Knock-knock jokes offered free entertainment in the 1930s

Knock, Knock. Who’s there? Sam and Janet. Sam and Janet who? Sam and Janet Evening.

That was one of the classic Knock-knocks from the prior century.

Frank Gilbreth was a fantastic time-and-motion consultant from that time with a wonderful creative mind and a charming sense of humor. He was the father of “Cheaper By the Dozen.”

Among his creations to educate his children was a depiction of a million. People talked about a million this, a million that so he decided to illustrate a million for his kids by developing a wall with 1,000 squares by 1,000 squares. Unless you get a million pennies ($10,000), you don’t have the visual image of a million.

But, I drifted (again). He was also fond of Knockknock jokes.

Here’s another from the book: “Knock, Knock. Who’s there? Isabelle. Isabelle who? Isabelle necessary on a bicycle?”

The Knock-knock joke craze really hit the United States in the 1930s but did Shakespeare start it?

In the Scottish play — it’s supposedly a curse to say the name “Macbeth” in theater — Act 2, Scene 3, the porter is very hungover from the previous night. In his monologue, he uses “Knock, knock! Who’s there” as a refrain while he is speaking.

Here are his lines: “Knock, knock! Who’s there, I’ the name of Beelzebub? Here’s a farmer, that hanged himself on the expectation of plenty; come in time; have napkins enow about you; here you’ll sweat for’t.”

That doesn’t fit the standard format for the Knockknock jokes of today or last century, which typically include a pun finish and are generally groaner-type humorous but then Shakespeare was writing tragedy not comedy in this work.

Several centuries passed (as did Will) before Knock-knocks really hit their stride in 1936.

From the right coast to the left coast Knock-knocks were a big hit. Knock-knock clubs were formed in towns in Iowa, Kansas and Illinois — there is typically not much else to do there, especially during the midst of the Great Depression. Knock-knocks were also free. A Missouri version was Knock, Knock. Who’s There? Popeye. Popeye who? Popeye I need some more money.

The “Knock-knock” song by Vincent Lopez and some other big bands became a favorite.

I don’t think it’s danceable.

Lopez himself commented: “That tune inflicted a fiendish game upon an America already suffering through the Depression.” Nonetheless, Vince and Fletcher Henderson incorporated it as an audience participation song into their acts.

Syndicated gossip columnist Paul Harrison mentioned in his column that year: “Hollywood has failed to escape infection by the germ of that game Knock-knock … that has grown-ups as well as children going daffy.”

To illustrate his point, he shared “Knock, Knock. Who’s there? Sarah. Sarah Who? Sarah doctor in the house?”

As with many fads, Knock-knocks began to wear on some people. Those who liked Knockknock jokes were said to have social problems.

D.A. Laird, director of a psychological laboratory, spoke of people who love puns and Knockknock jokes as if they were sick.

I didn’t know Laird but if he’s a shrink he needs to see if any of his colleagues will comp him a couch session. He was apparently a humorless type as he also defined Knock-knock jokes as one of those “catch-question games, the answers to which no reasonable person could possibly guess.”

I seriously doubt if he’d have done well at the Loveland Trivia Bowl competition.

The year 1936 was a big one for Knock-knocks.

Bob Dunn even wrote a book “Knock Knock: Featuring Enoch Knox.”

Newspaper advertisements chimed in with this one:

“Knock, knock! “Who’s there? “Rufus.

“Rufus who? “Rufus the most important part of your house.”

The joke formula was around but mostly dormant during the 1950s and 1960s until “Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-in” brought it to the forefront of entertainment once more.

When the laughs faded from TV it went with them.

Knock knock. Who’s there?

Ima.

Ima who?

Ima just a columnist writing my thoughts.