Judge — June 17, 1922 — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

Your guilty knowledge of the tremendous importance of heredity makes our duty plain. Get to a nursery, and be quick about it. Your fine dreams about reforming the world must be folded away. Your vision of personal freedom, pretty as it was, is gone. Your job is the race. You know how important it is to provide your future babies with hermetically sealed, antiseptic fathers. You also know the reflexes necessary to track the he man- brute to the preacher. The evidence discloses the fact that you can look at the common or coke-drinking cake- eater, and by making the proper passes at him produce an amatory state which changes him into a meal ticket in the twinkling of an eye. This is dangerous knowledge. We can't let you roam about the world living your own life in your own way. We men have to protect ourselves. You, who all these four collegiate years have been smuggling incendiary in- formation about the way man is fearfully and wonderfully ade in mind and body and social structure, smuggling this dynamic information for your own use and benefit, ping to go out into the world and enslave us all with your superior wisdom—you pretty priestess of a new white magic—you Wellesley girls, have overplayed your nd. And you now stand arrayed before the Judge with goods on you. THE SENTENCE society better at some regular task supervised by a rigorous discipline than he could at large in a complex civilization which requires a rather high mental development to play the game of life. Then along came fate laughing its head off and left him four million dollars. And what happened? Why— the whole environing social body began kow-towing to that four million. White lawyers hurried into the courts. The white courts began thumbing law books. The white clerks began writing orders. And bang go open the doors of the jail, and out walks four million dollars! Along with the four million dollars walks the proud culled puh- son. And as they strut through the gate, making a shame of our boasted justice for the rich and poor alike, the fates rocked in their exalted and mighty seats with ribald laughter. They laugh not at the high, wide and handsome steps of the four million dollar black man, but at the servile, cowardly, crack-brained idiocy of the white race that lets money so brazenly corrupt its institutions, and then thumbs an obscene nose at all the principles of justice and equity for which our fathers have fought since we left the primeval forest. is a life sentence to matrimony and a baby every four years. It’s unfair to the innocent—your husbands, for example, and your old-fashioned mothers-in-law. But this is the iron law of legal justice that the innocent must suffer with the guilty. Society must protect itself. If this knowledge that heredity and not environment can save humanity is broadcasted over the world, what be- comes of the half-wits in pants, our Congressmen, our editorial writers, our movie morons, our Civic Federators, the whole blessed line of sub-normal men, who cheerfully vote for the Hylans and the Thompsons and Curleys in our American cities? The minute the truth about heredity is known, this bunch is doomed to celibacy, while the girls go stalking away with the men who can pass intelligence tests. And as only one-fourth of our men are up to that, according to the enlistment statistics, we are doomed to a polygamous snap for the few and a land of grouchy bachelors with no exemptions in their income taxes. Girls, you Wellesley girls, that is what comes of our pestiferous_ re- searches in eugenics and hijinks! We must stop it. The Judge has spoken. Officer, off with them to the preacher or the justice of the peace! The only habeas corpus which the Judge of this court will recognize is the corpus that the doctor brings in his little old black bag! Call the next case! A‘ what you Wellesley girls get THE $4,000,000 COLORED PERSON HE other day in Missouri a colored gentleman was sentenced to the penitentiary for forgery. He was the ordinary looking variety of bad man in a black skin, no better than his kith and kind in a white or brown or yellow or red or polka dot skin. And the peni- tentiary was the place for him or for any man underdeveloped mentally, mor- ally and spiritually. He could serve Drawn by BARKSDALE ROGERS. Sue—If Tom Huggins should write you to go for a ride in his motor boat, how would you regard it? Mae—As an opportunity to be embraced.