Judge, 1916-03-18 · page 23 of 28
Judge — March 18, 1916 — page 23: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a short story about a young newspaper reporter's initiation prank at the *Borogovia Herald*. When Wesley Barrett returns from covering a snowy wedding with wet shoes, veteran staff members Browning and Editor Hawkes trick him into repeatedly stamping his feet, ostensibly to remove snow—but actually as a signal to the Palace Café owner below. The "angel unaware" is Max Bergesheimer, the café's owner and bartender, who arrives bearing large trays of food and drinks. The prank's elaborate setup and the editor's initial silence suggest this is a traditional office hazing ritual meant to celebrate the newcomer. The satire targets newspaper office culture: the cramped, lowly quarters (above a café, beside a laundry and undertaker), the practical jokes on newcomers, and the camaraderie built through such rituals. The page also includes period advertisements for Cook's champagne and Cascade whisky.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
AN ANGEL UNAWARES HE OFFICE of the Borogovia Herald was peculiarly situated. On its right was an undertaker’s establishment, the proprictor of which was one of the Herald’s heaviest advertisers; and it was one of the stock jok of the veterans of the office to send cach budding scribe over to try to work anexchange ad. The left side of the building abutted on a Chinese laundry, and the chatter of the laborers and the thumping of the irons as they flat- tened the unresisting shirt-front made a leitmotif to the background of the | rumbling of the press. Beneath—the office was on the second and top floor of its quarters—was the Palace Café. To get to the office one had to pass | through the front room of the Palace; so that the proprictor knew cach and every member of the Herald staff, and had played Ganymede to them on many a sweltering Summer day. It was the boast of Editor Hawkes that he could accomplish every one of the vital processes of life, including death, without stirring from his chair. The Herald needed another reporter that winter. Grimes, the star, had retired from journalism in favor of matrimony, and somcone had to fill s place. So it was that when young Wesley Barrett, fresh from Clear- | water College, applied for a position, he was enthusiastically welcomed. | Wesley was a bright youth, and not above doing hard work, so he got along famously He was out to cover Amanda Hackett’s wedding, which took place on the snowiest y of the year. When he returned to the office, with his note- book full of weird and terrifying sartorial details, he was pretty well whitened. He shook his coat, deluging the office dog and driving that beast from its comfortable snoozing-place near the stove, and began to stamp his feet to rid them of their wintry accumulations. Editor Hawkes looked up sharply at the sound of the first stamp, and | opened his mouth to speak; but at a wink from the copy-boy he remained lent. Browning, the rewrite man, went over to Wesley’s side, and began to express a tender solicitude concerning the latter’s shoes. There’s a hunk o' snow under the heel you ain't got off, Wes,” he said Hit 'er a few more licks.” Wesley complied with vigor. “All off?” he inquired. Browning affected to examine the shoes with deep solicitude “Not quite all,” he declared. “Try again. ‘Them’s awful nice shoes; y hadn't oughta let th’ snow melt on ’em; makes ’em all stiff-like Wesley thumped ag in. “How's things now?” he asked. gain, Wes,” said Browning. “’Twouldn’t do t' let a nice pair o' shoes like them get rooined. Stomp hard!” Through the mind of Wesley, Barrett coursed thoughts of the horsing be had undergone when he first entered the office. He turned in quick suspicion. “What's the idea?” he asked.“ There’s no more snow on these shoes, and you know it. What's the funny joke?” You can pay more for a bottle of champagne ie for Champagme —but you can’t get a better, purer wine. What you pay for other wines includes war cost, duty, ocean freight and an excuse, because of the war, to charge more—what you pay for Cook's buys wine. fe) Cook's knows no other f, "OF oe duty than to please you. AMERICAN WINE CO. St. Louis, U.S. A. The countenance of Editor Hawkes went suddenly purple. Speechless, he pointed to the door of the office where stood Max Bergesheimer, owner | and head bartender of the Palace Café, followed by his assistant, each bear- | ing a tray that seemed, to Wesley’s horrified gaze, acres in extent; trays on which stood ranks of glasses, laden with amber beer, crowned with snowy foam. Max entered the room, and deposited his tray. | “Vell!” said Max. “Dis iss vun dirsty bunch today—ain't? I nevffer | hear sooch stompings! Me und Fritz, ve fill und fill, und sthill ve hear der Stomp, stomp. Gott sei dank’, ve are bot’ shtrong men. Now—awei. vier, sechs—vier und dreisig. Von dollar seffenty cents. Who pays?” And Wesley realized that he had been giving the official distress-signal of the office in times of drought. F. Gregory Hartswick. Building Note Our two leading public characters seem to be Colonel House and Vernon Castle.—Jupce They may be leading, but by only a nose (or a front-porch, to adhere ly to form). There are other buildings of note. ‘There’s Villa, for instance, and Henry Cabot Lodge, not to mention the Grand Central Depew and Gilman Hall. And outside we encounter P. G. Wodehouse, with Henry Hutt. If you wish to pursue the subject to the last ditch, add Ed- ward Cave, the appropriately named editor of Recreation.—Jim and Excuses, like policemen, are seldom around when they are wanted. PURE WHISKY (THE best of grain—re-distillation— purification — honest aging in the wood—these are the things that make certain the purity and mellowness of Cascade Pure Whisky. Original. Bottling has Old Gold Label. GEO. A. DICKEL & CO., Dis Nashville, Tenn, comicbooks.com