Chapter FIVE: Etiquette for Dry Agents

SOME BROADER ASPECTS OF PROHIBITION

In spite of the great pride and joy which we Americans feel over
the success of National Prohibition; in spite of the universal
popularity of the act and the method of its enforcement; in spite
of the fact that it is now almost impossible to obtain in any of
our ex-saloons anything in the least resembling whiskey or
gin,—there still remains the distressing suspicion that quite
possibly, at some of the dinner parties and dances of our more
socially prominent people, liquor—or its equivalent—is openly
being served. Dry agents have, of course, tried on several
occasions to verify this suspicion; their praiseworthy efforts
have met, for the most part, with scant success.

The main difficulty has been, I believe, that the average dry
agent is too little versed in the customs and manners of polite
society. It is lamentably true that, too often, has a carefully
planned society dry raid been spoiled because the host noticed
that one of his guests was wearing white socks with a black tie,
or that the intruder was using his dessert spoon on the hors
d’œuvres.

The solution of this difficulty lies, of course, in the gradual
procuring of a better class of dry agent. There are signs
(though, unfortunately, in the wrong direction) that some of our
younger college generation are already casting envious eyes
toward the rich rewards, the social opportunities and the
exciting life of the professional bootlegger.

It might be well to interest some of these promising youngsters
in the no less exciting occupation of National Prohibition
Enforcement Officer. At present the chief difficulty seems to lie
in the fact that, in our preparatory schools and colleges, a
young man acquires a certain code of honor which causes him to
look with distaste on what he calls pussyfooting and sneaking.

People too often forget that, in order to make effective such a
universally beneficent law, any means are justified. It will be,
I hope, only a matter of years before this distrust of the
“sneak” will have died out, and the Dry Agent will come to be
regarded with the reverence and respect due to one who devotes
his life to the altruistic investigation of his neighbor’s
affairs.

THE COLLEGE GRADUATE AS DRY AGENT

Then, too, many young college men are deterred from becoming Dry
Agents by thinking of the comparative scantiness of the monetary
rewards. This difficulty is only an imaginary one—for, luckily,
as soon as a man’s code of honor has been elevated to the extent
that it permits him to take up a career of pussy-footing there is
generally eliminated at the same time any objection he might have
to what is often called bribery. Thus, by a fortunate combination
of circumstances, a Dry Agent is enabled to serve mankind and, at
the same time, greatly increase his own personal fortune.

But we cannot wait until our college graduates come to regard
pussyfooting as a career. We must do what we can with the
material at our disposal. We must in some way educate our present
Dry Agents so that they can go to any function in polite society
and remain as inconspicuous and as completely disregarded as the
host. As a first step in such a social training I offer the
following suggestions, in the hope that before long no function
will be complete without the presence of four or five correctly
dressed National Prohibition Enforcement Officers, ready and
eager to arrest the host and hostess and all the guests on the
slightest provocation.

PLANNING A DRY RAID ON A MASQUERADE BALL

Let us suppose, for example, that you are a Dry Agent and that
your name is Isador Eisenberg, and, one day, you and your chief
are sitting around the Dry Agent’s Club and he says to you,
“Izzy—I see by the paper that there’s a swell society masquerade
ball to be given by the younger married set tomorrow night at the
Glen Cove Country Club. Take your squad to cover it.” At this
point you doubtless say, “Chief, I’m afraid I can’t use my squad.
My men have been disguised as trained seals all this week, and
tomorrow night, they are to raid all the actresses’ dressing
rooms at the Hippodrome” and then the Chief says, “Well, Izzy,
you’ll have to rent a costume and pull off the raid all by
yourself.”

A WORD ABOUT CORRECT COSTUMES

Your first concern should be, of course, your costume. If you
have a high voice (although really there is no reason for
supposing that all Dry Agents have high voices), you might well
attend the masquerade disguised as a lady. One of the neatest
and, on the whole, most satisfactory of ladies’ disguises is that
of Cleopatra. Cleopatra, as you know, was once Queen of Egypt and
the costume is quite simple and attractive. It may be, however,
that you would prefer to appear as a modern rather than an
ancient queen. A modern Queen (if one may judge from the
illustrated foreign periodicals) always wears a plain suit and
carries a tightly rolled umbrella. Should you care to attend the
masquerade as an allegorical figure—say “2000 Years of
Progress”—you might wear the Cleopatra costume and carry the
umbrella. Or you might go attired as some other less prominent
member of the nobility—for instance, Lady Dartmouth, whose
delightful costume is more or less featured in the advertising on
our better class subways and street cars, and can be obtained at
a comparatively small cost at any reliable dry goods store.

