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Show PAGE 8 THE ZEPHYR AUGUST 1994 From the Poultry & Farm News Desk of the Zephyr a rubber chicken. They gave me a blank, puzzled gave each grand daughter I one with me in my look. Rubber chickens make me laugh and always cany And it made me wonder, too. Is briefcase. As for the little girls, they don't get it there something weird about me, or are rubber chickens really funny? What is it with rubber chickens? I went on a quest to find out to a guy who would know: Gene Rose, Surprisingly enough, all arrows pointed the owner of Loftus Novelty and Magic Cbmpany in Salt Lake City, Utah. You might not expect Salt Lake to be the rubber chicken capital of the universe, but it is. Gene and his wholesale company have more or less cornered the market buying out manufacturers in other countries, and developing a rubber chicken that looks great, best-sellirubber chicken in the lasts a long time, and is reasonably priced. It's the world. I went to visit him - he and his wife gave me a tour of their warehouse and took me to lunch - fine folks. Loftus makes the chickens in a factory near Oxnard, California. A hinged mold is sprayed inside with a secret latex formula, producing a carcass which looks ghastly. yellow, and its feet and comb are dipped in a vat Each chicken is then hand-sprayI ng ed of orange-re-d paint. Mr. Rose wouldn't divulge his numbers, but given the pile of crates of chickens I saw in his warehouse, he's moving a lot of chickens. And has been for a long time. By Robert Fulghum What comes to mind when you think of chickens? Chickens seem to play a larger role in my life than I ever anticipated. For example, on the wall of the space wherein I write and think, I have hung a large poster. A black and white photograph of a chicken, held upside down by its legs. A man in a butcher's coat is holding a knife at the ready. The chicken is about to be slaughtered. Underneath the photograph are these words: "Sometimes things are just as bad as they seem." Alongside the poster, pinned to the wall by a cord tied to its back legs, is a rubber chicken. A featherless, yellow, rubber rooster. This ubiquitous classic comic's prop is available in every shop as standard gag material. Rubber chickens are absurd, ludicrous, and funny. A third image exists in my mind's eye: Ralph, the Rooster - a pet chicken I had for several years in childhood. Ralph, the wonder chicken, who followed me around like a dog wherever I went and sat quietly in my arms like a contented cat. Take that image of the chicken about to die, the rubber chicken and the memory of Ralph throw in the tale of Chicken Little, for whom the sky was always falling, the story of the Little Red Hen, the thought of the healing properties of chicken soup, the metaphors we attach to the egg, and all the chicken jokes you know, and pretty soon yoiiVe got enough material for a kind of philosophy of life based on chickens. Recently, I've spent a lot of time with chickens. When I take my small grand daughters to the zoo, they go straight to the petting pen - where they can get in and mingle with a flock of friendly fowl - Rhode Island reds. These are city girls and chickens are exotic birds to them. I see the same chickens as meat on the table - and remember all the times I helped my grandmother when she would grab a chicken by the neck, whirl it around her head and pop the head off. My job was to chase down the headless chickens as they thrashed off running for their lives, too dumb to know they were dead. I thought it was great fun. My grand daughters would probably scream and throw up if I told them. gape-mouth- ed joke-and-novel- ty He's tried rubber pigs, alligators, spiders, worms, snakes, ducks, and turkeys, too. sell. And have been an item for more Only the chickens steadily, consistently, reliably than a hundred years for sure, maybe longer. Worldwide. Whenever I travel abroad, I look for rubber chickens - so far I've always found them - England, France, Greece, the Czech Republic, Japan, to name a few. I've got a collection of chickens from thirteen countries now, but have stopped collecting because every new one I find is the same brand - from Mr. Rose in Salt Lake. As to the "why?" and "how?" of rubber chickens, Mr Rose doesn't know. No novelty store owner or comic or magician I've talked to knows where the rubber chicken originated or why it has universal appeal One guess is that some joker way back there in history grabbed a whole chicken off a king's table and hit a bishop with it and the king laughed and history was made. It was such a messy joke that when a substitute for the real thing came along, vaudevillians jumped on the idea. You could keep a rubber one in your suitcase a lot longer than a fresh one. But I'm guessing. I could cobble up a more complex theory. Or make up something. A psychiatrist might have some thoughts, too. But somebody out there lie it would do for the truth. must have the real story. Or such an Readers of this column are invited to a contest - to contribute to filling this cultural vacuum. What do you know about the history of rubber chickens? Or what can you makeup? Why are they funny? The reward is a barbecued chicken dinner at my house, an autographed rubber chicken like the one on my head at the top of the column, and a photograph of the same rubber chicken on your head, published right here in the Zephyr. Come on, now, enter this meaningful contest - don't be chicken. off-the-w- all Pack Creek Ranch eoo a country inn OPEN DAILY P.O.Box 1270 Moab, UT 84532 (801)259-550- 5 |