How Doth the Simple Spelling Bee — A Closer Reading
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Jesse had mounted upon the table with the still faintly bellowing Totts. 96
HOW DOTH THE SIMPLE SPELLING-BEE
_How doth the Simple Spelling-bee Impruv each shining ower._
Of course, I know not how it may be with you; but with me the mail brings daily a multitude of communications that I have not sought, and do not want; nor do I refer to bills alone; and so, when there came one day a printed card saying:--
I tossed it into my waste-paper basket, and remembered it no more. Some days had passed, during which I had worked onward at the index of my forthcoming volume, when my memory was jogged by the arrival of a new absurdity:--
Like its predecessor, this card went at once into my basket. I had nearly finished the B's in my index before the mail brought the following:--
It ought to be your custom now To simplify, and spell plough plow; Therefore write quickly on your cuff From this day forth to spell tough tuff. A third must follow these first tu, So you will always spell through thru, Nor in the midst of things leave off, But joyfully now make cough coff. By this time you must clearly noa Dough can't be doe, do, dow, but doa.
Well, if they purposed to reform our spelling, which has always been a mere rag-bag of lawlessness, I hoped that they would do it right; but I was too deeply immersed in completing the index of my forthcoming volume to spend thought upon this question; nor did I court interruption. My waste-paper basket, therefore, received another willing contribution. And when presently the clue to these cards reached me in the following telegraphic message, just at the outset of my morning's work:--
CHICKLE UNIVERSITY, Arkansopolis, October 6, 1906. English spelling rotten to the core. Help us. MASTICATOR B. FELLOWS.
I responded, not without satire:--
Utterly prostrated by news. Helpless. THOMAS GREENBERRY.
And thinking that thus I was rid of him, I proceeded quietly with the index of my forthcoming volume.
But Masticator B. Fellows, president and proprietor of Chickle University, had not done with me so easily. Since his street-boyhood, sixty years ago, this ardent personality ('tis thus the daily press describes him) had made his own way, and had his own way; he was his own capital, and there is no record of his ever having sunk a cent of it. Of habits strictly pure, he had never seen a card or a drop of liquor that he had touched, and he had never seen a dollar that he had not touched. He had organized every industry along his path, from paper-selling, boot-blacking, and so upward to his organized lobby at Washington, through which he had caused a heavy tariff to be put upon every commodity necessary to the American people. It was he who had advised his brother organizers to keep Religion on the free list, because, as he assured them, "if we tax it, they'll do without it, while if we don't, they'll trust us for a while yet." And now, at the age of seventy-five, with uncounted millions, and ten United States Senators, and a fourth young wife all in his pocket, he proposed to hand his name to Immortality by simplifying the spelling of English all over the earth. Well, let him do it if he would only do it right.
But this he must do without my assistance; there were other professors, many of them. I did not permit the circulars that now began to pour in from Chickle University to distract me from my index. Striking as these circulars were--and I will instance but one of them:--
Judge, budge, ridge, acknowledge ARE SLOW Call in and try our Quick Spelling Juj. Buj. Rij. Aknolej--
they went into the basket one after another. To this method of suggestion a second was soon added, and my coat-pockets, as well as my mail, began to be filled with spelling literature. I would go out for a walk, and during this exercise some paper or pamphlet would be slipped into the coat, which I would discover upon my return. I remember pulling out a little book of verse, beginning:--
I am only a primer to teach you to spel, Which is something that nobody does very wel. A sweet little primer, A dear little primer, Sing hel, bel, tel, fel, sel, nel, quel, swel and smel.
I felt, let me confess it, annoyed the next day on returning from my walk to find a new method of suggestion, in great charcoal letters, on the white marble of my house-front:--
Such nuisances as Solemn Comptroller and Wednesday are preventing THE KING OF SIAM from learning English
Owen Wister's How Doth the Simple Spelling Bee opens with a narrator immersed in indexing his forthcoming volume, only to be pestered by cryptic cards—"Why Heifer?"—and a telegram from Masticator B. Fellows, president of Chickle University, declaring English spelling "rotten to the core." The narrator's sarcastic reply fails to deter Fellows, who summons him to a spelling convention. The story quickly establishes its satirical tone through the narrator's dry resistance and the absurdity of the reform campaign, which is driven not by linguistic expertise but by a millionaire's whim. The excerpts show a world where spelling reform is treated as a crusade, complete with an ode sung to the tune of "America."
The Millionaire as Reformer
Masticator B. Fellows is introduced as a self-made man worth "two hundred and forty-five millions" who addresses the assembled scholars with a paradoxical sermon: "Thank God that you are poor. Thank God for your scanty meals and clothing." His wealth is visually underscored by a dollar-sign in his jaw, as noted by Miss Appleby. Fellows frames spelling reform as a charitable act for "poor foreigners" and "little children," yet his methods—distributing boxes of chickle (chewing gum) and having a gasoline organ play—suggest a commercial rather than pedagogical bent. The narrator's initial response to Fellows's telegram—"Utterly prostrated by news. Helpless. Thomas Greenberry"—highlights the absurdity of taking such a figure seriously. Fellows's character embodies the tension between genuine reform and self-aggrandizement, a theme that runs through the excerpts.
Chaos in the Convention
The spelling convention quickly descends into farce. Professors Flawless Nathan Maverick and Camillo Cottsill propose abolishing all words that foreigners or children cannot spell, respectively, leading to a heated exchange. Jesse Willows's repeated "Phew!" and the chairman's futile tapping of an inkstand underscore the lack of order. Professor Egghorn, author of Mustard Plasters, contributes only "Hup, hup, hup" until the chairman starts the organ to calm the room. The vote on a "phonetic" approach passes eighteen to two, but the debate reveals deep disagreements: Maverick boasts of his daughter Zola B.'s spelling prowess, while Cottsill questions his ability to judge with only one child. The scene satirizes academic pretension and the arbitrary nature of reform proposals, with the scholars more concerned with personal attacks than coherent policy.
Language as a Rag-Bag of Lawlessness
The narrator's initial dismissal of spelling reform as a "mere rag-bag of lawlessness" sets the stage for the story's linguistic play. The excerpts include a poem that demonstrates reformed spelling: "My spelling 'tis of thee, / Sweet land of spelling-bee, / Of thee I sing. / Land of the pilgrims' pride, / Land where my fathers dide, / For spelling simplifide / Let freedom ring." The deliberate misspellings—"dide," "simplifide"—mock the phonetic approach by applying it inconsistently. Similarly, the earlier doggerel advises spelling "tough tuff" and "cough coff," highlighting the chaos that would ensue. Wister uses these invented examples to critique the notion that English spelling can be easily rationalized, suggesting that reform efforts may produce more absurdity than clarity. The narrator's own name, Thomas Greenberry, is a pseudonym that hints at the artificiality of the entire enterprise.
Readers should attend to the interplay between the narrator's detached perspective and the escalating absurdity of the convention. Wister's satire targets not only spelling reform but also the broader American enthusiasm for quick fixes and charismatic millionaires. The excerpts leave unclear whether the narrator will remain a passive observer or become embroiled in the reform movement. The story's humor derives from its precise observations of academic behavior and its willingness to let the ridiculous speak for itself.
Last night, leafing through Wister's spelling-bee satire, I laughed at the scholars' lovely bewilderment—their orderly world undone by one loud reformer. It reminded me of quiet afternoons with The Little Gray Lady 1909 — Inside the Classic, where a gentle soul faces change with the same soft confusion. Such different books, yet both whisper about how fragile our certainties are.
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