Washington Square North – A New Yorker State of Mind

Saving The Row

Above: Washington Square North circa 1930. (nypap.org)

In the first decades of the 20th century very few buildings in New York City were considered sacred, especially during the building boom of the Twenties when large swaths of the old city were erased to make way for massive skyscrapers and more than 740,000 new housing units.

May 9, 1936 cover by Constantin Alajalov.

To keep anything historic from the wrecking ball required constant vigilance as well as political savvy. Such was the case at Washington Square, where in response to a 27-story building erected at 1 Fifth Avenue a campaign was organized to create height limits around the square itself. The land for 1 Fifth Avenue was leased by Sailors’ Snug Harbor—a foundation dedicated to assisting retired mariners and one of the largest owners of land in Greenwich Village. The threat to Washington Square became even greater in 1936 when the same foundation announced plans to demolish several of the structures facing the north side of Washington Square, known as “The Row.” In his “Notes and Comment,” E.B.White explained:

INTERLOPER…The Sailors’ Snug Harbor Foundation had already altered the scale of Washington Square with the erection of 1 Fifth Avenue (1926-27), seen to the right of the arch in the bottom photo (by **Berenice Abbott,** 1936); above left, facade of Sailors’ Snug Harbor Foundation building as it appears today (inset: the foundation’s monogram set within the spandrels of the arched windows); top right, looking west down Washington Square North, 1937. *(daytoninmanhattan.blogspot.com/geographicguide.com)*

Fortunately the demolition did not proceed, with Sailors’ Snug Harbor deciding to retain the character of “The Row”—numbers 1-13 Washington Square North. Not so fortunate were the adjacent Rhinelander Houses that were demolished in the mid-1940s, and “Genius Row” on Washington Square South, which was demolished in 1948 to make room for the NYU Law Center.

NOT SO FORTUNATE…The Rhinelander Houses at Washington Square North (top photo, from 1922) were demolished in 1951 to make way for an apartment house; photo below, the “Genius Row” on Washington Square South was demolished in 1948 to make room for the NYU Law Center. Occupants of Genius Row included writers **Stephen Crane, O. Henry,** and Willa Cather. *(nypl.org/Village Preservation–GVSHP)*

Beginning in the 1940s, Parks Commissioner Robert Moses would try many times to ram a highway through Washington Square Park, including a proposal in the early 1950s (below) that would bisect the park with a 48-foot-wide highway connecting Fifth Avenue to West Broadway.

PAVING PARADISE…Opposition was so great to **Robert Moses’s** Washington Square proposals that he finally abandoned plans for a highway through the park. *(MTA Archives)*

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Farewell Artie

Legendary conductor Arturo Toscanini (1867–1957) transformed the New York Philharmonic into a world-class ensemble during his stint as music director from 1928 to 1936. Unfortunately, his stellar career with the Philharmonic ended rather ignominiously: When the Maestro turned to take a bow at the conclusion of his Carnegie Hall farewell concert, a young photographer exploded a flash bulb directly in his face, causing the great conductor to flee the stage. E.B. White was there to take it all in:

I SAW THE LIGHT…a photographer’s flash temporarily blinded legendary conductor **Arturo Toscanini** (top) following his farewell concert at Carnegie Hall. Below, a ticket stub from the historic evening. Five bucks seems like a bargain, but it is roughly equivalent to nearly $120 today. *(wfimc.org/carnegiehall.org)*

The New Yorker’s music critic Robert A. Simon also shared some thoughts on the evening, which included a scuffle between a “hatless fellow” and another fellow (also hatless) that followed the photographer incident:

PLEASE BEHAVE…A view from the Carnegie Hall stage in 1930. Following **Arturo Toscanini’s** farewell concert in 1936, a scuffle broke out in the lobby, the result of a row over the temporary blinding of the Maestro by a photographer’s flash bulb. (*nypap.org)*

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Lah-Dee-Dy

“The Talk of the Town” looked into the fuss over the toy industry’s first practical “drink-and-wet” baby doll, Effanbee’s Dy-Dee doll. Marketed as “The Almost Human Doll”, the “Talk” correspondents (Helen and Charles Cooke) found a demonstration at Macy’s a bit too real (included with this excerpt is spot art by Abe Birnbaum).

