Judge, 1921-08-06 · page 9 of 34
Judge — August 6, 1921 — page 9: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis of Judge Magazine Page **Top Cartoon ("Mr. Homestewed"):** Don Herold satirizes overly complicated modern conveniences—specifically new public drinking fountains. A man struggles awkwardly with the apparatus while his companion mocks the needless complexity, capturing early-20th-century frustration with technology that was supposed to simplify life. **"Quiescence" Poem:** La Touche Hancock's verse ironically treats a golfer's lost match as tragic death. The elaborate dramatic language about mortality, fate, and lost glory culminates in the reveal: the speaker lost a golf game by two strokes. It's humorous deflation—treating trivial sporting disappointment with overwrought poetic tragedy. **"The Coutourier's Day" Cartoon:** Clive Weed depicts an opera singer's triumphant moment interrupted when her expensive gown slips down mid-performance. The joke: modern fashion's role in romantic/social success is so crucial that wardrobe failure eclipses even artistic achievement. The caption suggests fashion designers ("cupids") deserve credit for matchmaking that people attribute to Cupid. **Bottom Cartoon:** A woman undergoing psychoanalysis claims the "martyr complex"—self-diagnosis of excessive selflessness—while actually seeking validation for her vanity.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
light umil- it up f he, pa- d he erg. 0 his over, offer $s, he that the fash- d me and only flan- ome- and st to But ‘turn and at in and and! erth have were nent, me. eless Mel- nood was mas hem rab- ght- Drawn by DoN HEROLD. Mr. Homestewed: THESE NEW SANITARY DRINKING FOUNTAINS ARE TOO DARNED COMPLICATED! shirt, was mockery. I pushed the button for the porter. “Henry,” I began, in a hoarse whisper, “these are for you. Take them and treat them as your very own. But I must never see them again. With me they represent the past. If I ever come to you, Henry, on my bended knees and coax you to tell me where they are, you must not tell me. I am calm now, Henry; 1 know exactly what I am saying to you. I have thought it all over. Take them. They can never be any- thing to me.” Mysteriously he went his way, the dark man with a bundle; and with him those silken pajamas passed out of my life forever. When the Unexpected Happens By L. B. BIRDSALL Two thousand pairs of eyes were riveted on the great singer as she stood there in all her mature beauty, the incarnation of glorious womanhood. Two thousand breaths were held in pleasurable suspense as the golden notes issued from her lovely throat and vibrated through the great audi- torium like joyous, living things. It was the supreme moment of the great singer’s life, the moment she had dreamed of during those long, lean years of preparation. The con- summation of all her efforts and sac- tifices was here, around her, to- night. She had won. There was a smile of triumph on her lips as the end of the song ap- Proached. The last soaring note was forming, quivering like some melo- dious bird eager to fly to empyrean heights. ... And then—something snapped and that last wondrous note was irretrievably lost in the cry of fear and despair that escaped the great one’s lips. Two thousand pairs of eyes were riveted on the wonderful singer and two thousand breaths were held in grave suspense.... Her costly gown was slowly slipping to the floor. The Coutourier’s Day Cupid gets a great deal of credit that really belongs to modern styles. Drawn by CLIVE WEED. “My DEAR, I AM BEING PSYCHO-ANALYZED. Quiescence By LA ToucHE HANCOCK EAD, dead—stone dead! Lifeless, and cold and still; White as the mantle spread Over some snow-clad hill. Dead! And my hand was stayed; Spell-bound I stood, nor spoke, Watching afar the blade Speeding the fateful stroke! Dead! Not a spasm of pain, Not a tear, not a groan, nor sigh, Pulseless, and mute to remain For all eternity! Dead! On the grassy slope Laid, ‘neath the pitiless skies; Lost with my last lost hope, Victory, fame, and prize! Dead! There, beyond recall, On the lip of the last hole lay, “All even,” my partner’s ball, And I had “two more to play!” Expert Advice “My son is coming home from college next week. He has just completed a course in industrial chemistry.” “Bring him over to my house some night, will you, old man? Maybe he can tell me what’s the matter with my home brew.” a ALA Most FASCINATING! THE Doctor TELLS ME I AM MUCH TOO UNSELFISH FOR MY OWN GOOD. I BELIEVE I HAVE WHAT IS CALLED ‘THE MARTYR COMPLEX.’ ””- UW, comicbooks.com