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:
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. |
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. |
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. |
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 |
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. |
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 |
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. |
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. |
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. |
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 |
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? |
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. |
Subject: RE: BS: Edward A. Guest From: Peace Date: 27 Aug 06 - 09:21 PM Dorothy who? |
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" |
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") |
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 |
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 Back to searching |
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