Something must be wrong with its radar eye! (Chicago Tribune, 1959)

Part two of the September 13, 1959 Chicago Tribune article Call a Serviceman: This Cry Will Still Be Heard in Year 2000 offers more paleo-future goodness. To bring you up to speed, our housewife of the future has just heard the yelps of her poodle Fifi as it is being attacked by the futuristic vacuum cleaner.

By the time I'm back in the house, the cleaner, having finished its job on Fifi, has scooted back to its cubbyhole in the baseboard.

"I think," my daughter says, "you'd better call a service man."

The vidiphone (telephone combined with television) signals for attention. A neighbor's face comes into view. Scowling, she says, "Your lawnmower is cutting all the flowers in my garden!"

"O, dear! Something must be wrong with its radar eye!"

"Yes," my neighbor agrees. "It needs glasses!"

I call a service man. It seems the logical thing to do. Afterwards, I sink into a chair and pick up a book.

A door slams and my son comes in, announcing, "I'm hungry."

"I'll get something," my daughter volunteers. (That's what's so wonderful about the pushbutton age - everyone is willing to help with the work.) "We'll have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches," she proclaims, pushing a button.

We wait, nervously, while the electronic-brain goes to work.

Guess what - peanut butter and jelly sandwiches! Only, instead of serving them on plates, the electronic brain tosses the sandwiches upward. They land on the ceiling.


Stay tuned for part three of this riveting tale of domesticity.

See also:
Call a Serviceman (Chicago Tribune, 1959)

Call a Serviceman (Chicago Tribune, 1959)

In the September 13, 1959 edition of the Chicago Tribune Sunday Magazine Evelyn Zemke wrote an amusing piece about her vision for housewives of the future. Below is an excerpt from the first part of her story.

"Call a service man," my husband always says when one of our appliances refuses to function.

Sounds simple enough, doesn't it? Well, it is. At the very worst, probably only the washer, dryer, dishwasher, and TV would give up one day. But what about the housewife of the future - say of the year 2000, when the electronic era will be at its peak?

I can just picture myself in her place - ready to start another care-free day sitting around reading a science fiction thriller while the gadgets do all the work. Already the electronic brain in my kitchen is busy preparing and serving breakfast.

My husband, arriving at the table exclaims, "Pizza? For breakfast?"

"I pushed the button labeled BACON AND EGGS, but-"

"There's a wire crossed somewhere. Call a service man."

After doing so, I dispose of the garbage in the electronic disposal unit and pile the dishes in the ultra-sonic dishwasher. Then, After pushing the button which starts the electronic vacuum cleaner, I go out to the garage to set the timer for our radar controled lawnmower.

"Ki-yi-yi!" Sounds like Fifi, our pet poodle.

My daughter, standing in the doorway, calls, "Mom! The cleaner is vacuuming Fifi!"


See also:
Monsanto House of the Future (1957-1967)