(mid 20^th Century) Good friends are thrilled to figure out a placement for a newly stuffed chum.

I first heard about Partial Taxidermy (PT) when I was an art student in college. My actor friends used the term to describe people who were deficient in bodily movement and emotion, yet strong in presence. At this age, I took most things literally and I believed actors were faithful to their guild, always portraying truth… and I certainly believed these guys, they were grad students.

 I liked calm, passive people, and I felt partial taxidermy could play a roll in my romantic life. I had a crush on a young acting student I had seen in a play. I could never summon the courage to get very close to her. She was calm and so motionless. When I watched rehearsals, I would marvel at the way the action seemed to evolve around her. I noticed the stage manager helping her place her feet and hands in the correct position as she sat, or as she lay prone during certain scenes. Sometimes the other characters would violently scream only inches away from her face…now that’s control. My admiration grew.

Days later, I finally realized she was a mannequin when a stage-hand threw her over his shoulder during a scene change. Her lovely head fell off and slammed against the floor, rolling swiftly towards the edge of the stage. It fell into the orchestra pit. I immediately jumped in to retrieve it, but my toe caught on a broken bit of trim at the edge, and I tumbled face-first into the abyss. I remember hearing a loud “crack ”as my face collided with the mannequin’s head. I lay there in the dark for a moment…but I was OK.

It was only a few seconds later I emerged from the pit with the mannequin wig attached to the top button of my jacket, hanging out of my collar like a patch of thicker-than-normal chest-hair. Bits of the plaster head were stuck in my scalp and beard, with the brightly painted, detached lips clinging to my moustache.

A crowd of actors had assembled. Raucous laughter filled the auditorium. People were nearly falling down in hysterics.

I remember looking down past my brand new jacket and being totally mortified I had not taken care to match my pants and socks.

I remained convinced about PT, and a later experience seemed to get closer to confirming its existence. This involved my first girlfriend in college. She was passive to the point of being a corpse with living (in fact, very nice) legs. We went everywhere together, but I did all the talking and opening doors. She had good presence, but her kisses were cold, and rather stiff. We eventually agreed to break up (at least I think she agreed) when I realized we could never high five, and I would never, ever get a good back-rub.

My research in analyzing old photos supports my belief that PT does exist. I already knew some historic personalities fit this description. Calvin Coolidge (Silent Cal) was perhaps the most popular example. When the famous American poet and social satirist Dorothy Parker was informed Coolidge had died, she is reputed to have remarked, “How can they tell?”

With Coolidge, and many others, the telling is found in observing how the top, middle and bottom of a person work in concert with the other body-parts. Looking over hundreds of photographs of people from the early to middle 20^th century, I found evidence of this little known, yet practical and somewhat macabre practice utilizing methods of stuffing areas of the body that are either seldom used, or extremely annoying.

From the photographic evidence I gathered, the practice seems to have died out around the middle of the 20^th Century, although there are still many husbands, wives, employees, comedians, and other observers who believe in its existence...My research continues...

                      The reverse of a photo postcard taken from an old                                           album, dated June 1920 reveals familial discord.

(on the reverse side, early 20^th Century) “Uncle, in the picture, you see the fellers in the background over my right shoulder. They seem to be getting a kick out of my circumstances. You won’t have any trouble telling how upset I am. My sisters are intent on making me miserable, and they hate my hat.”

Another photo postcard dated that following year to the same uncle shows seemingly younger sisters and tells a different story.

 (on the reverse side, early 20^th Century) “Uncle, I am one happy man after the gals came back. See? They stay where I put ‘em. Don’t worry; I won’t switch their noggins. Ha! Ha!...Look girls, got rid of the hat!”

The group of young men pictured in this example             shows a fourth member (far left) who has obviously been partially taxidermied.

(mid 20^th century)  Why go as a threesome when you can have fun with a fourth so easily? These young fellows seem to be having good-natured fun by imitating their stiffened friend.

Inscrutable Cosmetics first appeared in The Basement