Judge — March 19, 1932 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

Too Much Livery Mr. Julius Schoenfeld, Manager English Towers Apartments. D' an Mr. Scttoenrenp: It’s got to stop. T can't stand it It's the doormen, Mr. And the elevator be know, Mr. Schoenfeld, when I leased this ground floor apart- ment, you assured me of privacy. The The apartment is I pay the rent, yes, but it It’s shared by the door- men and the elevator boys who keep tabs on me. If I open the door, there uniformed individual standing there with his eves glued on me, When I come in, with bundles, the doormen missing and both ele- vators are up at floor PH, but when I go out the full squad is always on hand. any longer. Schoenfeld. Now you word is a mockery not mine. isn’t mine, Jaden are I want to get my own mail, I'm tired of watching them stumble over each other in a rush for the box that holds my letter. One morning they actually tore a letter in two, trying to prevent inc from getting it out of the box myself. Couldn't you arrange to have them play their games in the court? They new one now. — It’s we Mats.” Yes, Mr. y've tried to fool me. men change hats with JUDGE Reporter—IWhich one of the doormen, and, as I stand at attenti gleam in the : Privacy! I can no longer take a shower, without locking the bathroom door. I've bought a zipper for the pass, they n, with a curious “IDANOEL Lint Desert Travecer—Cripes—I thought that tree was a mirage! 1s you birds got here first? shower curtain, “Your phone has NH day,” they tell me. If they can hear the phone, they can hear the shower, can't’ they, Mr. hoenfeld? } I tell you, I'm no longer happy at } your English I'm tired of nodding good morning 1 evening, and good night to your courteous quartet. That's twelve nods a day,. Mr. Schoenfeld. I'm sick of smiling apologetically at them when a male ler leaves my apartment at IE p.m. and looking guilty when a sleepy doorman unlocks the door for me at 3 a.m. You won't believe me, Mr. Schoen- feld, but I haven't left my apartment for three days. I've tried to, but I couldn't quite make it. Last night I | opened the door a crack to see if they were still there, and they were—ail four of them. Smiling pleasantly. It’s Thursday and I’m out of food— besides, I need air and exercise. This can't go on, Mr. Schoenfeld. Tt can’t. about it? Frantically yours, Herren Rankin Canna P, Last Monday I found a rket diary in the lobby and opened t random to page #3. I read as far up at 8.11, shower nh with a Mr. Wentworth—" hefore one of the doormen claimed it. Schoenfeld, he's keeping — my —Heren Ranwin Caren been ringi ‘Towers. What are you going to do comicbooks.com