06/07/2026
This Week's Puzzler
On June 7, 1967, this woman died at age 73 in New York City. A lifelong New Yorker, she was born as Dorothy Rothschild in 1893 in Long Branch, New Jersey (her parents owned a summer cottage there). Later in life, she joked that her parents got her back to Manhattan as soon as they could after Labor Day in order to make her a true New Yorker.
She had a difficult and unhappy childhood. She was only five when her mother died, and when her father remarried a few years later, she showed her contempt for her stepmother by referring to her as “The housekeeper.” Her sharp tongue got her into trouble a few years later when she attended a parochial elementary school. Recalling those years as an adult, she said she never fit in and was considered a disruptive influence by the nuns. She was finally asked to leave when she began referring to the Immaculate Conception as spontaneous combustion.
She first thought about becoming a writer in adolescence and went on to have a career that could be described as almost meteoric. In 1914, at age 21, she sold her first poem to Vanity Fair. A few months later, she was hired as an editorial assistant at Vogue magazine. During her two years at Vogue, she showed signs of the exceptional wit that would later characterize her entire career—like this famous caption she wrote for an article on women’s undergarments:
“Brevity is the soul of lingerie.”
In 1918, at age 23, she became a drama critic for Vanity Fair magazine, where she quickly developed a reputation for her acerbic pen. Fired after three years for an overly caustic review, she began a successful writing career, producing best-selling books of light verse as well as nonfiction. In 1927, she began writing for The New Yorker, an association she would maintain the rest of her professional life.
Along with Robert Benchley, Robert Sherwood, and other New York wits, she was a charter member of the famed Algonquin Round Table. In a favorite Round Table game called “I Can Give You a Sentence,” someone would toss out an unusual word and challenge the others to use it in a sentence. One night, someone suggested the word “horticulture.” After a moment’s silence, she hollered out, “I’ve got one!” Her creation that night went on to become one of her most celebrated remarks:
“You may lead a w***e to culture, but you can’t make her think.”
Even though she was a petite woman with a demure appearance, she had a rapier wit. Alexander Woollcott once described her as “a combination of Little Nell and Lady Macbeth.” And critic John Mason Brown said of her: “To those she did not like, she was a stiletto made of sugar.”
Who was this woman?