Judge, 1920-02-14 · page 15 of 44
Judge — February 14, 1920 — page 15: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a comedic story (not a political cartoon) from *Judge* magazine about theatrical life. The illustration shows a scene backstage during a musical comedy called "The Dormitory." The humor centers on Sarah, the wardrobe mistress—an overweight older woman—reminiscing about her youth as a "principal fairy" (a featured dancer in theatrical spectacles). A young chorus girl doubts Sarah's claim, asking for photographic proof of her slimmer past. Sarah bristles, boasting that she was once a principal performer while the chorus girl is relegated to the back row and will "never get nearer front." The satire mocks both the vanity of aging showgirls clinging to past glory and the hierarchies within theatrical companies. It also plays on contemporary anxieties about aging, weight, and female ambition in entertainment—suggesting that even principal performers end up as aging, heavyset costume attendants, a cautionary tale about show business.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
_ “Saran Hunxc Up anp Turnep to Miss Carre: ‘ DumpieicH!’” One Show-Girl’s Ambition By J. A. Wa.pron Illustration by Lawrence Fettows TAGE HANDS, some of whom seemed to be members in good standing in the Independent Order of Tough Citizens, were setting the first act of “The Dormitory,” a musical comedy which multiplied the chief appeal of long- current bed-room farces and thus threatened the future of that form of entertainment. As chorus girls hurried in and picked paths over and around “props” on their way to dressing-rooms, the stage hands who had attained the thirty-third degree in their Order clucked and grunted admiration, loafing at these moments on the job. Sarah, the wardrobe mistress, overflowing a spacious chair just within her own precinct, lunched upon still- fattening dainties from a taboret by her side as she bewailed her adiposity. “It’s terrible—just terrible—to be so stout, dearie!” she remarked to one of the girls who tarried a moment with her. “You said it!” replied the fairy-like one. ‘Hope I never get it!” , “We all get it, dearie,” responded Sarah, “and it seems that those of us who are slimmest in youth are fattest later. Why, when I was your age I weighed only a hundred and ten!” “Got a photograph of yourself in those svelt days?” asked another girl with a sniff of disbelief. “You doubt my word?” bristled Sarah. “You? Why, I was principal fairy in a spectacle at your age, and you'll never get nearer front than the third row, where you’re anchored! The wonder to me is that you’ve attracted enough attention to put one bank