Judge — December 17, 1927 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

Editor, Norman Anthony. One Long Cheer ELL, Christmas is right on top of us now. Mellowed by holiday spirit, dazzled by candle light and hopelessly entangled in wreaths, the Judge on the Bench casts a misty eye about the whirling scene. For once, in the queer doings of men, he finds naught to deplore. Any readers—if such there be—who expect to glean any world-shaking opinions from this page this week might as well desert in a body and go right over to the New Republic or Bérnarr Macladden. We shall cry no wisdom after you. We refuse to play the sober-sides, mumbling in the din of gaiety. The Judge on the Bench may, for all we know, be reputed to have a cantankerous tongue, a baleful eye and a waggling finger, but beneath the mahogany his foot is tapping to a dance measure. He knows his holly berries. And his mistletoe. The jurors are excused. The court rises. Oyez! And oboy! * * * I has ever been the genius of Christmas to be cheerful at whatever cost. In this year and this land, good cheer is bounteous and cheap. There’s no shortage of coal this winter, the youngsters are home for the holidays and college doesn’t seem to have hurt ’em much yet. The new Ford car is really pretty swell and the supply of comical men in high office is holding up. ~ After-dinner speaking seems a little less prevalent than in other seasons, and in spite of all gloomy pre- dictions, skirts continue short. George Gershwin has written a lot more good jazz and John Erskine has finally carried his great re- search as far back as Adam and Eve. A method of kidding H. L. Mencken has been dis- covered and there’s a new edition of Here’s How! In some places there is skating already and the corporation taxes are going to be reduced, no fooling. Max Reinhardt is producing his drama in New York and Big Bill Thompson has not yet banished Santa Claus from Chicago. * * * Y=. unless some spoil-sport sneaks in while this issue is being printed, it’s going to be an excep- tionally merry Christmas. There were some ugly tumors of war in Europe, but they turned out to be just the disarmament conference tuning up. Dwight Morrow and Will Rogers between them have man- * Aaociate Editors, Richard J. Walsh, Phil Rosa, Jack Shuttleworth. Dramatic Editor, George Jean Nathan aged to put Mexico in surprisingly good humor. All the All-America teams have peen picked without pre- cipitating a revolution. The six-day bicycle races and the session of Congress started on the same day, and there are some good laughs left in the Vare- Smith election scandals, too. The Anti-Saloon League is raising $5,000,000 to keep us dry, while the Association Opposed to Prohibition is raising $3,000,000 to keep us wet, and as everybody knows, a wet fund and a dry fund, when mixed, means a slush fund. Everybody seems to be working mightily to give us good cheer. * * * Soe folk are prone to say that Christmas belongs to the children, but that’s fallacy and fol-de-rol. The children could have a pretty good time at Christ- mas if the grown-ups would put a heap of presents on the floor and let them play, and put a heap of dinner on the table and let them eat. But what with saying thank you and letting little sister have her own toy and waiting while daddy sees how it works and being careful not to break it and being patient until dinner is served and going quietly to bed now that you’ve had your fun, it’s not as cheerful for the the kids as it might be. Household hint for a merry Christmas: give the children the prerogatives of adults and give the adults the pretense of childhood and—but there, we promised to dispense no wisdom. * * * T= Judge has gone back and kicked over the bench. He has hidden his crumpled robe behind the Christmas tree and smashed his spectacles on the hearth where the jug is simmering; at the moment he is discovering that a gavel is an excellent thing to stir the punch with. Here’s how! And how! Younger Generation Notes. No. 2 Fre years ago Elizabeth Benson, at the age of eight, broke a world’s record. She passed all the intelligence tests with the grade of “superior adult” and rated an I. Q. of 214. Enough to ruin any child, you say. Well, today, at thirteen she is found to be in perfect balance, physically as well as mentally. She is a sophomore at Barnard. She dis- plays a keen sense of humor. And she has written a book which contains not second-hand ideas, but her own sharp observations, soundly ordered and set forth in lucid, graceful prose. The title of her book is “The Younger Generation.” R.J.W. comicbooks.com