The Swat Team

Fly’s in the buttermilk.

Good, stay there, nobody likes buttermilk anyway. Keep to the kitchen. But no, the little buzzer has to take a tour of the apartment, skirting the bathroom’s beauty products before storming into the living room. The fly likes the glass of Sauvignon Blanc on the coffee table, is curious about the ficus.

OK, now you’re dead. You weren’t welcome to begin with, and now you’re being a real pest. Shoo, fly, shoo? Forget that. We’re talking annihilation. You are so off this island.

The rolled-up Pottery Barn catalog doesn’t work (too thick with summer sales). The chase begins. A crude bat made of newspaper knocks over picture frames, rearranges the linen curtains, upsets the glass of wine. The temperamental ficus shudders.

Finally--splat!--you’re history.

If only we had a real fly swatter. A homely but deadly model like the one that hung in the kitchen on a hook on the pantry door next to the calendar from the feed store. Mother was a stickler for keeping flies out of the kitchen and, as such, had a lethal hand; houseflies didn’t stand a chance. Come to think of it, all the women in the family were marvelously adept with the fly swatter. Grandma’s aim was so sure, she could kill any fly within arm’s reach without her eyes ever leaving the dreamy face of “Dr. Kildare.”

But they had beautiful weapons: long-handled fly swatters with flapping wire-mesh heads that reacted with deadly accuracy at the flick of the wrist. Never costing more than a dollar (sometimes they were free promotions--”Eat at Joe’s,” “Bob’s Automotive,” “Vote for Al”), the good, old-fashioned American fly swatter seems a thing of the past.

Where, oh where, have our fly swatters gone? Like readily available airplane glue, wood-burning kits, Blackjack gum and metal roller skates, the fly swatter seems to have landed in the junk heap of our youth. Like forgotten 45s.

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James B. Twitchell, a professor of English at the University of Florida who specializes in pop culture, suggests that the prepackaging of our consumer life means there’s less open food for flies to feast on; ergo, fewer flies. “Many of the fly-attractive foods come in packages that are hermetically sealed,” he said. “Everything’s hermetically sealed. I remember as a kid the flies floating around your eating life. Summertime meant flies. You were at play, but meanwhile flies were being killed.”

Maybe there are fewer flies. Maybe we just don’t see them anymore. But one thing’s for certain, the fly swatter isn’t as prevalent.

Or maybe it just seems that way.

“There’s one hanging on a hook in my kitchen and there’s one in the garage,” Susan Holder of Plano, Texas, says proudly. “We still have flies in Texas!”

Holder, a schoolteacher, said fly swatters are one of life’s necessities. And they are in no way out of style, at least not in Texas. “A dollar-49 at Wal-Mart,” she said. “You go buy a trash can for the kitchen, and you pick up a fly swatter at the same time.”

Restoration Hardware, that baby boomer trip down memory lane, introduced a nifty fly swatter several years ago. A seasonal item, it is sold in stores and through the catalog in spring and summer. And it’s a big seller, said Dave Glassman, director of marketing for the California retailer.

“They are very, very popular,” Glassman said of the graceful model that sells for $7.50. “Fly swatters are still in vogue.”

And vogue they are--French. Restoration Hardware’s model comes from the Combrichon Co. in France and it is very ooh-la-la: a canvas-edged mesh head on a long wire arm affixed to a wooden handle. It looks and acts American, though; positively Adirondack.

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The swatter is appealing to customers as both a weapon and an art object, Glassman said. “Honestly, if they’re not using them to kill flies, they’re hanging them up as a fun conversation piece. They’re aesthetically pleasing. People always look at them. They’re neat.”

Neat and effective. People who continue to use the household fly swatter can thank Dr. Samuel J. Crumbine of Kansas, a zealous public health official who helped invent the apparatus, as well as push through laws banning public spitting and banishing the common drinking cup in the state of Kansas.

According to one history, Crumbine in 1905 zeroed in on the common housefly, launching an aggressive campaign to wipe out flies in his state. The campaign slogan “swat the fly” caught the attention of schoolteacher Frank Rose, who showed the doctor his fly-killing invention--a yardstick with wire mesh on one end. Rose called it a “fly bat.” Crumbine renamed it the “fly swatter.” The name and the invention caught on, first in Kansas, then across the country. And, eventually, the world.

Today, dozens of companies still produce fly swatters, mostly as business promotions. Even Philippe Starck, who has designed furniture as well as the world’s most celebrated hotel interiors, whipped up a nifty fly swatter for Alessi of Italy. Called the Dr. Skud Fly Swatter, it’s probably the most stylish anti-fly device around. It even stands on its own little tripod feet.

But the fly swatters most people know from their childhood aren’t Starck’s divine rods or even the giveaway plastic slappers. No, they’re like the ones Restoration Hardware sells.

Glassman acknowledges his French fly swatter’s deep, nostalgic pull. “Obviously before the advent of the electronic zappers, this was the only way to exact revenge on our insect friend, or enemy,” he said.

Twitchell said the wire-mesh fly swatter is a homey piece of the past. “Nostalgia plays such a powerful role,” he said. “It’s not just retro. You’re picking up almost the exact same image of your childhood and buying it back. People are picking up a chunk of memory.”

Now if we could only find a turntable to play those old 45s.