Should you, however, feel that you would be more at ease in a
male costume, there are several suggestions which might cleverly
conceal your real identity. You might, for example, attend the
ball as Jurgen—a costume which would assure you a pleasurable
evening and many pleasing acquaintances. You might, with equal
satisfaction, go as an Indian.

It occurs to me that it might even be a clever move to attend the
party dressed as a Dry Agent. All suspicion would be instantly
lost in the uproar of laughter which would greet your
announcement of your disguise; many men would probably so far
enter into the spirit of the joke as to offer you drinks from
their flasks, and much valuable evidence could be obtained in
this way. And the costume is quite easy—simply wear a pleated
soft-bosom dress shirt with your evening dress, and tuck the ends
of your black tie under your collar.

Packets of Old Letters Make Acceptable Wedding Gifts _Packets of old letters, bits of verse, locks of hair, pressed flowers, inscribed books, photographs, etc., all make acceptable wedding gifts. By telling you whether they should be presented to the Bride or to the Groom_ PERFECT BEHAVIOR _has, we feel, settled the question of future happiness in many a new-made home._

Correct Methods of Using Table Hardware _You are, let us say, one of the Ushers attending the Bachelor Dinner. You are handed a bottle of Chateau Lafitte ’69. Can you select, from the diagram above, the proper implement to use in getting at its contents? The correct methods of choosing and using table hardware are explained in_ PERFECT BEHAVIOR.

It Is Sometimes Best to Be Frank _The young couple in the picture are trying to word a plausible letter of regret in answer to an invitation to a house-party. Had they consulted their_ PERFECT BEHAVIOR _they would have known that there is no plausible excuse for not accepting any invitation whatever, and that the simplest and most dignified, method is to write the attached model letter._

GOOD FORM FOR DRY AGENTS DURING A RAID

After the costume, you should arrange to obtain a mask and a
breath. The former is, of course, for the purpose of hiding your
identity; the latter is essential at any party where you wish to
remain inconspicuous. A good whisky breath can usually be
obtained from a bottle of any of the better known brands of
Scotch or Rye whisky by holding a small quantity of the liquor in
the mouth for a short period of time. It is not, of course,
necessary to swallow the liquor and in this connection I would
suggest that you use only the best grade whisky, for there are at
present being manufactured for domestic consumption several
brands which, if held in the mouth for a longer interval than,
say, three seconds, are apt to eat away the tongue or dissolve
several of your more important teeth.

On the night of the party, therefore, having donned your Dry
Agent costume, having put on your mask, having secured a good
breath—you jump into a taxicab and drive to the Glen Cove Country
Club. And, as you enter the door of the club, some girl, dressed,
probably, as Martha Washington, will run up and kiss you. This is
not because she thinks you are George Washington; it is because
she drank that eighth Bronx cocktail at dinner.

And right at this point is where most Dry Agents have displayed
their ignorance of the usages of polite society, for most of them
are wofully ignorant of the correct way to handle such a
situation. Your average Dry Agent, not being accustomed to the
ways of Younger Marrieds, is often confused upon being
unexpectedly kissed, and in his confusion betrays his unfortunate
lack of social training.

The correct way to meet the above situation is based on the
fundamental rule of all social etiquette—common sense. Return the
lady’s kiss in an easy, natural manner and pass on. If she
follows you, lead her at once to a quiet unoccupied corner of the
club and knock her over the head with a chair or some other
convenient implement. It has been found that this is the only
effective way to deal with this type of woman and it is really
only a kindness to her and her husband to keep her from
embarrassing you with her attentions during the rest of the
evening.

After you have removed your coat, you should go to the ball room
where you will find the dance in full swing—full being of course
used in its common or alcoholic sense. Take your place in the
stag line and don’t, under any circumstances, allow anyone to
induce you to cut in on any of the dancers. In the first place,
you won’t be able to dance because Dry Agents, like Englishmen,
never can; secondly, if you _try_ to dance, you are taking the
enormous chance, especially at a masquerade, that the man who
introduced you to your partner will disappear for the rest of the
evening, leaving you with Somebody’s Albatross hanging around
your neck. And, of all Albatrosses, the married one is perhaps
farthest South—especially if she happens to be a little tight and
wants to talk about her husband and children.

Your policy, therefore, should be one of complete
non-partisanship. If you do not dance, do not let yourself be
drawn into conversation, and do not, above all things, show any
consideration for the host or hostess. By closely observing the
actions of the men and women about you, by wandering down into
the club bar, by peeking into the automobiles parked outside the
club, you will probably be able to obtain sufficient evidence of
the presence of alcohol to justify a raid. And then, when you
have raided the Glen Cove Country Club, you can turn your
attention to the 12,635,439 other clubs and private houses where
the same thing is going on. And, if Mr. Volstead has a dress
suit, you might take him with you, and show him just how
beautifully Prohibition is working and how enthusiastic the
better classes of American society are about it.