Judge — March 10, 1923 — page 20: what you’re looking at

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

Washington, D. C., March 10, 1923 *m NoT quite sure whether Joe Robin- I son looks most like a chief of police or acts most like Bill Hart. The same rugged and somewhat rufous he- mannishness, you know. A shaggy effect draped about a pair of large jaws and about seventy pounds of biceps. diamond in the rough, if you get me— half diamond and half rough. This isn’t impudence to the leader of the Democratic minority in the Senate, mind you. It’s portrait painting. If it offends the Senator, it doesn’t go. An ry is forwarded on the same bill of I am merely trying to show a pleasing familiarity with the gentleman from Arkans: I did that with a Numidian lion once, and got a with it. The bars were hardly bent at all. Joe—every one calls him Joe—is di tinctly corn fed. In his part of Arkansas everyone has meat in the meat house and meal in the bin. If a mule balks with the sort of an Arkansas boy that Joe must have been the boy does not beat him up, as is done in cruder communities. He merely pushes the mule along the furrow. With the other hand he pushes the plow. HERE was a fight in the House of yresentatives during one of Mr. Robinson’s several terms. A fight, par- liamentary rules, that is. One gentleman rose on one side of the House, making a heavy outcry. The other allowed from a distance that he would have the heart’s blood of the first gentleman. Timid representatives leaped out of their de- stroying paths. It really began to look as though they might collide when Joe Robinson pushed his bulk between. The effect was that of a Pullman car hitting a pair of flivvers. Afterward the fighters mourned because the fight had been in- terrupted. They would have been hurt less if it had gone on. Mr. Robinson was permanent ¢ man of the San Francisco, convention. An ill-advised underling grew so used to barking at strangers that he barked at ‘*Quicker’n You Can Say Joe Robinson’’ by Herbert Corey Robinson's real job is to reorganize the Democratic party. Mr. Robinson. Mr. Robinson leaped a mahogany table and four Chip- le chairs, and upon the underling. One regrets that Senators have given up that pleasant old custom of wearing togas. I would dearly love to see Joe Robinson in a toga leaping over a table. He is not a quarreling man or a quarrel- some man. No one is more careful not ve offense. The fact is that he was reared to have that strange, almost out- worn respect for the spoken word that characterized an earlier generation. He reacts to it quickly, Anyone desiring to call Mr. Robinson a liar is advised to throw the inkwell first. He is also ad- vised that Mr. Robinson is not only big, but he is quick and anxious. Ti impression of force is the one first ed by the new leader of the minori He is thick and wide and moderately high. His hand is solid as aham. The impression persists when one hears him in debate. He has no fancy tricks. No chiffons and ruffles for him. He debates with an ax. There are half a dozen men on the Republican side who may be his superiors in parliamentary tactics, but strategy does no good when the other fellow has an ax. The situa- tion becomes very simple. One is either hit, or else one is not hit. Selah! Mr. Robinson is aided in leading the Democratic attac on the — senatorial enemy. Pat Harrison of Mississippi, known as fat for short, is the official be- deviller. Pat has more words than Old Faithful has drops. He is suave, witty and ornery. The majority § just because they are the majority, are forced to act sincere and heroic. When he has covered them with blood—Pat may not be dignified at all times, but it is incontestable that he draws blood— Thaddy Caraway drapes them with poison ivy. Thaddy is a slightly bottle- shaped gentleman, Arkansas, whose words h strong Sen go mad. He is charming in his private life, but then, so is a king cobra. nators, 18 RRowssos’s job, one ears, isnot merely to lead the minority in. the Senate. For that matter, he doesn't really have to lead it. All he need do is to tune Senator Heflin into the Federal banking laws and go away and leave him. Robinson’s real job is to reorg the Democratic for the 1924 fandango. He has already served notice that candi- dates born too soon will be drowned in bucket and those who know him bel what he says. He has the name of being an absolutely fair man. He may prefer to see McAdoo the Democra ndard bearer, but Jimmy Cox will be given strictly even break. However—and putting aside important polities—if my luck holds I'll be in the gallery some day when Joe Robinson and Hiram Johnson of California get fast in each other. They are something the same sort—bred about the same way wild and woolly and hard to curry. Neither would willingly give the other offense, but neither would back back. The smpers, temperaments, vo- cabularies and springing muscles as lik« as like. I'd like to see "em tossed into the pit together. And may the best man lose. difference would it make? What os Spring Song by Gardner Rea SPRING, that erstwhile urged the satyr Nymphward from his lair; Urged, too, mighty Jove the Pater, Amorous, a terre: Welcome, Spring the Liberator— From wool underwear! K You who have in every clime, Spring, Since creation’s dawn, Turned our thoughts to things sublime, Spring, Still you carry on: Thank the Lord, you're just in time, Spring— All my coal is gon comicbooks.com