


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Subject: RE: BS: Edward A. Guest
From: Bill D
Date: 27 Aug 06 - 09:39 PM

Parker...PARKER...they named a funny biscuit after her.


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Subject: RE: BS: Edward A. Guest
From: Peace
Date: 27 Aug 06 - 09:21 PM

Dorothy who?


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Subject: RE: BS: Edward A. Guest
From: Bill D
Date: 27 Aug 06 - 09:19 PM

(Dorothy Parker made him famous by her little couplet:

"I'd rather flunk my Wasserman test
Than read a poem by Edgar Guest"


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Subject: RE: BS: Edward A. Guest
From: Bill D
Date: 27 Aug 06 - 09:16 PM

somewhere in the catacombs, I have that very book....I read it as a child of 8-10, and thought it was wonderful...until I looked again at about age 18. Then I almost ignored it as 'silly' until I was past 40. Now I again see the wisdom in much of it.

(One poem I remember was "When Father Shook the Stove")


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Subject: ADD: Home (Edgar A. Guest) - poetry
From: Peace
Date: 27 Aug 06 - 08:43 PM

Home
(Edgar Guest)

It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it home,
A heap o' sun an' shadder, an' ye sometimes have t' roam
Afore ye really 'preciate the things ye lef' behind,
An' hunger fer 'em somehow, with 'em allus on yer mind.
It don't make any differunce how rich ye get t' be,
How much yer chairs an' tables cost, how great yer luxury;
I ain't home t' ye, though it be the palace of a king,
Until somehow yer soul is sort o' wrapped round everything.

Home ain't a place that gold can buy or get up in a minute;
Afore it's home there's got t' be a heap o' livin' in it;
Within the walls there's got t' be some babies born, and then
Right there ye've got t' bring 'em up t' women good, an' men;
And gradjerly, as time goes on, ye find ye wouldn't part
With anything they ever used -- they've grown into yer heart:
The old high chairs, the playthings, too, the little shoes they wore
Ye hoard; an' if ye could ye'd keep the thumb marks on the door.

Ye've got t' weep t' make it home, ye've got t' sit an' sigh
An' watch beside a loved one's bed, an' know that Death is nigh;
An' in the stillness o' the night t' see Death's angel come,
An' close the eyes o' her that smiled,
an' leave her sweet voice dumb.
Fer these are scenes that grip the heart,
an' when yer tears are dried,
Ye find the home is dearer than it was, an' sanctified;
An' tuggin' at ye always are the pleasant memories
O' her that was an' is no more -- ye can't escape from these.

Ye've got t' sing an' dance fer years, ye've got t' romp an' play,
An' learn t' love the things ye have by usin' 'em each day;
Even the roses 'round the porch must blossom year by year
Afore they 'come a part o' ye, suggestin' someone dear
Who used t' love 'em long ago, an' trained 'em jes' t' run
The way they do, so's they would get the early mornin' sun;
Ye've got t' love each brick an' stone from cellar up t' dome:
It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it home.

From the book "A Heap o' Livin'" ©1916


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Subject: BS: Edward A. Guest
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 27 Aug 06 - 08:40 PM

In the early 1900's there was a very popular poet named Edward A. Guest (I think.) He was to poetry what That Kinkaid painter is to popular art, these days. One of Guest's most famous poems was It Takes A Heap Of Livin' To Make A House A Home. Or, at least that's the first line as best I can remember it. We had a framed copy of the poem next to our front door, just as you stepped into the dining room. Right next to the ice box. I've been snooping around on the internet and haven't found anything about him. I'd like to get the words to the poem for something I am writing about my Mother.

I figure all you literary types could help me on this one.

If so, I sure would appreciate it.

Jerry

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