Judge, 1917-12-01 · page 10 of 36
Judge — December 1, 1917 — page 10: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a humorous story-poem satirizing theatrical vanity and entitlement among chorus girls in the early 20th century. Cleo Du Vall, a chorus member with no speaking role, arrives late to rehearsal. Her manager is furious, but she arrives completely unbothered, casually explaining her tardiness wasn't due to the excuses he suggests (broken alarm clock, subway delays, forgotten wake-up call). Instead, she breezily admits she couldn't decide *which luxury car to take*—her Rolls-Royce limousines or her Pearce automobile—and blames traffic. The satire mocks the shallow materialism and narcissism of young performers who, despite earning only thirty dollars weekly for minimal stage presence ("merely look stunning and smart"), affected wealth and importance. The joke is the absurd contrast between her modest theatrical position and her pretentious wealth-flaunting, suggesting either delusion or actual moral corruption.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Why Cleo™Was Late ONORA MULCAHY, of Riverside Drive. hose stage-name was Cleo Du Vall. Was due at rehearsal at ten twenty-five, But to her time meant nothing at all. Ry She worked in the chorus, position in front, And she hadn't a line in the play: To merely look stunning and smart was her stunt, And thirty per week was her pay. The manager strode up and down and he swore Till the air in the play-house got blue; He declared he'd put up with her nonsense no more That this was her end he was through! She turned up at last, and at absolute ease, Walked on at a leisurely gait, Met the manager's gaze. and, as cool as you please, Said sweetly, “Il guess | am late.” “You guess!” roared the manager. purple with rage, In a voice one could hear for a block; I said twenty-five minutes past ten on the stage! Will you please take a slant at the clock? “What happened his morning?” the man- ager mocked, suppose it’s the usual stall Your alarm-clock was stopped? The sub- way was blocked? You neglected to put down a call?” Said the lady, adjusting her pearls, “I am jate, Here she flecked a few threads from her coat, “Not at all, Mr. Grimes, for the reasons you state, So there ain't no use losing your goat “This morning, I simply just couldn't decide As to using my clover-leaf Pearce. Or in which of my Rolls limousines | would ride And the traffic was certainly fierce!” Maurice Switz-r comicbooks.com