Judge, 1924-05-03 · page 7 of 36
Judge — May 3, 1924 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "The Fable of the Man Who Was Always Too Late" This is a satirical story illustrated by Corwood about F. Hyams, a slow, methodical dried-fish businessman perpetually chasing social trends—always arriving just after they've passed. The narrative follows his repeated pattern: he observes Ping-Pong becoming popular, studies it carefully, then arrives to find people dancing instead. Later, he laboriously learns bridge only to discover Mah-Jongg has replaced it as the fashionable game. The top cartoon shows Hyams reuniting with a childhood schoolmate, contrasting their social trajectories. The satire targets a recognizable type: the uncool, risk-averse social climber who methodically pursues respectability but lacks intuition or spontaneity. By the time he masters each fad through diligent study, society has moved on. The joke—that he ultimately resigns himself to learning solitaire—suggests some people are simply destined to remain outsiders, regardless of effort.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
“Well, well, my old schoolmate, Willy Scrogg! Why, Willy, I remember you when you was nothin’ but a dirty, ragged little urchin!” THE FABLE OF THE MAN WHO WAS ALWAYS TOO LATE “Ysce THERE WAS A MAN named FL Hyams who was in the wholesale dried fish business. Hew a patent Iso interested in nt to this story. V. Hyams was a bachelor; he was a slow, plodding, methodical sort of chap, and he lived in a comfortable boarding house near his dried fish business. One night F. Hyams went to call on some friends. They Figs Ned Ping Pong. He watched them small celluloid ball back and forth with a great deal of The following week he visited some other friends. y also were playing Ping Pong. quite popular,” he said to himself. “That. game seems to be A few weeks later as he stood watching a Ping Pong match in progress at the how his sister-in-law he was heard to remark, “I think I'll have to learn to play it.” : *. Hyams was not given to impulsive acts, tion crystallized. He bought a Ping Pong rack and a book of rules. He studied the rules diligently ticed the various strokes of the gi rea mirror At last, when he felt he was sufficiently proficient, he took his racket and went out to visit his friends. As he entered the living-room he heard the sound of a phonograph. There was of Ping Pong. Instead, the room was filled with people engaged in performing the latest dances. When F. [yams arrived home that night he tied a ribbon about the handle of Tt made quite a pretty It's funny,” he reflected, “how these fads become nd prac- in his room be after several months, F. Hyams decided to take He en, no who conducted an ac dancing lessons. es of a stout Hungarian gentlen Jemy: in the neighborhood, who agreed to instruct him in the at two dollars a lesson. Alas, when F. Hyat his d saring is new found the family st steps in eight. lessons, . a few nights after he had completed {at the home of his sister-in-law, + patent leather dancing pumps, he a table playing bridge. learn,” exclaimed his” sister-in-law. you know.” “Perhaps I will. wanted time to think it ove At last he made up his mind. ng lessons, 3 “You must body plays. it, said F. Hyams, evasively. He He went to a former society leader who was endeavoring to recover her lost fortune by giving bridge lessons, and he engaged her to teach him. In less than three months he was able to tell a no trump from a re-double. His partner in the dried fish business, Mr. 1. Bergen, had invited him to his house to meet some friends. As he the door bell he repeated to himself some of the rules he learned. “Second hand low, third hand high,’ he muttered doggedly. “You're just in time to make a fourth at Mah Jongg,” ted hit oa little bridg said us she gr id F. Hyams, dismally. “Nobody plays bridge any mor iT. Bergen. F. Hyams went home to his boarding house that night: and took a deck of eards out of his burean. “Lm going to learn to play solitaire,” he said. Newman Levy. comicbooks.com