Wednesday, May 05, 2021


Ink-Slinger Profiles by Alex Jay: Walter Frehm

Walter Frehm was born Walter Friedman on March 11, 1912, in Manhattan, New York, New York, according to the New York, New York Birth Index at 

In the 1915 New York state census, Frehm was the youngest of four brothers (Solomon, Paul and Herbert) born to Morris and Ethel, both Hungarian emigrants. The family of six resided in Manhattan at 19 West 118th Street. Frehm’s father was an ice cream salesman. 

On December 24, 1917 Herbert passed away in Yonkers, New York. 

In the 1920 census, Frehm was “Walter Friedman”. Leonard was the youngest brother. Frehm’s parents were naturalized citizens in 1900. The family lived in Yonkers, New York at 8 Fernbrook Street. 

The 1925 New York State Census recorded seven people as Yonkers residents at 209 Buena Vista Avenue. Solomon’s wife was part of the household. 

According to the 1930 census, the Frehm family consisted of five members: Frehm, his parents, Leonard and Paul who was a commercial artist. Their home was in Yonkers at 288 Hawthorne Avenue.

In the early 1930s, Frehm followed Paul’s footsteps and attended Pratt Institute in Brooklyn. At first he studied illustration then switched to cartooning. 

The Herald Statesman (Yonkers, New York), December 11, 1936, published a legal notice stating Frehm and his brothers, Paul and Leonard, had changed their surname from Friedman to Frehm. Leonard would find work at Fleischer Studios. 

The Herald Statesman, November 26, 1938, reported Frehm’s marriage.
Mr. and Mrs. Walter Frehm, whose wedding took place Thanksgiving Day at a quiet ceremony at the Hotel Sharon in New York, are on their honeymoon in the South. The Rev. Dr. David Hollander solemnized the marriage nuptials at 2 P. M.

The bride, who was Miss Estelle Stern, daughter of Emil Stern of 192 Hawthorne Avenue, wore a silver lame gown and a corsage of orchids.

Her attendants were Miss Jeannette Stern, her sister, and Mrs. Benjamin Zimmet. Miss Stern was in rose lame and Mrs. Zimmet in black velvet. Both wore corsages of white roses.

Paul Frehm, a brother of the bridegroom, was best man.

Mrs. Frehm was graduated from Yonkers High School and New York University. Mr. Frehm, a graduate of Pratt Institute, is the son of Mr. and Mrs. Morris Frehm of 274 Hawthorne Avenue.
The 1940 census recorded the couple in Yonkers at 199 Hawthorne Avenue. The head of the household was Frehm’s father-in-law, a widower. Also residing there was Frehm’s sister-in-law Jeannette. 

On October 16, 1940 Frehm signed his World War II draft card. His address was 80 Bruce Avenue in Yonkers. Frehm said his employer was cartoonist Ken Kling who lived at 300 Central Park West, New York City. Frehm’s description was five feet eight inches, 150 pounds, with hazel eyes and brown hair. 

Frehm’s National Cartoonists Society profile said he assisted Will Gould on Red Barry and later ghosted Kling’s Joe and Asbestos. Who’s Who of American Comic Books 1928–1999 said he did a small amount comic book work. The Green Mask appeared in Mystery Men Comics. American Newspaper Comics (2012) said the Fox Feature Syndicate distributed The Green Mask as a Sunday strip (two comic book pages, side by side, occupied a half page), from February 7 to August 11, 1940. 

In 1958 Frehm joined King Features. The Herald-Journal (Spartanburg, South Carolina), October 17, 1982, profiled Frehm, on page eight, and said he was offered Ripley’s Believe It or Not
Frehm’s first real encounter with Ripley was during World War II when Ripley telephoned him with the offer of a job. Frehm, however, turned down the job because he was more concerned with completing the work he was doing for the war effort. [In Suburbia Today, July 19, 1981, an article about Ripley’s Believe It or Not said Frehm was “drawing up blueprints for the bombers being built at the General Motors plant in North Tarrytown.]

It was in 1958 when Frehm’s older brother, Paul, a veteran illustrator with King Features (the copyright holder for the strip), called Walter to propose that they both draw “Ripley’s Believe or Not!” Paul had been drawing the strip with various other artists since Ripley’s death in 1949. [Suburbia Today said “… the younger Frehm was merely an assistant. Paul did the main panels—the “shock­ers”—while Walter did the lettering and drew the minor panels ….”]

