Judge, 1921-10-08 · page 16 of 36
Judge — October 8, 1921 — page 16: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page from *Judge* contains two distinct pieces: **"That Was the Widow O'Flynn"** is an Irish-dialect humor piece satirizing Irish-American urban politics and social aspiration. The narrator, now Mrs. Maloney (wife of a Democratic ward boss), recounts how she nearly became a movie actress but accepted "Mother" roles instead—poking fun at aging Irish widows reinventing themselves through remarriage. The satire targets both Irish ethnic stereotypes (heavy dialect, home-brewing culture) and the pretensions of ordinary people attracted to early cinema. **"Nature's Truths"** is a simple joke poem playing with plant names containing animal/action words (snapdragon, bleeding heart, ragweed) while claiming nature itself is a "fake" because these plants don't actually do what their names suggest. The page-top caricatures by Berezov appear unrelated—the caption suggests they're humorists or actors, though their specific identities aren't clear from context. The overall tone reflects *Judge's* characteristic mockery of immigrant communities and lowbrow entertainment culture.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Drawn by Maurice Berezov. No! humorists in the mood for a day's work. That Was the Widow O’Flynn By E. S. L. THOMPSON 7ES, Lucy Lafflin, 't is me that was the widow O'Flynn and am now Mrs. Maloney, the wife of the Dimocratic Boss of the Tenth Ward against all comers! Did you hear about how near I came to bein’ in the movies? I saw an ad directly afther O’Flynn died, from a Di- rector wantin’ a young and hand- some girl for Ingenoo parts. “That’s me!” I says, puttin’ on me Sunday gown and hurryin’ up to the Studio. They looked me over and said, “We'll cast you for Mother parts, 5 !" says I. “T’ll play the Vamp or I'll have nothing to do with the screen,” I. “Good morning, Madame,” says the director, and stared me out like I was a two-headed giraffe. Of course, Lucy, I was only goin’ to try it on to find out how they make ’em. I wasn’t serious about gettin’ in permanent. I still re- membered that Pathrick loved a home brewing woman! I’m a lovin’ and honorin’ Pathrick yet, God rest his soul, even though I am Mrs. Maloney, at prisent, and in politics so to speak. I was always a believer in re- sphectable widdy’s, what kape themselves so swate and purty that they have chances and chances to marry again and get a second father for the childer with coin in his pocket. That’s whut I did for meself and me offspring. Dennis, my bohy, is in the Messenger Serv- ice now and wears a uniform. Out- side he spinds his time tryin’ to be a Douglas Fairbanks doin’ his darin’ stunts. Oh, I have much to be thank- ful for! Shur 'tis a pity you’re a showin’ your age so much, me dear; but nevertheless I'll give ye a tip. John Ryan is lookin’ for a third wife. I know it to be a fact. He called on me twice, an’ Pathrick not dead a Cupid—Oh! I say! Will you help us out? He’s had too much home brew and can’t navigate. 16, They are not crooks nor Wall St. brokers, but just two week! Now take a woid of advice. Get a new gownd, Lucy, crimp your hair and fill up the wrinkles in your skin and look about, woman. Who knows what might come to pass to ye! Miracles sometimes happen. Perhaps John Ryan—ah? phwat! You to marry John Ryan tomorry mornin’ an’ take a trip over to all the battlefields? Well, I niver! I like you well enough, Luch Laffling, but of course ye'll niver be in my class with Ryan for a husband, and him only a plumber! I'm Mrs. Maloney now, the widow O’Flynn that was wife of the Dimocratic Boss of the Tenth Ward against all comers! Nature’s Truths Py LAURA KiRKWoop PLUMB [ AFFODILS are not daffy. Crocuses do not croak. The weeping willow sheds no tears. The smokebush does not smoke. The catnip has not a bite. The dogwood has no fleas. The sycamore seems real well. The snowball does not freeze. The snapdragon has no snap, The bleeding heart no gore. The Four O’Clock has no watch. Tiger lilies can’t roar. The ragweed can never ja’ The best ferns make a brake, So why be true to Nature, When she is such a fake? The Great Hangover “Was your bachelor supper a success?” “T’ll say it was! We had to post- pone the wedding two days!” comicbooks.com