Judge, 1916-08-05 · page 14 of 28
Judge — August 5, 1916 — page 14: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains multiple golf-themed satirical pieces typical of early 20th-century American humor. **"The Dark Ages"** is a humorous poem by William Wallace Whitlock mocking pre-golf society. It suggests golf's invention was civilization's salvation—without the sport, men had no outlet for their aggression and remained quarrelsome. The satire targets the golf obsession of the era by presenting this violent sport as society's necessary pressure valve. **The golf anecdotes and jokes** satirize both amateur golfers and the sport itself: "Lost Balls" mocks poor players who lose ten balls per round; "An Only Hope" ridicules incompetent duffers; "The Dub" tells of an out-of-shape man coaxed into playing, who repeatedly fails despite encouragement. The cartoon shows someone climbing a ladder with the caption "Throw up your hands and back quickly down that ladder"—apparently unrelated to golf content, suggesting a separate domestic or comedic vignette. Overall, the page reflects early 1900s American culture's simultaneous embrace of and mockery toward golf as a leisure activity and character-building pursuit.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
when we met alone for a moment last night. And I guess you have, too.” “You guess?” “Tknow. And I'm tired of acting. I've pretended to be in love with Bess, but you—you—YOU!” The machine stopped again. “But weren't you... really... in love with Bess . . . onc “No. I thought I was. different Jack and Tessie decided, before return- ing to the hotel, that Bessic and Harry had no rights whatever they were bound to respect. But they were nervous on their return, and debated as to whether ey should look up the unfortunates ettle the matter above board— amicably if possible, but surely even if enmity should ensue—or run away forth- with without explanation. They decided to face consequence Harry and Bessie could not be found, and for a very good reason. As Jack and Tessie entered the boat house in arch of them, they were coming out of a cottage at Rockville, a hamlet down the coast. In the door of the cotta which adjoined a little church, an elderly man peered at them benevolently over spectacles, and two elderly women of the houschold, locking over his shoul- But how Jones—Throw up your hands and back quickly down that ladder. ders, watched them sympathetically. “Remember, now, my children,” said the elderly man, “I should have married you without question if you secured a license!” The Dark Ages ‘TS strange to think there was a time re Golf was yet suspected, Ere man had found this check to crime Whereby his wrath’s deflected Upon a helpless little ball, Which is so blamed elusive, And often which into the ditch He drives—then grows abusive. ‘Tis strange to picture forth the age When clecks were not nor brassies, When no one swung, with swelling rage, (Stop up your ears, fair lassies!) His lofter when he'd landed in \ rut or marshy hollow, Succeeding but, the silly mutt, In sitting down to—wallow. "Tis strange to think the Who'd never laid a stymic Who'd never seen a putting green, Or splashed themselves all grimy. No wonder they were quarrelsome folk, It’s not the least bit curious: They'd, one and all, no little ball To whack till they were furious. —William Wallace Whitelock. Lost Balls “Fine golf links you have here, old man! About what do you go around in?” “Oh, in about ten lost balls.” nce Were men Neutral Billy—Come, now; you must admit that girls care more for dress than men. Miliy—Well, 1 think most girls prefer a little of both, Vocabulary of Vigor “Old Brassey keeps up his golf talk all the year round.” “Why, he plays only from April to November.” “T know; but he runs balky furnace from Novem- ber to April. An Only Hope Golfer (desperately look- ing at his ball in bunker)— Caddy, what club shall I use? Caddy—Why not use ‘em all, sir? Literary Labors Fan—He may never pitch again. Dan—Pi Fan— cher’s lameness? writer’s cramp. Father—1 understand you were severely punished by the teacher to-day. Son—Yes. and it was all your fault. How's that ? Well, yesterday when I asked you how much a million was you said it was a helluvalot, and that wasn’t the answer at all. The Dub ae HY don’t you golf?” asked Tom and Dick And Bill and Steve and Charley: “You're fat and scant of breath, old man, And can't much longer parley With ills that laziness collects; Wake up and get some action! ‘This ancient game Will fan your flame And give you satisfaction.” ota kit and started out practice the diversi The caddies smiled, and hi Sarcasm and aspersion en who played with skill and dash rded him with wonder; Yet still he grubbed And dubbed and dubbed And tore most things asunder. uld hear And luck, the fickle dame, he saw, I cut the raw beginner; her dames she follows but ‘The expert and the winner. ‘The turf he hacked ard clubs he cracked; He topped and sliced and dribbled, Until his speech To those in reach Was recognized as ribald. They say that golf will cure the lame And saints make of the knavish; Its virtues are forever sung In phrases glib and lavish. But if the game he had begun In cycles prehistoric, He still would grub. And dub and dub With rhetoric caloric.—J. A. Waldron.