Judge, 1916-04-29 · page 5 of 28
Judge — April 29, 1916 — page 5: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page presents a serialized humorous story illustrated by Charles Divine. The narrative depicts "Slow Jim," a basement-dwelling vagrant who breaks into a Broadway theater at night. When confronted by Herbert Carter, a well-known Broadway figure, Jim claims to be a burglar. Carter, finding this amusing, appears to hire Jim as some sort of collaborator or assistant, offering him work and payment. The satire seems to mock both theatrical life and the desperation of urban poverty—Jim's fabricated criminal identity becomes his path to employment. The "golden joke" likely refers to this ironic reversal where pretending to be a criminal lands you a job. The story trades on early 20th-century humor about theater culture and hustling.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Saying funny things to simple rustics so that they will say funny things in reply SLOW Jit LOW JIM crept into the basement of the brownstone house, which had been boarded up for the summer. As he tip- toed into the library, he heard a sound as of a man breathing; this sound drifted into a light snore. Jim found the electric light button and pressed it, flooding the room with a blinding glare of light, through which he saw the figure of a man at a big table. ordered Jim. “Hands up!” didn’t move. The man _ Hands up, or I'll let loose on you.” No response. Jim strode over and shook him violently. Herbert Carter, the well known Broad- M , Ry CUARLES DIVINE way dramatist, came drifting back from a world of dreams and nonentity, and gazed at Jim astonished “Must have Carter. “Sorry. in two weeks. One rest at the sca shore these days. Too many mosquitoes. What brought you here?” “Nothing much,” replied Jim; “only my trade and this! He shoved a revolver in Carter’s face. “Good heavens!” exclaimed Carter. “It's Providence!” * commented a real sleep It's a Smith and Wesson.” Carter leaned toward Jim impulsively; his voice was low and vibrant: “Are you a real burglar?” “Sure. Don’t I look it?” “Splend Carter beamed at him joyously. ‘ou’re wonderful!” COLLABORATOR “Then fork over the cash,” demanded Jim grufily. “You're just what I need: a burglar.” “That’s what I was thinking, too, boss.” “You'll fit in fine with this thing I have in mind. You couldn’t have dropped in at a better time.” “What?” “Yes,” reflected Carter. “I can work you in all right.” He indicated a pile of freshly scribbled paper on his desk, at the side of which stood a typewriter on a stand. “Watcha givin’ me?” growled Jim, for- getting his manners. “Sec?” Carter stood up and emptied his pockets. “Not a cent. I just came in from the beach to-day. Had dinner at the club and walked over here to work because I knew there wouldn’t be a soul around to disturb me. I expect to go back to the club comicbooks.com