Judge, 1914-10-03 · page 7 of 24
Judge — October 3, 1914 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page from *Judge* magazine contains two satirical pieces about leisure activities and social commentary. **Top illustration**: Shows people riding polar bears, accompanying a narrative about a boating accident at "Chaton" (likely a fashionable resort). The story mocks wealthy, fashionable people—particularly women in expensive Parisian dresses ("Rue de la Paix frocks") who go canoeing despite their impractical clothing. The satire targets their frivolous materialism: they don't worry about ruining expensive garments because they can simply "get another." The narrator notes the irony that during a genuine crisis (people drowning), onlookers prioritized saving the attractive woman over the man. **Bottom illustration** ("Safety First"): Depicts a motorist helping a stranded driver. The caption suggests this illustrates proper safety conduct—a contrast to the carelessness and class-based priorities shown above. The overall theme critiques wealthy leisure culture and conspicuous consumption during an era when "the cost of living is as high as it is now"—likely referencing post-WWI inflation.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
~e Chaton. Gaby tipped the boat over, and they both had the dipping of their young lives. Laugh? I should just think we did laugh. . Max was in it, we all thought it was done on pur- . . You see, as ~~ pose and were perfectly certain-sure that there of his coffee grinder on the <> bank somewhere. Then, when it suddenly dawned upon a few of the quicker- witted that the fair Gaby and the swarthy Max were S- really in danger, because neither could swim, you ought to have seen the splashing there was, as from the bank and various skiffs a dozen or 80 flanneled fools kicked off their shoes and dived into the water. It was something like a race. They beat after Gab’s golden curls faster than ever they did after a gold medal, but I'm afraid that if a cinema-mad girl hadn’t gone in and got Max out, he would have drownded sure and sartin, for none of the flanneled fools went after him. It was vastly exciting while it lasted. Pity it didn’t last longer. By the way, the girl who went in and brought the Max boy out is the champion canoeist of Chaton. I wonder how she would strike U, my dear. She always wears white flannel “shorts,’’ white socks that come up to only half-way of where those shorts reach down to in their effort to live up to their name, a white silk shirt and a panama. She looks awful cute, just as if she'd fallen off a roof-garden show, though, and as she isn't quite the sort you’d meet walking around as ywhere in the U. S. A. that I know 1 thought I'd waste a lit- tle ink about her. Now don’t go running away with the idea that we all wear the breeks when we go canoodling at Chaton, ’cause we don’t. We wear the most delicious Rue de la Paix frocks—creations, you know, that are quite unsuitable to the noble art of sculling, but that are perfect dreams, all the same. The slightest drop of water Spoils ‘em, but we should worry! Go and get another, that’s all. When the cost of living is as high as it is now, one just {~ was a cinematograph operator turning the handle PERT RAN AR RAW doesn’t pay the bills at all, so why bother if they run up? Well, it was on the hard high road returning to town that I picked up my discarded worst half. (‘‘Worst’’ is mild!) He was stranded with something bad in the tummy of his car. Judging from the scrap iron that lay about in the dust, it was very, very bad. What could I do but leave Henri—my shuvver SAFETY FIRST comicbooks.com