UNCANNY…The Effanbee Doll Company marketed their “Almost Human” Dy-Dee doll as the first workable “drink-and-wet” baby doll. The doll was designed by German-born **Bernard Lipfert** (1886–1974), who sculpted dolls for prominent American toy manufacturers from the 1920s to the 1960s, including the famous Patsy and Shirley Temple dolls. *(collectornet.net/Linda Lipfert White via catskilldolls.com)*

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At the Movies

Many film critics in the 1930s, including The New Yorker’s John Mosher, admired the Soviet film industry for its cinematic innovations and often brutal realism, even if deployed as propaganda. Such was the case with We Are From Kronstadt, which depicted heroic Red sailors defending the city of Petrograd from counterrevolutionary forces. “It’s a film to be respected,” Mosher wrote.

NO BLONDES, JUST BOMBSHELLS…Clockwise from top left: Russian poster for *We Are From Kronstadt;* actor **Georgi Bushuyev**; battle scene from the film; actress **Raisa Yesipova.** (Wikipedia/imdb.com)

Mosher also reviewed the lighter fare coming out of Hollywood, including two films featuring the actress Joan Bennett.

SEEING DOUBLE…**Joan Bennett** shared top billing in two new releases—with **Cary Grant** in *Big Brown Eyes* (left); and with **Fred MacMurray** in *13 Hours by Air* (top right); **Claudette Colbert** was paired with **Ronald Colman** in *Under Two Flags* (below). (csfd.cz/imdb.com)

WET AND COLD…**Bette Davis** and **George Brent** went through the motions in *The Golden Arrow* (left); at right, **Rochelle Hudson** and **Alan Hale** braved the wilds of Canada in The Country Beyond. Hale was the father of **Alan Hale Jr.,** who was also a film actor but is best known today for playing the Skipper on TV’s *Gilligan’s Island. (pinterest.com/20th Century Fox)*

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Swing Time

Ninety years ago America’s youth primarily listened to (and danced to) swing music and big band jazz. The New Yorker kept readers up to date on the latest hits.

RHYTHM SECTION…”The Ol’ Perfessor” **Kay Kyser’s** band (the “Kollege of Musical Knowledge”) kept the kids in rhythm in the 1930s; at right, **Benny Goodman** (left) and **Gene Krupa** both released records with some new “swings.” (jimramsburg.com/grampsblog.wordpress.com)

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From Our Advertisers

The makers of Packard automobiles were big into the idea of continuity, emphasizing the quality and longevity of their product over gimmicky style changes…

…in the mid-1930s (and especially in 1936) Chrysler employed the comedic talents of Ed Wynn to sell its low-priced Plymouths…

…the makers of Fisher car bodies (a division of General Motors) continued their campaign of two-page ads pairing cute kids with their “Turret Top” safety feature…

…canned beer was a recent innovation in 1936, with New York breweries leading the way (Krueger Brewing Company was first, its canned beer officially debuting in January 1935)…

…the French Line enticed New Yorkers to see Paris in the springtime…

…Harper’s ran this ad on the top left corner of page 95 to promote Robert Benchley’s My Ten Years in a Quandary…and How They Grew, illustrated by Benchley’s New Yorker colleague Gluyas Williams…

BENCHLEY IN A BIND…**Robert Benchley** and the cover of *My Ten Years in a Quandary…and How They Grew. (ebay.com/ebooktakeaway.com)*

…on to our cartoonists, we begin with Richard Taylor in the calendar section…

…and a nice bit of spot art by Christina Malman…

…Alan Dunn revealed a time tunnel under the Hudson…

…Rea Irvin drew up an odd sight along a garden path…

…this honeymoon was over before it even started, per Peter Arno…

…Alain showed us the troubled dreams of a jailbird…

…Charles Addams at his best, taking the daily horrors in stride…

…James Thurber gave us a Gish, but not of silent movie fame…

…Helen Hokinson illustrated a day at the radio station across pages 22-23…

…Hokinson again, weighing the competition between a sofa and table…

…and we close with Kemp Starrett, and a helpful husband…

Next Time: A Flivver Farewell…

The Art of Peace

In July of 1928, war was officially banned from the earth. Or so it was hoped when the Kellogg–Briand Pact became effective on July 24, 1929.

