A Necessity - Glimpses of the Past with Karen Webster
With the arrival of winter comes the task of shoveling snow. One chore that most modern householders are spared from is that of creating a route to the little house behind the big house.
Given various names such as the Wee House, the John, Biffy, Two-holer, the Jakes, the Necessary, and the Comfort Station, generally they all referred to the outhouse. In the days before modern indoor plumbing and municipal sewage systems, each home had the need for a place to dispose of human waste. The basics of the system is simple: a hole dug deep to contain the product and a structure above said hole to shelter the occupants and to give them a place to sit while completing their task at hand.
Choosing a location for the outhouse took some thought. It had to be far enough from the main house to mitigate any lingering odours and yet close enough to be convenient. One wag proclaimed that, “a little house behind the big house is about 100 yards away. In the winter, 100 yards is too far and in summer 100 yards is too close!” The slope of the terrain would also be a big factor in location. Newspapers from a former era advertised products to sanitize the outhouse including Gillette’s Lye to be sprinkled down the hole.
The design of an outhouse depended on the owner. Generally, the structure was made of wood, as were the seats. Perhaps the need for two holes in some outhouses was to accommodate the different sizes of derrieres that would be in need of them. There are stories of smaller children slipping partway down through a seat and becoming stuck, necessitating rescue. Some doors to the little house sported cutouts. Perhaps this was part of the natural system that allowed fresh air to circulate, which was welcomed in summer but abhorred in winter. For toilet tissue, old magazines and catalogues were sometimes used
After a certain amount of time, the location of the outhouse would be moved slightly with a new hole being dug and the former hole filled in. Sometimes, a lilac or another similar bush would be planted on the site and undoubtedly would thrive given the rich organic fertilizer available to it.
In the past, the amenity of an outhouse was part of advertisements about real estate including one from Clinton that stated the property had a fine two-storey house with an attic, a large outhouse and a fine orchard. Point Farms was a luxury hotel that operated just north of Goderich for many years. It was said to have an outhouse that could accommodate 12 people. It is amusing to consider whether this was a communal structure.
No article about outhouses would be complete without reference to the perennial Halloween pranks that they inspired. One farmer, who had a fine three-holer, of which he was justifiably proud, was tired of his throne room being the object of late-October antics. One year, he tied a strong rope around his outhouse and hitched his horses to it. He carefully moved it about three or four feet to the side. That night, he hid nearby and in time he heard a group of young men approaching with mischief on their minds. He heard the ringleader say “Alright boys, on the count of three. One, Two, Three. Oh No!” We do not know who these young lads were, but their actions may have betrayed them when they returned sheepishly home again. One Lucknow girl wrote an essay about the time her uncle came home after such a disappointing foray stating, “I can still remember how he stunk.”
In 1961, just such a Halloween prank went astray when a man was determined that his outhouse was not going to be a victim of local merrymakers. When he heard a group approach, he fired off a shotgun as a warning to get off his property. One 20-year-old man received a pellet in the face, but recovered. Needless to say, that outhouse remained erect that year.
As time went on, the need for outhouses at every property diminished with the coming of electricity to pump water for modern indoor facilities. In 1976, much was made of the fact that Goshen United Church was dispensing with its outhouse in favour of indoor plumbing. It was thought that this was one of the last remaining outhouses maintained at a public location. Some locations, such as campgrounds, still have the need for such amenities, but usually the outhouse of old is the main character in a bit of misplaced nostalgia. While its use was necessary, it wasn’t the most comfortable solution to a human problem.
Humour can be found anywhere. Quite often, in local parades, a depiction of the outhouse is carried on a float. Perhaps the following story is true or, yet again, it may not be. “There was a service station where business was kind of slow and the owner had lots of time on his hands. There were no modern facilities but instead there were two structures up the hill marked ‘His’ and ‘Hers’. From time to time, a car would stop and a young lady would inquire about using the facilities. The owner pointed to one of the shacks. In no time at all, the young lady would come running down the hill, screaming and heading for her car. A bystander asked the owner what was going on. It seems that a speaker had been installed below the bench in the lady’s outhouse. The service station owner waited an appropriate interval and when the time was right, he spoke into the speaker saying, ‘would you mind moving to the other seat? We are trying to paint down here.’”