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Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, September 12, 1926, Image 103

Image and text provided by Library of Congress, Washington, DC

Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83045462/1926-09-12/ed-1/seq-103/

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The elevator you run yourself is being run up to the sixth
floor by Mrs. Pratt of apartment b-J. She has a couple of
guests. ‘Tin such a silly," explains Mrs. Pratt as the ele
vator drops half a floor and then stops dead and refuses to
go either way. "I always press the wrong button! Some
day I know 1 11 drop right to the basement!’’
ft" —n
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Apartment houses, co-operative or otherwise, are honey
combed with radio bugs. Radio bugs insist on the radio pro
gram from WOOF or WARP being taken seriously and
listened to, no matter who is calling at the time. And if
the dear little wife is one of those fortunates whom music
and song stimulate to conversation, there’s trouble ahead.
(“Why," Mrs. Zippy is saying, just a little louder than the
dulcet tones coming from the radio, "I'd never have guessed
it was ready-made if you hadn't told me! It fits beautifully
across the hips, and that’s where ready-made things look
so ready-made, usually.")
Meet the girl from across the hall
who has to run in and tell you about
it or bust. It was like this: \ou see.
this man from Oswego, she hadn't
seen in a long time, called up and
said could he come up. and, my dear,
not thinking, she said yes, and then
later she remembered that Harris
was coming up that evening, and. oh
dear, what should she do! They'd
both be perfectly raving. She also
tells everything her mother doesn't
want told.
LS§^
THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C.-GRAVURE SECTION—SEPTEMBER 12. 1926.
/ \
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This is Krda. the superintendent's
darling little daughter, who won't
take any back talk from any one.
Ask Erda to please not scream
quite so loud in the front hallway,
and Erda. quick as a wink, will
answer, “Applesauce.” That’s
Erda. always the sunbeam.
c
100% Co-operatb
By W. E. HILL
(Copyright. 1920. by the Chicago Tribune Syndicate.)
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"Arthur, dear, what
shall I do? The
electric dish washer
is all frost covered
Vand the refrigerat
ing system is leak
ng hot soapy water!
I think I must have
connected something
l shouldn't." Al
most everything in
the modern own
your-own apartment
is electrified except
the maid service and
the tenants. Some
day. perhaps !
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Meet Mrs. Lacey, the part-time maid service, on her
glad way to stop up the incinerator with an armful of
rubbish. She is going to leave the hopper door open,
which will be nice.
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Practically everything in the new Bologna Arms Apartments is 100 per cent
co-operative except a few tenants, who don’t get the 100 per cent idea.
Take Mrs. Tiven and Mrs. Gleewitz. Mrs. Tiven saw little Payton Gleewitz
slap Ina Tiven for no reason at all. There was nothing to do but for Mrs.
Tiven to write a note to Mrs. Gleewitz about how badly brought up Payton
was. Naturally, Mrs. Gleewitz, who is, every one says, a wonderful mother,
resented Mrs. Tiven’s attitude and told Ina’s mamma that Ina was a bold,
vicious child and had taught Payton several bad words. So now there is a
coolness on the fifth floor.
«-l "
Mrs. Trenchant of the seventh floor is
forever getting up petitions, to be signed
by the other tenants, protecting the view
or for keeping undesirable children of?
the sidewalk in front.
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A very timid tenant is Miss Jupp.
* Strange noises come out of the dumb
waiter and the in-a-door bed and nearly
frighten her out of her wits She has
two chains, three bolts and a couple of
Yale locks on her front door.
1
Mr. and Mrs. Howell Hiss of apartment
4-Z. in our 100 per cent co-operative
building (a development some call it), are
very warlike and absolutely refuse to co
operate with anything or anybody. By
10 a.m. of an average day Mrs. Hiss has
complained both loud and long, via tele
phone or in person, about the children
across the hall, the radio overhead and
the baby underneath. They have been
over to the real estate man to complain
about the family in the apartment house
next door, who can—and do—look right
into Mrs. Hiss’ bedroom window. Mr.
Hiss spends his evenings writing long
letters to the newspapers about the
abuses prevalent in co-operative apart
ment buildings, such as the rattling of
milk bottles early in the morning and the
pilfering of the twelfth roll from a bag
of rolls on the dumb waiter.
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The man who pounds on the wall for the
music to stop is getting all ready to
pound.
’ - 1

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