_To Editor Home & Lady page whose wisdom is furniture for many
apartments._
Dear Mr:
Excuse my handwriting for being cramped this time--I have been living
in one N. Y. apartment-house where everything is squeezed. I tell you.
A short time of yore I seen following advertisement-news in N. Y. Paper:
WANTED: Small-size Japanese required to do housework in
fashionable apartment. Must be able to squeeze deliciously tight
between furniture and to take up no room whatsoever. No fat
persons required. Apply to Mrs. Buckingham Jinx, Matterhorn Apts.
I was entirely proud & nervus, Mr Editor, to apply to that jobs.
Formerly I had been simple, jayseed Japanese working in ½ size towns
where nothing was large. But here I was in great city of N. Y. where
everything was giganterous & big. Home-life here, I thought, must be
unlimited like Pennsylvania Depots.
This show how thoughtless we are when we think.
I go to address of that Jinx lady, which is at No 333 W 333rd Street,
comfortable neighbourhood where 20 miles of sky-scrape homes are
clumped together attempting to look quaint. I was proud to see their
swollen size. How expansive it was for Japanese Schoolboy to be
employed in city where everything was so big that even small cottages
look like Flatiron Bldgs! Already I begin to feel pity for Peoria where
folks must choke in 2 story houses.
Pretty soonly I arrive to Matterhorn Apts. How stylishly enormalous
it was! I never observed a place with more upstairs. 12 complete
stories I could count with my sore neck. And so fashionable to go
into! Its frontside entrance was filled with marble halls, fountains,
brassy electricity, golden elevators, noble niggero boys in uniform
of admirals. This was most biggest entrance in America, and I was
certainly sure that folks what live in those apartments upstairs must
enjoy such grand-size rooms they have to ride motorcycles between
parlour and dinning-room.
While thusly I thought Swedish gentleman in proud overalls arrive up.
“What you wish, standing there foolishly?” he require.
“Do you own this palace?” I ask to know.
“Yes,” he report peevly. “I are the Janitor.”
“I am suprised by this Matterhorn house,” I explode. “The mountainous
steepness of its apartments apalls me.”
“The mountainous steepness of its rents would apall you more, if you
seen them,” he explain with insulting eyebrows.
So he poke me to elevator where I was uplifted to 9 floors. Folks
living in apartment house leads very up-and-down life. When they go
outside they must be elevated downwards, when they return they must be
vice versa. It are impossible to see how folks can be level in such
home life, and yet it is.
Hon. Mrs Jinx, entirely Duchess appearing lady, meet me at doorway with
Vanderbilt nose.
“This are my apartment,” she express, pointing to a hallway surrounded
by expensive looking cells filled with gilty furniture, pianolas,
painted portraits, rugs and mahoganish tables resembling J. P. Morgan.
“Yes,” I report. “This are your apartment--but where is your home?”
“In N. Y.,” she report with Waldorf expression, “home is where we pay
our rent.”
Mr Editor, when that lady show me her apartment I was jigged by
surprise. Each room was less than life-size, yet it contain wealth
resembling Buckingham. Mahoganish doors, plush walls, luxury here and
there--but where was there room to live in?
“This are drawing-room,” she indicate, making points to Pullman-car
compartment containing gas-log and French-speaking furniture. I should
like to set down in such a room, but the chairs was in the way.
She show me dinning-room. It contain four-plate-power table, portraits
of fish on walls and shelf with several beery steins with German motto,
“Drinken, Dranken, Drunken.”
“This cozy room are good for small banquets,” she acknowledge.
“Small banquets is oftenly the most limited,” I encouridge.
She show me library.
“This are called the snuggery,” she condole. I felt very congested
to look at it. Folks must snug very snugly to snuggle into such a
snuggery. On high top shelf was following books to show it was a
library: “Pilgrum’s Progress,” “Life of John Drew,” “Bradstreet on
Financial Failures,” “Blue Book of N. Y. Smarty Set.”
Under table was poker chips to entertain scholars while reading.
Nextly she show me kitchen. O shocks! It were size like the interior of
a upright piano. Hon. Gas Stove look chilly from setting too close to
Hon. Ice Box which was hot from contax with gas stove.
“This Kitchen are small but comfortless,” she explain braskly. “It are
slightly compressed, yet there is room for everything to cook with.”
“One thing to cook with there is no room for,” I snuggest.
“What should that be?” she require.
“The cook,” I explain.
“Smallish Japanese is capable of squeezing,” she fire back.
Nextly she ope door by Kitchen and show me one dark-complexioned cubby
hole to look at.
“What a nice vegetable closet!” I report. “But too small, perhaps, for
large cabbages.”
“That are not a vegetable closet--it are a servant’s bedroom,” she
develop.