Judge, 1927-02-12 · page 12 of 36
Judge — February 12, 1927 — page 12: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "This Jewish Fella and This Irish Girl" — Judge Magazine Satire This page satirizes the glut of intermarriage comedies popular in 1920s theater. A playwright loses his script about a Jewish boy and Irish girl whose families object but reconcile. As he searches a hotel, *every staff member he encounters*—elevator boy, porter, chambermaid, desk clerk, manager—reveals they've independently written the *identical play concept*. The joke exposes how formulaic and derivative these ethnic-comedy plots had become: the premise was so common and creatively exhausted that multiple people casually invented it separately. The final illustration shows characters frantically discussing the ubiquitous plot while the narrator (illustrated as increasingly frazzled) ends by mentioning a "smokin' pistol"—darkly implying he's murdered someone in frustration over this comedic cliché. The satire targets both the theatrical market's predictability and audiences' appetite for safe, stereotypical ethnic humor.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
JUDGE “This Jewish Fella and This Irish Girl” Wit 1 was just packin’ my | bag when I remembered that I had forgot to put in my play, so I looked high and low around the room but I couldn't find it. So I went over to the elevator and rang the bell. When the boy came up I say , buddy, did I leave a play in your car when I came in here last night?” Ay “no, I ain’t seen a play in this Say, mister, are you interested in play “Yeh,” I says, “I’m interested in findin’ this one. “Well,” the kid says, “I asked because I got a play I wrote my- self in my trunk downstairs about fella ies an Irish girl and their families can’t see it but things comes out all right.” “That's a good idea,” I says. “Say, is the porter around?” “Yeah, right down the hall,” the boy says, “I'll tell you what I'll do, mister, I'll bring up my play after I get off duty— The porter was moppin’ up the hall and I told him I lost my play and had he seen it. “What kind of y says, “because I got an idea for a a Jewish mar he’s Because the men want to see the dancer, and the ladies to see the clothes, this clothes rack belt does the trick. play about a Irish girl falling in love and rrying a Jewish boy but their families—” “Where’s the chambermaid?” I “maybe she swept it outta my room. “She's cleanin’ up in that room over there,” he says. “About this idea of mine—” I found the chambermaid and told her about the play I lost. o.migos! | eee, RELP. HELD, 5.0007 ALL IS LOST! t/ LOGE THAT KDW ANT IT AaruL? = ( oF ot Ww I got two acts of a play in my room, which I wrote myself about this fella and girl, one Jewish and the other—” “Tl try the desk clerk,” I says and I grabbed an elevator. The clerk listened to my story and then says: “No, I ain’t seen this play around but a friend of mine has a swell idea which might be worked up about this Jewish boy who runs off and gets married to an Irish “My God!” I hollers, “where's the manager of this hotel?” “In there,” says the clerk. pointin’, “why, what's the mat- ter?” “Nothin’!” I yells back over my shoulder, and I ran in the man- ager’s office. ‘Are you the manager?” I says, “I lost a play around here.” “I found a play in the lobby about a Jewish fella and a Irish girl—” ‘Yeh, that’s it did you read it ove “Yeh,” he says, I got a idea from it. Why not have a play about a Jewish fella and a Trish girl marrying each other—"” Well, Junge, that’s all I remem- ber, »pt that when the red h: cleared away I had this smokin’ pistol in my hand, but I can't re- member how it got there. —Perelman I says, “why nd you know, WOE WOE! ow oe mi Il! SORRA THE DAy- HEAVEN HELP ust ae WHAT 10 DO= wwnaT yo po! 10 comicbooks.com