The Bachelor’s Secret: Why He Loves a Crying Baby
A humorous anecdote from the May 5, 1877, *Seattle Daily Intelligencer* reveals the cynical charm of a local bachelor who finds comfort in infant noise because it clears the room.
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.
The following story was recently told by a confirmed inebriate as an apology for much of the folly of drunkards:
A mouse ran into a brewery and happily fell into one of the vats of beer, was immediately in danger of drowning, and appealed to a cat to help him out.
The cat replied: "It is a foolish fear; as soon as I get you out, I'll eat you."
The mouse pitifully replied that that fate he [would] rather have than be drowned in beer.
The cat lifted him out, but the fumes of the beer caused him to sneeze.
The mouse took refuge in his hole.
The cat called upon the mouse to come out.
"You rascal! Did you not promise that I should eat you?"
"Ah," replied the mouse, "but you know that I was in liquor at the time."
***
"I don't care much for a quiet baby, but I dote on screeching," said an old bachelor.
"Why, how strange!" admiringly chorused all the mothers in the room.
"Not at all," responded the bachelor. "Because you see, as soon as the brat begins to squall, it's always taken from the room."
This snippet of 19th-century humor highlights the social dynamics of Seattle’s early male-dominated society, where bachelors were a distinct and often mocked demographic. The joke relies on the bachelor’s selfish desire for solitude—a sentiment that resonates with modern urbanites who might prefer the 'quiet baby' only if it meant never having to interact with the child at all.
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