Also known as the “Pact of Paris” and more officially the “General Treaty for Renunciation of War as an Instrument of National Policy,” its authors, United States Secretary of State Frank B. Kellogg and French foreign minister Aristide Briand, gathered world powers in Paris on Aug. 28, 1928 to sign a treaty that denounced the use of war and called for the peaceful settlement of all future disputes. The New Yorker, in the opening “Notes and Comment” section of “The Talk of the Town,” took its usual “What, Me Worry?” approach to world affairs, finding the whole thing unnecessary given that (in its view) Europe was already a peaceful, even benign continent:

GIVE PEACE A CHANCE…French foreign minister **Aristide Briand, Myron T. Herrick** (U.S. ambassador to France), and U.S. Secretary of State **Frank B. Kellogg** meet in the French Foreign Office for the signing of the General Treaty for Renunciation of War as an Instrument of National Policy, August 1928; at right, Briand speaking to the assembly. (theinternationalistsbook.com//Wikipedia)

In January 1929 the U.S. Senate officially ratified the Kellogg–Briand Pact with a nearly unanimous vote, 85-1. John James Blaine, senator from Wisconsin, cast the lone dissenting vote (although four years later Blaine would author another piece of legislation that would have a much greater impact, at least at the time: the 21st Amendment, which ended Prohibition).

SURE, WHY NOT?…The U.S. Senate approved the Kellogg–Briand Pact on Jan. 15, 1929. The treaty went into effect later that year on July 24. *(The New York Times)*

Another item in “The Talk of the Town” made further reference to the pact…

…and Howard Brubaker, in his column “Of All Things,” made special mention of the Sino-Soviet border conflict in referencing the pact:

Brubaker mockingly suggested that the pact marked the beginning of a thousand years of peace, an inadvertently prescient remark considering that in less than four years Hitler would seize power in Germany and announce the beginning of his “Thousand Year Reich” — which we know was quite the opposite of peace. Brubaker was also off the mark with this crude observation:

Just two years after Brubaker wrote those words, Japan would invade Manchuria. And only a decade would pass before Germany and Russia would invade Poland and ignite the biggest war of all time.

PARTY POOPERS…*The* *New Yorker* wasn’t alone in poking fun at the Kellogg–Briand Pact. At left, the pact is mocked during the Paris Carnaval in 1929; at right, British cartoonist **Sidney Conrad Strube** reminded readers of the outcome of America’s earlier efforts at world peace. (Wikipedia/Pinterest) **click to enlarge.**

WE JUST CAME TO SAY HELLO…Germany, the first signatory to the Kellogg-Briand Pact banning all war, invaded Poland just ten years after that treaty went into effect. Above, German troops parade through Warsaw after the invasion, September 28-30, 1939. (National Archives and Records Administration)

Although the pact was ridiculed for its perceived naïveté, and for the fact that it did not prevent the largest war in human history, some modern scholars see otherwise. Political scientists Oona A. Hathaway and Scott J. Shapiro observed (in 2017) that the pact “catalyzed the human rights revolution, enabled the use of economic sanctions as a tool of law enforcement, and ignited the explosion in the number of international organizations that regulate so many aspects of our daily lives.” In his recent book Enlightenment Now, Steven Pinker notes “virtually every acre of land that was conquered after 1928 has been returned to the state that lost it. Frank Kellogg and Aristide Briand may deserve the last laugh.”

