Judge, 1924-01-12 · page 19 of 36
Judge — January 12, 1924 — page 19: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a humorous poem by Glenn Cook Morrow about a golf match, not political satire. The narrator defeats Dan McKee, a skilled golfer ("golfing fiend"), in a championship match at the Idler's Club through a combination of luck and skill. The joke centers on ironic reversal: McKee is the superior golfer with excellent technique ("Straight with the irons...Two hundred off every tee"), but the narrator wins because "Ol' Lady Luck was my caddie." The poem emphasizes that McKee's superior golfing ability couldn't overcome bad luck—slicing into the rough on the final hole—while the narrator benefited from fortunate circumstances. The accompanying pen-and-ink illustrations show golfers in period dress on the course. This is lighthearted sporting humor typical of Judge magazine, with no apparent political or social commentary—simply entertainment celebrating a lucky underdog victory.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
f THE TRIMMING OF DAN MCcKEE | i I SNATCHED me a birdie on Number ree, Shameless—but oh, so fair! And I grabbed the trophy from Dan McKee, i With a putt that was timed to a hair. Now, Dan McKee was a golfing fiend With the drive, and the putt and the ! pitch, And Dan McKee with his mashie-nib, Would soar o’er the deepest ditch. Like a southbound duck, when win- ter’s snows Snarl down from the frozen Pole: So, Dan McKee his approach shots laid, Sturdy—and straight to the hole. The summer season was well-nigh gone, And the caddies back in school, When I played for the crown of the Idler’s Club ’Gainst McKee, the golfin’ fool. Straight with the irons, and straight with the wood Two hundred off every tee, In the words of the proletariat, Good! Was this golfer, Dan McKee. But, Ol’ Lady Luck was my caddie, then, “Come, Seven, Eleven—and Crap.” And the horseshoe luck that fell my way, Made up for his skill and his sap. One down, he had me at Number Nine, + But I squared it on old Fourteen Y With an eagle two—a screaming drive, And a mashie from off the green. ues And so we fought to the eighteenth tee, Nor a hole could either win, Pe With recoveries from the deep, tall vii rough And approach-shots dead to the pin. And yet again, on One and Two, The deadlock ended not; 1 held Dan even, one over par, With a flawless brassie shot. “But, ol’ Lady Luck was i my caddie, then.” And, so we drove for the flag again From good old Number Three. He sliced in the rough, while I, worse luck! Reposed at the foot of a tree. But the good old spade I implored for aid And played ’er strong and true, Till my Silver King with a final spin Just crept on the green in two. Oh, I snatched me a birdie on Num- ber Three, Shameless—but oh, so fair! And I grabbed the trophy from Dan YY VOW iy (OA McKee With a putt that was timed to a hair. “Reposed at the foot of —Glenn Cook Morrow a tree.” «Reus NY comicbooks.com