THE KING OF FARTS
Just when you think you’ve heard it all...someone comes up with something like this. It’s from a little book called It’s a Gas, by Eugene Silverman, M.D., and Eric Rabkin, Ph.D. It’s required reading for BRI history buffs.
In all fairness to the farters of the world, the greatest of them all was not by his passing of gas also passing a judgment. His completely conscious control of his abilities was confirmed by numerous chemical examinations, including two in published form. This man, a hero at bottom, was a gentle and loving father, a noble and steadfast friend, a successful and generous businessman, and a great stage entertainer. This unique individual, a phenomenon among phenomena, this explosive personality and credit to our subject, was christened Joseph Pujol, but invented for himself the name by which all history knows him: Le Petomane!
THE ART OF THE FART
Le Petomane could fart as often and as frequently as he wished. His farts were odorless. As other people use their mouths, Le Petomane had learned to use his anus. Furthermore, by constricting or loosening his anus he could vary the pitch of the air he expelled and by controlling the force of abdominal contraction he could control its loudness. With these two fundamental tools, simple enough but rarely seen, Le Petomane contrived not only to imitate a variety of farts, but also to make music.
He headlined at the Moulin Rouge in Paris, the most famous nightclub in the world at that time, and brought in box office receipts more than twice as high as those of the angelic Sarah Bernhardt. He was one of the greatest comedians of the turn of the century. The manager of the Moulin Rouge kept nurses in the theater to tend to female customers whose uncontrolled laughter in tight corsets often caused them to pass out as Le Petomane passed gas. Here was not a court fool at all, but the toast of civilized society.
DISCOVERING HIS GIFT
As a boy, Joseph had had a frightening experience in the sea. Holding his breath and ducking under water, he suddenly felt a rush of cold water enter his bowels. He went to find his mother but was embarrassed to see water running out of himself. Although he recounted this in later years, apparently as a child he tried to keep his terrifying experience a secret.
Number of times the word “hell” is used on prime-time TV shows in an average week: 56.
Early in his married life he was called to military service and in the all-male atmosphere of the barracks he recounted for the first time his strange experience in the sea. When asked for a demonstration, he agreed to try again. On their next furlough, he and his unit went to the sea. He did succeed in taking water in and then letting it out. This might have been viewed as mere freakishness, but combined with Joseph’s gentleness and good humor, it struck the soldiers as a delightful feat.
Pujol, using a basin, practiced this art in private with water and, once able to control the intake and outflow by combined exertions of his anal and abdominal muscles, he soon began to practice with air as well. This, of course, was only for his own amusement and the occasional amusement of his fellow soldiers.
A STAR IS BORN
When he returned home, he resumed his life as a baker and father but added to it his newfound love of entertainment. He began to work part-time in music halls as an ordinary singer, as a trombone player, and soon as a quick-change artist with a different costume for each song. He added comic routines of his own writing to his singing and playing acts, and became quite popular locally.
At the same time, he began to turn his special ability into an act, learning to give farts as imitations. Soon his friends urged him to add this to his act but he was diffident about the propriety of such a thing. In order to give it a try, he rented a theater of his own. He was an almost instant success. He left the bakery in care of his family and went to a number of provincial capitals, and at each stop Le Petomane played to packed houses. Finally, in 1892, he blew into Paris.
HIS FART’S DESIRE
The Moulin Rouge was his aim—and he went right for it. The manager of the Moulin Rouge, one Oller, on hearing of Le Petomane’s specialty, was astounded at Pujol’s audacity but agreed to give him an audition. In Paris as in Marseilles, the act was an instant success.
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HIS ACT
Le Petomane would begin by walking out dressed quite elegantly in silks and starched white linen, a thorough swell.
After his opening monologue Le Petomane leaned forward, hands on knees, turned his back to the audience, and began his imitations. “This one is a little girl,” he would say and emit a delicate, tiny fart. “This one is a mother-in-law,” he’d say, and there would be a slide. “This is a bride on her wedding night,” very demure indeed, “and this the morning after,” a long, loud one. Then he would do a dressmaker tearing two yards of calico, letting out a cracking, staccato fart that lasted at least ten seconds, and then cannonfire, thunder and so on. The public loved the act and the Moulin Rouge gave him an immediate contract. In a short time, he was their headliner.
A PATRON OF THE FARTS
His act grew with his popularity. Among other feats he could mix into the performance were tricks dependent upon inserting a rubber tube in his rectum (very decorously passed through his pocket). With this tube he could amiably chat away while at the same time smoking a cigarette. Sometimes he would insert a six-stop flute into the tube and accompany his own singing. A few simple nursery tunes he could play without recourse to the tube at all. And finally, he would almost always end his acts by blowing out a few of the gas-fired footlights. All that was left, before rising and bowing out, was to invite the audience to join him—and they did with gusto, their own convulsed abdomens insuring that many of the patrons could indeed participate in the group farting at the appropriate moment.
SPECIAL PERFORMANCES
The management of the Moulin Rouge wanted Le Petomane to submit to a medical examination so that his authenticity would be even more accepted, and this he did. For similar reasons of believability, Oller allowed Pujol to give private performances for all-male audiences at which he could perform wearing pants with an appropriate cut-out.