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Gallows Humor

Other items in “The Talk of Town” included this brief anecdote, which I doubt many would find humorous today:

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On The Bowery

In the “Reporter at Large” column, Niven Busch Jr. paid a visit to “The Yellow Bowery,” as the piece was titled. Notable in this article (and in Brubaker’s quip above) is the use of term “Chinaman,” a term considered offensive today but in the 1920s was used indiscriminately for East Asians. Here it seems pejorative:

THE BLOODY ANGLE…Clockwise, from top, this bend in Chinatown’s Doyer Street was known as “The Bloody Angle” due to the numerous killings among the Tong gangs that lasted into the 1930s. Hatchets were a popular weapon of choice, leading to the creation of the expression, “hatchet man”; another perspective of Doyer Street from 1932; the street was also the site of the first Chinese language theater in New York City. (boweryboyshistory.com/Museum of the City of New York/Wikipedia)

Busch’s piece was rife with stereotypes…

…and referenced the unsolved Bowery murder of 19-year-old Elsie Sigel, a missionary in Chinatown who was found in a trunk, strangled, in 1909…

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE TRACKS…2 Doyer Street was the address of the Chinese Tuxedo Restaurant. It attracted non-Chinese patrons, particularly those who considered themselves ‘Bohemians’ as well as businessmen looking for an ‘exotic’ night on the town. And it helped that the Tuxedo was near the elevated train. (Courtesy Flickr/straatis/thelodownny.com)

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It Grows on You

The rapid demolition of old New York was a recurring theme in The New Yorker of the 1920s, the magazine often wavering between nostalgia and the thrill of the new. No place was perhaps more sacred than the stately row houses of Washington Square. When news circulated that a section consisting of the old Rhinelander mansion would soon fall (for the sake of a new apartment building), “Talk” tried its best to process the change:

IT LOOMS, BUT WE GOT USED TO IT…*The* *New Yorker* once resented the intrusion of the One Fifth Avenue building (built in 1927), looming above the cobbles of the early 19th century Washington Mews. (newyorkitecture.com/Viola Mai, Washington Square News)

MIND THE GAP…Clockwise, from top, just east of this row of houses stood the mansion of **William Rhinelander**; although *The* *New Yorker* noted that its demolition was imminent in 1929, the mansion stood until 1951, when it was demolished and replaced by the 20-story 2 Fifth Avenue; next to the gap between the old row houses and the apartment stands the **Roger Shattuck** House, No. 19 Washington Square North. The Shattuck House was the scene of one of most sensational robberies in the city’s history—in 1922. (nyc-architecture.com/Google Maps)

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Old Boy

In one of my recent posts (Not Your Grandpa’s Tammany Hall) I noted a “Talk” item that described the new Tammany headquarters. In the August 3 issue the magazine introduced the patriotic society’s new leader, John Francis Curry, in a profile written by Henry F. Pringle. In the piece, titled “Local Boy Makes Good,” Pringle suggested that Curry’s old-fashioned approach to politics stood in contrast to the new image Tammany Hall was attempting to project:

Curry’s tenure would end abruptly in 1934 — the first Tammany boss to be booted out by his own followers. Curry made some bad decisions during a time when the political winds were shifting away from machine politics. It was under his leadership that Tammany backed Al Smith over the reform-minded Franklin Roosevelt for the 1932 Democratic presidential nomination. That same year, Tammany-backed New York Mayor Jimmy Walker would be forced from office amid scandal.

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Well, She Didn’t Write the Script

We all know Greta Garbo as one of the greatest film stars of classic Hollywood. Her mysterious aura and subtlety of expression are still lauded by film critics today. The New Yorker, however, never seemed particularly enamored of the star’s performances. Here is a review of her 1929 silent film, The Single Standard:

THE KID STAYS IN THE PICTURE…Little **Wally Albright** played **Greta Garbo’s** son in *The Single Standard.* We just saw four-year-old Wally in my last post, in which he also appeared as **Peggy Wood’s** son in *Wonder of Women.* Apparently when a director needed a cute, curly head kid, they went for Wally—he appeared in seven films in 1929 alone. (Rotten Tomatoes)