For the next 20 years, the brothers faced the monumental task each week of producing at least 21 new drawings—each a new and original item in the Ripley collection of oddities. Their drawings remained faithful to the style originally created by Ripley. 

Since Paul’s retirement in 1978, Walter has been drawing all the strips. “We get our items from all kinds of sources and from all over the world,” said Walter. “In fact, we have a regular list of contributors.”
In 1989 Frehm retired from the strip which was continued by others.

Frehm passed away on June 2, 1995, in Boca Raton, Florida. The Sun Sentinel published an obituary on June 9. 


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Monday, May 03, 2021


Ink-Slinger Profiles by Alex Jay: Paul Frehm

National Cartoonists Society 1970

Paul Frehm was born on November 1, 1904 or 1905, in Brooklyn, New York. The New York, New York Index to Birth Certificates, at, said his birth year was 1905. Frehm’s World War II draft card and the Social Security Death Index have the year 1904. The birth certificate also said his parents were Morris Friedman and Ethel Ramer who lived in Brooklyn on Hopkins Street. 

The 1915 New York state census recorded Frehm as “Percy Friedman”, the second of four brothers, Solomon, Herbert and Walter. The family of six resided in Manhattan at 19 West 118th Street. His father was an ice cream salesman. 

On December 24, 1917 Herbert passed away in Yonkers, New York. 

In the 1920 census, Frehm was “Paul Friedman”. Leonard was the youngest brother. Frehm’s parents were Hungarian emigrants who became naturalized citizens in 1900. The family lived in Yonkers, New York at 8 Fernbrook Street. 

Around 1923 Frehm enrolled as Paul Friedman at Pratt Institute in Brooklyn. The 1924 yearbook, Prattonia, said he was in the General Art class of 1925. 

Frehm had two illustrations published in the Jackson News, December 28, 1924. 

The 1925 New York State Census recorded a 20-year-old daughter, Beatrice, as part of the Friedman household. She was Solomon’s wife. The seven people were Yonkers residents at 209 Buena Vista Avenue. Frehm’s occupation was artist. 

The Political Life of Al Smith strip appeared in 1928. It was drawn by Frehm and written by Barry Meglaughlin. 

According to the 1930 census, commercial artist Frehm was a lodger at his parents’ home in Yonkers at 288 Hawthorne Avenue. His youngest brothers, Walter and Leonard, were part of the household. 

Frehm drew The Crime of the Century strip which was written by reporter Lou Wedemar (1901–1979). The strip told the story of the 1932 kidnapping of Charles A. Lindbergh’s son. On December 27, 1934, King Features Syndicate released the strip to coincide with the trial of Bruno Hauptmann, the accused kidnapper. The series ended on January 23, 1935 in the Detroit Times. In 1999 the strips were collected and published as The Lindbergh Kidnapping: The Original 1935 “Crime of the Century” Comic Serial

American Newspaper Comics (2012) said Frehm drew several Sundays of Chip Collins’ Adventures in 1935.  He did a week of Ted Towers Animal Master dailies from May 23 to 30, 1936.

The Herald Statesman (Yonkers, New York), December 11, 1936, published a legal notice stating Frehm and his brothers, Walter and Leonard, had changed their surname from Friedman to Frehm. Leonard would find work at Fleischer Studios. 

In March 1939 Frehm visited Havana, Cuba. Then in August he went to Bermuda. The passenger lists had his address as 274 Hawthorne Avenue, Yonkers, New York. The same address was in the 1940 census. Frehm, an illustrator, and his brother, Leonard, lived with their parents. All of them had the Frehm surname. 

Frehm signed his World War II draft card on October 16, 1940. His address was unchanged. He was employed at the New York Mirror newspaper. Frehm was described as five feet ten inches, 150 pounds, with brown eyes and hair.

The New York State Marriage Index said Frehm married on November 23, 1944 in Yonkers.

