Judge, 1916-05-20 · page 6 of 28
Judge — May 20, 1916 — page 6: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page satirizes the clash between old-money conservatism and new automotive-age entrepreneurship. Hiram Sherwood, a wealthy but traditional businessman, attends a car race with his daughter Felice, who becomes infatuated with Luigi Morello, a racing driver. The satire targets Hiram's dismissive attitude toward Morello's earning potential ("fifty cents a second") and unconventional path to wealth. When Morello's car breaks down mid-race but he recovers to win, Felice sees opportunity in his publicity value and business potential. She argues that racing drivers like Morello—and by extension, Ford and others—build fortunes through publicity, stock offerings, and factory ventures. Hiram's outrage represents older patriarchal anxieties about ambitious newcomers and changing social mobility. The joke is that Felice has grasped modern marketing and capitalism better than her father: appearances and publicity matter as much as actual achievement. The small "Answered" joke about a doctor is unrelated filler.
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“Father,” Felice persisted, “do we make fifty cents a second?” “We made a trifle over $0,600 last year—if you must know— will you kindly give me a moment’s peace? I came all the way from New York to see this race and you seem possessed to spoil my day. I wish I'd left you home.” Felice was engrossed in reflection. “Just to think, father, that Luigi Morello man makes more in a day than we do in a year! Don’t you just adore him?” “He hasn't made it yet!” snapped Hiram. Something else snapped at about the same moment. No, it popped—one of the black torpedo’s front casings. The car shot down onto the floor of the arena and Mo- rello and his helper leaped out. The crowd jumped to its feet and gasped. The black demon and the demon’s mechanician labored in demoniacal haste, and as they worked other cars shot past, cavorting and snorting in glee, swerving wildly, climbing the saucer’s sides to pass Say! one another. “What d’ I tell you?” crowed Hiram. ing his fifty cents a second now by sweating blood.” Felice was white, panic stricken. As Morello and the mechanician tugged and wrenched she trembled so vio- lently that the glasses almost slipped from her hands. The scrambled into the car again. The engine snorted. ‘The crowd danced and cheered. ‘Their hero still had a chance. He was off again. A black streak, a vest-pocket tornado—passing all the other streaks one after another—snorting, quivering, raging. He was safely “He's earn- two men in the lead again. The crowd settled back in their seats, jubilant. father,” said Felice with passionate earnestness, “T'm going to marry that man. I always did dote on chauf- feurs, ever since I was a kid of seventeen with a crush on Tom McCann.” “Wha-a-t!”” blurted her father. talk like one of those infernal females in the plays of Shaw. “You silly girl! You . B with unshaken firmness. father,” repeated Felice, I always was wild about “I'm going to marry that man. chauffeurs, and this is the prince of them all.” The black demon shot across the finish line and the multitude roared and stamped. In the necessity to transfix his daughter with a glare, Hiram Sherwood failed to participate in the general enthusiasm. “T've had about enough of this!” he boiled. Effie—Is your new doctor satisfactory ? five times a week. ‘m trying to*break it to you easy, father,” Felice per- sisted with irritating calm. “The black demon has just won $10,000 in cash and about half a million in free publicity. You can buy a big block of stock in the company that he is about to or- ganize, and, if you insist, he'll give up racing.” Hiram’s indignation was too deep for words. mumble in rage. “Ford and ever so ma He could « business ny others got their start in the in just this w Felice continued. ‘*A race advertises their Then they sell stock to get a little capital and start a fac- It’s perfectly simple after that. They rent a stall at the and there you are. Tom's just as good a business goods. tory. automobile show man as any of the rest were “Tom?” ANSWERED Elsie—Oh, he is splendid! 1 have him Effie—Is he good-looking? — Elsie—I just told you I have him fice times a week! Comicbooks.com