Saturday, November 12, 2011

Post offices and places that are not post offices


This is not uniquely Nebraska-related, but might be useful to researchers anywhere in North America. Someone recently asked me about a well-known but nameless (to her) directory of obscure or now non-existent places in the United States. I love a challenge!  Actually, this turned out to be easier than expected. I think what she was referring to was Bullinger's Postal and Shippers Guide for the United States and Canada, Containing Every Post Office, Railroad Station and United States Fort, with the Railroad or Steamer Line on which Every Place, or the Nearest Communicating Point, Is Located, and the Delivering Expresses for Every Place. Also a List of Railroads and Water Lines, with Their Terminal Point. How's that for a comprehensive title?  You know exactly what you're getting! Forts and all.

Anyway, this guide was published on a more or less yearly basis from 1871 up into the 1990s or so, although the title has varied over the years--it has also appeared as the Monitor Guide to Post Offices and Railroad Stations. It is no longer in business, apparently since at least 2005, when its trademark ("Bullinger's") was cancelled. Its last owner was Alber Leland Publishing (thanks, Ulrichsweb!). Now, of course, we have the United States Postal Service website, and RailRoutes.US (basically Amtrak), but these are such a palid shadow of what we once had...(sob).

FamilySearch has microfilmed a few of the Bullinger's Guides, and they can be ordered in for viewing at the W. Dale Clark Library in Omaha.  Even nicer, the 1922 edition is available online at Google Books--which was the last year it was published by its founder, Edwin W. Bullinger. That year, at the age of 79, he transferred ownership to the New England Railway Publishing Co., the publisher of the ABC Pathfinder Shipping and Mailing Guides--which, if possible, have an even more explicit subtitle than Bullinger's: Containing All Railroads and Railroad Stations, Water Routes, Express Offices, Telegraph Offices, Post Offices, and Places That Are Not Post Offices, in the United States And Canada, Together with the Location of Every Place, Whether or Not Upon a Railroad or Water Route; If Not, the Nearest Point from which It Can Be Reached. Freight, Express, Postal, and Telegraph Information, Court-Houses, List of Places Where Records, Mortgages, and Deeds Are Filed, Etc., Etc. Does that sound handy or what?
 

La Platte metropolis, seen from railway station.
Source: Nebraska Memories
Now, why am I excited enough about this to write one of my increasingly rare blog posts about it? Well, if you've ever tried to track down an ancestral stomping ground that apparently no-one has stomped for these many moons, your trials are over. This guide lists just about every mud puddle that existed in the year of its publication. Of course, now hometownlocator.com seems to do that as well....but still. Hometownlocator.com does not tell you that La Platte, Nebraska, was a railway stop, as Bullinger's does, or what a town's nearest railway station or post office was. You can see that La Platte was not really a boom city.....

La Platte railway station. Source: Nebraska Memories
Source: Bullinger's Guide (1922), p. 808.
One handy aspect of these guides is that the towns (or mud puddles) are all listed alphabetically together, regardless of what county or state they were in, so if you are looking for a place called Peach Bottom but have no idea of its location, you can easily discover that, at least in 1922, there were two Peach Bottoms, one in Lancaster Co., PA, and one in Grayson Co., VA, and that the one in Pennsylvania was a money order post office. You can also see what railway lines these places were on. The ABC Pathfinder even tells you where to look for county and town records.

 As a bit of trivia--Agatha Christie used the British version of the ABC Pathfinder to plot one of her mysteries, which was, of course, entitled The ABC Murders (get it at Omaha Public Library! You can even download it instantly to your Nook, Sony, or Kindle).

And, of course, it goes without saying that if you are a railroad buff, you will have a BALL with these guides!




Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Early clairvoyants

I know I promised to write about Eugene Konecky, and I WILL--but something else came up. Again. In the course of doing a bit of research for someone, I came across this ad in the May 27, 1906, issue of the Omaha World-Herald for a clairvoyant named Madame Brown (you will hear more of her in future posts):


In case you're wondering, the "G" is for Gertrude, although her name actually seems to have been Susie. Glamorous though "Gertrude" may be, there were a few more flamboyant-sounding clairvoyants advertising in the same issue: Madame Buddha, Zora (Mysterious Powers, Psychic Force), Mirze, and K-A-R-M-E-R the Mastermind. More prosaically, there was also "Mrs. O'Neal, colored palmist [and] card reader." Not to mention the supremely business-like


Stock tips? Looking at the city directory, I discovered that this medium was Mrs. C.E. Stockman (no, I did not mean this to be a pun!), married to Charles E. Stockman, a clerk at the Fairmont Creamery Co.

Mme Brown's ad was pretty low-key (she may have been mindful of the rate-per-word) compared with, say, the eighth of a newspaper page commanded by Armonde Leveaux, the clairvoyant sensation from France, "a man of strange powers," who was both a psychic palmist and a trance medium. His ad included drawings (of himself, presumably, and his extended hands), and urged readers to "consult this wonderful man at once" (adding rather ominously "it may be too late tomorrow"). After enumerating his many skills (including the ability to deliver readings in English, French, Swedish, or German) the ad copy asserted, "his powers are beyond belief" (Omaha World Herald, April 7, 1907, p. 5). I bet they were! 

Mme Brown was one of only two practitioners listed in the Clairvoyants column that day to post a price. Fifty cents does not sound much--even today, according to MeasuringWorth.com, this would be the equivalent of $12.50, based on the Consumer Price Index. But it was clearly a living, since the number of clairvoyants advertising in the paper seemed to grow month by month. You had to make enough to make a profit after paying your license fees. Yes, clairvoyants were supposed to be licensed. Thomas' Revised Ordinances of the City of Omaha, Nebraska (1905) says



 Either the city was trying to put a few hurdles in the way of scam artists or--more likely--it was looking to cash in on what was apparently a growing interest in supernatural or psychic phenomena of all kinds--fortune-telling, palmistry, card-reading, or communicating with the dead via mediums (should that be media? No, probably not...). I personally like the term "occult scientist," which appears in some newspaper ads. Spiritualism (the aforementioned communicating with the dead) in particular had a great vogue in the US, peaking just after World War I, according to Mary Roach's superbly informative and entertaining book Spook (check it out of the library), and enjoying validation by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Queen Victoria, William James, and a host of other celebrities of the age. You can see the increase in people advertising paranormal services in the city directory--there were no clairvoyants, mediums, or palmists listed in the business section before 1903, but the number had grown to 9 by 1918. For the most part they saved the splashier ads for the newspaper; here's the clairvoyant section for 1914:



Obviously mostly respectable married women....

Notably, no less a person than John G. Neihardt, Nebraska's poet laureate for many years, reportedly visited a clairvoyant in Omaha in 1912 and was much impressed (according to his biographer, Julius Temple House). Other evidence for the enthusiasm for psychic phenomena around that time is provided by the national New Thought convention held for eight days in Omaha, beginning June 18, 1911.

All of this goes to show that what we think of as New Age is actually pretty Old Age, although the terminology does change; "clairvoyant" isn't as common as it used to be. And "fortune teller" sounds like a Halloween costume. The trendier term now seems to be "psychic reader"--I pass one every time I go to the supermarket.



Sunday, August 14, 2011

More (too much?) about Henry R. Gering

Source: 1910 promotional booklet
published by the Omaha Commercial
Club
I know that a second post here in one week may be a little shocking to anyone who has gotten used to my posting schedule so far, but I have been inspired by a great presentation I saw yesterday about blogging family history, given by the talented Susan Petersen. And I dug up some more interesting information about good old Henry that I wanted to share.

As I mentioned, he was the managing trustee of the Western Medical Review, which was the official publication of the Nebraska State Medical Association, and in the very same volume containing the ads I discussed in my previous post, a report on the proceedings of the House of Delegates at the 46th Annual Meeting of said Medical Association revealed some friction on the subject of advertising in the Review. A complaint had been made by members of the Medical Association at the previous annual meeting that the Review, "in spite of the protests of the [Censoring Committee of the Association], continued to carry objectionable advertising," and a special committee (don't you love organizational life!) had been appointed to investigate.