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From Our Advertisers

Our first advertisement (image at right) is from the back pages of the Aug. 3 issue. It announced the opening of Long Island’s Atlantic Beach Club, which featured the entertainment of Rudy Vallée and his orchestra…

CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW? Images, top to bottom, aerial view of The Atlantic Beach Club; **Rudy Vallée** performing with emblematic megaphone, 1929; postcard image of the Nautilus Hotel on the Boardwalk of Atlantic Beach, Long Island. (longbeachlibrary.org/YouTube)

…a brand-new car—The Ruxton— was introduced to New Yorker readers in this color advertisement that spanned four pages (click image to enlarge)…

…produced in 1929-30 by the New Era Motors company of New York, the car was marketed for its innovative front-wheel drive and its distinctive low profile (a feat accomplished by eliminating the drive shaft to the rear wheels). While most cars in the late 1920s had an average height of 6 feet (1.8 meters); the Ruxton was less than 4 and half feet (1.3 meters) high. Producers of the car hoped to sell the rights of the Ruxton to an established car manufacturer. Moon Motors of St. Louis built just 96 of the cars during regular production (from June to October, 1930) before the whole deal fell apart…

SHORT RUN…Clockwise, from top left, Ruxton logo affixed to grille; dancer **Rita La Roy** poses with her Ruxton, 1930; some models sported **Joseph Urban** color schemes designed to lengthen the appearance of the car. (allcarcentral.com/Pinterest/hemmings.com)

…if you were one of the fortunate few to own a Ruxton, you might take it for a spin on the Lincoln Highway…or maybe not. Despite the appearance of this ad, a fully paved, transcontinental highway was still an incomplete dream in 1929. Although sections of the road were quite smooth from New York to Omaha, further west things could get a bit bumpy, especially on the unpaved stretches. However, as the ad claims, what really made the road viable was the availability of regularly spaced gas stations along the way…

…I liked this ad for its sheer complexity…

…and then we have this ad from Saks, which somehow conflated new shoes with an intimate encounter with Aphrodite.,,

…on to our cartoonists, we have Helen Hokinson’s observations at “Old Narragansett…

…while out to sea, Alan Dunn found humor in a sensitive swabbie…

…Alice Harvey observed those still skeptical of human flight…

…Perry Barlow peeked in on a moonstruck woman…

…and finally, Isadore Klein visited an antique shop…

Next Time: The Last Summer…

The Unspeakables

For all its embrace of the modern city and its technological wonders, The New Yorker mostly despaired of the changes wrought by the introduction of sound to motion pictures.

Granted, early sound technology was primitive, with directors, actors and crew members adapting on the fly to the demands of a new medium that required absolute silence on film sets and cumbersome microphones that severely limited the movements of actors. Screenwriters, accustomed to writing brief intertitles in silent films, now had to write expository dialogue, and actors had to rely less on exaggerated facial expressions and body movements and more on the spoken word. And it helped if you didn’t have a speech impediment or heavy accent.

Writing for “The Reporter at Large” column (titled “The Unspeakables”), Hollywood correspondent Jean-Jacques lamented that the talkies were “here to stay”…

BARNLIKE STAGES were erected on both coasts to produce early silent films. Clockwise, from top left, Fox’s World Paragon Studios in Ft. Lee, NJ, circa 1917; interior of the studio; several films in production, side-by-side, at Edison’s Bronx studio, circa 1915; Fox studios in Los Angeles, 1920s. (moviemice.com/Wikipedia)

Jean-Jacques recalled the professions that would now be lost to the talkies, including the “mood musicians” who played their instruments on silent film sets in order to evoke emotions from the actors…

IN THE MOOD…During the silent era “mood musicians” were hired to play their instruments on film sets in order to evoke emotions from the actors. (Pinterest)