Frehm’s profile at the National Cartoonists Society said 
Born in Bklyn.—Yonkers H.S. to Pratt I.—Staff artist on N.Y. American–layout & illustration. Transferred to Mirror—then to King Features—top assignment with Damon Runyon covering trial of Bruno Hauptman [sic], kidnapper of Lindberg [sic] baby.—More feature stories and trials then art supervisor of commercial advt for King. Art for Camel cig., Bendix, Goodyear–etc. I helped Bob Ripley when his schedule got rough—when he died I was chosen to carry on feature. 21 yrs now & still gig strong. During war–U.S.O. cartoonist shows sketching the wounded.—Married to Mildred Spector–one son, Andrew, graduated U.S.C.—now with Universal Studios.
Frehm took over Ripley’s Believe It or Not in 1949 when Ripley died of a heart attack. A profile in Suburbia Today, July 19, 1981, said 
... With Ripley gone, the task of feeding illustrations to “Believe It or Not” fell to Paul Frehm—the older brother of the Frehm whom Ripley once offered a job. Paul was an established cartoonist in the King Features stable; it was he, in fact, who got Walter Frehm interested in cartooning in the first place. And it was Paul, in 1958, who succeeded where Ripley failed: in convincing Walter to help with the endless task of turning out “Believe It or Not.”

Paul had established that the Ripley-less “Believe It or Not” would resemble Ripley’s original as much as possible. Ripley’s name remained on the strip; there would be no tampering with success. So when Walter was hired, he learned to adapt his style to match Ripley’s bold, melodramatic pen strokes.

At first, the younger Frehm was merely an assistant. Paul did the main panels—the “shock­ers”—while Walter did the lettering and drew the minor panels—the Texas-shaped birthmarks, the one-armed trapeze artists and the like. ...
In 1978 Frehm retired and handed the series over to Walter.

Frehm passed away on December 24, 1986, in Florida. The Social Security Death Index said his last residence was Hallandale, Florida.

Further Reading and Viewing
Chronicling America, various illustrations 
The Nassau Daily Review, President Franklin Roosevelt 
The Advance-News,  Mrs. Greta Henkle 
Nassau Daily Review-Star, Willie Sutton 
Lambiek Comiclopedia 


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Sunday, May 02, 2021


Wish You Were Here, from a Bud Fisher Emulator


Here's another 1909 licensed card of Mutt and Jeff, this one featuring just Mutt in a nice faux photograph pose. Mark Johnson has described how cards like this came about in the comments of this previous post.


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Saturday, May 01, 2021


Herriman Saturday


January 31 1910 -- In a comic strip that initially has you thinking that Herriman is actually going to come out on the right side of a racial question for a change, he pulls the rug from under us in the final two panels. Turns out he's just mocking boxers who are willing to take on Sam Langford.


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Friday, April 30, 2021


The Wheeler-Nicholson Syndicate, Part XVII (Conclusion)

Based  on the evidence at hand, The Syndicator's last issue was for material intended to appear August 29 to September 4 1926. The Wheeler-Nicholson syndicate seems to have ended its business at or near the same time.

Here are two short items from Editor & Publisher that serve as the proof. In the September 4 issue (concurrent with the final week of The Syndicator) we find that Oscar Hitt, the syndicate's number one cartoonist, has left the company:

Oscar Hitt, formerly with Wheeler-Nicholson and the New York World Syndicate, is now handling his own comic feature. Associated with him is Maurice Workstel, art critic.
While that item isn't conclusive, by the November 27 issue there is no room for doubt in this short mention:

A.L. Brandt, formerly with the Wheeler-Nicholson Syndicate, now defunct, has joined the sales staff of United.

It's too bad that no publication I've found published a real post mortem about Wheeler-Nicholson, because that would make for fascinating reading, but the evidence in E&P, while terse, is definitive.

It seems almost incomprehensible that Wheeler-Nicholson's The Syndicator lasted a mere eight issues, but all evidence seems to point to that being true. Even if the concept was not the most brilliant to come down the pike, and the material lackluster, if it is true that the service was offered for a practical pittance, why did it not have even a slight brush with success? 