Harsh words were said (actually, in today's political arena this would be considered pretty bland):  
Western Medical Review, Vol. XIX, #7 (July 1914), p. 351; accessed at Google Books

  I was naturally avidly curious to find out what they considered "objectionable" to the point of disgust, but even after wading through the dense prose of the report I am not really much wiser. It seems they objected principally to 19 "proprietaries" advertised in the January and February 1914 issues of the Review, which were apparently frowned upon by the American Medical Association. (One of them was Glyco-Heroin, but presumably cannabis-containing products were fine.) They included such popular remedies as Sal Hepatica, Iodum-Miller, Fagisota (isn't that a great name?), and Sabalol Spray, but it's not clear what exactly the objections were. Henry Gering spoke on behalf of the Western Medical Review Company (incidentally, I believe his company had in the past advertised some of these shady products, but no one mentioned that), and he and the board of the Review responded to the objections in a letter. The Coca Cola ad was to be discontinued, as were a number of other censored ads. The Henry R. Gering Co. would no longer list dosages in its ads (maybe that was it? Information that would allow the public to bypass doctors? Except that these ads were directed at doctors).  Mention was made of ads comparable to the disparaged ones that were still running in the august Journal of the A.M.A.  Those included the White Cross Electric Vibrator, as well as Rat and Roach Paste...just thought I'd mention these intriguing products. Anyway, tempers were calmed, the militants subsided, and harmony and dignity reigned. I think medical advertising might be a great topic for someone's doctoral dissertation--maybe it already has been.

Well, I've already spent WAY too much time on the Western Medical Review. Otherwise I would go ahead and post its column of medical jokes (Vol. 16, No. 7, July 1911, p. 392), "Some German Medical Jokes." Anyone who thinks doctors have no sense of humor...must have read this column.

Tempted? Go check this out on Google Books!

By the way, anyone with a Nebraska doctor in his or her ancestry would do well to have a look at these early issues of the Western Medical Review--they had a nice little gossip column about the doings of doctors around the state.

I've sort of gotten off the topic of Henry. Besides his activities in the various state medical and pharmaceutical operations, he liked cars; he was part-owner of the Des Moines Speedway until he sold his interest in 1916 (probably just in time, going by the history at the Des Moines Speedway Page), as I learned from The Automobile (Vol. 34, #19, May 11, 1916, p. 875)--another fascinating periodical digitized at Google Books, but I will NOT let myself be seduced.
Obviously he was doing pretty well financially. The July 11, 1918, issue of the same journal reported that ground had been broken in Omaha on Florence Blvd. for the first factory building of the United States Carburetor Company, the president of which was--Henry R. Gering!  The Atlantic News Telegraph of Aug. 28, 1913, reports that he was treasurer of the Rainey Mail Exchange Co. And on and on. The thought of all the committee meetings he must have attended gives me the horrors. Did the man ever stop to rest? I don't know how he had the time for any dalliance whatsoever with Mrs. Benjamin Redman--even just penning love notes. I guess he could have had his secretary do it....

And yet, amid all the wheelings and dealings, Henry still took the time to go home and carry out the somewhat unusual terms of his mother's will in 1920. I think this little article reflects so nicely on both Henry and his mother, I will close this rambling dissertation with it:

The Evening State Journal and Lincoln Daily News (Lincoln, NE), March 23, 1920, p. 1.
In case you think $5 is chintzy, it was the equivalent of roughly $54.40 in 2010. (I got that amazing information at Measuring Worth). Wasn't that a nice thing to do? Though I wonder if her children and heirs might have been just a tiny bit annoyed.



Wednesday, August 10, 2011

No more hysterics

As so often happens, while researching my last post, I came upon something that distracted me from what I had originally planned to write about next. In fact, several somethings, but I'll start with one, the Henry R. Gering Company and the way drugs go in and out of fashion. 

