The Independent

THE INDEPENDENT, ELIZABETH CITY, N. C.

THE BACK HOUSE TO THE FRONT
By CHARLES E. ROYAL

(The following poem was inspired by the famous C. W. A. privy
which has since had nation wide circulation. Charles E. Royal, the
author, is perhaps better known as the "Uncle Remus" of stage and
screen and his home is in Los Angeles, Calif.)

To all you carping critics who have Roosevelted on the scan,
I want to call attention to his latest Privy Plan.
If he never did another thing but form C. W. A.
His name should live in history as the greatest of his day,
For down in North Carolina he has pulled a wondrous stunt
That is bound to bring that sacred shrine,
THE BACK HOUSE TO THE FRONT
And all who cherish memories of happy childhood days
will cheer our blessed President for preserving bygone ways.
I'll explain the part the Back House played to the lowly and the grand.
And for benefit of all our youth who do not understand
Long years ago ere sanitation came to be a stunt:
Before the chiseling plumber charged a dollar for each grunt;
Before the "prevention of cruelty bunch" proved that it was unkind
To do the things, folks long had done unto their own behinds;
Before they baptized nature's call by pulling on a chain,
We had a good old system thus in memory shall remain.
"It was just a simple little throne as plain as plain could be,
But, my, what recollections it recalls to you and me.
It graced the back end of the yard half camouflaged with vines
And built of boards and poles and tin of many different kinds.
Sometimes the leaves of almanacs or books or magazines
Would decorate the little walls with interesting scenes.
The throne seat, built for comfort, just two feet high or more,
So when you sat up on the hole your two feet touched the floor;
The knot-holes in the walls and door, were lookouts where you viewed
The horizon for trespassers who disturbed your solitude.
And crescent moon posts found real inspiring use
For every bard within that shrine to register their muse.
And the laughter of the children will re-echo evermore
From those games they played of hide and seek behind the back
house door.
A leveler of conventions, Ah! How well it served them all.
The rich, the poor, the single, saint, the big ones and the small:
They might desert their churches, clubs or palaces divine
But each paid daily pilgrimage unto that humble shrine.
But as those golden years slid by and snobs began to rule.
They brought false standards in our life, our church, our home and
school;
And orators with silver tongues were paid by men of wealth
To crucify the old back house as a menace to our health.
They formed a "Privy Council" and had each state decree
It was against the law to use that shrine of memory.
They built new closets in the house upon real swanky plus
And called them highfalutin names like "toilets," "rests" and "cans":
With chains that flushed the water through and tis used by the roll
To take the place of corncobs that we just threw down the hole.
But, we who live back in the past, who long for yesterday.
Can now perk up with dignity and bless "C. W. A."
For down in North Carolina where nature reigns supreme
They're licking this depression with a "Back to Nature" scheme;
They're building miles of privies on the good old squatter's plan
With good old fashioned holes and things meant for the real HE man;
And North Carolina's bound to be the nation's paradise.
For folks who want real comfort will flock there just like flies.
And as they sit and meditate, between each groan and grunt.
They'll thank Roosevelt for bringing
THE OLD BACK HOUSE TO THE FRONT