Before these events, and before his regular performances as well, he thoroughly washed himself by drawing water in and then shooting it out. In the smaller groups he would extinguish a candle at the distance of a foot and demonstrate his water jet over a range of four or five yards. These distances are also corroborated by medical observation.
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FARTING IN EUROPE
The Moulin Rouge, acting as Le Petomane’s agent, also encouraged him to travel abroad. In other European countries, and especially in Belgium, he was a star attraction. At his private performances in France, where no admission was charged, Pujol would finish by passing the hat. At one of these gatherings a man leaned forward and put a 20 louis gold piece in the hat and told him to keep it, that the show was worth it although he had had to travel from Brussels to see it. He had heard so much about Le Petomane but could not see him in Belgium because his own movements were so closely watched there. So he had come to Paris that night incognito to see and hear the great Le Petomane. He was King Leopold II of Belgium.
FINAL PASSING
The Medical Faculty at the Sorbonne offered Pujol 25,000 francs for the right to examine his body after his death. He was a vigorous man, a proud patriarch, and, knowing what such a sum could mean to his children and grandchildren, he accepted. But, despite the fact that he had distinguished himself by publicly displaying himself for so many years, he was held in such regard by those around him that, on his peaceful demise in 1945 at the age of 88, the family refused the offer. And so, having made flatulence a subject not for aggression but for pleasantry, Joseph Pujol, the greatest farter in history, came to his proper end.
A PAUSE FOR POETRY
A profound poem by Sir John Suckling, 17th-century cavalier poet:
Love is the fart
of every heart
For when held in,
doth pain the host,
But when released,
Pains others most.
A common housefly’s lifespan is about two weeks.
FAMOUS TRIALS: HENRY
FORD VS. THE TRIBUNE
Here’s an episode that’s been forgotten by most historians: In 1916 Henry Ford sued the Chicago Tribune for libel after it called him “ignorant” in an editorial
BACKGROUND
On march 9, 1916, just before World War I, the United States was “invaded” by Mexican revolutionary Pancho Villa. He led a 1,500-man raid on Columbus, New Mexico, and killed 17 people—including eight U.S. soldiers.
President Woodrow Wilson’s response: He mobilized the National Guard to patrol the Mexican-American border. As a part of its coverage of the story, the Chicago Tribune asked the Ford Motor Company whether employees called up for the Guard would be paid by Ford while they served on the Mexican border. The Tribune wanted to talk to Henry Ford himself, but he wasn’t available, so they talked to company treasurer Frank Klingensmith instead.
THE CONFLICT
Without checking with his superiors, Klingensmith told the reporters that not only was Ford not going to pay employees who left their jobs to fulfill their reserve duties, it was also not going to reinstate them when they returned from patrolling the border.
Actually, Ford employees who were called up to serve in the National Guard were given special badges that guaranteed them their jobs back when they returned, and the company set up a special program to assist the families of reservists while they were away. But the Tribune ran the story without double-checking the information, and on June 23, 1916, it printed a scathing editorial titled Ford Is An Anarchist, attacking Ford for being “not merely an ignorant idealist, but an anarchistic enemy of the nation which protects him in his wealth”—and suggested that “a man so ignorant as Henry Ford may not understand the fundamentals of the government under which he lives.”
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THE LAWSUIT
Ford, no stranger to criticism, initially dismissed the Tribune’s assault on his character. But his lawyer, Alfred Lucking, wanted him to sue the paper for libel. Ford reconsidered the matter, and agreed.
It would have been easy to prove the libel charge against the Tribune if Ford’s legal team had sued the newspaper specifically for using the word “anarchistic”—which in earlier cases had been proven to be a libelous term. But instead the lawyers made their complaint against the entire editorial, which gave the Tribune more room in which to maneuver: Instead of having to prove that Ford was an anarchist, they had only to prove that he was “ignorant.” And they set out to do just that.
EDUCATING HENRY
The son of a farmer, Henry Ford had left school at the age of 15. To make matters worse, he rarely if ever found time to read the newspaper, and had only a superficial understanding of what was going on in the world. So Ford’s lawyers tried to give him a crash course on U.S. history, current events, and other topics, but Ford was a less-than-perfect student.
In the end the task proved too great; try as they might, Ford’s lawyers couldn’t fill his head with facts quickly enough, and when he arrived to testify at the trial on July 16, 1919, he was forced to admit “ignorance of ‘most things.’” Here are some quotes from the transcript of the Tribune’s lawyer, Elliot G. Stevenson, questioning Henry Ford:
On Ignorance
Q: Mr. Ford, have you ever read history?
A: I admit I am ignorant about most things.
Q: You admit it?
A: About most things.
On the Military
Q: Did you understand what a mobile army was?
A: A large army mobilized.
Q: A large army mobilized. Is that your notion of a mobile army?
A. An army ready to be mobilized.
Q: What is your understanding about a mobile army?
A: I don’t know.
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On History
Q: Have you ever heard of a revolution in this country?
