Judge — June 12, 1926 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

JUDGE “Stop right there, Mr. Guzinkus!” The Flying Start are told by those who are in a position toknow that thesuccess of the modern story depends upon its ability to catch the reader’s i est at the outset. Immediate is a primary requisite if a tale is to prove useful to an editor. There are some writers who complain that it is an impossibility to compel the read- er’s attention at the start of certain types of story, or to plunge the char- acters into early action. This, I be- lieve, is an unsound theory. To prove the fallacy of such a notion I have set below two sample begin- nings of stories of widely diversified types. I submit, does not the action start almost immediately? The Brawl An historical romance “Damn you!” snarled the Duchess of Drainpipe, “Whaddayamean you go five hearts? Ain’t I told you enough times not to take me outta no doubles? Come on now, snap into it or I'll smack you for a brace of fireplugs, you poor nitwitted oilcan!” The Lady Cynthia Cyclonecellar Cholmendeley paled beneath her rouge. “Say thatagain,” sheshricked,“‘and I'll hand you a clip on the jaw.” They arose simultaneously. Under the picture of the Marquis of Queens- berry, which smiled benevolently upon them from the wall, they squared off. The Duke of Middleblister sipped his whisky and soda meditatively. “Girls will be girls!” he observed. In stories that deal with the great open spaces where men, strange to say, are men, why should we be bored with a detailed description of the hero's dress, habits, personality. ete.? Why not, on the other hand, leap into the tale with gusto right at the start? Observe this sample beginning of a story of stirring bor- der days! Hell's Bells A story of the great West Pinto Pete galloped into Devil's Gulch, lassoed a lamp-post while on the dead run, put a bullet into Red- Eye Mike who was waiting to get him on the steps of the First Na- tional Bank, and dismounted from his horse. The citizens scattered like jack-rabbits. Pinto, carelessly roll- ing a cigarette with one hand, went into the bank. “Your business, sir?” inquired the uniformed flunkey at the door. “What's it to you, buddy?” in- quired Pete, squinting his eye. The next second his six-shooter flashed out and from it issued a stream of murderous fire, each shot neatly re- moving a brass button from the lackey’s coat. The porter, with fear blenching his countenance, shrank back against the wall. “Come, boy,” said Pinto, “where's the director's meeting at?” “What you want to know for?” asked the flunkey suspiciously. Pinto Pete waved his hand. “Listen, stupid!” he said, “I’m a director of this bank, get me? Now lead me to the meeting!” Edwin Rutt Plastic Surgery Some pugilists deny that they've had their noses rebuilt, but few can deny that they've had their chins lifted Girt Artist (trying to sell her comic)—Don’t you think that’s a funny joke? Art Epitor—Yes, it always was a funny joke! comicbooks.com