The boot scraper was a piece of iron set into the stone next to the front door. A blade. A curve. A small piece of metal that said before you come inside scrape the street off your shoes. The boot scraper was the border between outside and inside. The boot scraper was the bouncer at the door of the house.

The streets were not paved. The streets were mud and horse manure and garbage and whatever fell out of the wagon. You walked through it all day and it caked on your boots and you carried the street home on your feet. The boot scraper was the last thing you used before you entered the house. The boot scraper was the act of deciding you were done with the outside.

You can still see them. Walk through Greenwich Village or Brooklyn Heights and look at the old brownstones. There is a piece of iron near the bottom step. Most people think it is decoration. It is not decoration. It is a tool that nobody uses anymore because the streets are paved and the horses are gone and the boots are clean. The boot scraper is a fossil of a dirtier city.

The boot scraper was honest. The boot scraper said the street is dirty and you are going to bring it inside unless you stop and clean yourself. The doormat replaced the boot scraper. The doormat is polite. The doormat says welcome. The boot scraper did not say welcome. The boot scraper said you are not welcome until you clean your shoes. The boot scraper had standards. The doormat has manners.

I like the boot scraper better. The boot scraper did not pretend the street was clean. The boot scraper admitted what the street was and offered you a way to deal with it. That is more useful than a mat that says welcome while the mud walks in.

See also: Cobblestone, Stoop