Judge, 1928-02-18 · page 9 of 36
Judge — February 18, 1928 — page 9: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis of Judge Magazine Page The top cartoon satirizes bureaucratic departments handling "special interests"—likely referencing government agencies or corporate divisions that ostensibly serve particular constituencies but function as mere filing systems. A woman inquires about the "Special Interest Department," and an official directs her to windows labeled "Receiving" and "Paying," suggesting these departments merely process complaints without meaningful action. Below are three unrelated pieces: "His Race" is a humorous short story about apartment tenants speculating on a janitor's ethnicity (Swedish, Polish, German, Greek) before discovering he's Eskimo—the joke playing on the phrase "Greek to me" (meaning incomprehensible) and the reveal's absurdity. "The Materialist" is a romantic poem where the speaker, rejected by his lover, adopts a pragmatic tone—he won't be a philosophical Stoic or Cynic about heartbreak, but simply asks for the return of gifts he gave her.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
JUDGE “Is this the Special Interest Department?” “Yes, Miss.” “Well—iisten His Race There has been some conjec- ture among the tenants of our apartment house concerning the janitor’s nationality. Everybody knew from the start he was a foreigner. Some thought him Swedish or Polish or German. Some suspected him of being a Greek, because whenever he spoke to a tenant, which was something he seldom con- descended to do, what he said was Greek to that worthy. Of course nobody had the nerve to ask him what he was, although upon occasion some did venture to tell him what they thought he was. This was usually when he exceeded his authority. His complexion is dark, as are the looks he sometimes gives people, although the former may be from working in the cellar. But it was not until this winter that his nationality or race was discovered. He’s an Eskimo. —R.C. O. Graterut Party—If I had quit this job yesterday and gone with the sewing machine company, thank God this wouldn’t have happened to me. If I were a Stoic I'd laugh at the air With which you politely pre- sent me— I'd swallow my grief with a for- titude rare, Returning the letters you sent me. If I were a Cynic my words would be tart Regarding the whimsical Cupid— Myself, who had trusted the feminine heart, I'd label intolerably stupid. But Stoic nor Cynic I never could be And since I have failed to en- slave you— We'll always be friends if you'll send back to me The numerous knick-knacks I gave you. —Epwin Rutt