A Gazette editorial from August 3, 1937.

Among the pests of summer we nominate for public malediction, in due form:

The motorist who blocks the street while he leans from the driver’s seat to exchange gossip with a friend on the far curb. Incidentally, why is it that persiflage utterly so publicly is of so little interest to those who cannot avoid hearing it?

The cyclist who scatter to both sides of the road, with hesitation as to their direction, when a car approaches.

The cyclist who rounds corners into a one way street in the wrong direction, without any special attention to traffic which may be headed, quite reasonably and legally, against him. This nuisance is still with us, although it is difficult to see how he can long survive, considering the risks he takes.

The fellow who throws beer cans from a car into the shrubbery and elsewhere along his route of travel. Apparently it was a great mistake to put beer in cans. Bottles were not generally thrown so promiscuously.

The friends who cannot discuss their affairs freely unless they are standing in the post office door.

The fiends who use automobile horns as instruments of self expression and play.

We doubt if anything can be done, but at any rate we point the finger of angry scorn.