Ya Got Trouble right here in this Chariton River city

Prof. Harold Hill, a creation of Mason City's Music Man Meredith Willson, famously warned the residents of River City about the moral danger of pool in "Ya Got Trouble" as follows:

"Now, friends, lemme tell you what I mean:
Ya got one, two, three, four, five, six pockets in a table,

Pockets that mark the diff'rence

Between a gentlemen and a bum

With a capital 'B,'

And that rhymes with 'P' and that stands for pool!"

But Mason City (or its mythical stand-in) wasn't the only Iowa City endangered by frivolous games during the late 19th century. There was danger in Chariton, too, as indicated by the following incident reported in The Chariton Herald of May 27, 1886 (a similar report also appeared in The Democrat of that date):

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"On last Sunday forenoon, Messrs Bates Manning and Buz Larimer, two members of a gentlemen's club, who own a billiard table, went into their private room over Larimer's store, and were whiling away an hour in punching the ivory balls over the table. They were interrupted by the deputy marshal, who directed them to report at the Mayor's office on Monday morning. The case was postponed until Monday evening, when they were called to trial upon an information charging them with a fracture of the following ordinance:

" 'No person shall, within the city, publicly, or so as to be seen or heard by the public, or within hearing or sight of a private residence, play at billiards, pool, ten pins, pigeon hole, carondolet, cards, quoits or other games of amusement or chance, on the Sabbath day.'

"The accused were found guilty, and each fined $3.00 and trimmings. They promptly furnished the required bond and appealed the case to the District Court, where they propose testing the validity of the ordinance, or at least its application to such a case as playing billiards in a private room that is never opened to the public." 

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According to the Democrat, the young businessmen --- who should have been in church, of course --- would have escaped the deputy marshal's notice had they not opened their club room's windows overlooking North Main Street to get a little fresh air. Thus, the gentle clacking of cue and ivory balls made its way into the public domain.

The Democrat was solidly on the side of the perpetrators, alleging that the Chariton ordinance was invalid because it went beyond a statute then in effect statewide, quoted as follows, also on May 27:

"If any person be found on the first day of the week commonly called Sabbath engaged in riot, fighting, offering to fight or hunting, shooting, carrying fire arms, fishing, horse-racing, dancing, or in any manner disturbing any worshipping assembly or private family; or in buying or selling property of any kind, or in any labor, the work of necessity and charity only excepted, every such person so offending shall, on conviction, be fined, etc."

Sadly, I could find no further reports regarding the incident so we may never know if Bates and Buz actually carried their appeal to district court or, if so, what the outcome might have been.

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Most of Iowa's "blue laws" long since have been lifted, although car dealerships still are forbidden to sell or trade automobiles here on Sundays. You'll not be cited for engaging in a game of pool with windows open to the street, however.

Wikipedia, that fount of all knowledge, tells us that contrary to myth, blue laws were neither written on blue paper nor published in blue-bound volumes. The best guess of the experts is that the term was carried forward from "blue-stocking" --- a disparaging designation in 17th century England for Puritans who favored laws enshrining their rigid moral codes.