But maybe that assumption is wrong. Perhaps the company could not in fact offer the material as cheaply as they claimed in their advertising. With investors being asked to shell out real money, labour and materials in service to producing The Syndicator, the syndicate may have had no choice but to over-reach on their prices. If that were true, it makes perfect sense that there were few takers. NEA and other blanket services were already pretty inexpensive, so if Wheeler-Nicholson couldn't compete on price, their wares were certainly not so fabulous as to make up for that. 

There's also the possibility that Wheeler-Nicholson had the ability to produce the needed mountains of material snatched away. The blanket service had already imploded once at the beginning of January, so why couldn't that happen again? Investors, apparently primarily production plants, might have had Wheeler-Nicholson on a very short leash. After eight weeks they could have expected to see a stack of signed client contracts. When that stack came in too short, the plug was pulled. Alternatively, it could have been the creative personnel who pulled the plug. The company might have made promises to pay them once eight weeks of material had been produced and distributed, and they failed to come through. 

If the Major had intended, as I believe he did, to leverage The Syndicator into a newsstand magazine, perhaps he could not pull that off in the very short time he had to put the plan into action, or his bid for newsstand distribution was rebuffed in some way that made it obvious to his investors that the plan was not going to work. It could well be that the plug was pulled not because the syndication wasn't immediately profitable, but because the other and more important phase of the business plan turned out to be a dead end. Could it be that what the Major learned from this experience were the lessons he needed to make his next foray into the newsstand magazine field, almost a decade later,more fruitful?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

There is quite an irony to the timing of Wheeler-Nicholson, Inc.'s demise. I have to thank another of my brilliant readers and fellow researchers, Jeffrey Lindenblatt, for pointing this out to me. 

If the company had held on just a mere half a year longer, a veritable wink of an eye in business, the syndication business was going to have a shake-up, one that could have offered a blanket service like Wheeler-Nicholson's a road to financial success. In April 1927, the New York Telegram, one of the ever-struggling second-tier papers in New York City, was sold to the Scripps chain. Scripps was the parent company of NEA, and so the newspaper contracted with NEA to provide their blanket service. In order to boost sales of the Telegram, NEA was instructed to consider this client paper to be on an exclusive contract encompassing a huge area around New York City. 

NEA's blanket service, used by many small papers in the environs of New York City, was suddenly cut off. These client papers were all of a sudden in a frenzied search for material to fill their now empty pages. If Wheeler-Nicholson had managed to keep up their service until April 1927, they would have been able to sign a slew of clients in the New York - New Jersey - Connecticut area, easily enough to put Wheeler-Nicholson on firm financial footing.

Here's an example from the Yonkers Statesman of the sea change that happened in April 1927, all but one strip had to be changed from one week to the next:

That's the end of our series about the Wheeler-Nicholson syndicate. If you come across any new information, you know I'm always eager to hear about it!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Index to this Series:

Part I (introduction)

Part II (first stirrings of the syndicate)

Part III (Vivian Vanity first series; defection of N. Brewster Morse)

Part IV (Great Mystery and Adventure series)

Part V (1925 text features)

Part VI (Hot Doggerel; Joe Archibald sports feaures; the January 1926 implosion)

Part VII (new series of Vivian Vanity; capital increase)

Part VIII (1926 E&P Syndicate Directory advertisement for The Syndicator)

Part IX (1926 E&P Syndicate Directory list of Wheeler-Nicholson features; syndicate backers)

Part X (The Syndicator text features)

Part XI (Oscar Hitt: Ambitious Ambrose, Wally and his Pals, Hi-Way Henry, Uncle Eph)

Part XII (M.A. Dunning: They Never Do This But Once, Maggie's Yiddish Moe)

Part XIII (Joe Archibald's features in The Syndicator era)

Part XIV (Afonsky's editorial cartoons; On The Links)

Part XV (Squirrel Food; Mike O'Kay; Looney Land)

Part XVI (A.B. Chapin cartoons; Fables in Slangwidge; College Comics)

Part XVII (syndicate end and conclusion)

Thanks, Allan! A most informative series, with many questions to think about.
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Thursday, April 29, 2021


The Wheeler-Nicholson Syndicate, Part XVI

 Coming down to the wire here on Wheeler-Nicholson, Inc. We have only to cover three more features today, and then tomorrow a final wrap-up. 

