When T.M. Zink died in 1930, his will directed that the bulk of his estate should go to the construction of a library in his hometown of LeMars, Iowa — a library from which all women, and any books written by women, would be permanently banned.
The city government of LeMars wasn't exactly pleased by this gift and raised no objections when Zink's daughter (successfully) challenged the will, arguing that her father was of unsound mind. So Zink's womanless library never became a reality.
Of course, as odd as his bequest sounds today, throughout most of history womanless libraries were the norm — until well into the nineteenth century, I believe.
No woman shall at any time, under any pretense or for any purpose, be allowed inside the library, or upon the premises or have any say about anything concerned therewith, nor appoint any person or persons to perform any act connected therewith.
No book, work of art, chart, magazine, picure, unless some production by a man, shall be allowed inside or outside the building, or upon the premises, and this shall include all decorations for inside and outside of the building.
There shall be over each entrance to the premises and building a sign in these words: "No Woman Admitted."
It is my intention to forever exclude all women from the premises and having anything to say or do with the trust estate and library...
If any woman, or women, shall be allowed to disregard any of the limitations herein placed upon them, it shall be ground for removal of the trust estate and library...
My intense hatred of women is not of recent origin or development nor based upon any personal differences I ever had with them but is the result of my experiences with women, observations of them, and study of all literatures and philosophical works within my limited knowledge relating thereto.
In the early 1970s, AT&T was faced with bad publicity. During congressional hearings, it had been revealed that although the phone company was the largest employer of women in the country, almost all of those women were employed as low-paid telephone operators. There were almost no women in higher paying jobs, such as in repair or installation. AT&T responded to the criticism with the two ads below.
Ms magazine - July 1972
Sports Illustrated - June 12, 1972
Was Alana MacFarlane a real person? Absolutely. Even before the magazine ads appeared, AT&T had been making sure to let the media know that it had hired a female installer. The media responded with nudge-nudge wink-wink headlines:
Long Beach Independent - Dec 16, 1971
Torrance Daily Breeze - Apr 7, 1972
But the national spotlight AT&T had placed on MacFarlane proved uncomfortable for her. Within six months she had requested to be transferred to a desk job, ending her brief career as an installer.
Honolulu Star-Advertiser - Sep 14, 1972
A one-page blogspot blog, "Alana Macfarlane's story," created in 2010, gives some info about what subsequently became of her. She left AT&T, joined the Air Force for a while, and eventually became an engineer. It reveals that she was paid all of one dollar by AT&T for the ad she featured in.
A great deal of effort has gone into trying to come up with standard clothing sizes for women. Organizations such as the National Bureau of Standards have, over the years, measured tens thousands of women.
However, precise standards have proved elusive. Instead, according to Wikipedia, clothes makers "follow the more loosely defined standards known as U.S. catalog sizes." And catalog sizes "may vary even among different styles of the same type of garment."
May 1955: Seven "typical American women" crouched in a trench 3500 yards from an atomic-bomb test in the Nevada desert. They did it to "demonstrate to other women that civilians can survive an atomic blast, if they take proper precautions."
The best reaction to the blast came from Mrs. Grace Doebler of Tucson, Ariz.: "I'd like to do it again, with a bigger one."
Mrs. Opal Dixon decided to start robbing banks because she was "tired of living without having money."
Her method was unusual. She would fill a syringe with mouthwash, enter a bank, and then brandish the syringe over her head while shouting that it was full of nitroglycerine and she would blow the place up if the teller didn't give her money.
She got away with this once and would have succeeded a second time if the police hadn't identified her later while she was walking down the street.
Down in Tasmania, the Museum of Old and New Art (MONA) was sued for having a "Ladies Lounge" (a dining area where high tea was served) that wasn't open to men. Kirsha Kaechele, the artist responsible for the Lounge, then proceeded to turn the trial itself into a strange kind of performance art. From the BBC:
[The trial] started with a large group of women dressed in navy power suits, clad in pearls and wearing red lipstick marching into the hearing to support Ms Kaechele...
As the parties sparred, the museum's supporters were somewhat stealing the spotlight. They had periods of complete stillness and silence, before moving in some kind of subtle, synchronised dance - crossing their legs and resting their heads on their fists, clutching their hearts, or peering down their spectacles. One even sat there pointedly flipping through feminist texts and making notes...
the museum's posse left as conspicuously as it came in - dancing out of the building in a conga line as one woman played 'Simply Irresistible' by Robert Palmer off her iPhone.
The museum lost the case. Kaechele responded by installing a toilet in the Ladies Lounge so that, as a women's restroom, men could legally continue to be excluded.
Paul Di Filippo
Paul has been paid to put weird ideas into fictional form for over thirty years, in his career as a noted science fiction writer. He has recently begun blogging on many curious topics with three fellow writers at The Inferior 4+1.