Judge, 1915-10-09 · page 9 of 28
Judge — October 9, 1915 — page 9: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a humorous short story (not a political cartoon) satirizing early 20th-century apartment living and newlywed domestic life. The illustration shows a soldier ("Rookie") visiting his sister, with a military camp in background. The narrative mocks the fashionable "efficiency apartment" trend—specifically a tiny "denette" (dining-nette) designed with absurdly clever contraptions: a davenport that conceals a bathtub underneath, fold-down tables, murphy-bed style mechanics, and nested furniture. The satire peaks in dark comedy: the author notes that because of these engineering tricks, if a maid wanted to commit suicide by drowning, she'd have to do so without "damaging the very shiny woodwork." The piece pokes fun at architect-designed space-saving gimmicks marketed to newlyweds and the era's obsession with "modern" compact living, suggesting these innovations are clever but ultimately absurd and potentially dangerous.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
THE Rookie (to his sister)—I say, Sis, run along home, like a good girl. VERY MAID who served the Blake- leys inveighed against the vast spaces in the fine, old mansion, the long stairs, the huge halls, and the Sabbath day journey from kitchen to front door. Naturally, when By W. T she picked the tiniest, cosiest, most compact zed from the ingenuity of architect-man. Betty clasped ecstatic hands at the dovetailed conveniences of the kitchenette, but it’ was the denette which really won her. , And, in truth, the denette was most artfully contrived; otherw it could not have been at all, but must have remained an odd corner, a size too big for a closet. But, by swinging the door into the hall, and fitting chairs like the jump-seats of an automobile, and having the center-table lower from the ceiling when you wanted it—it’s a matter of habit, after all, whether the legs of a table run up or’'down from the slab—and narrowing the book shelves a trifle—well, by doing these things, you had the cunningest, most intimate little bower that ever embraced honeymooners. BUSINESS THE FOLDING DENETTE MAN'S This is stern, bloody work, and a man needs all his nerve about him. CAMP And don’t forget the davenport, a truly noble furnishing, filling one end of the denette. As the agent pointed out, it had been made pos- sible only by intensive coordination, as he phrased it. That is, the bath tub went under the seat of the davenport. No; the bath tub had nothing to do with the denette, except rest on its rollers, under the davenport, when it wasn’t required in the bathroom, which couldn’t be entered, by the way, when the tub was in active com- mission. It was an all-round great scheme, besides saving valuable space. If you wished to bathe, you merely went into the bathroom, and stood at one side, and pulled a lever, and the tub shot from its concealment beyond the partition and automatically barred the bathroom door. And because this was a thoroughly up-to-date flat house, there was a duplicate set of levers in the denette, by which the tub could be controlled; so that, in emergency (if, for example, a maid chose to commit suicide by drowning) you could get into the bathroom without damaging the very shiny woodwork. That precious denette was the heart of the home of Jimmy Walman and Betty, his devoted bride. There they were as snug as bugs in a rug, Jimmy stretched luxuriously on the davenport and NICHOLS