Judge — October 17, 1931 — page 30: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

WERE LAVISH HOUSEKEEPERS and proud of it OW irritating are the economies of too frugal house- keeping! You rush into your hotel room late in the afternoon, hop under the shower, reach for a fresh towel — and there isn’t one. The day's skimpy supply completely exhausted! You can either use a rumpled towel or phone — and wait — for an extra one to be sent up. Or you sit down to your desk to dash off a few letters... find rusty pens, a caked ink well, only a few sheets of stationery More inconvenience of sending — and waiting onal supplies to be brought! Economies like these are not practiced in the Statlers. In our houses we provide such an abundance of supplies — for ad that you don’t need to phone — or wait — for anything. Your bathroom boasts a liberal stack of bath towels and linen face towels — pure white, extra size, of the finest quality. Even the shower curta sare kept fresh and clean. Moreover, your writing desk is amply stocked with stationery —letterheads, note paper, correspondence cards, postals, blotters, telegram blanks, new pens of different types, fresh ink in a clean, non-caking well —even the year’s calendar. A quantity generous enough to satisfy the most industrious correspondent! And we're not only lavish housekeepers, but good house- keepers — proud of the extreme cleanliness of our rooms, our beds, draperies, walls and carpets. During our years of hotel-keeping many have told us we're foo lavish. Some even called it lavish when we were the first hotels to provide ¢ ry room with its own private bath, circulating ice water, free radio reception — a news- paper under the door every morning. But we shall continue to provide unstintingly all the convenience: —and supplies — which mean so much to the comfort and satisfaction of our guests. HOTELS STATLER BOSTON CLEVELAND In NEW YORK, Jole/ Pennsylvania BUFFALO DETRONT $T. LOUIS AUDGING rg edly over some obitu ary news. It seems that P. G. Wode- house the Great has finally written an unfunny book. We couldn't believe our eves as we read away at it—“If I Were You" —and, not believing our eyes, we would have read it twice to make sure it was Wodehouse himself writing and not Theodore Dreiser, and that the publishers had made a mistake on the dust cover, only we couldn't: bring ourself to do it, the book was so muggy. We have a sus- picion that what happened was either the Great Man started the book on a day the stars weren't propitious to comedy writing or else, finding him- self about three months behind with a promised MSS. and having an im- portant date for golf, the Great Man fished up an old musical comedy b from the bottom of the lake where he'd thrown it and novelized it while waiting for his foursome to appear. The latter is probably the ease—the book has all the zip and zest and nov- elty of a Ziegfeld plot, all of our sha of which you can always have. Care- ful next time, Mr. Wodehou re [*yx0t at like us and need a little Wodehouse every once in a whil to cut the gloom and must have some- thing to fill in the gap left by “If I Were You,” you might try Eric Hateh’s “Lover's Loot.” It is pat- ently written in the Wodehouse man- ner, but is a little green. Hatch obvi- ously needs a little aging all around ght begin to feel that he was being crowded. Written by Wodehouse, “Lover's Loot” would have been very hot stuff indeed. As it is it is much better than the Wode- house foul ball but nowhere in’ the class of something like “Fish Pre- ferred,” which was our choice for the Nobel Prize. Tr. » who crave a load of the inside dope on how it feels to be married to Sinclair Lewis, the red herring of can Letters, will do well to study “Half a I * by © Heg- ger Lewis, who knows a thing or two about the matter, having been Sink’s First. Mrs, Ex-Lewis, obeying some tabloid impulse which seems to run in even the blood of duch: down the stays before Wodehouse ses, has let 1 up the old an autobiogra- phy that masquerades illy as a novel Whether the book is a breach of taste on Mrs. Lewis’ part we wouldn't dare to surmise, but that it isn't a terrifi- cally hot one we would. It’s not. arting at the beginning, she tells of her New York girlhood and gradu- ewes comicbooks.com