Judge, 1924-07-26 · page 26 of 36
Judge — July 26, 1924 — page 26: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
The top cartoon mocks Theodore Roosevelt's 1900 presidential campaign slogan—the "Full Dinner Pail"—which promised workers prosperity. The dinner pail itself narrates how it once symbolized working-class hope but is now obsolete. The satire's point: The worker's conditions have inverted. Rather than remaining a steadfast symbol of full employment, the pail documents how strikes and labor demands (longer hours, better pay) *ironically* improved the worker's life so much that he no longer needs it. He now drives a motor car and carries fancy wicker picnic hampers with silverware instead. This is bitter commentary on labor victories—Judge (a conservative publication) suggests that worker gains have made them "soft" and bourgeois, abandoning the rugged dignity of the honest dinner pail. The lower cartoon, "The S.R.O. Ballet," appears unrelated satirical theater commentary, likely mocking exaggerated dance movements.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Diary of a Dinner Pail HAVE done faithful service for years d have been handed down in a family of industrious tile setters. In one of my compartments cold tea swished; in another reposed fine, thick sandwiches and anapple. My cup was a tin cup. In my early days I was proud to be the party symbol in a Presidential cam- paign, the object of which was said to be to keep all us dinner pails full. In recent years, though, there have been intervals when I did not swing along Nan bo First Lion—Gee, I wish they'd put this act on before dinner! to work with my master. I heard it whispered around the house that he was striking for more pay and shorter hours. It seems he got them, for there came about the most surprising changes in the food which I carried. My sandwiches became puny and crust] I was aug- mented by a thermos bottle. My cus- tomary apple sometimes gave way to a bunch of hothouse grapes. Instead of being packed in the kitchen in the good old way, I was often sent around to be filled by a caterer. I knew it was the beginning of my end when the master drove me to work in his own motor car. I am cast aside at last. I saw my successor being prepared to accompany yy master to his « labor. It is one of those effete wicker picnic hampers, equipped with silverware and napkins. Oh, rubbish heap, where is thy sting? F. D. A Short Story Gladys Joy loved Thomas Brown, Thomas Brown was poor. Gladys Joy is now Mrs. Gotrocks. From the Broadway hit, “Subway Sally,” or The Straphanger’s’ Symphony. THE S. R. O. BALLET comicbooks.com