Judge, 1918-06-22 · page 15 of 36
Judge — June 22, 1918 — page 15: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This World War I-era satirical piece uses two distinct commentaries on American home-front attitudes toward the war effort. **Top cartoon & story**: "Turned Down" by Walt Mason mocks men rejected from military service who then refuse to contribute financially to war relief organizations like the YMCA and Red Cross. Two characters—Richard Dumm (rejected for bad teeth) and William Roe (rejected for color blindness)—complain they cannot fight, yet when encouraged to donate money instead, they become insulted and angry. Mason's satire targets their hypocrisy: they claim to want martial glory but won't sacrifice wealth when given the chance. The message: patriotic talk without financial backing is worthless. **Bottom cartoon**: A brief joke about age eligibility, using Methuselah (biblical figure who lived 969 years) to humorously suggest conscription might reach extremely old men. **Decorative header**: C. Bertram Hartman's whimsical illustration shows fantastical methods for transporting troops—a Greenwich villager's absurd idea contrasting with serious wartime logistics.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Drawn by C. Bertram HarTuan A Greenwicu Vittacer’s IpEa or THE Way Uncie Sam Oucut to Transport Our Troops Turned Down: dy Walt Mason Uncle Walt’s Exclusive Weekly Message to Judge HEY turned me down,” said Richard Dumm, “because my teeth are out of plumb. I wanted much to cross the sea, and slay a regiment or three, for I am full of martial zeal, and I could make the Prussians squeal. But no, those cheap inspection gangs sized up my long array of fangs, and said those snags were out of line—there’d be no martial stuff in mine. I didn’t want to bite a Hun; I longed to plug him with a gun, or split him length- wise with a sword, but nix, said the inspection board.” : “Cheer up,” I said, “you have a wad, and if you cannot go abroad, there’s much for you to do at home, if you will only use your dome. A man who has a roll like thine should never murmur or repine. The Red Cross folks will take your dust, and not inspect, with deep disgust your double row of yellow snags, so just dig up the money bags. What makes you look so sad and glum? What is it pinches, Richard Dumm?” “Tt makes me sick,” said William Roe, “that I can’t go and swat the foe. I made nine efforts to enlist, and always got the frozen fist. They told me I must stay behind, because, they said, I’m color blind. I can’t distinguish green from pink, but I could climb a Teuton gink, and bring his scalp from France’s shore, and nail it to my stable Drawn by E. Frourt Among the Patriarchs First woman (in Methusaleh’s time)—So Mrs. Methusaleh thinks her husband will go to war? Second woman—Y es; she says the next draft will take in the young men between the ages of 348 and 572. “T Mave Nine Errorts to Enuist, anp Auways Gor tHe Frozen Fist” door. It makes me madder than the deuce to lose for such a cheap excuse.” “Cheer up,” I said, “oh, loyal soul! They say you have a goodly roll. And you can help in forty ways to paralyze those German jays. The man with scads can always chill the large splay feet of Kaiser Bill. Just loosen up, old scput, today, and help the great Y. M. C. A. You'll help as much this way, I wot, as you would help by being shot, or shooting others over there—what have I said to make you swear? You rant be- cause you may not shed your blood on wet fields of the dead; it surely can’t be, William Roe, that you’re afraid to shed your dough?” It’s wonderful how many sigh because they cannot bleed and die. Yet when you try to cheer their souls by showing how their hefty rolls would stem the raging Teuton flood, as well as seven pails of blood, they look insulted, full of ire, and leave you like a house afire. So many pant to lose a limb, and in the gory billows swim! They tell how they would slay the Teuts and Turks and ‘Austrian galoots. Of sacrifice they’re mighty fond, until you say, “Go buy a bond!” Ah, then they rise in groups and pairs, and say you are no friend of theirs. His Specialties Houscholder—Rastus, we are housecleaning and I wonder if I could get you to clean the cellar. Rastus—Depends, suh. Ah’s a specialist, suh. Ah special- izes in wine an’ beer-cellahs, suh.