This is the most momentous time for swearing-off that has happened for a hundred years.

To the following people, representing various walks of life, the put a query as to what resolutions for the new year should be made by the community of Los Angeles.

In other words, they were asked what new leaf would it be advisable for Los Angeles to turn over. What should we, as a city, “swear off”?

Miss Mary L. Jones, City Librarian:

“This is so sudden I have about two minutes, haven’t I, in which to advise the community regarding its intellectual and literary activities for the next century.

 “The thing that sits most heavily upon me is the pseudo-historical novel. I wish Los Angeles people could get over the idea that they are earnest students of history when they read a book written in ancient phraseology with a couple of duels in it.”

T. W. Brotherton, capitalist and attorney:

“Every man should make a resolve to sweep in front of his door. I mean that both literally and figuratively. If every property-holder in this community would improve his individual property there would be a great rise in values. Let’s all quit being untidy.”

Gilbert T. Gay of West Adams Street:

“Let’s give the new century a fair chance to see what it is running into — and get the city lighted. Let’s have less darkness.” . . .

Chief of Police Elton:

“If this city turns over all the new leaves that it needs to we will start the new century with an imposing library.” . . .  —>

Mrs. Susan Whiting, one of the representative women of Southern California:

“When it comes to ‘swearing off,’ as you say, let it be golf. By all means golf. I look forward with apprehension and alarm to generations of neglected children and deserted wives in the new century if the golf convicts continue to progress in enthusiasm. I find myself quite unable to follow the literature of the day since John Kendrick Bangs became its exponent with his golf jokes.”

Coroner Holland:

“We should quit our waste of fuel and hunt for some substitute for coal, wood and oil, which are going to give out.”

Capt. Herbert D. Alfonso, a retiring deputy City Auditor and late adjutant of the Seventh Regiment, slightly assisted by the grippe:

“Whad’s thad? Ought to have a quinine factory. Oughd to be some way to utalize the force going to waste in these shivers.” [Quinine was used for the treatment of fever, and still is in many parts of the world.]

W. F. Burbank:

“Turn the library out of the City Hall and give it a home of its own.” [The library had been moved from its home in the Downey Block at Main, Spring and Temple to more spacious quarters in the City Hall in 1889, but by 1901 its collection had outgrown the space allotted to it.]

Eric Pollock, manager of the Orpheum [not the present theater, which was built in 1926], has radical ideas on the subject of reform. Mr. Pollock is from Chicago. He wants the calendar changed:

“Next century we ought to have New Year’s day come a few months earlier in the year. . . . It is natural for leaves to turn in the early autumn. It’s opposing nature to try to postpone the event until January 1. That is the reason why as many of these New Year’s leaves won’t stay turned. My advice to Los Angeles is to have New Year’s day happen for the next century on or about November 1.” . . .

Mrs. Hester Griffith, . . . of the W. C. T. U. [Women’s Christian Temperance Union] movement :

“In the new century let the standard of purity be raised to the single standard of a white life for two, thus giving children their birthright. Let the public mind be so educated that the manufacture of intoxicants be abolished.”

Rev. E. S. Chapman, D. D., superintendent of the Anti-Saloon League:

“My suggestion . . . is to take no back steps in the matter of reform, but to advance as rapidly as possible in the direction of making home and family life secure. We have made some good progress in the past year in the crusade against private boxes in the saloon and liquor-selling restaurants. Let that work be carried to completion, and the companion vice which so imperils the family, the social club, become a thing of the past.”

James Long, book-binder:

“Wake up and realize that this is no longer a small village living on the tourists.”

R. W. Burnham, of Dun’s Commercial Agency:

“The City of Los Angeles ought to revise its political methods. Select good men, irrespective of political pull. Commercially the town is pretty nearly all right.” . . .

Humane Officer Craig:

“Stop checking horses’ heads out of joint. There is hope now that the new century will see striking reforms in this work, for the Queen has ordered that no horse be retained in her household with a docktail.

“Anyhow, horses will be only for mantelpieces and dressing tables in the next century. It’ll be all automobile. The only man who has tried to check an automobile thus far was McLeod of Pasadena, who held one weighing 1500 pounds, up hill when it wanted to go down. He grabbed it by the dashboard, undismayed by the fact that a full head of steam and the power of gravity was of a different turn of mind. What happened to McLeod will not encourage the inhuman practice of checking mobes.” [See Comment.]

Dr. Walter Lindley:

“. . . perfect our system of dairy inspections. It is a matter that vitally affects the health of the community. . . . there ought to be an inspection of every dairy at least once a month by an expert.”

H. F. Norcross, who acts as shepherd to the meek and gentle tourist who pines to see Coronado:

“Turn over a new leaf and stop kicking. Los Angeles is one of the most up-to-date cities in the Union. Our telephone system and our street cars and almost all of the labor-saving devices in use here are superior to those of many of the largest cities in the country. I’ve just come back from Chicago, where they let you warm your ears with a telephone receiver till your arms ache before you’re discovered.” . . .

“Central,” poor scolded little girl. [An overworked telephone operator.]

“Number what? Oh, dear, hope in the new century some of them won’t be so horribly cross. It would be nice if they would say please some times in the new century. I haven’t got time to talk any longer. Good-by.” Try saying please to her once. It won’t break anything.

Police Officer D. L. Craig, who for years has made the iron hand of the law felt on the toughest corner south of the Tehachapi, where Los Angeles meets First [near the present-day Federal Building]:

“If they ‘d only stop using tobacco I’d grow young again in the twentieth century. It’s tobacco that leads to drink[,] and drink that leads to crime and vagabondage. With a few failures of the tobacco crop, the wicked old corner might become as pure and innocent as San Diego. . . .”