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Famous funny fellows

Chapter 11: CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS.
By William Montgomery Clemens
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American LiteratureBiographiesHumour

About This Book

A collection of concise biographical sketches presenting the lives, personalities, pen names, and notable works of prominent American newspaper humorists. It begins with an introduction on the rise of modern newspaper wit, then offers short profiles that highlight background, career turns, pseudonyms, signature styles, and memorable pieces for dozens of writers. Entries summarize each humorist's public reputation and contributions to comic writing while noting recurring genres and popular personae. The volume serves as a compact reference to the practitioners of journalistic humor and the varieties of humorous expression they produced.

CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS.

Some years ago, a poem in broken German verse, overflowing with the richest of humor, appeared in a Boston paper. It was entitled Leedle Yawcob Strauss, and commanded general attention immediately upon its publication. It was copied widely and was sent on its way across the ocean, delighting hundreds on the other side of the Atlantic. The poem ran thus:

“I haf von funny leedle poy,
Vot gomes schust to my knee;
Der queerest schap, der createst roke
As efer you did see;
He runs, and schumps, und schmashes dings
In all barts off der house—
But vot off dot? He vas mine son,
Mine leedle Yawcob Strauss.
“He gets der measles und der mumbs,
Und eferyding dot’s out;
He sbills mine glass of lager pier,
Poots schnuff into mine kraut;
He fills mine pipe mit Limburg cheese—
Dot vas der roughest chouse;
I’d take dot vrom no oder poy
But leedle Yawcob Strauss.
“He dakes der milk ban for a dhrum,
Und cuts mine cane in dwo,
To make der shtick to beat it mit—
Mine cracious, dot vas drue!
I dinks mine head vas schplit about
He kicks up such a touse?
But nefer mind, der poys vas few
Like dot young Yawcob Strauss.
“He asks me questions sooch as dese:
Who baints mine nose so red?
Who vas it cuts dot schmoodt blace oudt
Vrom the hair ubpon mine hed?
Und vhere der plaze goes vrom der lamp
Vene’er der glim I douse?
How gan I all dese dings eggsplain
To dot schmall Yawcob Strauss?
“I somedimes dink I schall go vild
Mit sooch a grazy poy,
Und vish vonce more I gould haf rest
Und beaceful dimes enshoy;
But ven he vas ashleep in ped,
So quiet as a mouse,
I prays der Lord, ‘Dake anydings,
But leaf dot Yawcob Strauss.’”

When in later years another poem, “Dot Leedle Loweeza,” a companion piece to “Leedle Yawcob Strauss,” appeared, the fame of the author, Charles Follen Adams, rose still higher. “Dot Leedle Loweeza” was equally as good as its predecessor, and concluded as follows:

“Vhen winter vas come, midst its coldt, shtormy veddher,
Katrina und I musd sit in der house
Und dalk of der bast, by der fireside togedder,
Or blay mit dat taughter of our Yawcob Strauss.
Oldt age, mit its wrinkles, pegins to remind us
Ve gannot shtay long mit our children to dwell;
Budt soon ve shall meet, mit der poys left behind us,
Und dot shweet Loweeza, dot lofe us so well.”

There are many other poems that have been written by Mr. Adams in a manner similar to his first two efforts, which have attracted general attention. Charles Follen Adams does not follow the occupation of a journalist or literary man, but is a well known merchant of Boston. He is a genuine Yankee, and his parents come of good old Puritan stock. From his mother’s side, he is a direct descendant from Hannah Dustan, famous in the history of the Deerfield massacre. He is a man of middle age and of small stature. A friend thus describes him: “He is a dapper little gentleman, neat and natty in his personnel, just as though he had stepped from a band box, a shrewd, sharp, yet kindly face, a keen, but bright and laughing eye, which tells of a fine sense of humor, a close shaven face, with the exception of a ‘bald browed mustache,’ which gives a manly tone to the well shaped mouth and rounded chin, of medium and slender physique, he steps off with a nervy, springy walk, and a sunny smile or a genial word for his many friends and acquaintances as he passes them on the way.”

Mr. Adams lives happily with his family at No. 36 Rutland square, where he spends his leisure moments in writing for the press. He contributes regularly a column of bright, witty paragraphs in the Cambridge Tribune, and occasionally writes for the Detroit Free Press, and other publications. Once in a great while he drops into poetry for the magazines.

A collection of his poems was published in book form by a Boston house, a year or two ago, under the title of “Leedle Yawcob Strauss and Other Poems.” The volume had an immense sale and is still very popular. Mr. Adams is engaged in the mercantile business on Hanover street, and will probably remain so connected with the business world for many years.

Mr. Adams does not confine his writings wholly to the German dialect. In a recent number of The Century he contributes some verses which he is pleased to call Prevalent Poetry.

“A wandering tribe called the Sioux
Wear moccasins, having no shioux.
They are made of buckskin
With the fleshy side in,
Embroidered with beads of bright hyioux.
“When out on the war path, the Sioux
March single file—never by tioux—
And by blazing the trees
Can return at their ease
And their way through the forest ne’er lioux.”

After two more verses in a similar strain, Mr. Adams concludes as follows:

“Now doesn’t this spelling look cyiouxrious?
’Tis enough to make anyone fyiouxrious!
So a word to the wise!
Pray our language revise
With orthography not so injiouxrious.”