First off today we cover a real oddity (an oddity amongst oddities, I suppose). In amongst the sporadic editorial cartoons by 'Meetrich' and sports editorials by Joe Archibald, I found two cartoons by A.B. Chapin, apparently intended for op-ed pages by the syndicate even though the cartoons are clearly non-topical humour. Odder still, Chapin at this time was gainfully employed by the Autocaster Service to produce a weekly frequency feature of exactly the same sort of cartoons. 

Since the Autocaster feature was a weekly, perhaps Chapin was free to shop around his wares to other syndicates as well, and I guess that could explain this. But a relatively high-profile guy like Chapin selling individual cartoons to Wheeler-Nicholson? Hmm, doesn't readily pass my smell test.

Anyway, here they are:

Next we have our final strip offered by Wheeler-Nicholson, called Fables in Slangwidge. Obviously the title is trading on the very popular George Ade book Fables in Slang -- to the point of copyright infringement --  and the material in this strip has got it's 1920's hipness turned up to the max. 

The author of this attractive strip was Jack Wilhelm, whose delightful drawings were, at least at this point in his career, not matched by any facility in writing. These strips about the young generation of the Roaring 20's are rather painful to read. But then this is his first known cartoon feature, so he's forgiveably wet behind the ears.

The flapperdom subject really appealed to Wilhelm, and his next two features, Meet The Misses and That Certain Party, both for McClure, would be more of the same except with somewhat improved writing. 

From what I can gather from the scattershot printing of Wheeler-Nicholson material, I'd guess that Fables in Slangwidge could have been a short-term series. Or perhaps I misunderstand -- maybe the reason it is seldom seen is that Wilhelm's wispy lines were really hard for these small papers to make into decent printing plates, and they often gave up. As it is, I had a heck of a time finding halfway legible samples to reproduce here; most looked like someone dumped mud all over the plates. I used to think there was only about one week's worth of this strip, but I did manage to find a sample that is numbered 24, so unless that is a red herring, the strip made it a minimum of at least four weeks:

Finally, we'll cover an oddball feature that strangely enough was also the only one to outlast the syndicate. Somehow the Major got a contract for reprinting cartoons from a very minor magazine titled College Comics, the poor cousin to College Humor. These magazines established agreements to reuse cartoons from college humour magazines, a very popular campus publication genre of those days. Wheeler-Nicholson ran a selection of these cartoons each week under the banner title College Comics. The typical ration might have  been about four cartoons per week, it's hard to tell. Newspapers were free to cut the individual cartoons apart and run them separately, which many did. Here's some samples:


The interesting thing about College Comics, and the reason I left it for last, is that it did in fact outlive the syndicate. It seems that Cosmos Newspaper Syndicate liked the idea of this sort of feature. Not hard to believe since the contract presumably gives the syndicate carte blanche to reproduce as much as they want from that humour mag -- one low price for a mountain of material. So as Wheeler-Nicholson was winking out of existence, the contract for College Comics presumably got sold or leased as one of their assets, and thus was born Collegiate Fun, basically the same idea but with lots more text material. Note in the masthead the credit to Wheeler-Nicholson, and that it now states explicitly that it is by permission of College Comics magazine. This feature didn't last very long even at Cosmos, presumably because the source magazine itself succumbed in short order.

I've got 15 Fables in Slangwidge strips that are different than the five you've posted, so there were at least 20 in total.
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Wednesday, April 28, 2021


The Wheeler-Nicholson Syndicate, Part XV

 More cartoonists from Wheeler-Nicholson's The Syndicator period today. First we have Squirrel Food, a small one-column panel that seems not to have been intended for the comics page; at least it's used elsewhere in the paper whenever I see it, primarily as a hole-filler. The idea is derivative of Bughouse Fables, the Billy DeBeck panel showcasing people who say and do bizarre things, and to some extent Rube Goldberg's Foolish Questions. The cartoonist, known only as 'Heck', does a perfectly creditable job on this small panel, offering up pretty consistent chuckles or at least smirks. Too bad Heck wasn't producing more for the syndicate.

I'm guessing that this Heck person is the same guy who later produced Figurin' Sam for the Boston Record. The styles aren't too far apart, and they both exhibit a very well-developed funnybone. They also both favour the byline "By Heck."

