Judge — May 20, 1922 — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

hi» Maor- ms vil ral de als, ing dervish of pacifism. In the midst of the great war his pacifism made him a grotesque figure with a bomba- zine umbrella and a shiny plug hat on the Chautauqua circuit. But the Bryan ideals figured in the Fourteen Points, which will keep the world busy for a century before they are realized. At the moment the cast of thought of the civilized world is too materialistic; we are stressing the points of resemblance between man and the beast, forgetting that man is a spirit and not a mere creature without destiny. So Bryan sails out preaching the Bible as the inspired Word of God, without the change of a jot or tittle. He thinks he is attacking evolution. But he knows no more of evolution than he knew of finance or world politics or the war insanity of men. He will get no further with the Bible undefiled by honest critics than he got with free silver. But he will arouse the spiritual forces of man and set people to thinking that in the deep wisdom of the Book of Books the race has registered much that is prof- itable to know; much that men may follow in living happy and useful lives. A fine, free, fantastic and often futile and fatuous old figure is Bryan. Yet he has done a worthy work in the world, and his five lowly talents have never been wrapped in a napkin. slaughter, the journalistic quarrel, the old town row, the fighting editor, have gone with the old oaken bucket and the pony express. Yet once, the fighting editor was as common as the minnesinger. The fighting editor used to brandish his shooting irons on the village street, and his casual sallies into mayhem and criminal assault were inci- dents of a dull and idle hour in the town’s history. — Scur- rilous language, obscene allusions, indefensible charges, rancor, bitterness and bloodshed in the middle of the last century were the common lot of the editor. And now we have fallen upon pale and puling times. Schools of jour- nalism have long since dropped artillery practice from the curriculum; reporters are no longer “in armor clad.” And the once loathed contemporary now is busily engaged in forming a combination with his hated competitor in viola- tion of the Clayton Act to keep up advertising rates. But is was a great day, the elder day of blood and vio- lence! Newspapers were respected when they were backed by the personal army and navy of the editor; they were not the byword and the hissing they have become since it is no longer editorial courtesy to shoot on sight. The Durango editors who injected a casualty list into pure reading matter have taken journalistic amenities for the moment back to the Guelphs and the Ghibellines. THE SHORT MEMORY OF MAN ‘HE American Defense Society is asking people to buy pictures of the late Colonel Roosevelt to distrib- ute in public places “to combat radical- ism.” How the dear old Colonel would chuckle if he could know that the same outfit that was denouncing him ten short years ago as a foe of organized govern- ment, a destroyer of the Constitution, and an enemy of society, is now pictur- ing him in Y.M.C.A. buildings and army barracks as an antidote for radicalism! What Roosevelt did to entrenched privilege in this country in ten years of agitation was one of the finest services ever performed for any country at any time. He hit the plutocracy squarely in the solar plexus, and because he was President of the United States his blow had devastating power. But the same plutocracy that is now sticking his picture to exorcise the Red and scare away the pink parlor Bolshe- vists ten years ago was spending fabu- lous sums to restore Penrose, Barnes and Cannon to power, and to overthrow the power of Colonel Roosevelt. These professional foes of free speech and a free press to-day were not above lying scandalously and outrageously about Colonel Roosevelt ten years ago when they were trying to restore his enemies to power! It is the short memory of man which reduces his sense of humor to an appreciation of the slap stick and the custard pie as provokers of mirth. BACK TO SHOOTING IRONS IME, which has been scooting for- ward for the last quarter of a century at a terrific pace, took a backward spring the other day, and in Durango, Colorado, lifted the curtain that hides the dear and presumably dead past to show the world an old-fashioned newspaper fight that ended in a killing. What a long, long backward jump that Durango episode made! It is al- most as though the dinosaur from the South American lake should actually come stalking down Fifth Avenue har- nessed to a Ford. The editorial man- THE PROOF OF THE PUDDING Irate Diner—Look here, waitress—there’s not a particle of turtle in this turtle soup. Waitress—Well, wouldn’t expect to find Hoover in it, would you? We have Cabinet pudding, but you what of it? 19 comicbooks.com