There is no more recognizable icon for the distinctive flavor of San Francisco living than the cable car. And who better to memorialize that venerable tramway than the author of the unforgettable classic, "The Purple Cow."
Gelett Burgess may have been sorry he wrote "The Purple Cow," but it's likely he never regretted writing the 1901 classic, "The Ballad of the Hyde Street Grip," which captures the essence of operating the cable car's grip device by which the conductor attaches the car to a cable running continously beneath the street.
Oh the rain is slanting sharply, and the Norther's blowing cold;
When the cable strands are loosened, she is nasty hard to hold;
There's little time for sitting down and little time for gab,
For the bumper guards the crossing, and you'd best be keeping tab!
Two-and-twenty "let-go's" every double trip–
It takes a bit of doing, on the Hyde Street Grip!
Throw her off at Powell Street, let her go at Post,
Watch her well at Geary and at Sutter when you coast,
Easy at the Power House, have a care at Clay,
Sacramento, Washington, Jackson, all the way!
Drop the rope at Union, never make a slip–
The lever keeps you busy, on the Hyde Street Grip!
. . .
When the Orpheum is closing, and the crowd is on the way,
The conductor's punch is ringing, and the dummy's light and gray;
But the wait upon the table by the Beach is dark and still—
Just the swashing of the surges on the shore below the mill;
And the flash of Angel Island breaks across the channel rip,
As the hush of midnight falls upon the Hyde Street Grip.
Though Burgess had an engineering degree from MIT, he made his reputation through his humorous writing and whimsical sketches.
Beginning as far back as a Spanish novelist's 1501 tale of a mythical California, writers have ever imagined the region home to various hypothetical beasts-—even domestic ones.
In the late nineteenth century, Gelett Burgess was an engineering professor-turned poet who penned one of the most enduring poems of his generation. Then he thought better of it.
Original graphic for "The Purple Cow" published in "The Lark," 1895. Larger.
The Purple Cow
Reflections on a Mythic Beast
Who's Quite Remarkable, at Least.
I never saw a Purple Cow,
I never hope to See One;
But I can Tell you, Anyhow,
I'd rather See than Be One!
The Purple Cow: Suite
Ah, yes, I wrote the "Purple Cow"—
I'm Sorry, now, I wrote it;
But I can tell you Anyhow
I'll kill you if you Quote it!
The "Purple Cow" isn't Gillet Burgess' only lasting contribution to California letters. He also created the Goops, three-eyed, mischievous beings notable for their bad manners.
Table Manners and Window-Smoochers
From The Goops and How to Be Them: A Manual of Manners for Polite Infants Inculcating Many Juvenile Virtues Both by Precept and Example, with Ninety Drawings, 1900 Read OnlineDownload PDF
Jessica Teeter
Poetry can touch the heart, ennoble the mind, make the spirit soar—and even tickle the funny bone.
In whimsical verse about three-eyed beings called "Goops," Gelett Burgess feigns disgust at their poor behavior, even while his humorous portrait hints at California's famous tolerance for madcaps, desperadoes—and frightful creatures with frightful manners.
Illusatration from first edition of The Goops. Larger.
The Goops they lick their fingers,
And the Goops they lick their knives;
They spill their broth on the tablecloth—
Oh, they lead disgusting lives!
The Goops they talk while eating,
And loud and fast they chew;
And that is why I'm glad that I
Am not a Goop—are you?
***
Little Goops are marking
On the window pane;
I forbid, in vain!
Noses, when they're greasy,
Leave a smooch so easy!
Rub it out again!
I shall have to scold them,
For I've often told them,
Kindly, to refrain!
Gelett Burgess came to California in 1887 as an engineering professor, but his most enduring structural achievement might have been his poetry about quirky characters like the Goops.
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