Judge, 1925-08-01 · page 13 of 36
Judge — August 1, 1925 — page 13: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "The Lost Cord" - Judge Magazine Satire This humorous piece satirizes the Depression-era practice of saving and hoarding string and twine—a common domestic economy measure when resources were scarce. The story describes four women in a family who obsessively collect different types of string for reuse: Carrie accumulates butcher's twine (notably fragile), while Bertha saves premium-quality cord so durable it resists cutting with knives, scissors, or dull razors—humorously suggesting suicidal tendencies. Aunts Martha and Lillian are portrayed as aesthetes who collect decorative Christmas ribbons and colored cords, valuing sentimentality over utility. The narrator ends by admitting to keeping string at the office as a reminder to bring home more. The satire mocks the obsessive frugality of the era, presenting string-saving as both economically necessary and psychologically quirky. The accompanying comic strip below depicts an unrelated scene of a motorist helping a stranded commuter—content appears disconnected from the main story.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
If we used the motoring department of our minds while afoot. The Lost Cord ERTHA, Aunt Martha, Cousin Lillian and Carrie, who is the family galley slave, comprise our domestic string quartet. Between them they have managed to save so much string that it would go around any number of packages, if carefully matched and pieced. Carrie, from her strategic position on the circumference of the family circle, has succeeded in amassing the most twine, but Bertha’s got all the quality cord. The bulk of Carrie’s cdllection is that type of twine manufactured specially for butchers and greens grocers, and guaranteed to break just as you’re about to meet the minister; as you're crossing the street; or while ascending the stairs, resulting in your loss of social prestige, life and limb, or several small new potatoes that have never rolled down a flight of stairs before and upon doing it for the first time discover it to be much more fun than you thought it was last week when you were rushing for a subway train. Bertha’s string is made of sterner stuff. It is of that strong variety always put around the packages you are most eager to open. It abso- lutely defies the most overt assaults with that gold knife the boys at the office gave you last Christmas; the manicure scissors (the seamstress al- ways has just mislaid, or swallowed, the large ones) and the razor blades you’ve been meaning to have re- sharpened for. the past fifteen, or twenty years, depending on how Poor John is dead, alas, alacl:, Most pitiful his condition, He choked to death on a Krazy Kracl: And died “‘indisposition.” ud taba ANd lenge pays5 0" e0ch One pri el gf long you’ve been shaving yourself with a so-called safety razor. I firmly suspect Bertha of at least a slight suicidal mania. What other use could one have for such high tension rope? Aunt Martha and Cousin Lillian are the sesthetes of our little cordon of serious string savers. They will add only the rarest and most exotic specimens to their conglomeration of cords. Christmas is their season. Then it is that the utterly useless, socially, physically and economically, varicolored varieties dominate our parcels. Red, interwoven with wisps of gold, vies with red ribbons heavily imprinted in two colors with holly, sentiments and names. These are what Martha, my aunt and Lillian, her daughter, if she ever had a daughter, hoard. Really, I’m not stringing you. In fact, I’ve got a piece of string on my finger right now to remind me to bring home that box of string from the office which I’ve been saving! The tardy commuter and the helpful motorist. comicbooks.com