A: There was, I understand.
Q: When?
A: In 1813.
Q: In 1813, the revolution?
A: Yes.
Q: Any other time?
A: I don’t know.
Q: You don’t know of any other?
A: No.
Q: Don’t you know there wasn’t any revolution in 1813?
A: I don’t know that; I didn’t pay much attention to it.
Q: Don’t you know that this country was born out of a revolution—in 1776—did you forget that?
A: I guess I did.
Q: Do you know when the United States was created?
A: I could find it in a few minutes.
Q: Do you know?
A: I don’t know as I do, right offhand.
Q: Did you ever hear of Benedict Arnold?
A: I have heard the name.
Q: Who was he?
A: I have forgotten just who he is. He is a writer, I think.
Q: What subjects do you recall he wrote on?
A: I don’t remember.
Q: Did you ever read anything that he wrote?
A. Possibly I have, but I don’t know.
Q. Would you be surprised to be informed that Benedict Arnold was a general in the American army who was a traitor and betrayed his country?
A: 1 don’t know much about him.
On Government
Q: Mr. Ford, have you heard of the Declaration of Independence?
A: Oh, yes. That is based on justice.
Q: Did you ever read it?
A: Yes, I have read it.
Q: Have you in mind any of the significant things in that?
A: No, I have not.
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On Reading
Q: Mr. Ford, I think the impression has been created by your failure to read one of these that have been presented to you that you could not read; do you want to leave it that way?
A: Yes, you can leave it that way. I am not a fast reader, and I have the hay fever, and I would make a botch of it.
Q: Are you willing to have that impression left here?
A: I am not willing to have that impression, but I am not a fast reader.
Q: Can you read at all?
A: I can read.
Q: Do you want to try it?
A: No, sir.
THE VERDICT
After hearing testimony from dozens of witnesses on both sides of the case for more than 14 weeks, the jury—composed of 11 local farmers and one public roads inspector—met to decide on a verdict. A short time later, they found the Chicago Tribune guilty of libeling Henry Ford. But Ford’s own testimony had damaged his case severely—the jury agreed that he was not an anarchist, but they weren’t convinced he wasn’t ignorant—and in the end they awarded the automaker a whopping 6¢ in damages.
THE PUBLIC RESPONSE
The public and the press began taking sides on the issue almost immediately. The Nation dismissed Ford as a “Yankee mechanic... with a mind unable to ‘bite’ into any proposition outside of his automobile business”; the New York Times editorialized that Ford had not “received a pass degree” in the case.
But the general public was more forgiving. According to Robert Lacey in Ford: The Men and the Machine, “His very nakedness when subjected to the city-slicker cleverness of the Tribune attorneys struck a chord with thousands who were equally hazy on their knowledge of the American Revolution, and who would have been even more reluctant to read aloud in public.”
The trial was big news in its day, but in the long run—like Ford’s isolationism, his anti-Semitism, and his early admiration of Adolf Hitler—it had almost no impact on the way he is remembered.<
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WHO KILLED MARILYN?
Ever wondered what really happened to Marilyn Monroe? You’re not alone. Here’s a version that appeared in It’s A Conspiracy, by the National Insecurity Council. It’s great bathroom reading; be sure to pick up a copy for yourself.
At 4:25 a.m. on August 5, 1962, Sergeant Jack Clemmons of the West Los Angeles Police Department received a call from Dr. Hyman Engelberg. “I am calling from the house of Marilyn Monroe,” he said. “She is dead.”
When Clemmons arrived at 12305 Helena Drive, he found Marilyn’s body lying face down on the bed. The coroner investigating the case ruled that Monroe, 36, had died from “acute barbiturate poisoning due to ingestion of overdose...a probable suicide.”
THE OFFICIAL STORY
• The night before, Monroe had gone to bed at about 8:00 p.m., too tired to attend a dinner party at actor Peter Lawford’s beach house. A few hours later, Monroe’s housekeeper, Eunice Murray, knocked on the star’s bedroom door when she noticed a light was on inside, but got no response. Assuming that Monroe had fallen asleep, Murray turned in.
• When Murray awoke at about 3:30 a.m. and noticed the light still on in Monroe’s room, she went outside to peek into the window. She saw Monroe lying nude on the bed in an “unnatural” position. Alarmed, Murray called Dr. Ralph Greenson, Monroe’s psychiatrist, who came over immediately and broke into the bedroom. She also called Dr. Engelberg, Monroe’s personal physician. After Engelberg pronounced her dead, they called the police.
SUSPICIOUS FACTS
From the start, there were conflicting versions of what had happened.
When Did Monroe Die?
Although Murray told the police she’d found the body after 3:30 a.m., there’s evidence that Monroe died much earlier.
• Murray first told the police that she’d called Dr. Greenson at midnight; she later changed her story and said she’d call at 3:30 a.m. Sgt. Clemmons claims that when he first arrived on the scene, Engelberg and Greenson agreed that Murray had called them at about midnight. But in their official police statements, the doctors said they were called at 3:30 a.m.
Uncle John’s Legendary Lost Bathroom Reader Page 49