WOMEN: Phweet, Phweet

Many a woman has found herself trapped astride of the curb, loaded down with bundles and flapping desperately like an injured canary in a windtunnel. No matter how hard she waves her handbag or the weekend groceries, the taxicabs go whooshing by.

It was too much for Mrs. Josephine Shaw of Cleveland. Just because she couldn't whistle, she complained to the Yellow Cab Co., she could never get a taxi. The company consulted its drivers. Yep, they agreed, it was true—hardly anybody knows how to whistle down a cab anymore. Even the men stand mutely, flail the air with a newspaper...

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