Kissing Dudes

Famous actors kissed like "dudes."

The Wallack Kiss [(presumably Lester Wallack)]. 

The famous New York actor delivering one of his dudish kisses on the stage.

Madison Times (Tallulah, Louisiana), January 17, 1885, page 1.

 

But women kissing poodles was considered a step above kissing a “dude.”

We never so deeply feel the sin of waste as when we see a pretty girl kiss the pink nose of a poodle.  South and West. 

That is miserly economy compared to the folly of a pretty girl kissing a dude. Wilmington Statesman.

Baxter Springs News (Kansas), April 25, 1885, page 4.

 

A “dude” kissing another “dude” wasn’t illegal in Chicago, but the police didn’t like it anyways.

Chicago dudes kiss each other when they meet and part upon the streets.  It is said that the new fashion keeps the police force sick at the stomach all day long.

The Macon Telegraph (Georgia), December 28, 1886, page 2.

 

Frenchmen kissed one another like the “dudes” in Eastern cities; a practice that was feared could spread out West.

In Eastern cities the dudes now kiss each other, on parting.  The practice will doubtless extend to Hailey.  It is a national habit with Frenchmen to kiss one another, as a sign of esteem, and male relatives, especially, never think of bidding each other good-by without kissing on the cheek.

Wood River Times (Hailey Idaho), February 5, 1887, page 3. 

 

But even further west, a “dude” might kiss a woman illegally and get away with it.

Miss Mamie Wilson of Oakland is a remarkably handsome young lady, and, like many pretty girls, is usually late for the boat.  As she glided through the gate she was closely followed by a dude.  There was only a minute to spare.  Both landed on the deck of the 4 o’clock ferryboat at the same time.  Just as the gong sounded a shriek followed.  In the presence of the whole ship’s company the dude had placed his arms about her neck and bestowed a violent kiss on Mamie’s cherry lips.  He escaped to the wharf by making a jump of about five feet, and then threw her another kiss, while the lady was storming with indignation.  She had never seen the man before.  The only theory is that the dude has a mania for kissing pretty girls, or that he committed the act on a wager.  He is described as being a blond, with a good-sized mustache, about six feet in height.  He wore a plug hat and light overcoat, and carried a gold-headed cane.  Miss Wilson desires to have him arrested, but it will be a hard job to get him.

The San Francisco Examiner, March 4, 1888, page 3.

While back in Chicago, a woman might be fined for kissing a “dude” – no news about his punishment.

A Chicago justice has fined a woman $15 for kissing a dude.  Any woman with the bad taste to kiss a Chicago dude deserves even greater punishment. – [Philadelphia Press.] 

But it was a Chicago woman who did the kissing, and dudes have some rights.

The Times-Picayune (New Orleans, Louisiana), October 22, 1890, page 4.

 

The Chicago kissing fine story was widely reprinted in 1890, generally without the dude-rights rejoinder.

 

Five years later, on a slow news day, some lazy copywriter pulled the old story out of the files.

For kissing a dude, a woman has been fined $15 by a Chicago Justice.  Any woman with the bad taste to kiss one of those things, by courtesy called dudes, deserves even greater punishment.

Buffalo County Beacon (Gibbon, Nebraska), May 10, 1895, page 2.

 

A slightly more energetic copywriter embellished the story, lending the already fake news a little extra fakeness.

Miss Arabella de Smythe, who is a member of one of our best-known families, was arraigned before the Recorder yesterday on the charge of kissing a dude.  The evidence was very conclusive, and the accused was fined $100 and sentenced to six months in the work-house.

The Tennessean (Nashville), May 26, 1895, page 12.

 

The punishment sounds severe, but we don’t know who the dude was – perhaps it was deserved.

 

With all of the persecution of “dudes,” should have been easier to just shake hands, but “driveling dudes” found a way to make even that too complicated.

Saint Paul Globe, October 16, 1887, page 17.