Judge, 1918-04-06 · page 5 of 36
Judge — April 6, 1918 — page 5: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains a satirical article titled "How Did You Get Yours?" about marriage, written by Campbell MacCulloch with illustrations by Bernard Westmacott. The main cartoon depicts a man in military uniform (likely a soldier or officer from World War I era, given the 1918 date). The article opens with a story about a "red-necked ruffian" who worked in the "Mother's Advice" department of the *Daily Unamerican* and wasted years trying to win enough automobile races to marry a wealthy woman. The satire mocks male attitudes toward marriage as a financial transaction. It critiques the notion that men view matrimony as something to be "won" through achievement or wealth, while also suggesting marriage itself is an unappealing obligation men reluctantly accept. The cartoon and text together satirize period attitudes about gender relations and courtship.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
“harness for life. Volume 74 JUDGE Founded Number 1903 1881 “THE HAPPY eMEDIUM” $5.00 a Year Tue Prospective Bripecroom Waitep Untit tue You New York, Apri 6, 1918 Published Weekly G FemaLe Persons or THE Trine WANDERED Orr To Pick Orcuips or a New Suit or SuNBURN How Did Yo u Get Yours? A Little Illumination on the Subject of Matrimony By CampsBeitt MacCuttocu Illustrated by BerNarp WesTMACOTT London, April 6—At St. George's Chapel today Mrs, Larrimore de Peyster was married to Captain the Honorable Percival Horatio Marjori- banks Norfolk Howard. Captain Norfolk Howard was wounded eleven times at Cambrai, HE red-necked ruffian who runs the Mother’s Advice department in the Daily Unamerican wadded up the newspaper and tossed it out of the car window. “It’s only about ten years since de Peyster wasted two years and three million dollars of that baking soda money of his pa’s trying to win enough automobile races so that that woman would marry him. Now the poor gink has got to get himself all shot up for the same reason. Say! Who started this marriage busi- ness, anyway?” . Bring on your croix de guerre, mes en- fants, for I purpose herewith to supply this almost universal deficiency in in- formation. True, I can’t tell you who started it, but I can give you an illuminated slant on how it got going and developed into the greatest busi- ness enterprise the world has ever known. “ Attendez, Gaspard! See that le chute into a lepreuve de bombe is abundantly gratsseux!” To begin with, every man is at heart a polygamist and he shies at the thought of Cartan Marjoripaxks NorFouk whether he has led a life that would make the remaining eleven Apostles’ career resemble the spring tour of a college glee club, away down in his heart he’s secretly resentful that matrimony is what it is. You get him off into the solely male precincts of—wherever you like if it’s a prohibition state—insert the crowbar of inquiry, and you'll tap a well of hurt wonderment as to who began this marriage game, and why? Deep, down in his subliminal self the average man has remnants of the times of long ago when primordial society was organized along more simple lines than it is today; when man entered upon matrimony with almost as many utensils as he started fishing with, and about the same enthusiasm. I.know that it is ninety-nine and nine-tenths dormant, but it’s there, and you'll have to elimi- nate flesh and blood before you get rid of it. In those arboreal days when a gentle- man reached the age where he seemed to require someone to sit up nights for him, he entered on the business of wife-getting more primitively than he does now. He yawned, stretched himself, reached into the cave corner for his Sunday niblick and moved off into the brush in the general direction of the nearest tribal community. Even in those days, wholly apart from the simple ethics involved, it being cinched into a single matrimonial fowarp was Wouxvep Ereven Was not considered wise to deprive your I don’t care two cents Times at CamBrat next tree neighbor of his helpmeet.