Judge, 1918-08-31 · page 9 of 32
Judge — August 31, 1918 — page 9: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "The Man Who Made Dairy Lunches Noisy" This article satirizes the psychological manipulation of workers and consumers through noise and confusion. The cartoon depicts a proud proprietor showing off his "troupe of ten dish rattlers"—men employed solely to create loud noise by banging dishes. The satire targets applied psychology fads of the early 20th century. The protagonist claims noise increases productivity, citing boiler factories where noise allegedly stimulated workers to greater output. He applies this "principle" to dairy lunch-rooms, deliberately hiring men to generate cacophony, and observes that quiet establishments prove unpopular while noisy ones thrive. The humor lies in the absurdity: noise becomes a deliberate business tool, not an unfortunate byproduct. The proprietor has scientized chaos itself—treating human psychology as something easily manipulated through sensory stimulation and confusion. The cartoon's exaggerated figures and the phrase "Stay-Too Twice Gumbax!" (nonsense yelling) emphasize the ridiculous pseudo-scientific justification for what is essentially organized bedlam masquerading as sound business strategy.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Hes my pride. Hes the noiSiest Oot. jan I’ve An old. He Invirep Me Over to Look Beuinp THE The Man Who Made Scenes or One or His Great Luncu Rooms Dairy Lunches Noisy By Dox Hero.ip Illustrated by USED to eat lunch at the Walderbilt Hotel with I the proprietor of a number of dairy lunch-rooms in New York. We became great friends. We were both interested in psychology. His psychological hobby and special study was influencing human beings by confusing them, and he was the author of the inter- esting monograph: “With Plenty of Noise You Can Do Anything.” This man was not only a deep thinker, but he had turned his thinking to practical purpose. He is the dean of dairy lunch proprietors in this country. One day I asked him how he first became interested in noise. “T was once a traveling salesman for a boiler fac- tory,” he responded. ‘*Now and then, of course, I vis- ited the factory which produced the boilers that I sold. ‘The manager was one of the brightest men I ever knew I used to comment on the noise in the boiler factory, and one day the manager told me that the noise was very stimulating to the workmen. He said that nearly ever boiler manufacturer at that time was using noise to stir his men to greater production. He also said that he found it paid him to employ a number of men just to pound on boilers to make a noise, and that it caused the other men to become confused and do twice as much work as under the normal quiet conditions ‘Tue Autuor of a boiler factory. That’s why most boiler factories 2re noisy.” And that’s what set you to thinking?” I asked. iD I began immediately to look abcut for some other line of business in which the same principles might be applied. I had a small amount of money to invest at the time. I thought of a dairy lunch. Up to that time what few dairy lunches existed were quiet and, needless to say, unpopular. Come with me.” He invited me over to look behind the scenes of one of his great lunch-rooms. What I saw was a revelation. In one room, behind a thin wooden partition especially treated to transmit sound, was his troupe of ten dish rattlers—tall, strong men; great muscular fellows who rocked mammoth trays of broken dishes from morning until night and yelled incoherent phrases into the air. “And I thought all this noise was necessary,” | to the prop “Ha, ha, ha!” he laughed and again “Ha, ha, ha ‘Then he said: “ Just plain business psychology. Why,a dairy lunch could be as silent as a sepulcher if it wanted to be. And it would be about as popular as a sepulcher if it were. We used to try it quiet for several days ata time, for experimental purposes. Our business curve dropped perceptibly; lunged, in fact. I tell the clerks to yell whatever they happen to think. I tell them to ictor. comicbooks.com