THE SILENCE OF SOUNDS…In the early days of the talkies the entire set had to be silent, and special care had to be taken to ensure loud cameras were housed in soundproof boxes such as those pictured above. Instead of the introduction of sound expanding the capabilities of filmmaking, it was often limited by the bulky gear used to capture that sound. Therefore, many films consisted of “stage” musical numbers that were static shots. (Caption and image at left courtesy Colorado College. Image at right from cinecollage.net)

The writer also noted the challenges that faced “the old scenario writer…hemmed in by a multitude of new rivals…

WE HAVE WAYS OF MAKING YOU TALK…**Dorothy Arzner** (left) poses with “It Girl” **Clara Bow** in a publicity shot for *The Wild Party,* Bow’s first talking picture. Bow is famously quoted as saying (in 1930) “I hate talkies. They’re stiff and limiting. You lose a lot of your cuteness, because there’s no chance for action.” Arzner tried to remedy that problem: she is credited with inventing the boom mike, which allowed for greater movement by the actor. (Paramount Pictures/Wikimedia Commons)

Jean-Jacques recounted the frustrations experienced by one old-time actor dealing with the limitations of bulky sound equipment…

This actor was not alone. A number of major silent film stars including Charlie Chaplin, Louise Brooks, and Clara Bow did not embrace the novelty of sound pictures. Motion Picture Classic magazine (September 1930) quoted Bow as saying, “I hate talkies … they’re stiff and limiting. You lose a lot of your cuteness, because there’s no chance for action, and action is the most important thing to me.” According to the article, a visibly nervous Bow had to do a number of retakes in The Wild Party because her eyes kept wandering up to the microphone overhead.

SILENCE IS GOLDEN…A number of major silent film stars including (from left) **Louise Brooks, Charlie Chaplin** and **Clara Bow** did not embrace the novelty of sound pictures. (Wikipedia)

Jean-Jacques signed off his New Yorker piece with the hope that someday pictures and sound would be combined into a worthy new art form…

Perhaps he had to look no further than Manhattan’s Rialto Theatre to find that first glimmer of hope, for it was there that the Marx Brothers were tearing up the screen in their first talking picture, The Cocoanuts, reviewed in the magazine’s “The Current Cinema” column…

If The New Yorker was looking for snappy dialogue in motion pictures, there was plenty of it in The Cocoanuts, including this snippet between Groucho Marx, playing Mr. Hammer—an unscrupulous manager of a bankrupt Florida hotel—and wealthy hotel guest Mrs. Potter, played by Margaret Dumont…

Hammer: Do you know that property values have increased since 1929 one thousand per cent? Do you know that this is the biggest development since Sophie Tucker? Do you know that Florida is the show spot of America and Cocoanut Manor the black spot of Florida?

Mrs. Potter: You told me that yesterday.

Hammer: I know but I left out a comma.

Or this gem…

Hammer, to Mrs. Potter: Just think – tonight, tonight when the moon is sneaking around the clouds I’ll be sneaking around you. I’ll meet you tonight under the moon. Oh, I can see it now – you and the moon. Wear a neck-tie so I’ll know you.

SHOW ‘EM HOW IT’S DONE…**Zeppo, Groucho, Chico** and **Harpo Marx** in their first sound movie, *The Cocoanuts*, 1929. (vitaphonedreamer.wordpress.com)

BAMBOOZLER… Mrs Potter (**Margaret Dumont)**, inspects Mr Hammer’s (**Groucho Marx**) Florida property “deals” in *The Cocoanuts.* (British Film Institute)

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For Sentimental Reasons

Additional evidence that The New Yorker was not always ready to embrace change came from its many articles, particularly in “The Talk of the Town,” that seemed to favor the preservation of buildings that defined the character of certain neighborhoods, including the early 19th century row houses that lined Washington Square North…

THEN AND NOW…**At left,** photo dated 1921 of Washington Square, north side of square looking east from 5th Avenue. Corner house in foreground is No. 12. The far end at right shows Nos. 3, 2, 1. **At right**, roughly the same block today. (Museum of the City of New York/1homedesigns.com)

