Judge, 1920-08-07 · page 11 of 36
Judge — August 7, 1920 — page 11: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis of "Celebrities" by Walt Mason This humorous essay satirizes the gap between fan imagination and reality. The narrator describes his admiration for famous people—first "Busby Smith" (a writer), then singer "Susan Seacook"—whom he's idealized in his mind based on their work. The cartoon illustrates the punchline: when he finally encounters these celebrities in person, they disappoint catastrophically. Busby Smith is revealed as a shabby drunk shooting craps behind a village pound. Susan Seacook, imagined as a sylph-like beauty, appears on stage as an overweight woman with a red nose, flat feet, and poor grooming. The satire mocks celebrity worship and our tendency to construct false idols. Mason's conclusion is cynical: admire famous people only "at a distance"—actually meeting them risks disillusionment. The cartoon's exaggerated caricature of the disappointed man watching from the audience drives home the joke: idealization requires ignorance.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
bo ¢ -———- — | | | | | { | | | “AND WHES © DRIFTED ON THE STAGE I PROMPTLY | | i aaa Celebrities By Waur Mason Raten Bartos Illustration by READ the works of Busby Smith, for . and I was always charmed therewith. and moved and tears. I had him pictured in my mind as one of princely grace. with bulging brow denoting mind, and most attractive face. “T love his books,” L used to s pith. and I shall hope, on some glad day. to meet this Busby Smith. Oh, I shall meet that gifted gent, if ever he comes near, and that will be a great event in my obscure career.” One day I landed in the town where that great man hung out; “and now.” quoth I, “I'll run him down, I'll meet this famous scout.” I found him with some other chaps behind the village pound; he was so busy shooting craps he'd hardly look around. He wore a shabby suit of duds, his whiskers were a shame, and, full of pro- hibition suds, he played his foolish game. I dragged him from the other gents, and turned some tafly loose, whereat he bor rowed fifty cents, and told me to vamoose. And thus it is with famous guys. they all have feet of clay; if you admire them you are wise to keep them far away. I have a phonograph at home, that plays all kinds of tunes, and oft it soothes my jaded dome when I am full of prunes: And Susan Seacook was my choice of all the singing crew; nany years ‘0 smiles “they're full of force and she has a larg ajestic voice that stirs through and through. She sings like seraphim al in realms beyond the sun; she sings the dear old songs I love, like “Johnnie, Get Your Gun. Oh, often when I’m tired and weak, my phonograph I start, and hear my grand-old Susan shriek the songs that break the heart. And I had pictured her alway as one divinely fair, con plexion like the dawn of day, and starlight in her hair. I pictured her a sylphlike maid, a marvel to all men, in simple Grecian robes arrayed, a Sappho born \ while ago she hit our grad, a songstress on the wing; though I was feeling tough and bad, I went to hear her sing. I waited for her for an age—the concert started late—and when she drifted or the stage I promptly pulled my freight. Into the stormy night I stept. where none might see my woe; I leaned against a fence and wept such tears as strong men know. For she was wreathed in rolls of fat that rippled, wave on wave; her nose was red, her feet were flat, and she required a shave. Some famous people I admire, and o’er their gifts I gush; some deftly swat the sounding lyte, some ply the artist’s brush But let them at a distance keep, if they’d my love retain; for if we met I'd think them cheap, and they’d find me insane. comicbooks.com