Next up we have Mike O'Kay*, sort of a bright spot on the line-up because although the art is just barely professional, at least the idea is one that hasn't already been through the wringer. Granted, setting a comedy strip in the back woods with an outdoorsman as the titular funnymaker is of questionable merit, but at least we can assume that this is something worth judging on its own two feet, not by comparing it to some much more famous feature. 

Mike O'Kay is credited to 'Roberts', and unfortunately I don't have a clue who this might be. Could it be W.O. Roberts, who did a weekly strip called The Life of Christ the next year, or Paul Roberts, who later did a local panel for the Philadelphia Record? I doubt it. Anyone have an idea?

* really, that's the name, though in my samples here the newspaper couldn't seem to get the right title with the right strip

Last but definitely not least today, we have Looney Land, a panel cartoon offering outlandish animals described in humorous poetry. This, for my money, is the best strip or panel offered in Wheeler-Nicholson's The Syndicator. The cartooning is delightful and so is the poetry -- and regular readers know how rarely I positively review comic poetry. It is not technically proficient, granted, but it is bouncy, fun and has genuinely witty wordplay.

If this panel had been produced a decade or two later, we'd be rolling our eyes and accusing cartoonist Jim Navoni of trying to channel Dr. Seuss. But of course the good Doctor hadn't yet produced anything for the world at large to see in 1926, so the accusation is baseless. Perhaps we should accuse Geisel of copying Navoni?

 Navoni was also slated to produce Charley the Chump according to the E&P listings back in June. Unfortunately that strip appears never to have seen the light of day. 

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Tuesday, April 27, 2021


The Wheeler-Nicholson Syndicate, Part XIV

We've got more cartoonists to meet from the new crop that started with The Syndicator, but we need to take a quick second look at our workhorse of 1925, Nicholas Afonsky. Theoretically, he is still with the syndicate, churning out increasingly shorter adaptations for the Great Mystery and Adventure series. By the way, despite advertising to the contrary, that series and Vivian Vanity may not have been included in The Syndicator. My impression is that they were still distributed as standalone features -- I say this because you don't very often see papers that run The Syndicator material also running these two series. 

My initial guess was that Afonsky produced those Great Mystery and Adventure series adaptation quickly, and was already gone by the time of The Syndicator. The fact that he supplied editorial cartoons to The Syndicator under his old pseudonym of Meetrich I assumed to be reuse of old material, since the cartoons are of the 'evergreen' variety. However, in the very small number of these I could track down, one lone example puts that idea to rest. The top cartoon below is a reference to the Cristero War in Mexico, which didn't get going until mid-1926.



Let's get back to the comics page. Our next feature is On The Links, a golf strip by Dic Loscalzo, a cartoonist who thought enough of his strip that it was published ... I'm guessing self-published ... in book form. The book, which seems to be just slightly less scarce than hen's teeth, is 48 pages, which certainly seems to mesh nicely with my belief that The Syndicator ran for eight weeks. 

On The Links is another strip that didn't garner much favour from small-town Wheeler-Nicholson subscribers; it is seldom seen perhaps because the golf mania had not really taken hold in these parts of the country. Or, maybe it was just kinda awful. Here are some samples that show there was some intention of an ongoing storyline, but I've seen so few that I'd be guessing to offer any sort of synopsis:


The Walter Donaldson song "Yes, Sir, That's My Baby" dates from 1925, so that's at least one very close tie (as if the Prohibition ref wasn't enough) to the time period. Something of a knockoff of Rollin Kirby's "Mr. Dry." The others are, yes, pretty banal and evergreen.
The "European Shopkeepers" squeezing the "American Tourist" suggests the cartoonist (or his boss) just came back from a trip in a bad mood. What fraction of any general newspaper's readership would find that pertinent?

Makes me think of the Onion's mock editorial cartoons, nominally created by an irascible jerk positioning all his personal grievances as national issues.
DBenson's question is a good one, re what fraction would get the "tourist" crack, especially in the pre-jet era. My guess is a surprising fraction, owing to the fact that literally millions of Americans had experienced France just a few years before in the war, and it had left a mark on them (cf: "How Ya Gonna Keep 'Em Down on the Farm (After They've Seen Paree)?") The chiseling European hotelkeeper was a stock gag for a long time.
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