Judge — March 20, 1926 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

“The Adventures of Flubb anoTubb ‘byArthur L. Lippmann Say It with Flower Pots ow that Henry Flubb, presi- dent of the Flubb Flower Pot Company, had reached his anecdotage, evenings at the Flubb mansion were as riotous and thrilling as the pages of the Congressional Record. Perpetual permanent wav- ing, mud massage and chin liftings had finally convinced “Ma” Flubb that a woman is as olc she feels, and acting on this theory, one Wed- nesday evening, she dragged the pro- testing Henry forth from his slippered. seclusion and smoking-jacketed ease to view “Pulsing Passion: Holly- wood’s latest gift to the silver screen and tribute to the Great God Hokum. It is easier to break into the United States Mint than to get into the Paragon Theater between the hours of seven and nine-thirty P.M. Even the chaste marble columns that adorn the Broadway side, the gold- fish bowls in the lobby, the gold- braided, sufficiently supercilious door men, the silver cherubs on the ceil- ings and the Kollege Kut tuxedo on the third assistant manager could not soothe Henry Flubb’s irritation at being compelled to stand in line fifty-five minutes before getting a seat. Finally, however, he found himself seated behind a marble column and after the first prologue, second prologue, overture, news reel, tabloid “Faust,” specialty dancers and pictures of the Boston fire, which resembled every other fire pieture he had seen, Henry Flubb reveled in the passionate Romeoing of the feature. Dormant romance, long stifled by flower pot problems and a_balky blood pressure, again. surged through Henry’s veins as young love, moon-lit amorous try ruined castle, and similar tender bits flashed before him. Later, riding uptown, he leaned back in_ his limousine and, in fancy, rode black chargers, slew dragons tricken princesse: nt wars for love’ eet sake. Beside him snored “Ma” Flubb. Around his feet they had wrapped an automobile robe. But even mental Lotharios are not immune to icy blasts and the streptococci, for a paroxysm of sneezing seized the middle-aged Don Quixote who had one near the old for pale, and waged ‘CAME THE DAWN just mentally taken a seat at King Arthur's Round Table and thereafter a most unromantic, but obviously utilitarian handkerchief was brought so, when an engraved, blue- tinted card bearing this inscription was handed to Henry Flubb at his office the following morning: “J. Parker Wethersfield, Vice-President, The Wethersfield Industrial Film Company,” the magic of the movie genie dissolved Flubb’s chronic fore- noon grouch and J. Parker, though he knew it not, owed much to the Cupid's bow mouth of Sally Sayre, star of “Pulsing Passions,” as well as three divorce suits. “Is this the Henry Flubb who writes such inspiring wall mottoes?” questioned Brother Wethersfield, as his six feet of blue-serged, deter- mined chinned, wing col tied masculinity bre ared and how zed in and he smiled an ingratiating grin that re- vealed several hundred dollars’ worth ss, 1926 model dentistry. “I Parker Wethersfield, a business cian, an industrial healer sales engineer. and a I capture the fleeting romance of business and harness it to increase sales. ‘This I can do for the Flubb Flower Pot Company.” When Wethersfield mentioned ro- mance, a glow came over Flubb’sface and he sent for Tobias Tubb, his general infield utility. ‘Then Flubb so far-forgot himself as to hand the stranger a cigar. J. Parker leaned forward and orated with the fervor of Mark Anthony telling Rome what a good feller J. Caesar was when he had it. “I propose to produce an industrial film here in the Flubb Flower Pot factory to be titled ‘The Romance of the Flower Pot. This picture will deal with the complete manufactur- ing process of a Flubb flower pot. I will write in a beautiful love story, to give it human interest and heart appeal. This film, a mixture of sentiment and business, will, however, be nothing but a marvelous publicity stunt to. sell thousands of Flubb flower pots. The Flubb flower pot factory will decorate the screens of moving picture theaters from the rock-bound coasts of Maine to the Pacifie’s broad expanse. The Flubb flower pot will be shown on the same sereen with Valentino, Mary Pick- ford, Sally Sayre—" “Sally Sayre,” rapturously mut- tered Henry Flubb, “she is sunshine, a golden gleam Wethersfield’s keen, black eyes noticed the blush on Flubb’s cheeks. Little wheels clicked silently in his head. Then, rather indifferently, he announced, “I think we can get Sally re to'play in ‘The Romance of the Flower Pot.’ She has a contract with the Supersupersuper Films, but we can get her away. But we would have to get two good leading men, Mr. Flubb. Two men of charm, in- telligence and magnetism. Two men like Mr. Tubb and yourself.” Then Wethersfield paused and suddenly banged his fist down on Flubb’s desk. “Thave it,” he shouted. “Mr. Flubb you are just the type to play the virile, clean-minded lover who comes riding from the rolling plains to save the Flower Pot industry from the clutches of the trusts. Mr. Tubb can be your partner. You are just the type, Mr. Flubb, just the type.” Henry Flubb drank two glasses of water and walked over to the window. Twenty wisp of two stories below was a little ribbon, filled with moving dots. As fur as the eye could see, huge signs were silhouetted against the sky. With the coming of darkness these signs would blaze forth in nightly competition with the starry firma- ment on high. A mist o’erspread (Continued on page 22) comicbooks.com