If we are to take an honest look at the history of this great nation’s furnishings, we Americans cannot deny that we have been less than noble in our pursuits of interior design.  Indeed, our forefathers have been guilty of conceiving such atrocities as throw pillows, slip covers (both fabric and clear plastic), bean bags, and particle board.  The absurd and gruesome nature of these inventions are deeply imbued into the psyche of the American consumer, who are well aware of the pain and misery that they have and continue to cause.

Less notable, however, are the cases of people who committed catastrophic mutilations during the first half of the 20th century.  They were members of a cult, these bored husbands and sadistic housewives, who took paint and saws to furniture that was perfectly fine.  Lustrous mahogany finishes were “antiqued” with smears of green and white ugliness.  Runners were removed from rockers to make extremely low chairs that were comfortable only to leprechauns.  Vanities were cut in twain and renamed nightstands.  Legs were cut off china closets and their matching buffets to make the mutant chinet, a hideous thing born from placing a legless china closet atop a legless buffet.  But the most inexplicable form of cruelty was performed upon head boards.

Pictured below is a seemingly normal antique bedroom suite that was recently sold at Rebecca’s Auction Gallery, but upon close inspection, it becomes obvious that the foot board is not the foot board.  Indeed, what is positioned as the foot board is actually the head board, cut down and faced the wrong way.  The real foot board is up against the wall, doing its best to depict itself as il capo dil letto.

When it was asked why it thinks it was cut, the head board only mumbled and shuttered.  Its tongued had obviously been in the part that was sawed away.  The other pieces of the bedroom suite each had a unique theory to offer.

“I still say the husband was jealous of the head board’s height,” explained the high chest.  “Diggory was his name, and he was born and raised in a coal mine.  Due to the confined space of his family’s shaft, Diggory never grew to be more than four-foot-three.  The head board was six-foot tall, at least.  Diggory’s wife, Bernice, used to call him her ‘little salt shaker,’ because he was so short and had such terrible dandruff.  One day, Bernice didn’t want Diggory to go to the pub, so she hung him off the head board by his breeches.  It wasn’t long after that incident that the head board was taken to the garage and cut down.”

“That’s not the whole story,” added the dresser.  “The foot board was jealous, too.  It conspired with Diggory to ruin the head board.”

“I never!” screamed the foot board.  “You have no proof!  No proof!”

When the vanity was asked if it could offer anything to this line of inquiry, it simply bellowed, “STOP LOOKING AT ME!”

The real motivation for Diggory’s barbarism will never be known.  He died many years ago when he got drunk and suffocated himself in a Christmas stocking, or so claims the bedroom suite.  However he may have expired, Diggory left this world with sawdust on his hands.  His sin now lies at the feet of the bedroom suite’s new owner.

But Diggory wasn’t the only one to inflict such mutilation.  Throughout America, hacked head boards stand voiceless at the feet of sleepers.  The tragedy of these head boards cannot be rectified or reversed, but can be remembered.  It is important to recognize and acknowledge their hideousness, lest we allow such horror to occur again.

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