**At left,** photo dated 1936 (by **Berenice Abbott**) of Washington Square North, nos. 21-25, between Fifth Avenue and MacDougal Street. At right, nos. 19-26 today. (Museum of the City of New York/Wikimedia Commons)

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The Wittier Kaufman

Editor and playwright Beatrice Kaufman worked and played within the orbit of the famed wits of the Algonquin Round Table, but was not a regular member like her husband, playwright and director George S. Kaufman. But Beatrice Kaufman didn’t the need the Algonquin to display her wit. Indeed, according to Michael Galchinsky (writing for the Jewish Women’s Archive), she was regarded as one of the wittiest women in New York in the 1930s and 40s. Here is an example of her work in the June 1 issue of The New Yorker:

THE WITTIEST OF THEM ALL…Editor, writer and playwright **Beatrice Kaufman** (left, in undated photo). At right, comedian **Julius Tannen** (left) frolics with Beatrice and her husband, Broadway playwright/producer George S. Kaufman in Atlantic City in the 1920s. (thepurplediaries.com/spartacus-educational.com)

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Rags to Riches

The life of Fred F. French was something out of dime novel; born in dire poverty, he became a self-made real estate tycoon and a shrewd builder of some of Manhattan’s biggest land developments. French was the subject of a profile written by Robert M. Coates, an art critic who would be a longtime contributor to The New Yorker. An excerpt, with illustration by Al Frueh:

MONUMENTS TO FRED…**Fred French’s** New York City buildings included, clockwise from left, the 38-story Fred F. French Building (1927) at 45th Street and 551 Fifth Avenue (designated a National Landmark); Knickerbocker Village (1934) on the Lower East Side; and the East Side’s Tudor City apartment complex (1927-1932). (Pinterest/thelodownny.com/Wikipedia)

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From Our Advertisers

Let’s start with a couple of lovely color ads, which appeared with greater frequency in the magazine…here we have a snatch of the good life, courtesy General Electric…

…and perhaps a less homespun image of the good life, from the makers of Dodge boats…

…and here we have another example of the modern world rushing in, this time in the form of instant coffee crystals…

…and another taste of the modern from Harper’s Bazar magazine, featuring an illustration by French artist and illustrator Charles Martin…

…and just for kicks, another example of Martin’s work from an earlier time…

Image from *Sports et Divertissements* by Charles Martin, 1914. (Wikipedia)

…and here is a back page ad for costume bag maker Whiting & Davis, with an endorsement by Joan Crawford, who was already a pretty big star by 1929. My guess is that Whiting & Davis paid more for the endorsement than they did for the ad…I included a photo of Crawford (at left) from 1929 just to show that she did have a lighter side…

…this ad from the makers of Flit insecticide begs the question: was our beloved Dr. Seuss (aka Theodore Geisel) once a racist? Well…

…although Geisel was a liberal Democrat and a supporter of the New Deal, during World War II he also supported the internment of Japanese Americans, as is evident from this unfortunate 1942 cartoon…

Dr. Seuss 1942 cartoon with the caption ‘Waiting for the Signal from Home’ (slideshare.net)

…later in life Geisel became a staunch environmentalist and anti-war protestor. In 1961 he wrote The Sneetches, which promoted racial equality. Perhaps Geisel lived to regret those earlier drawings…

…and on to our illustrators and cartoonists, beginning with this sketch by Garrett Price, apparently inspired from a recent trip to France (it was featured along with several other small sketches in the “Profile” section)…

…Barbara Shermund had some fun with a double entendre…

…and popped up again with this look at the stock market…

…C.W. Anderson found humor in the strange shapes of modernist furniture…

…Otto Soglow commented on the glitzy hype of Broadway…

…and cartoonist/humorist Don Herold made his comics debut in The New Yorker with this entry…

…and finally, a bonus image I came across while researching the advent of sound motion pictures. The photo, from the silent era, shows two cameramen shooting a parade, possibly for a newsreel. Note how their only support consists of two wooden planks wedged into an open window…

Next Time: A Bridge Too Far…