Judge, 1915-07-31 · page 9 of 28
Judge — July 31, 1915 — page 9: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a humorous piece about marital miscommunication and female verbosity. The setup: Mr. Simpson writes a brief, businesslike hotel reservation letter for his wife. Mrs. Simpson reads it and decides it's "not explicit enough," then adds an enormous P.S. that rambles on for paragraphs—detailing a 1910 visit, fire safety concerns, radiator complaints, noise worries, and contradictory preferences about room height. The satire targets the stereotype of wives as verbose and obsessive about trivial domestic details, contrasting sharply with her husband's concise approach. The joke's irony: despite all her "explicit" elaboration, she admits she'll barely be in the room anyway. The bottom cartoon (unrelated) makes a quick joke about puppies and modern attitudes. The magazine used such domestic humor to satirize contemporary gender roles and marital dynamics for early 20th-century readers.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
“Arthur married a girl he didn’t think he could get.” AN 6ODLEASE reserve one of your three-dollar-a-day rooms for my wife on Wednesday of thisweek. Very truly yours, “W. B. Simpson.’" Mr. Simpson had written this letter for his wife and had given it to her to send to the proprietor of the hotel at which Mrs. Simpson wished to stop in New York. Mrs. Simpson read the note after her husband had gone and did not approve of it. “It is not explicit enough,’’ she said. ‘‘I think I will add something to it to make it more definite."” So it was that the proprietor of the hotel read the following ‘‘P. S."": “I fear that my husband, Mr. William Brainard Simpson, although he always signs his name W. B., and who has stayed a number of times at your hotel, has not made it quite clear as to just what I desire in the way of a room, and I am therefore adding a few lines to his letter to make it more ex- plicit. I stayed at your hotel once with my husband several years ago and liked it very much, only our room was alittle noisy. I for- get the number of the room, but you may remember it. It was in May of the year 1910, and I recall that it rained nearly all of the time we were there, and I stayed in the room a great deal, which I do not usually do if the weather is fine. I go to New York so sel- dom that I like to be out a great deal seeing the sights, as the say- ing is, when I am there. I desire a room not too high up, for I am always nervous about fire in a high-up room, even if there are fire escapes, for you know that people often lose their lives in ho- tels even when there are fire escapes. A friend of a friend of mine lost her life in a hotel fire, and her room opened right out onto a fire escape. One is often too frightened and confused to use a fire escape even when there is one there. I do not want a room with a radiator that keeps thumping all the time, as was the case at one hotel at which I stopped in Buffalo. The radiator leaked also, and the ventilation was poor, and there was only one window. Nor do I want a room too low down, for I think that the air is better higher up and there is less noise from the street. But, as I say, I do not want to be too high up in case of fire even if there is a fire escape. I like to have a room right opposite an elevator and the “How did that happen?” EX PLICIT “She thought he didn’t want her.” a stairway. I always feel more comfortable about fire in that kind of aroom. As I shall be in the city but one night and shall be out about all of the time if the day is fair, I am not very particu- lar about the room. At least not so particular as I would be if I were to be in the room several days or a week. I will in all probability be in your city for a whole week next winter, and if the rcom you give me this time is satisfactory, I will probably stop at your hotel again."’ Maggie—Have you a puppy? Peggie—No. We don’t believe in puppies.