Life — August 21, 1913 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

“LIFE>- What is the Worst Summer Resort and Why? (This contribution, “ Europe,” submitted by Mr. R. D. Brooks, 305 West Grand Street, Elizabeth, N. J., was awarded the first prize of one hundred dollars for the best answer to the title question on this page. The rest of the accepted contributions which are printed on this and the succeeding page, received honorable mention, and have been paid for at Lire’s regular rates.) Europe UROPE is the worst summer resort. London, Paris, Geneva, the Riviera, the Rhine cities and Brussels are in a continual state of amazement at the poor fools of Americans, who decline to use the common sense usually attributed to the Yankee, and who arrive and depart in droves and a hurry. There are better hotels in South Bend or Scranton than the average continental city can boast, and more comfort on the Pennsylvania Limited than all the European rail- ways rolled into one. As a pure and simple holdup its equal has never been, nor is likely to be. As an aid to health it is a failure. It increases irritability, produces tired nerves and bodies, and a tendency toward untruthfulness to the United States customs officials. An air of superiority toward your stay-at-home friends before you go and after you come back is the only real pleasure of the trip, and at one thousand dollars or more this seems high. As an absorbent of superfluous cash Europe ranks high, and yet one can dispose of four hundred per cent. more in New York, have a better time, not move so far or so fast, and be among friends. R. D. Brooks. Eureka ITH consummate delight I answer your recently pro- pounded interrogatio I have found the worst summer resort ever. Why Listen: Throughout the extent of it there is not a girl, woman, or suffragette! Even the servants are of the safe, sane and male sex. That that refined rhododendron, the summer girl, does not grace the resort with her muliebrious and chromatic con- cinnity is cause enough for relegating it to the category of the most obnoxious. There is more. Not only is the resort debased by the absence of women. but there is no“ tipping!" Never may the guests indulge in the joy of slipping a half-dollar into the ever-ready palpus of a lackey. Worse yet! The meals are always cooked—thus depriv- ing the grouch of the blissful pastime of calling the waiter naughty names. Even more! There are no curly-headed, blue-eyed, snivelling children to use the guests’ knees as pleasure-steeds. There are no human sprinkling carts invested in bathing uniforms to provide diluent trimmings for the guests’ summer suits. There are no “ waters” to drink, no trails to climb, nothing that the best summer resorts possess. It is worse than the worst—it is heavenly. Where is it? Home. Thomas L. Lennon. Cave Mainum ! I URSELVES when young did eagerly frequent Each joy resort, and time and money spent About them and about: but evermore Came home more sick and sad than forth we went. 2 E’en yet we Lave not found the blessed spot Where pleasure reigns and phonographs are not. Forever jumping from the frying pan Into the fire itself has seemed our lot. 3 So to the wilderness with rod and fly, After the fish that wiser people buy, We went, and took some old familiar juice, In case we might be thirsty bye and bye. 4 But when we camped beneath a spreading bough, And called for toast to absent “thee and thor Then, when the flasks were opened, it was found The juice had vanished—none could tell us how. 5 Till one, our guide and guardian, said, “This State Has grown so dry that drinks evaporate In manner quite surprising; this has happed More often than I dare enumerate.” 6 Now that midsummer madness once again Has seized the people and (for most in vain) They search the land for pleasures, north and south, Take warning, anglers—stay away from Maine! Harry Gibson. UESTION: What is the worst summer resort, and why? Answer: Heaven, because there are so few men there. Elizabeth Pearcy. N ouveaux riches on display, E verybody so blasé; W ickedness of every sort P assing under guise of “ sport; O stentatious revelry, R est and unguessed luxury, T angoing eternally! Katherine Vaughan.