The Bachelor Parade Complains
A group of eligible bachelors in White Bluffs publicly protests the 'popularity contest' committee's lackluster descriptions of their romantic qualifications.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
Not entirely satisfied with the way in which they were presented to the public in the Spokesman of February 1st, one of the 'Leap Year Offerings,' purporting to speak for the others, states his objections: We, the aforesaid exhibits in the popularity contest, wish to tell the committee, and the whole world for that matter, a few things on conducting an affair of this kind. We feel the committee is lacking in experience. Take the case of 'Exhibit A,' A. J. (Dad) Romans. Admitting he is the cave man type, did you tell of any other qualities besides his ability to make love in five languages? Why did you not tell them that Dad had a nice little home with shade trees and a garden waiting for some girl to weed? Take 'Exhibit B,' William Bradford Johnson. Hasn't he a nice little ranch and won't he soon be owning the P.P.L. at White Bluffs? Fact is, he would be waylaid. Take 'Exhibit C,' Virgil O. Kern. You left out the 'O,' which makes the name sound common. Also, some think a 'bimo' is a rooster; others a goose. We are in doubt ourselves. Exhibit D, John W. Coffman, was recommended for a 'clinging vine' girl, but you didn't say if he had a house. Exhibit E, Jimmie Sells, is a connoisseur of home brew—is that enough? Exhibit F, Bob Gwin, is chesty to think he is considered a sheik. Exhibit G, Brownie, has a house by the new county shed. Exhibit H, Edgar Carl Johnson, is called the 'uncrowned king'—why bring up royalty when it is in disrepute? And our friend Stephen F. Branch was left out entirely. We respectfully request the committee get acquainted with the exhibits before trying to sell us to the public.
“We, the exhibits, find that the committee on the popularity contest did not give us due credit for our good points.”
This tongue-in-cheek 'bachelor auction' reveals the social mechanics of a small town in 1924, where land ownership and 'prospects' were the primary currency of courtship. Today, the humorous frustration with being 'marketed' by one's community echoes in the modern digital dating landscape, though the specific local obsession with ranch ownership has been replaced by different benchmarks of stability.
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