The average outhouse was 3 to 4 feet square by 7 feet high.  It had no window, no heat, no electric light.  Most outhouses were built between 50 and 150 feet from the main house, often facing away from the house.  Since the odor of the outhouse was so unpleasant, many people left the door open - facing the woods - while they were using it.  Old-timers admit that they had trouble breaking this habit with the invention of indoor bathrooms.

The crescent moon cutout and the star cutout on the door of many outhouses goes back to Colonial times. In a time when few people could read, the crescent moon was the symbol for women while the star cutout was for men.  Outhouses were designated by the moon or star. It is thought that the men, in general, let their outhouses fall into such bad shape that it was the women's outhouses that survived the test of time. 

The cutout also let light into the outhouse as there were no windows.

Outhouses were set over a hole, about 5 feet deep.  When it was full, another hole was dug nearby and the old hole was filled up with dirt.  These sites are now places of historical interest - no joke - since the outhouse hole was a popular place to throw away trash.  Archeologists look for these dump sites to find old bottles, pottery, etc.

Most outhouses were "one-holers" but big families often had "two-holers" or even "three-holers".  There was a hotel in Montana that had an outhouse with 12 seats.  There were even 2 story outhouses that were built so when the snow piled up beyond the first floor, one could still get to the outhouse.

During Rossevelt's Works Progress Administration - the WPA - there were teams of outhouse builders who built most of the outhouses in rural areas.  Outhouses were easy to build, nothing more than a wooden shack, a two-foot bench with a hole in it, and a door that swung IN....didn't want to surprise anybody.

Some outhouses had a chicken switch hanging on a hook.  It was used to swat the flies and other varmints.  Some outhouses had a bucket of lime nearby as well. The lime was used to help with the smell of the outhouse.

Toilet paper was considered a luxury, so most rural families used newspaper or pages from old catalogs....like the sears catalog.

The outhouse has been called many names.  It is know as the Little Brown Shack, the Privy, the Backhouse and Earth Closet.  Modern toilets have been called the Water Closet, the Convenience, the Rest Room, the Ladies Room or Mens Room, the Lavatory, the Washroom, Bathroom, the Comfort Station, the Powder Room, the Head, the Necessary Room, the John or Johnny, the Can, the Commode, the Throne, or the Crapper. The word Crapper comes from plumbing inventor, Thomas Crapper.

                   THE OUTHOUSE POEM
                           authur unknown

              The service station trade was slow
              The owner sat around,
              With sharpened knife and cedar stick
              Piled shavings on the ground.

              No modern facilities had they,
              The log across the rill
              Led to a shack, marked His and Hers
              That sat against the hill.
 

              "Where is the ladies restroom, sir?"
              The owner leaning back,
              Said not a word but whittled on,
              And nodded toward the shack.

              With quickened step she entered there
              But only stayed a minute,
              Until she screamed, just like a snake
              Or spider might be in it.

              With startled look and beet red face
              She bounded through the door,
              And headed quickly for the car
              Just like three gals before.

              She missed the foot log - jumped the stream
              The owner gave a shout,
              As her silk stockings, down at her knees
              Caught on a sassafras sprout.
 

              She tripped and fell - got up, and then
              In obvious disgust,
              Ran to the car, stepped on the gas,
              And faded in the dust.

              Of course we all desired to know
              What made the gals all do
              The things they did, and then we found
              The whittling owner knew.
 

              A speaking system he'd devised
              To make the thing complete,
              He tied a speaker on the wall
              Beneath the toilet seat.

              He'd wait until the gals got set
              And then the devilish tike,
              Would stop his whittling long enough,
              To speak into the mike.

              And as she sat, a voice below
              Struck terror, fright and fear,
              "Will you please use the other hole,
              We're painting under here!"

House Behind the House

   The Shanty

   One of my bygone recollections
   As I recall the days of yore
   Is the little house, behind the house,
   With the crescent over the door.
   'Twas a place to sit and ponder
   With your head bowed down low;
   Knowing that you wouldn't be there,
   If you didn't have to go.

   Ours was a three-holer,
   With a size for every one.
   You left there feeling better,
   After your usual job was done.
   You had to make these frequent trips
   Whether snow, rain, sleet, or fog--
   To the little house where you usually
   Found the Sears-Roebuck catalog.

   Oft times in dead of winter,
   The seat was covered with snow.
   'Twas then with much reluctance,
   To the little house you'd go.
   With a swish you'd clear the seat,
   Bend low, with dreadful fear
   You'd blink your eyes and grit your teeth
   As you settled on your rear.

   I recall the day Grandpa,
   Who stayed with us one summer,
   Made a trip to the shanty
   Which proved to be a hummer.
   'Twas the same day my Dad Finished painting the kitchen green.
   He'd just cleaned up the mess he's made
   With rags and gasoline.
   He tossed the rags in the shanty hole
   And went on his usual way
   Not knowing that by doing so
   He would eventually rue the day.

   Now Grandpa had an urgent call,
   I never will forget!!!
   This trip he made to the little house
   Lingers in my memory yet.
   He sat down on the shanty seat,
   With both feet on the floor.
   Then filled his pipe with tobacco
   And struck a match on the outhouse door.
   After the Tobacco began to glow,
   He slowly raised his rear
   Tossed the flaming match in the open hole, with no sign of fear.

   The Blast that followed, I am sure
   Was heard for miles around;
   And there was poor ol' Grandpa
   just sitting on the ground.
   The smoldering pipe was still in his mouth,
   His suspenders he held tight;
   The celebrated three-holer
   Was blown clear out of sight.

   When we asked him what had happened,
   His answer I'll never forget.
   He thought it must be something
   That he had recently et!
   Next day we had a new one
   Which my Dad built with ease.
   With a sign on the entrance door
   Which read: No Smoking, Please!

   Now that's the end of the story,
   With memories of long ago,
   Of the little house, behind the house
   Where we went cause we had to go!

    Submitted by Billie Kirk