This section is from the "Studio Light Incorporating The Aristo Eagle - The Artura Bulletin 1917" book, by Aristo Motto. Also see Amazon: Studio Light Incorporating The Aristo Eagle - The Artura Bulletin 1917.
We dearly love to advertise And try to "Put the people wise" To all that's daily taking place On Bell street, where they "set the pace." But we've been buried to the eyes With photographs of every size, Of every sort and style of face That Heaven gave the human race (And some that came from where they wear Asbestos hairpins in their hair) And didn't have the time to write - So here's just "Hello" and then "Good Night;" For now a blond and blue-eyed lass Is posed before the looking glass, While Grandmama,sedate and prim, With brown-eyed Mary, tall and slim, Await their turn to "have a look" And sit to have "their picture took." A laughing baby, fair and plump, Keeps everybody on the jump, Until at last by happy chance We dodge the sisters and the aunts And see a smile too sweet to last And catch the sunshine tight and fast; A country boy; a social star; A leading member of the bar; A blacksmith from the shops, you know; A ballet dancer from the show - "Doctor, Lawyer, Merchant, Chief, Rich Man, Poor Man, Beggar Man, Thief" - In quick succession come and go, Like "movie" actors in a show, Until our nerves are smashed to slush, All on account of the Christmas Rush.
Artura Print From An Eastman Portrait Film Negative By Dudley Hoyt New York.
And this aint half, what you folks see, We sit up nights till half past three - Develop and wash, retouch and spot, Print and mount, and the Devil knows what; We mix new baths and dump the old, And try to forget our feet are cold, Try to remember the films we've sold, Try to forget the fibs we've told, Try to forget we're getting old. But of all the "gets" this gets us worst, They all want to get THEIR pictures FIRST: Well, we get to bed when the rooster crows And jump and scoot when the whistle blows. We grab our breakfast on the run, We eat our batter cakes half done, We don't get lunch till after one, And then but little, or maybe none, And smile all the while like we thought it was fun. We don't get time to shave or wash Nor hardly to change our socks, by gosh; But here's the FUN: We got 'em DONE: Every bea-u-ti-ful, bloomin' one.
We got our money and bought some meat, And now we're too blamed tired to eat; If we had any brains, they're gone to mush, All on account of the Christmas Rush.
- Brooks, Photographer,
------ Shawnee, Okla.
We wonder if the "Photographer in your town" stuff contributed to the rush. ED.