"The New Yorker"

In Dubuque, Iowa, there lives, doubtless, an old lady. Her existence is recognized only because certain middle-aged people in Manhattan began some weeks ago to think about her. She came frequently into their conversation and, at each allusion, a leer passed round the company--all spoke in derisive terms of her taste, though the kinder-hearted merely pitied her for being the victim of an unfortunate environment.

These people, the agile Pulcinellas of Manhattan's Grub Street,* were outlining the policy of a magazine they had decided to publish-- The New Yorker. "The purpose," they said, "of The New Yorker will be to reflect New York life through its treatment of the lives and personalities of the day. It will not be what is called radical or highbrow. It will be what is called sophisticated . . . will publish facts which it will have to go behind the scenes to get . . . hopes to reflect metropolitan life." Then said someone: "It will not be edited for the old lady in Dubuque."

That old lady--did she know the chitchat, the gibble-gabble, the pussy-words of Manhattan sophisticates, the wisecracks sprung in the hashhouses of 44th Street, the nicknames of semi-celebrities? That poor old lady. It will not be for the old lady in Dubuque. That was a good sentence. The editors put it in their circular. They put it in letters to possible subscribers, they wrote it large on cards which they tacked up about the town.

Last week, Manhattanites found the first issue of The New Yorker on their club tables, their hotel stands, their back-alley kiosks; they ruffled its pages, found it to contain one extremely funny original joke, tagged, unfortunately, with a poor illustration; several pages of skits upon such subjects as after-dinner speaking, radio, the "life of a popular song," the New York Graphic. Columbus's arrival in Manhattan, a column called "Talk of the Town" signed Van Bibber III; an article on Giulio Gatti-Casazza, Director of the Metropolitan Opera Company, by one Golly-Wogg; "The Theatre," by Last Night; "Art," by Froid; "Moving Pictures," by Will Hays Jr.; Wall Street Notes, by Well Known Broker. These Manhattanites chuckled at several jokes which they had chuckled at before, glared at several which they had never before encountered. They wondered whether subtlety or myopia were responsible for "The Optimist."

POP: A man who thinks he can make it in par.

JOHNNY: What is an optimist, Pop?

They turned to an editorial signed by The New Yorker himself, who realized "certain shortcomings" and recognized "that it is impossible for a magazine fully to establish its character in one number," further stating that the magazine "is not edited for the old lady in Dubuque."

Dubuque, population 39,141, produces wagons, coffins, clothing, boots, river steamboats, barges, torpedo boats, was once rated the fourth important manufacturing centre in the U. S. It has a notable public library, an insane asylum, a business college. To an old lady in Dubuque there was sent a copy of The New Yorker. She was asked by telegram for an opinion. Replied she:

"I, and my associates here, have never subscribed to the view that bad taste is any the less offensive because it is metropolitan taste. To me, urbanity is the ability to offend without being offensive, to startle composure and to deride without ribaldry. The editors of the periodical you forwarded are, I understand, members of a literary clique. They should learn that there is no provincialism so blatant as that of the metropolitan who lacks urbanity. They were quite correct, however, in their original assertion. The New Yorker is not for the old lady in Dubuque."

Insult?

When Robert Browning published his famed poem, The Ring and the Book, few could at first reading understand it. Many considered this insulting until one critic pointed out that the poem was, for its very difficulty, the most magnificent compliment that had ever been paid to the intelligence of the British public.

The editors of the Bronx Home News, paper of Manhattan surburbanites, have, like Robert Browning, a public. This public they discreetly attempted to increase, some weeks ago, by publishing the "probable answers" to a crossword puzzle contest which was being conducted by the New York Evening Graphic (TIME, Feb. 2). The crossword answers were simple, legible. They required merely to be copied, forwarded to the editors of the Graphic'. they revealed not what sort of compliment, what sort of insult, was relished by the public of the Home News.

The Graphic closed its crossword contest, commenced awarding munificent prizes to smirking victors, began a new, a different sort of contest, which was immediately copied by the New this was to win rich rewards by writing the last lines of incomplete limericks (TIME, Feb. 23). Forthwith, letters, telegrams, telephone messages, began to rain upon the editors of the Bronx Home News. "Help us to write the last line and skin the Graphic." This is what the Public wanted the Bronx editors to do. The editors sat in consultation. One man's version of the last line of a limerick was as good as another's, they feared. They were no Brownings. "We can give them words to rhyme," said one editor. "But they won't understand what they mean," dissented another. "Then we will tell them what they mean," cried the first. "They can read English, can't they?"

Next morning, the Home News published the announcement that ''a list of rhyming words is given here to aid in writing the last lines of the uncompleted limericks in yesterday's Journal and Graphic." Followed some words. The Journal limerick required a rhyme with "stroll" and "roll'; the editors of the Home News suggested "poll," "extol," "dole," "cajole," "condole," etc., carefully explaining that the first meant the head; the second, to praise in highest terms; the third, to give in small quantities; the fourth, to impose on by flattery or delusive promises; the fifth, to express sympathy, etc. The Graphic limerick rhymed with "stew" and "chew"; the Home News offered "barbecue" which, they said, is "an animal, roasted whole"; "phew,"--"an expression of disgust or surprise," they made clear; "eschew," which means to "avoid" or "shun," the editors of the Home News told the public so that there would be no mistake about it. Certain readers of the Home News, however--those whom Robert Browning could have complimentedtore up their copies of the sheet and stamped upon the fragments. "Our intelligence has been insulted!" they cried--"that is, treated with contempt, an affront."

*H.W Ross, Ralph Barton, Heywood Broun, Marc Connelly, Edna Ferber, Rea Irvin, George S. Kaufman, Alice Duer Miller, Dorothy Farker, Laurence Stallings, Alexander Woollcott were the names appearing in the prospectus when the first number of the magazine appeared, it was noted that Heywood Broun, Edna Ferber and Laurence Stallings had disappeared from the list.