Evening star., 1915-01-31
SUNDAY MAGAZINE FOR JANUARY 81. 1915
MY LIFE WITH 100000 WOMEN

the address in care of my own box number.
Then | went through our subscription lists
and selected ten names of German origin,
with the prefix Miss before them, and sent
the letters out in plain envelops without
comment. do not know what happened.
have often wished that l did. But l do
know that two of the ten ladies replied.
Whether their letters bore bitter words, or
loving, whether there is now in California
happy home as the result of my bright
arrows, or only a soured old bachelor who
curses womankind, l do not know. l only
know did my best.
THE lingo of women's interests bothered
me considerably at first; but l mastered
it in time, with the exception of the language
of fashions. Try as l would, 1 never Sue
ceeded in learning the name of but one pat
tern. That-Heaven save the mark!-was a
combination chernise and knickerbockers.
The artist who drew this garment drew also
a very attractive young lady wearing it. l
featured this pattern prominently, and one
season offered it free to any woman who
would order two other patterns with it. The
result was twenty-five per cent. increase in
our pattern business. We had to employ an
extra cutter simply to cut this one design.
l told the owner of the paper that if he could
have taught me the names of two patterns in
stead of only one, i should have made him rich.
The general technic of editing is the same
everywhere, however, and women are hui
man beings as well as women. They appre-
ciate tone of sincere respect in the litera-
ture furnished them, and are quick to detect
any note of patronage or contempt. To be
sure they have their weaknesses, which it is
the business of the editors to capitalize as
richly as possible. For instance all women
are interested in royalty and the rich. A
picture of the Duchess of Cork in bathing
suit, or of Mrs. Vanderbilt (any Mrs Wander
bilt) holding her baby, never loses its charm.
Some editors evolve elaborate tests for de-
termining what will and will not go with
women, especially in the way of fiction. l
never had any. If a story made me laugh
or brought gulp to my throat, bought
it. If it failed, knew that, however per-
feet its plot and execution, it would not
bring any more laughter or tears in Oshkosh
than it did in New York. Operating on
this simple plan, had the satisfaction of
picking several unknown authors who have
since proved winners.
l enjoyed my life with my 100000 wo-
men, used to get lot of satisfaction out
of the thought that there were 100000
back yards instead of tin cans; 100000
babies at least that had never been fed dill
pickle; 400, 600 women that were really more
efficient in their jobs because had taught
them how to do their work, and what to eat
and wherewithal to clothe themselves Some
times in the morning would lie in bed and
think pleasantly to myself that all over the
country an army of women were at that mo-
ment going through the physical exercises
that had laid out
TT was in this pleasant frame of mind, at
! peace with myself and the world, that 1
went one night to party in New jersey
my first invasion of that trackless waste.
Five minutes after my arrival my peace of
mind was destroyed and my heart set throb-
bing like the exhaust of an automobile. l
had seen a woman, a young woman, who was
not of my 100000, and knew Immediately
that must have her, even though should
sacrifice all the rest During some one of
the several hundred proposals that l made
to her within the next few weeks she sudden
ly transfxed me with her beautiful gaze and
murmured:
"But, Mr. Smith, do not even know you
don't know who you are or what you do"
3Do!' l repeated, swelling with conscious