Judge, 1919-05-31 · page 6 of 36
Judge — May 31, 1919 — page 6: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis of Judge Magazine Page This page contains two distinct pieces: **Top section**: A narrative story about a medical examination by a company doctor. The text describes a humiliating process where a worker undergoes physical inspection to qualify for disability benefits—the doctor measures him, listens to his heart, and assesses whether he'll receive compensation. The satire mocks both the invasive nature of corporate medical screenings and the meager payments offered to injured workers. **Bottom cartoon** (drawn by Paul Henley): Shows a domestic scene where a mother and child discuss lunch timing. The child says it's "only ten o'clock" but his stomach demands food anyway. This is straightforward domestic humor about childhood hunger and impatience, unrelated to the top story's labor critique. The page juxtaposes workplace exploitation with family comedy.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Draws by W, K, Stanserr Then he brightens up and tells you the benefits you will receive if you should lose some arms or legs. All. your different parts are in the little book, too, with the price of each attached. You can go out and | be disintegrated and go home a rich man. The very hairs in your head are tabulated and their appraisal is in the book. Then again this may not happen. You may only be very sick for months. The company will pay you and pay you well for being sick. It is a perfectly staggering amount they will hand out weekly for your services which consist only in being very sick. It is more than you get when well. All you have to do is to supply the sick- ness and the company’s coffers are loosened regularly. Well, this cheery chat is progress- ing beautifully ¢ glooms have ! chased the joys seven and a half kilometers along an eight mile front You cannot remember a day when things seemed in such a tottering 1 condition. The man opposite, who | seems to know just how long you have to live but will not tell, sug- ‘ gests stepping in to see the company doctor who passes on all those who join. Very well, another physical wreck need not unnerve the doctor ! so you will see him, or rather let him see you. You say good-bye at the door to the other man, and he smiles a wan, sad smile in return. i But the doctor—he starts off not After he has disposed of them he wants to know how you your- self feel. Not only if you feel well ht now, but if you always have. All these things he writes down. He is an author too, like the other man. Now if you will please remove your coat and vest, the exercises will begin. He jots down your measurements, Then he listens to your heart, which has ceased to be anywhere near normal. Why he should put his head against your chest is a mystery. Perhaps he is hard of hearing, because your heart can be plainly heard across the room, That is all. You stagger forth a remnant of your former self. The stenographers outside look sadly after you as you walk slowly and painfully away. You get your copy of the bet in a few days. The Unregenerate Ear “Mr. Grimmer hasn’t the slightest regard for his poor wife’s feelings!” de- clared Mrs. Pifflegilder. “Why, the other evening, when they were at our house and we began to play the phonograph, he blurted right out that he preferred to hear ‘Turkey in the Straw’ and ‘Tipperary’ to selections by Caruso and Alma Gluck!” His Complaint “Say, looky yur!” began a citizen of the Sandy Mush, Ark., region, entering the Palace Drugstore in Tumlinville. “You fellers sold me this yur rat p’izon last week, and three or four of my children got hold of the box and ett up right smart of the stuff. It didn’t ‘pear to damage ‘em none, and I'll be dogged if I don’t believe I've been swindled.” sobad. He asks after all your folks. How are they al He does not k slight any of them, not even your j four grandparents. He is solicitous 1 to the point of genealogy. Drown ty Pact Renty “ Mother, is it nearly lunch time?” “No, dear, it’s only ten o'clock.” “Um-m- ‘My stummick must be a little fast comicbooks.com