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Gerald Carson


Gerald Carson, who died in 1989, was a Contributing Editor of American Heritage.

Articles by

Gerald

Carson

Articles by this Author

Nicknames On The Land, April 1991 | Vol. 42, No. 2
A small but dependable pleasure of travel is encountering such blazons of civic pride as “Welcome to the City of Cheese, Chairs, Children, and Churches!”
All through the 1920s eager young emigrants left the towns and farms of America and headed for New York City. One of them recalls the magnetism of the life that pulled him there.
Connoisseurs have long regarded him as the master of cold-turkey peddling. He’s been at it for eighty years.
Yankee Tarzan, April/May 1981 | Vol. 32, No. 3
WHEN JOSEPH KNOWLES STRIPPED TO THE BUFF AND SLIPPED INTO THE MAINE WOODS IN 1913, HE HOPED TO LEAD THE NATION BACK TO NATURE.
The mob was at the palace gates; her husband was already a prisoner; the servants were stealing imperial treasures before her eyes; Empress Eugénie turned to the one man in France she could trust—Dr. Thomas W. Evans of Lancaster, Pa.
“If we could first know where we are, and whither we are tending, “said Abraham Lincoln, “we could better judge what to do, and haw to do it. “For nearly two hundred years, the United States Census has been trying to find out.
The Curious World of the Trademark
The U.S. Post Office, 1775-1974
Bourbon, February 1974 | Vol. 25, No. 2
… and grew, and grew, and grew …
What started as fun and games at spring roundups is now a multi-million-dollar sport called rodeo
Pilgrims and Puritans, naturally, hated the water, but by the turn of the century certain pleasures had been rediscovered
Sweet Extract Of Hokum, June 1971 | Vol. 22, No. 4
Patent medicines were usually neither patented nor medicinal, which is not to say they didn’t (and don’t) have any effect
The Rough Rider rode roughshod over writers who took liberties with Mother Nature’s children
The roads were terrible, and posted badly or not at all; you had to equip yourself against a hundred mishaps, ninety-three of which actually happened--but you were often up to your hubcaps in pleasure.
The Great Meddler, December 1967 | Vol. 19, No. 1
In Henry Bergh—a reformed dilettante who founded the A.S.P.C.A.—many saw a latter-day Saint Francis of Assisi. But others, especially the cruel or the thoughtless, regarded him as The Great Meddler.
J. H. Patterson, the first supersalesman, put his cash register in every emporium and banished itchy fingers from the till
In Jackson’s day you were damned if you wore a beard; by Lincoln’s, damned if you didn’t. Then beards were suddenly ‘out “—for good, it seemed. But were they?
For a century the piano was America’s radio, phonograph, and television set, as well as its finishing school and its supreme status symbol
How a Pennsylvania congressman dug Martin Van Buren’s political grave with a golden spoon
To the backwoods distillers of Pennsylvania, that was like taxing the air they breathed. Rut the government was deadly serious: the Constitution itself was at stake
The Saloon, April 1963 | Vol. 14, No. 3
American is full of cocktail lounges, and even bars, but they are nothing like that great male institution and home-away-from-home which died with Prohibition
Cornflake Crusade, June 1957 | Vol. 8, No. 4
A history of the food reformers and cereal kings who made Battle Creek the center of a revolution in Americans eating habits
Cornflake Crusade, June 1957 | Vol. 8, No. 4