Judge, 1920-03-27 · page 9 of 36
Judge — March 27, 1920 — page 9: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "The Mechanic" by Walt Mason (Judge Magazine) This is a humorous poem with accompanying cartoon, not political satire. The cartoon illustrates the written complaint: a weary poet/writer sits at his desk while a smiling mechanic stands nearby holding a bill, with an editor visible in the background. **The joke:** The narrator is a struggling writer who earns decent money from his work, but all his income gets consumed by an incompetent—or at least constantly-working—auto mechanic. His car perpetually breaks down, requiring expensive repairs. Meanwhile, his aunts and nieces need new clothes, creditors are at the door, and the sheriff awaits payment, yet the mechanic keeps extracting fees ("doubloons"). **The satire:** This reflects early-1900s frustration with the unreliability and high costs of automobile ownership—then a relatively new phenomenon. The mechanic becomes a comic villain, the modern equivalent of a parasitic drain on income, while the writer remains trapped toiling endlessly to support both his car and dependents.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
“Tue Cuar Wuo Srois My Avto Gets Tut Bic Dovstooxs I Earn’ The Mechanic By Wat Illustration by LL hat the kettle may be boiling busy g of the morning Iam busy a bee, with a trail of smoke adorning all the landscape after me. When the good olc in the justly famous west, still you find me toiling, sw vainly longing for my rest. Often at the midnight stilly, in my attic, all alone, I am writing verses silly, striving for another bone; and the people passing wonder why I work so beastly hard; “he is carning lots of plunder,” so they mutter, ‘d; he could bask and take it easy; why, then, does he strive and strain, writing odes and sonnets cheesey, which are neither safe nor sane?” Oh, my earnings are titanic, but they don’t go very far; 1 must pay the punk mechanic who repairs my motor car; and he’s all the time repairing, pawing at the motor’s works, some- thing from its system tearing, stopping knocks and healing jerks. It has always something busted, always something out of whack, and the journeyman, disgusted, lies beneath it on his back; and he tinkers with his wrenches, and he swears in strident tones, and he kicks up forty stenches, and he charges fifteen bones. I have sold, perhaps. but the workman says pay!” I have sundry aunts and nieces who are always needing and the coin I’d put away, Doggone it! Hand it over—it’s my my weary days I’m toiling. punching sonnets from” vt Mason Raten Barton gowns; “all our clothes are gone to pieces.” they remark, with y frowns. Then I bid them wait a little and they'll have all re, and with fingers tired and brittle once again I swat “When this spurt of work is ended,” to myself 1 mur- mur low, “they shall have some raiment splendid—on a shop ping trip they'll hey can blow themselves like blaz can have a bully time, when I’ve strung these burning phrases in the semblance of a rhyme. But the cheery words I’ve spoken do not bring the bacon home, and my promises are broken when I’m finished with the pome; still their gowns are also-ranic, and in shabby shoes they plod; for that blamed old punk mechanic comes and hits me for my wad. He fixed the carburetor which was wont to pop and roar, and the pistons now work better than they ever did before. Now the plugs are al! a-sparking, and the clutch no longer groans; so I hear this gent remarking, and his bill is forty bones. I am working like a beaver, like a beaver seeing red; I am working like a weaver with a poultice on his head. Iam always in a panic lest an hour should get aw: all in vain, for that mecha s alone and gets my pay. Oh, the raven’s at the casement and the wolf is at the door and the sheriff’s in the basement with his bailiffs three or four; I must work because I’ve got to, and the midnight oil I burn; and the chap who spoils my auto gets the big doubloons I carn. comicbooks.com