Judge, 1927-01-29 · page 13 of 36
Judge — January 29, 1927 — page 13: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "What's In a Wallet?" — Judge Magazine This page humorously catalogs the detritus accumulated in a typical man's wallet—expired licenses, laundry tickets from forgotten Chinese laundries, business cards from salesmen he doesn't remember, old postage stamps, and inspirational poem clippings. The satire mocks masculine packrat behavior and the absurdity of men keeping useless items "just in case." The secondary cartoon shows "co-education" failure: a man and woman literally demolishing furniture together, with the caption "I always said co-education was bunk." This references 1920s anxieties about coeducational institutions producing unladylike, destructive women—a conservative critique of women's changing social roles. The "Go Desmond and May You Break a Leg" anecdote is workplace theater gossip, while the brief Bowery joke depicts working-class urban stereotypes with dated dialect humor. The overall tone reflects 1920s-era social satire about masculine domesticity and changing gender norms.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
What’s In a Wallet? Bye few years the male of the species decides that it’s about time to empty out his wallet. ... “The old thing’s getting pretty bulky and the ends are starting to tear... good idea to get a new one.” No expedition in the far corners of the globe, unearthing secrets of ancient civilizations can ever hope to stumble upon more interesting relics than the average man dis- gorges from his pocketbook or wallet when the fever of a personal house- cleaning is upon him. His excavations reveal an assort- ment somewhat like this: Two Chinese laundry tickets, yel- low with age, which fail to awaken any memory whatsoever of having given a bundle of wash to Hip Sing or John Lung, wherever both may be. Expired automobile operator’s li- censes for the years 1922, 1923, 1924. Frantic search through nooks and crannies fails to disclose license for the present year. Three postage stamps (mucilage gone); fifteen money-order receipts; one nail file; one grimy card marked “Nick’s Garage—Auto Towing At All Hours”; one slip reading “I. O. U. 85 John Bates to crs of adn ~GO.DESMOND' AND. MAY YOU: fifteen or twenty salesmen’s business BR EA K A LE G, ON THE WAY OU T cards, the names on which are en- tirely unfamiliar, and three clippings My word, what a funny anecdote about the Bowery! Anybody who can of inspirational poems, starting, “It read will surely get a peach of a giggle out of this one. Brass-knuchle Joe, can be done.” the toughest thing on wheels, had just retired for the night, but he couldn’t Crumpled membership sleep. Finally, he awoke his “better half,” Frowsy Fanny, and said, “Hey, cards in non-existent = kid, I forgot somethin’ before I went to bed, but I can’t remember what benevolent and fraternal ; ; it was!” “I know,” mumbled Fanny sleepily, “you forgot to put this organizations; one little gat out!” How does this tickle your fancy? packet of court plaster; Me two bone toothpicks in tissue wrappers; one printed guar- antee that accompanied purchase of a ninety-eight cent watch in 1923; half a dozen personal calling cards too soiled for use and an unfilled doctor’s prescription issued two years ago. One memo in wife’s handwriting: “Get white paint for kitchen chairs. Have radio battery charged. Ring up plumber.” Nine identification cards giving name and address of person to notify “in event of illness or serious accident” ; two time-tables Summer Schedule 1922; three ex- pired commutation tickets; one news- paper clipping predicting the end of the world, and a snapshot of a baby : playing with a puppy. Leanper—I always said co-education was bunk. Hugh Wood comicbooks.com