Judge, 1921-04-02 · page 5 of 32
Judge — April 2, 1921 — page 5: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis of "Jimmy Gallantine" Page The page contains a sketch and the beginning of a short story by Sam Hellman, not political satire. The cartoon above the title (drawn by W.K. Stannett) depicts a domestic scene with three figures discussing household finances—likely a wife, husband, and servant. The dialogue mentions a father's earnings ("twenty-five dollars"), working on Sundays, and a desired spring coat, illustrating working-class economic struggles of the era. The story itself appears to be social comedy about James H. Gallantine, a wealthy member of the Edgemere Hunt and Racquet Club who is apparently idle and dependent on family wealth. The narrative suggests satirical commentary on parasitic wealthy individuals contrasted with working-class concerns—a common Judge magazine theme addressing class tensions in early 20th-century America.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Drawn by WK. Stammerr + A.C “ MoTHER, HOW MUCH DOES FATHER EARN A DAY?” “| THINK ABOUT TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS “Ip we’> work on SUNDAYS FOR A FEW WEEKS | COULD HAVE THAT NEW SPRING CoAT.” Jimmy Gallantine By Sam Heiman HE Edgemere Hunt and Racquet Club knew little of its new member except t his name was James H. Gallantine, that he was very rich and that his desir- ability asa little playmate of the Exclusives had been vouched for by Stannard, high priest of the Long Island fane of fashionable futility. “Where's he from?” asked Mrs. Letty Framingham. “Pittsburg, I think,” yawned Reggie Grant. “A war baby, I gather. Has more money than most farmers have hay. Rather decent chap from what I've seen of him Hortense Spencer seems to think so, at any rate,” con- tributed Mrs, Framingham maliciously. “They do appear to be getting quite thickish,”” admitted young Grant. “You don’t seem to be worried,” suggested Letty. “Have you surrendered?” “Just about,” was the answer. “I’ve been turned down three times now, and I’m no glutton for punishment. I imagine we could have hit it off rather well, but——" he finished with a shrug. “What's the trouble, Reggie?” asked Mrs. Framingham sympathetically. Everybody liked young Grant; he was utterly harmless. It requires effort to do harm, and Reggie had sworn a vendetta against effort on the day the doctor at the accouche- ment had said, “Now, look at that platinum spoon in the baby’s mouth!” “Oh, the usual thing,” Reggie replied. “She wants a man who does things. Says I'm a parasite and truck of that sort. Rather idiotic, don’t you think? Imagine me working!” “T can’t,” said Mrs. Framingham bluntl “My brain swoons at the possibility. There they are now.” Gallantine and Hortense Spencer had come onto the porch. He apparently was about forty years old, with strong features and a sturdy body barely suggesting stoutness. The girl was of the free, athletic type. The flapper era was several years be- hind her. Thirty’would have been a cruelly good guess, yet the ripe freshness of mature youth was still in her clear cheeks and well-modeled features. They nodded to Reggie and Mrs. Framingham and passed into the large living-room utiful,”’ remarked Gallantine gazing up at theceili and the decorating was all done under your supervision.” “Thada little todo'with it,” said Miss Spencer. “Interior art, you know; it’s been something of a hobby of mine. Frankly, though, I am quite proud of this.” “You have a right to—hello!”” Gallantine glanced at the back of his hand, then turned his es ceilingward. There must be a leak up there. Look!" “Oh!” gasped Hortense. “Isn't that a shame. The whole thing will be spoiled. Oh, I just could cry.” “What's up?” cut in Reggie. “Leak,” said Gallantine briefly. “Let’s go up and see. Turkish bath, I guess.” comicbooks.com