Judge, 1915-05-15 · page 9 of 24
Judge — May 15, 1915 — page 9: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains satirical advice for summer tourists visiting Manhattan, illustrated with humorous vignettes. The left column mocks naive visitors by offering tongue-in-cheek "tips" that expose New York City's actual rudeness and chaos—advising tourists to ignore traffic laws, expect indifferent service, avoid joking with hostile police, and watch construction work like locals do. The satire works by presenting bad behavior as sophisticated New York culture. "The Language of the Flowers" (right) is a mock-romantic poem about a young woman visiting a farm to paint idealized pastoral scenes. She encounters the opposite of her romantic expectations: an ill-tempered, crude farmer named Ike Pivens with a nasal voice, and an angry cow named Suke (not the gentle milkmaid she imagined). The humor lies in shattering sentimental rural fantasies with crude reality—the cow's hooves literally end up in a milk pail. Both pieces satirize romantic illusions versus gritty urban and rural actualities.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Suggestions to Summer Tourists on Manhattan Island . I OBSERVING our traffic regulations, remember that the exception proves the tule, and look out for it! Do not go to a box office to buy theater tickets; you only bother the man inside who fills up the hole made years ago. Remember that the word ‘‘comic’’ or “comedy” in a theater advertisement is a subtle reference to the ad, not the show. Do not joke with a policeman; they keep his sense of humor at headquarters. If you want a drink on Sunday—say so! Do not talk about ‘‘lobster palaces.’’ Only reporters do that. Do not go to a roof garden to pick vio- lets, nor the Polo Grounds to watch the ponies. Register as John Grouch, of Gloomville, and all the newspaper humorists will write you up. Act like ‘*Rubes’’ if you can; it gives us something to talk about and doesn’t hurt you. Tell us we are a wicked lot. it! If you want to pass as a real New Yorker, stop and watch every odd job; and never We like fail to observe the putting in of a plate- glass window or the digging of a hole. If you really intend to cut up, pull down the blinds, or seventeen different authorities will get you! —Charles Elkin, Jr. THE LANGUAGE OF THE FLOWERS Broken Chords HE WAS a maiden in her teens, Who hied her to bucolic scenes. Of mild-eyed milkmaids poets sing— They so demure and sweetly fair. This maid wouldst meet the proper thing And paint one in her beauty rare. She also hoped to take a peep At bovines standing all knee-deep In clover, chewing cuds content. Such was the mission she with charm Pursued, while thus on pleasure bent She went to paint up the old farm. She found, alack! the milkmaid rare— Ike Pivens, he of grizzly hair, He who in nasal tones’ reproof Split up the atmosphere to beat The band—and eke to swat the roof— **Gosh dern ye, Suke, git off my feet!’’ The soft-eyed bovine, Suke her name, Knee-deep in clover! Not the same! Her back was humped, her eye was red With anger as she snaps her tail. Knee-deep in clover? Nope! Instead, Both of her hind feet in the pail! —Horace Seymour Keller Vacation Reading Consists mainly of thermometers, restat - rant menus and hotel bills. comicbooks.com