Judge, 1914-11-07 · page 7 of 24
Judge — November 7, 1914 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a two-part humor page. The top cartoon mocks an impatient motorist driving recklessly early in the morning, with a nervous passenger stammering complaints about the dangerous speed. The main story satirizes a father's obsession with golf. A judge is so frustrated trying to hit a golf ball out of a gully that his daughter Angelica repeatedly asks permission to marry Herbert—but the father is too absorbed in the game to pay attention. Only when the judge finally succeeds does he casually grant permission, having barely registered the request. The satire targets golf's addictive appeal and how it distracted men from family matters. The bottom section contains two brief joke exchanges: one mocking intellectual pretension (confusing "superman" philosophy with circus performers), and another about hotels ruining guests' appearances. The humor assumes a largely male, upper-class readership familiar with golf culture and early-automotive mishaps.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
a IDS NOT USED TO IT Nervous guest—I s-s-say, old chap, if we aren't g-g-going anywhere in particular, what's the idea of g-g-getting there so beastly early? no doubt—but she did want to marry Herbert, and that very soon! “Of course I'll never get past things to-day! the judge, swinging his driver recklessly. And of course, he didn’t. The ball, jerking like a damaged aeroplane, did a few spiral dips and volplaned politely into the chasm. “Tknew it! I knew it!” groaned the judge, moving off toward the gully. “Herbert wants to learn golf,’’ said Angelica, following. The ball gleamed up muddily from the bottom of the ditch. “Give me my niblick, Angelica!’’ com- manded the judge, eying it banefully. Angelica handed him the club. ‘‘How funny it is!’ What does it do?” The judge, lost to all things save one, swung savagely upon: the wretched ball. The head of the niblick clove the wet earth half an inch above it! The ball lay untouched. “Oh, do you dig it out, father?’’ those Bellowing madly, the judge jerked the club free and swung again with fierce abandon. Once more the niblick missed its mark. “Crickety, crickety!'’ ejaculated the judge, roused beyond all possible endur- ance, Her moment had come and Angelica spoke. “Father, won’t you please let Herbert and me get married next month?” A third time the niblick crashed, and the ball jumped a foot and a half into more mud. “‘Won’t you, father, please?”’ The judge looked at his daughter with a strange, impersonal glare, exactly as he had done when he promised her the new hat and the ball gown. Angelica’s heart sang as she listened. “*Yes, you can marry Herbert when you get good and ready! What I want is to get this devilish ball out of this gully!’’ There He Is! Highbrow—Have you ever bethought you of the superman? Lowboy—He’s the fellow they take on for the mob at the theater, isn’t he? Hotels disfigure the baggage—why not the clothes ? comicbooks.com