Judge — April 16, 1921 — page 6: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

= 3 2 yy ot we ? aa cP Ewe ty | a 3S = | = 7 Drown by A.B. Warken “Yes, (T MAY BE THE LATEST MODEL AND RUN BEAUTIFULLY ALL LOOK THE SAME away the dust from all that painted canvas stretched upon all the streets of that city for miles and miles and miles. Little artists sighed and knew they could never aspire again. Great artists despaired, because the future was hopeless. Students, scholars, artists, art-collectors looked at the man and r veled. And then they remembered. They remembered how once he had been despised and now he was despaired of. What was the secret of this marvelous accomplishment, so recently acquired, so miraculously manifested? They asked, they questioned, they pressed close and urged, demanded reply. He was too busy to tell. He said he had not yet painted the day of Judgment. All the damned of all the world had to be placed on this side; all the saved of the rest of the world had to be placed on the other. On his death-bed, perhaps, he would tell his secret. Yes, since Art should be free, if they would wait, on his death-bed he would reveal the secret. The newspapers printed the news. In headlines of blood-red. a foot high, a foot wide, a foot deep, they hurled the message upon the people. When he died, the secret would be revealed All America would learn how to become famous. All the world would become one gigantic, art-producing sphere. . “Art should be free!” trumpeted editors all over the world “Art should be free!’ echoed universities and churches, schools and prisons Art should be free—’’ whispered the great man on his feathbed, worn out in body and soul by the task of a whole world’s painting. ner, 10 Joxes THEY “We shall the sceret,” cried musician, poet, and painter, pressing against other musicians, poets, and painters, squeezing between critics, a thousand critics, a thousand reporters, ten thousand, ten hundred thousand hear people The dying man saw them standing at ae his bedside. He saw them, faces upon [7 ~\ faces, all eager, listening, intent upon his final words, to learn the mystery of his greatness. He saw them, mil lions upon millions, pressing against the walls of his house, obliterating his poems; crowding through the streets of the city, obliterating his paintings; massing solidly against each other, obliterating each other. The dying man smiled. He raised himself on his elbow they knew he was about to speak. The crowded city grew still 1, all the multitudinous breaths sus- Suddenly with one ace pended. Prayerful, agonizing, they hung upon his words. My friends—my beloved friends—my musicians, poets, painters—I have promised that upon my deathbed [I would reveal to you the secret of this unprecedented greatness. Pub: lish it broadcast, all over the world. Let the secret be accessi ble to all. Art should be free. So simple it is that even the least of you can follow my advice. So easy it is that the wise and the ignorant, the bright and the foolish, the aspiring and the unaspiring, can become great painters, musicians, or poets. All America can become the home of artists. All the world can become aestheticized. For I tell you, friends, with my dying breath I tell you, that would you become great, would vou achieve instantaneous success, and the applause of a won dering, gasping world: go and crack your skull.” And then he died A Dancing Sequence If to.a premier danseuse you desired ‘To send a gift, by love and fancy fired, Why, naturally—we have you here on toast!— You would dispatch it by the pas seu! post! At the Poker Party “Well, we've got the evening to ourselves run over to Mrs, Smith's for a minute!” w; my wife has « by Pace Re Ir your Howse carcue ion rine Wuat To Do 1x Try YOUR Best TO GET AND STAY AROUND TO DO WHAT YoL AN EMERGENCY THE Ore xator CAN FOR THE FIREMEN comicbooks.com