I was perusing a 1914 (Vol. 19, #1) issue of the Western Medical Review on Google Books, which contained quite a few fascinating ads for companies or institutions operating or based in Omaha or other Nebraska cities (probably because the Review's founder was a Nebraska-based surgeon, George H. Simmons), most of them more or less medical-related. The Henry R. Gering Company in particular had numerous ads for different products (probably because Henry was a managing trustee for the Review). The one that first caught my eye was eye-catching indeed:


Get your deformities fixed! Actually, this outfit is quite appealing in a Goth kind of way...Although presumably in 1914 the wearer would have put a dress on over it. I'd like to see their other "deformity appliances." 

This ad had the best art (although the illustrations for some of the ads for abdominal supporters do inspire awe), but some of Henry Gering's other products were even more interesting, and recall a time when people would dose themselves with almost anything. (Actually, has anything changed?)

There was this mixture, for example, which looks interesting to begin with, and is probably even more interesting when you add heroin to it, as the advertisement suggests (with the sanction of the Pure Food and Drugs Act of 1906):


Another popular remedy was cannabis. Yes, marijuana, pot, weed. Henry R. Gering was still advertising a cannabis concoction in 1921 (again in the Western Medical Review), although John Geluardi, in Cannabiz: The Explosive Rise of the Medical Marijuana Industry (available for check-out at Omaha Public Library), mentions that by the 1920s the use of marijuana, medical or otherwise, was beginning to worry a few people, and it was actually banned in California (of all places). Before that, however, cannabis extracts were widely available as over-the-counter remedies for everything from asthma (yep!) to "hysteria"; Queen Victoria used it for menstrual cramps. Ah, those were the days.....
J.P. Cooke building, address of Henry R. Gering & Co.

I was somewhat shocked to discover we had no biographical file in our Nebraska Reference department on Henry R. Gering, so I had to start from scratch. Henry was the son of German immigrants, Paul and Amelia Gering, and was born in 1868 in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, although the family later moved to Plattsmouth, Nebraska, and seem to have done very well there. (Their house is on the National Register of Historic Places). Henry became a pharmacist and his brother Matthew a lawyer. The two girls, Mia and Barbara, never married (going by the census). Henry was a busy fellow--ran a pharmacy in Plattsmouth, was elected mayor there in 1904 after serving as city treasurer, was a member of the State Pharmacy Board, Chairman of the Democratic Central Committee, and Secretary of the Board of Trade (all this from the Semi-Centennial History of Nebraska [1904]); newspapers of the early 1900s indicate he was active in the Democratic Party. He was also quite busy in the Nebraska State Medical Association. In 1909, Henry is in the Omaha city directory as president of the Porter-Ryerson-Hoobler Co. (a drug company that replaced the Mercer Chemical Company of Omaha in 1902). By 1910, the company had become The Henry R. Gering Company, at 1315 Howard Street (which local readers may recognize as the J.P. Cooke Building).

In both 1909 and 1910, Mila U. Gering was listed as the company's secretary-treasurer. Both Henry and Mila boarded at the Rome Hotel (Henry was still there in the 1920 and 1930 censuses). I'm pretty sure that "Mila" was Henry's older sister, Mia U. Gering--although the 1910 census listed her at home with her mother, brother Matthew, and sister Barbara in Plattsmouth, where she worked as clerk in the county treasurer's office--an office where she may have started out working under brother Henry. Did big sister ever get annoyed at always playing second fiddle--I mean secretary--to her little brother?

It doesn't look as though Henry married, though I'm coming up short on his later life. That's not to say he didn't like women--he was involved in a court case that arose as a result of his romantic indiscretion, and was defended by his brother, the lawyer.

From Lincoln Daily News, 21 May 1912.


There is much more we could say about Henry and his family, but I've strayed pretty far from the weird ads in the Western Medical Review. I'll save the genealogy for another day.



