Evening Star Newspaper, June 19, 1932, Page 76

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASIHINGTON, D. C, JUNE 19, 1932 Vagabonds of Matrimony In These Days of Easy Divorce, a June Wedding May Be Much “I Do” About Nothing, but It Gratifies a Girl’s L.go, Even If She Starts for Reno in July. By Weare Holbrook HIS year the “John Doe” wedding invitation has made its appearance for the first time. Rules of social usage are notoriously inflexible, but the arbiters of etiquette must make a few concessions to human frailty now and then. Only yesterday we received an engraved missive which read: The honor of your presence is requested at the marriage of Mrs. Muriel Humptie-Dilwell-Manz to Whom It May Concern Profiting by past experience, Mrs. Humptie- Dilwell-Manx has made allowances for last- minute changes in the cast. She has also thriftily devised a form which will enable her to use the same copper plate to herald her subsequent marriages. For there will be subsequent marriages; that goes without saying. Mrs. Humptie- Etcetera believes in taking time by the wed- lock. She is one of the rapidly growing army of matrimonial dilettantes. To her a wedding ceremony is merely much “I do” about noth- ing, but it gratifies her altar ego. And before she shakes the rice out of her shoes, she instructs her lawyer to make a preliminary survey of the grounds for divorce. June is dedicated to weddings, but the open season for divorces continues all year 'round. Last month Reno celebrated the first anni- versary of Nevaca's six-week divorce law. A total of 5.045 actions was filed during the year ended May 1, 1932—representing about $1,200,000 in legal fees. At this rate it is only a matter of time until a woman will, by process of elimination, marry the samc man twice. It is a mathematical probability as certain, though not as imminent, as the in- evitable double-O in roulette. Trial marriage has been suggested as a solution of the divorce problem. ‘The misogynists maintain, however, that every marriage is a trial—to the husband. Trial divorce has also been suggested as a solution of the marriage problem. Its proponents assert that if the contending husband and wife are allowed a brief marital vacation they will, after their lapse into single blessed- ness, feturn voluntarily to the wedded state. And so they do—but not with each other. ] Drawn for the Sunday Ster by Stuart Hay Mr. You-Know-Who had gone riding with “a certain person no better than she should be.” In legal circles the discovery of new grounds for divorce is an epoch-making triumph. The field of domestic infelicity was unexplored territory 50 years ago. Prustrated wives turned to embroidery or china-painting as a means Of emotional release—ruining their eyesight but preserving the integrity of the home. Henpecked husbands moped in the woodshed or joined fraternal organizations, whose primary purpose was the holding of conventions in distant cities. There was gossip at the Ladies’ Aid Society; it was whispered that the So-and-So's had “had words,” that Mr. You-Know-Who had gone buggy-riding with *“a certain person who is no better than she should be.” There were lengthy tom-and-jeremiads in the corner saloon. Sympathetic bartenders listened patiently to tales of feminine oppression; of wives who demanded the weekly pay envelop intact and rifled trousers pockets in the small hours of the night: of better halves who prohibited cigar smoking within the lace-curtained confines of the parlor, and—most horrible!'—of those fiends in female form who slip subtle drugs into coffee in order to deprive honest men of their taste for liquor. But that was as far as the forces of dis- solution went. The barroom blasts against domestic despotism usually ended in a tribute to the tyrant. The plaintiff, taking a fresh foothold on the brass rail, summed up his case with the defiant assertion that “when all is said 'n’ done, she's the best li'l woman in the world—an' I can lick any son- of-a-gun that says different!” And at the Ladies’ Aid Society, the whispered recital of masculine villainy closed philosophically with She rifled trousers pockets in the small hours of the night. the conclusion that “after all, he’s s good provider—and I suppose you can't expect much else of a man!” HAT, however, was in the age of reticence. Today when there is a matrimonial ship- wreck, we get first-hand accounts of the disaster from both survivors. Much of the salutary effect of divorce is due to the oppor- tunity it offers the dissenting parties to give their grievances a good, thorough airing. There was a time when the eternal triangle was almost the only wedge which could split a home apart, but this is no longer true. Eternal triangles figure more prominently in the drama than in the divorce court now. A dizzy blonde may still be a bonehead of con- tention, but most of the cases which reach the courts involve less spectacular distractions. Incompatibility, desertion and yariations on these themes constitute the motif of the mis- mating song. Incompatibility may mean anything, from leaving the tooth paste uncapped to hurling crockery, and the line of distinction between willful desertion and mere staying out late is conveniently vague. But