The Latest in Washing Machines

Hey, take a look at this: they have electric washing machines now.

Oh yeah? I still have that wooden crank tub at home. They keep talking about "rural electrification" but I'll believe it when I see it.

That won't happen till a decade from now, when President Roosevelt will create the rural electrification program in 1935.

Oh yeah? Great, another ten years of kerosene lamps. The hired boy almost burned the barn down last year. Sometimes I wish we'd move up into town to be closer to you and Mom.

Well, at least you're close enough to visit. Wanna go take a walk and check this out? It's over at Schaefer's.

Oh, we walked by there yesterday, didn't we? Over on, what street was that, Huron? By . . . Michigan Avenue.

Yep.

I remember--that was by that cigar shop, right? And across the street was that spa?

Yeah, let's go, it's nice out.

OK, I'll get my coat.

--ad from Ypsilanti Record, Jan 10, 1924

It's the Modern Sanitary Way

It is a satisfaction to know that your clothes are washed in your own home--that they have not come in contact with clothes from other families, nor been handled by people of questionable health.

The Electric Washing Machine is fast becoming a part of the equipment of every modern home.

Not a luxury--but a sanitary necessity.


Dusty D is always fascinated by the manner in which advertising uses psychological techniques, and this 1919 Daily Ypsilantian-Press ad is a good example. First is an appeal to xenophobia (because "other families," of course, are likely not as clean as your own). Then there's a keeping-up-with-the-Joneses note about the "modern home"--is yours as modern? There's an assumption, of course, that "modern" is better than "old fashioned," which (being pedantic here) is not always true. Last, a remark about sanitation--good heavens, one wouldn't want to run an unsanitary house. Never mind that the old wooden tub-style washers probably delivered as sanitary results as the new electric ones--it's the same deal, after all, just unelectrified.

This ad appears to have worked, though, since Dusty D is signing checks to Detroit Edison to this day, a secret crush on Tesla notwithstanding (sigh).

A Sad, Sad Story is the Tale of the Tail of Pal

For Pal Has Passed Through the Mill Indeed, and Bears the Marks of Misfortune

Pal, Mrs. Mary Discher's little black and white pet dog is today recovering from a sad experience. He is no longer running briskly about the neighborhood, wagging his tail in friendly fashion; he ambles about slowly now, as one does after passing through some of life's serious adventures and his tail--well, that is a very sore point, and "thereon hangs the tale."

Pal, a pal in reality as well as in name, is not denied privileges other members of the household enjoy. His is the liberty of the house; he participates in many, if not quite all, family activities. But there is one weekly function in which he no longer takes enjoyment and that is the ceremony connected with wash day. Pal avoids the washing machine as if it were the plague. He will hardly go into the room where it is kept.

Has Passed Through Mill

For last wash day Pal, or at least part of him, passed through the mill in deed as well as word.

Pal ran into the kitchen where the electric washer was assisting with the task of turning out the weekly wash. All was well with the world, and Pal was wagging his tail in anticipation of the happy state of affairs. Under the tub he went, then under the wringer.

There was a sharp yip of pain, terrified barking and crying. The women screamed, and turned off the electricity, but Pal was fast. His poor tail was bleeding profusely, his hind legs wrenched from the floor. Faint at the sight of blood, someone rushed into the street and called the neighbors. They responded but could not free Pal, who continued to bleed and cry with agony.

John Baker, the mail carrier, was passing, and hearing the commotion, offered assistance. He was obliged to take the wringer quite apart before Pal was free. A portion of his tail was lost entirely.

This is life's sad experience through which Pal has passed--the tale of the tail of Pal.

--Daily Ypsilantian-Press, December 15, 1925.