Judge, 1914-10-03 · page 10 of 24
Judge — October 3, 1914 — page 10: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This satirical piece by Max Merryman critiques suburban commuter life in early 20th-century America. A husband commutes 25 miles from the city to a rural home, arriving late after missing his train. His wife then interrogates him about an endless shopping list of items he was supposed to retrieve from the city—candied cherries, vanilla extract, cold cream, soap, safety pins, and more. The satire targets two things: the wife's relentless, nagging demands and the husband's mental exhaustion from trying to remember trivial domestic details. His internal monologue reveals his desperation—he'd *gladly* forget everything just to move back to the city ("the Great White Way"). The joke reflects anxiety about suburban expansion and gender dynamics of the era: wives controlled domestic consumption, while husbands bore the burden of commuting and shopping errands. The sidebar jokes about forgetfulness, maidens, and a fireman reinforce themes of memory and domestic life.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
A Vagrant Commuter (to his wife)—Missed the five-thirty train by a third of a minute and had to hang around the station three- . quarters of an hour, wait- ing for the six-fifteen. That's the crowded train, and a two- hundred - and - forty-pound woman, with nineteen bundles and a baby that weighed about sixty pounds, piled into the seat with me. My own fifteen bundles and hers left only my head in sight. Wife—You think you got everything? You are so forgetful! Yesterday you for- got three of the nine things I told you to bring out from the city. Did you get the salted almonds? Commuter—Yep. Wife—And the candied cherries and the preserved figs and the bottle of vanilla extract and the stuffed olives? You know that you can’t get such things good out here. Commuter—I got all of them. Wife—And the chocolate wafers and the marshmallow fudge and the bottle of salad dressing and the pound of unsalted By MAX MERRYMAN Memory butter and the bottle of Maraschino cherries and the talcum powder and the bottle of glycerine and rosewa- ter and the bottle of liquid tooth wash? Commuter—Got 'em all. Wife—And the medicated wash cloth and the cake of soap for the baby’s bath and the paper of assorted safety pins and the bottle of baby food and the bottle of alcohol and the paper of crimping pins and the small brush broom? Commuter—Got all of 'em. Wife—And the little jar of cold cream and the— Henry, I know from your looks that you forgot that cold cream! Did you? You did! Henry, I don’t’know what I am go- ing to do if you can't remember things better than you do. Living out here twenty-five miles from the city, with only two or three cheap little local stores to depend upon, I simply must send into the city every day for a few little things and— Did you get the glass bubble I told you to get for the drip percolator coffee urn? You forgot it? Henry, Daccy- vi —) POOR Sister (who is in grammar school) —My! what a lot he’s got to learn! BABY! Pat (the fireman) —Do yez need any help? (After a pause) Well, if yez can't answer a civil question yez can go hang! it is simply because you don’t think that you forget things thisway. If you can’t do any better than this remembering things, we will simply have to move back into the city, where I can order things by ‘phone, without depending on your vagrant memory. Commuter (mentally)—By heck! I'm going to forget every blessed thing she tells me to get after this, if it will help to get me back to a cozy little flat and the Great White Way! Her Aim Throughout life's range Her maiden aim Was just to change Her maiden name. Not To Be Caught Bacheldore—Is Miss Brown clever? Howard—Yes; nothing es- capes her. Bacheldore—-Heavens, man! Don't ever introduce me! comicbooks.com