Prior to World War II, many Americans relied on commercial laundries. But many of these closed during the war, leaving households without washers or dryers. Then, along came laundromats.
This excerpt is from “The Washing Machine Goes Juke-Box” by Robert M. Yoder, May 4, 1946.
It was a sort of cafeteria, serve-yourself establishment, where women could do the family washing in machines that operated on the quarter-in-the-slot basis. The only thing that could go wrong was the whole idea of doing the washing in a public place. Most of the men they talked to agreed that women would never go for it. After all, the old reproach about washing one’s dirty linen in public suggests laundry is something done appropriately only in the privacy of the home, perhaps like taking a bath.
Yet so many customers turned out for the opening that police had to handle the traffic, and it was decided to put the Launderette on an appointment basis. Customers sign up for a given period on a given day, reserving machines as you might reserve a table in a restaurant.
This article is featured in the May/June 2021 issue of The Saturday Evening Post. Subscribe to the magazine for more art, inspiring stories, fiction, humor, and features from our archives.
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