Judge, 1926-07-24 · page 11 of 36
Judge — July 24, 1926 — page 11: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "The Man in Cell 234" - Judge Magazine Satire This piece satirizes **resort advertising saturation** in the early 20th century. A man named Perkins, a normal family father, becomes institutionalized after his wife suggests answering resort advertisements for a summer vacation. Overwhelmed by the flood of competing promotional pamphlets and booklets arriving from resorts nationwide, he suffers a mental breakdown from the relentless marketing barrage. The joke critiques both the explosion of American resort tourism marketing and consumer culture's ability to overwhelm ordinary people. Perkins's compulsive reading of increasingly hyperbolic resort claims ("every prospect pleases") drives him mad—a darkly humorous commentary on advertising excess. The lower cartoons show unrelated contemporary social observations: an "aesthetic dancer" spouse causing marital regret, and a traffic cop device to protect police from vocal strain—satirizing modern urban annoyances.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
JUDGE The Man in Cell 234 very sad case,” remarked the keeper, oper the door to padded cell No. 234, so I could hear the raving of the inmate. Clearly it came to me: “Every room facing the ocean... fresh fruits and vegetables . . . regain your health in the Blotto Mountains . +. put the roses back in the kiddie’s chee only twenty minutes from the bathing beach And why not Europe this summer? . . . tennis from contented tennis courts bowling all and three square meals daily ...no need to dress up here in Lake Blookus where nature heals the jaded nerves of the city dweller. . . this is the place for your vacation . . 18,345 feet above sea level... no mosquitoes to bother you. . . . Cool, sweet air. . . clear, limpid lakes n’s paradise . . . play 8 feet above sea level, where the soothing ocean breezes can caress your soul... trains every hour from New York... . 4 Ah, picturesque old Romany : The voice trailed off into a shrick. “Who is he?” I asked. “Name is Perkins,” answered the keeper. “Was a normal, home- loving father of six children who wanted to send his family away for the summer. About three weeks ago he suggested to his wife that she should answer a few resort advertise. ments. Well, sir, the pamphlets and booklets began to pour in on him from all parts of the country. He stayed awake nights to read them. His business and health went to smash, but still the literature kept coming in. He had to hire a loft building to store away the pamphlets. There’s nothing much left to say— one day they brougkt him here in a strait-jacket. Sh! Quiet, just a moment.” “ 1 listened, and again the voice rose in a raucous crescendo! “All improvements and running water... milk from our own cows. ...In the heart of the Adirondacks. . .. Every breeze perfumed with pine and balsam. . . . The Switzerland of America . . . the tourists’ mecca . . . restless ocean . . . snug harbors . . . dashing surf... . Where every pros- pect pleases... yow!” Arthur L. Lippmann whe ™y whistle Device to save the vocal cords of traffic cops. comicbooks.com