Judge, 1919-08-02 · page 13 of 36
Judge — August 2, 1919 — page 13: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "Back to the Old-Fashioned Way" - Judge Magazine Satire This article mocks the modern wealthy leisure class's abandonment of traditional fishing for lazy, mechanized alternatives. The author contrasts boyhood fishing—requiring skill, patience, and active participation with a simple pole and worm—with contemporary "sportsmen" who use motor boats, anchors, sinkers, and chum, then nap while a bell alerts them to caught fish. The satire targets upper-class complacency: these men have grown "hog-fat," mistaking their laziness for sophistication while betting money on effortless catches. The piece argues nostalgically for returning to genuine sport requiring actual effort and engagement. The illustration shows a couple's domestic disagreement, unrelated to the main article's fishing theme. The "King's Jester" joke references Albert Burleson, Postmaster General under Woodrow Wilson, using him as a punchline about postal service incompetence—typical period political humor.
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Drawn by Hasinron Wittt ass Mub—Well, Il say this for y Kitty—My dear boy, | Back to the Old-Fashioned Way By WOK W purely for the sport there was in it. You fared forth with a light pole, a thin line, a bob, and a large hook (the larger the fish you wanted, the larger the hook must be, was the axiom of your boyhood days). Impaling a juicy worm, you cast well over the lily pads and waited, on tiptoe, for the delicious thrill which followed with the first nibble. Came the longed-for bite; you gave the rod a twist and played the finny one back and forth across the lily pads. The instinct of sport ran high. It was an even break whether the struggling fish would outwit you and escape or that you would draw him triumph- Poxzer HEN you were a little fellow you went fishing antly to shore. But with the passing years you grew hog-fat. You mistook your laziness for superiority, and disdainfully forgot the joys of old- time angling. Your ideas of sport entwined themselves about a wal- lowing motor boat, well stocked with bait—in bottles,—a rope- like line, strong enough to hold 1, Kitty, you se n dress in bad taste. You don’t make enouxh! Arrived in deep water, over would go the anchor with a great splash: blop would follow a two-pound sinker; plenty of “chum” would be fed to the waters as an invitation to all fishdom to gather around. You fastened the friendly end of the fishline to a little bell- armed wire, sampled the bait and sank back for a well- earned snooze. Now and again the insistent tinkle of the bell would wake you, warning that a fish had persisted upon hook- ing itself. With a sigh you would bestir yourself, yank in mister fish, throw back the mighty sinker, collect the dollar bet you had won from your fellow fisherman, have another shot of bait to celebrate the event, and sink back to your interrrupted nap. That was but yesterday. ow—now—darn it! how can one fish without bai Must fishing be for- sworm for all time? Or—radical thought—shall one turn back to the good old-fash- ioned way, keenly watching bobs, wading streams and energetically casting from an active, boat? ‘These are strenuous times, so why not try the old way again? It offers a great novelt The King’s Jester anything that swims, a stout hook, some fish food and a lot of “chum.” Drawn by Dox Hexen Wuat Courtsuip Is 13 Willis—What is the best joke you ever saw about the postal service? Gillis—Well, I saw Burleson once. comicbooks.com