Judge, 1908-12-05 · page 35 of 44
Judge — December 5, 1908 — page 35: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains the opening of a short story by Porter Emerson Browne, not primarily a political cartoon. The narrative concerns Mr. Kerrigan, an Irish-American working-class man, who receives a phonograph as a Christmas gift from his friend W.J. Flannigan. The satire targets early 20th-century consumer culture and the phonograph craze. A phonograph is an expensive novelty—Kerrigan initially finds it baffling. The humor derives from ethnic Irish-American dialect humor (typical of the era, though offensive by modern standards) and the absurdity of Kerrigan's violent reaction when the recorded message on the phonograph insults him, prompting him to throw it out the window. The accompanying illustration shows dramatic action on city streets. The story mocks both the gift-giver's presumption and the recipient's volatile response to newfangled technology.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
“A Gift without the Giver” By PORTER EMERSON BROWNE “The Prodigal" and other stories.) (Author of LOWLY and Daly, the Troubadour,’ non-understandable announcement, given in a metallic baritone. Then a few more throaty revolutions, and there came from the ly, Mr. FI mouth of the horn thrust his two h “ Dhrunk again, eh, ye big gaby?”’ dred thirty The next few words were lost in the sudden and angry, pounds between a“ Phwhat's thot?" that came from the thin lips of Mr. Kerrigan, fat lady with many There followed from the phonograph: bundles and a thin “Don’t talk to me, ye fat ould blathershki Yuh folks would and. fronted, doin’ this counthry a koindness av they had shtrangled dent desperation, the ti yezat burth, Yez ain't good f'r nothin’—yez don’t know nothin’— th Christmas shoppers and fool a disgrace to humanity and a practickle joke on mankoind questions. “Ain't it grand!" exclaimed his daughter; but Mr. Kerrigan “T want to grit,’” he said mechanical- ched hand warningly. for it the cleventh time that he ¢ it finish,’ he command repeated the rem in “a prisint for a ilderly gintl bas dl sal worn » it finish. Thot’s all, ly. hattered the phonograph blithe re gittin’ mad, are ye, ye pin-headed ould omadhoun? uldn’t lick a postage stamp! Yez ain't got loife finger. enough tuh turn over in bed! You foight?. Huh! My ou = gran'- mother licks eight loike yez ivery marnin’ before breaktasi, just to punter, there,” You foight? Don’t make me laff!"" Loocy, dyer ut was all, For out the window went the phonograph, blow from the heavy fist of the enraged Mr. Ker- “Phonographs only at this counter,’? returned the “Do you want one of them?” Flanigan rubbed a ser id; and thes returned the wanter keep this lady waitin Mr. Flannigan edged his way through throngs of clustering — rigan, femininity, obsessed with the lust of shopping, to the end of the “Oh, father!" eric ed tearfulness, in surpri counter, and there re incd for a long three minut Then he “Don't * Oh, father ‘tormed her parent, as he reached edged his way back aj wrathfully for his hat, ‘* Not av cn talk to me “* How much are they?” he demanded of the of ye loike thot an’ git away wid it! An’ as for that seut Flannigan - “ Ree- . . . . . . ** All the wi ords is twenty-fiv ne-fifty.”” urcd, by those who were fortunate enough of the prettiest impromptu little affairs of its pe to wit rds?” asked the girl. twinty-foive-cint ae “ Any particular toons or re ns? * Pick me out some good, frish And it was done. but that one round endured ch, and he was not ; thot's all’? same gent It not without excitement that, on Christmas morning, Mr. sion thatit Kerrigan wooden box that contained the phono- though sever - graph, urd. ‘This he took to the on tors asserted that the sht was clearly Mr. nnigaan'’s on poi To Mr. Martin Kerrigan, did the from his old friend, nit a feud, W. J. Flannigg battle, you MIRRY CHRISMUS, : dow in the flat that admitted more than a semblance of daylight, and read: in the box. Now phwhat th’ divvle!"’ he said; and then, ‘ Honoria, Honoria! Phwhat d'yuh make av this?) Dom‘d if F an ain't sint me a tin horn and six boxes av taleum powdher! Be hivins! av all th’'’ large man and who a phonograph of own, undert ssfully, to pour oil plved the nystery for his erudite and sophis But one gglai cated offspring “Oh! sh fur sui cried ‘A whatty-graft?”’ queried her father pu htedly, “it's a phonys “Though 9 the troubled w the whi steak yez e'n thrust Flannigan for gettin’ nixt to anny old koind av a graft there ‘oond.”” It’s a phonygraft!” exclaimed his daughter again, It es 8 makes tunes and things that sound almost like real musi Oh, let's try it! Shall w Mr Her father grunted. ly, twir “yo as far as yezloikes. * * * for the ke Oi sint him. bottle. and always “* Th’ nixt toime O1 sive a Chris'mas prisint ntly like thot,” he declared, semble the component parts of his “it'll be to a Orangey, Christmas ift. And anon she turned to him, on Saint Pathrick’s “ There!’ she said. ‘‘ It’s all ready. Shall I turn it on, or Day; and Oj'll know will you? what Oi'm givin’, be You e’n be th’ shtarts Pass th’ with a little giggle of delighted anti artin, Thats At first there was but a raucous churning, and then a vague and “Hip yubself,"* by Phwhy di'n’ he sind me a gy sa ygood felly, but h well, he watched his daughter a DRAMATIC POSSIBILITIES, looking like a fool, picture man —I'm go indifferen n, she turned the le and hivins! * * stand th a mor Don’ Run and ge » fal comicbooks.com