Sunday, July 10, 2011

The Guarantee Laundry Company

While following the trail of Ace and Ann, I started wondering if we had any old pictures of the neighborhood around South 16th and William Streets--as I mentioned, the area looks a trifle blighted now. Still rather charming, especially late on a sunny afternoon, when I visited, but many of the buildings are boarded up or in decay. I couldn't find any photos of that precise location, but in Omaha Public Library's digitized collections I did find a couple of pictures of the Guarantee Laundry Company in 1912, which took up two buildings at 1468-1470 S. 16th St. Note the seemingly spotless attire of these laundresses--I would expect nothing less, of course. They knew how to get their whites white.




Of course, you can't see much of the neighborhood. But I imagine it was more bustling than today. The laundry was owned by Leonhard Carl Heine (at the far right in the top picture), who owned a number of laundry companies, including the Omaha Laundry Company and the Sanitary Towel Company (no, I don't think it was that kind of sanitary towel, but I could be wrong....more research required). He married Mathilda Hamann in 1912--the same year his kinsman and partner, Charles Heine, married Mathilda's sister, Agatha. Mathilda and Agatha may be the women identified in pen in the top picture as "Till and Aggie" (here I go, off to research the Heine family and see just how Leonhard and Charles were related. No wonder I never get anything done).

Charles and Agatha seem to have run the laundry, as can be seen from an ad in the Jan. 1914 issue of the Western Medical Review (found at Google Books--and I may do a whole post on some of the more interesting advertisements in this publication).

They were actually already married at this point.

Although the Heine laundering empire lasted a good while (the Heines were also involved in many Lutheran charitable projects), the Guarantee Laundry Co. did not stay long at 1468-70 S. 16th St.--it first appeared in the city directory in 1911 at that address and was gone by 1929, to reappear some time later at 301 N. 18th St. (which was also the address of the Sanitary Towel and Supply Co.).

I haven't followed 1468-70 S. 16th St. through all the years, but I did check it out at the tax assessor's site to see how it looks now. There is no 1468 any more, but 1470 still exists--I think it may be the same building. It's certainly old enough, having been built in 1890. Fallen on hard times, I'd say. But it's still a handsome old building. Won't someone take it in hand?


I was somewhat surprised to discover that the current owner is my own neighbor from across the street--or rather her estate, since she passed away four or five years ago. You just never know who you'll bump into when exploring a city.







Friday, July 1, 2011

A neighborhood bar

I had planned to write something about a fascinating fellow named Eugene Konecky, a left-wing poet and journalist of 1930s Omaha,  who had some interesting romantic affairs (is that enough of a teaser?), but instead I got distracted by a telephone call.  A library patron wanted to know whether he remembered correctly that there used to be a bar called Ace’s at South 16th and Williams, and he thought that before that it was called “Ace and Ann.”  A quick Google search brought up the address, 1263 S. 16th Street, and the fact that the building, described as “the old ‘Ace’s Bar’ building,” is, or rather was, for sale, at a bargain price (it was sold last October for only $18,000). According to the Douglas County Tax Assessor’s office, it was built in 1887 as a bar/tavern, and never remodeled. The building includes a two-bedroom apartment on the second floor.

I admit, it’s not really one of those beautiful old buildings that preservationists will defend to the death, especially now that it has some really rude graffiti on the door (tactfully invisible in the assessor’s photo), and the neighborhood seems to be dying, but it led to some interesting historical byways. 

First of all, it seems to have been a working-class neighborhood bar nearly continuously for over a hundred years, which is pretty neat. It was set squarely in what used to be called “Bohemian Town,” according to page 6 of the Reconnaissance Survey of Portions of South Central Omaha (a fantastic resource, also available in print form at Omaha Public Library; they did these surveys for many parts of the city).  The Omaha city directory indicates that in 1889 Frank Swoboda had a combination saloon, grocery, and hay and feed store at that corner, obviously meeting every need any normal person might have—especially booze, since judging by the newspaper publication of yearly liquor licenses, in those days there seems to have been a saloon on every other corner.  The true opium of the masses…?  The 1909 Omaha Police Department Official Historical Souvenir (available in our Nebraska Reference section) has an ad for Frank Semerad's bar at that particular corner; and the 1910 census shows that Frank lived over the saloon with his wife, three children, a servant, and the saloon's bartender and porter. How cozy!  All the adults were from Austrian Bohemia.