there are other crimes equally heinous for which there is no legal redress. For instance, consider the predica- ment of poor Mrs. Pendover: Mrs. Pendover is a woman of active mind and volatile temper. As a girl she was cap- tain of both the high school debating team and the basket ball team. As a woman she is the leader of several civic organizations. Her facility in bargaining is the terror of all tradesmen. . There is nothing that Mrs. Pendover enjoys more than a good, hot argument. But her home life is most unhappy, for her husband does not share her enthusiasm. He is a plump, placid little man, with a habit of saying, “I think so, too.” Naturally, this is maddening to Mrs. Pend- over. Her skillful argumentation becomes mere shadow boxing. She prays for a quarrel—but in vain. Yet the courts offer her no relief. Compatibility is not grounds for divorce. Another defect in our divorce laws is illus- trated in the case of the Otways. Mrs. Otway is more than a wife to her husband. She is a pal. Before they were married Mr. Otway used to play golf with her and take her with him on fishing trips. After marriage, he re- flected, she would become preoccupied with housekeeping and social affairs. But Mrs. Otway never did. She still accom- panies her husband on all his recreational jaunts. Every night after dinner when he sits down in his morris chair she insists on making him “comfy” by propping several sofa pillows against his shoulder blades. Then she fills his pipe (always a little too full) and lights it for him «(very unevenly). And then she settles herself on the arm of his chair, effectively screening all light from the paper he is trying to read. Thus begins another long, cozy evening in the Otway home. In desperation Mr. Otway recently consulted his lawyers regarding the possibility of re- lieving this Siamese situation. But the lawe yers held out no hope. Non-desertion is not even a misdemeanor. The foregoing cases are exceptional, how- ever. The average plaintiff in a divorce action nowadays is almost certain of success. And if this year's June bride finds her salad forks, guest towels and other wedding presents mon- ogrammed with a simple “X,” it does not mean that the donors expect her to marry a Greek. ‘Their cynicism is touched with common sense. “X" equals, as usual, the unknown quantity. On Being Two Leaps Ahead of Nozw Continued from Ninth Page just as easy as cadging an Invite to Buck- ingham Palace. Luncheon was at a Club where Icicles hung from the Chandeliers all during July and at which the Slaves wore Plush Pants and spoke in frightful Whispers. He dallied with the Casserole and the Broccolli and the Hot-House Mushrooms and wondered why his Tummy was on the Blink. At the Country Club (Entrance Fee 2,000 Bucks and Dues only 500) he was getting 80 yards from the Tee into the Tall and Uncut, so he walked out on the Foursome after mentioning a few unpleasant Facts regarding a popular Pastime imported from Scotland. , ATER in the Day he was hooked into a game of Contract by some Almost-Culbertsons and lost the imported English Shirt, a couple of Eye-Teeth and all of his Savoir Faire and Aplomb or what have you. His innermost Opinion _of the Card-Room Bandits was just Nobody's Business. No wonder the Consomme Pazaza and the Breast of Guinea Hen and the Artichoke and the dolled-up Ice Cream billed as a Parfait did not set right with him as he dined late that PM. in a cozy little Apartment about the size of the Waiting Room at the New York Central. Nor is it to be marveled at that when he picked up a magazine and found a Splurge by one of the Main Flag-Wavers of the Senate he began to see the inside and snort aloud. Then he erupted. “All this Slush-ma-Gush about the Flag is Hooey, Bunk, Apple-Sause and Blah,” said Ernie. “What a Break I got when I was born in a Country where a Square-Shooter hasn't a Chinaman’s Chance! Ninety per cent Nit- wits and ten per cent Door Mat Thieves, Transom Workers, Second-Story Guys, Tin- Horn Gamblers, Dips, Safe-Blowers and Graf- ters. Soviet Russia is a Garden of Eden com- pared with our Modern Museum of Freaks. Get a little Velvet and the Big Idea is to Crown the Boob with a piece of Lead Pipe and give all his Jack to Leeches who pull down fat Envelopes for sitting in padded Chairs and working Cross-Word Puzzles. It's the land of the Free and the Home of the Brave, except that Nobody is Free and one-half of One Per Cent are Brave. Instead of Stars and Stripes the Flag ought to show a poor Sucker tied to a Stake and being Stung by a lot of Bees, I'd buy one of those bargain counter Castles in England and live Over there if the Taxes weren't so gol-darned high.” After which the Man Servant led him to the Onyx Boudoir and disrobed him and tucked him away under the Eider Down. The Serf did almost everything for him except croon a Lullaby and Kiss him Good Night. All kinds of Reading Matter and Light Food and assorted Beverages and a few brands of Cig- arettes were placed on a low Table at the Bedside so that the Poor man, if he awoke during the Night, could reach out and get Something that might help him to forget his Tribulations. - Moral—It's the Things we haven't got that bring Good Luck. (Copyright 1932. by George Ade.)