I didn’t look at every year between 1887 and now, but did note that Prohibition took its toll—in 1926, for example, the property was occupied by J.A. Kopecky Soft Drinks (shh, come around to the back….). And it was Frank Sloger Soft Drinks in 1932.

4319 S. 27th St.
Now, Ace and Ann!  “Ace” was Walter Sempek, born in 1910 to Polish immigrants.  The family lived for many years in “Little Poland” (http://www.nebraskahistory.org/histpres/reports/omaha_south.pdf, p. 5) at 4319 S. 27th St., in a two-bedroom house with 1.5 bathrooms, still standing. Built in 1895 (the swans are more recent), it is an example of the front-gable worker’s cottage that the Reconnaissance Survey describes as typical of the era, and it seems to be holding up pretty well.

 The interesting thing is how they all fit in—the 1930 census shows nine people living there: Joseph and Mary Sempek, their six children (Walter was the eldest), and—a lodger! Privacy, of course, had yet to be invented. 

Walter, or Ace (this nickname appeared in his obituary—Omaha World Herald, 16 Feb. 1978, A.M. edition, p. 50—and on his tombstone in the largely Polish St. John’s Cemetery) worked in the Cudahy packing house, one of the four giant meatpacking plants in Omaha at the time, along with his sister Cecilia and many other people in the neighborhood. 

In 1932, at the age of 21, he married 18-year-old Ann Luczinski, the daughter of Austrian-Polish immigrants, and as if 4319 S. 27th St. wasn’t already crowded enough, she moved in with Walter in his parents’ house. It probably wasn’t all that much of an adjustment, actually, because in her own home, a couple of miles away at 29th and Arbor (according to the 1930 census), she shared what was probably the usual worker’s two-bedroom house with her parents and seven siblings (her address no longer exists, so we can only guess). 

Walter and Ann eventually moved into a house of their own, and after many years in the packing plant (Cudahy’s was followed by a stint at Nebraska Beef), Walter apparently scraped together enough to buy the bar at 1263 S. 16th St. The 1949 directory shows it as vacant, and there was no directory in 1950, but in 1951 the Ace and Ann Restaurant made its directory debut. Walter (Ace) and Ann apparently lived in the apartment over the bar, as so many bar-owners had done before them. (1520.5 square feet. Intimate.) They had at least five children (going by Walter’s 1978 obituary), though they would have been almost grown by the time their parents finally achieved the American dream: their own business. 

Over the years the name varied—it was the Ace and Ann Restaurant, Ace and Ann’s Tavern, and Ace and Ann’s Bar at various moments in history, or at least in various city directories—but always Ace and Ann; they must have been a solid team.  Then Ace died in 1978, and Ann followed him in 1985. By 1984 Ace’s brother Joe (who, incidentally, still lived back in the old neighborhood, barely a block from the house he grew up in) was running the bar (Omaha World Herald, 12 Feb. 1984); and by 1990 it had apparently left the family; Patti Albertson owned it (Omaha World Herald, 22 April 1990), and it was no longer Ace and Ann but Aces Only. Seems rather a snub to poor Ann… Things seemed to go downhill a bit from there, with the bar appearing in the paper mostly in connection with stabbings, thefts, and illegal video slot machine operations.  

And now it is closed. That’s it, the life and death (perhaps) of an ordinary little neighborhood bar. Insofar as any place that encapsulates someone’s life story is ordinary.* 


*Interestingly—if you’re a little nerdy, anyway—in colonial times “ordinary” was a common term for a tavern or saloon, especially in the south.

Friday, May 27, 2011

The Dream of Life

We’ve been going through Omaha Public Library’s storage room lately, the equivalent of dusty trunks in the attic, and finding some interesting odds and ends.
One of those odds (odd seems the right word…) is some rather grimy, tattered sheet music entitled  “The Dream of Life,” lyric by “Con” T’Lam [sic]; music by Eugene Platzmann. It was published by The Independent Music Publishing Co. in Omaha in 1915.
Looking up Eugene Platzmann, I discovered at http://www.grainger.de/music/composers/platzmanne.html that “Eugene Platzmann … is another of those little known composers known only from sheet music catalogues and their published works. He was a composer, songwriter and arranger of popular music, active between 1904 and 1936 for a number of New York publishers” (and one Omaha publisher, it seems).  A little research (at the library, of course) in Ancestry Library Edition revealed that Eugene was a musician born in 1876 in Germany, who in 1917 was working for the Broadway Music Corporation in New York. He seems to have composed or arranged many popular songs (yes, do a Google search), and the New York city directory lists him as a composer in 1915. The 1930 census, however, shows him working as a grocery store clerk.  Life takes its toll….
Anyway, I was still curious about the Independent Music Publishing Co.  I found nothing about it in either our Omaha historical card file or in our clippings files. So naturally I went to Google Books, where I found an ad for this company on p. 214 of William Bloss McCourtie’s Where and How to Sell Manuscripts: A Directory for Writers (1919).
Looking up that address in the 1920 Omaha city directory (there was no directory printed in 1919), I find, lo and behold, it is the address of—Cornelius Lam! However, his occupation was given as bookkeeper for Paxton & Gallagher Co.  The Independent Music Pub. Co. was listed at the same address in How to Sell Manuscripts, by James Irving (1920), also available through Google Books (how I love Google Books!).
The 1920 census shows Cornelius, a 29-year-old unmarried bookkeeper for a grocery business (that would be Paxton & Gallagher), living at 850 S. 23rd St. with his mother, Christena Hillebrand, who was a “machine operator”  for a wholesale dry goods business.  His career as a music publisher seems to have been short, and the city directories indicate that he did not quit his day job. I wonder how many "snappy and original" ballads he published that he did not have to write himself? According to the Catalogue of Copyright Entries published by the Library of Congress Copyright Office, he did copyright at least two other pieces of music in 1915, “The Little Schoolhouse on the Hill” and “It’s Back to Tennessee for Mine,” both with lyrics by Lam and music by Luther A. Clark. At the time the city directory listed him as a clerk for Western Electric Co., living at 1047 S. 22rd St. (with his mother).
I did find some interesting tidbits about Luther A. Clark. He was apparently a composer-for-hire in Thomaston, Maine, who in 1937 gave the world the benefit of his songwriting expertise in a little pamphlet entitled How To Write A Song Poem (In Three Complete Lessons).   Read and enjoy….
Back to Con Lam…..
By 1923 the directory listed him as the manager for the Independent Stamp Co. (he obviously liked the “independent” theme….as any boy who lives with his mother for most of his life probably does) which dealt in foreign postage stamps at 1716 S. 27th St. (Lam’s residence).  The 1930 census showed that he now owned the house at 1716 S. 27th St. (which, I note from the Douglas Co. tax assessor’s website, was built in 1920 and has not ever been remodeled), and although he was still living with his mother, HE was now the head of the household, and listed as a stamp broker who worked on his own account. His obituary (14 July 1978 in the Omaha World Herald) mentions a sister, Ada, but no other relatives; he apparently never married.
So ends this brief history of what seems to have been the only music publishing company active (if active is not too strong a word) in Omaha in the early 1900s. Lam was clearly a man who dreamed of a destiny higher than clerking in a store—though he seems to have had a practical streak as well, judging from his not quite deathless lyrics:
We dream of life by day and night,/Of Kings and Queens we’d love to meet./’Mid palace and gardens we would roam,/And call them ours and ‘home sweet home’/But after all, quite sweet is love, /And life the sweetest of the sweet./ Oh! Give to me the joys of love! Life’s what you make it after all!