Judge, 1928-05-26 · page 22 of 36
Judge — May 26, 1928 — page 22: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains two satirical pieces mocking sentimental songwriting and artistic pretension in 1920s America. **"Letters from a Song Writer's Mother"** is a humorous column where a working-class mother writes to her successful songwriter son, sarcastically deflating his complaints about romantic heartbreak. She bluntly tells him he deserved it, notes he already has a wife, and suggests his problems don't warrant sympathy—least of all musical expression. The humor lies in her no-nonsense immigrant vernacular and her implication that professional songwriters exploit personal misery for profit and public sympathy. **The two cartoons** mock artistic vanity: one shows angels on the moon with a joke about menial labor; another depicts a furnished room full of chaos, captioning that boxers are now pursuing art, so boxing rings should become aesthetically refined. A final quip about traffic cops whistling at work suggests that ordinary people, unlike artists, don't complain about their jobs—a dig at artistic self-pity. The overall satire targets 1920s popular songwriting as exploitative emotionalism peddled by self-pitying entertainers.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Letters From a Song Writer’s Mother to Her Son By R. C. O'Brien Dear Semmy: I was surprised when I heard from the radio which Mrs. Gins- burg has got that you was broken- hearted on acc’t your gal threw you down. Papa was too. We thought you was happy and get- ting along OK and making plenty money, and anyhoe why should you worry because she threw you down. Maybe the gal was right. Maybe she found out you got a wife. It was your own fault any- way, and your complaining to music won't get you any sym- pathy in these quarters. We knew it was your fault. You shouldn't have got married in the first place unless you was sure, and that wasn’t so easy. Even me and Papa aren't’ sure yet. Me anyway. JUST KEEP SWEEPING THE COBWEBS Who is the fellow Jeem, what OFF THE MOON SAID THE CHIEF ANGEL youll your pal? Is he married too? Maybe the gal is worse off If you think I get a laugh out of writing these you're even with him. And maybe she’s a no crazier than I am. “My Gawd, what an awful toothache I ace’t anyhoe, and you are better have!” complained Mr. Which. “I had one yesterday,” said of ‘without ber,” Sé whe be Mr. When, “but I cured it by going home and letting the loving brokenshearted. If you ‘pots wife kiss me. Why don’t you do the same?” “T think I will— 5 is your wife at home now?” asked Which. “Mopey Dick” Perel- man they used to call him at the plant, have something to complain about come home and li with us. Papa's got rheumatism and can't work and that’s the only thing that makes him happy. Izzy is taking music lessons and says he is going to be a song writer like his big brother, Gawd forbid, Papa wants him to follow him in the pants pressing busi- ness, as he says people have gotta wear clothes all the time, but they can get along well enough with- out singing. In fact better. We haven't seen you in such a long time, why don’t you be like a picture actor and make a per- sonal appearance once in a while. If not, drop us a note some times it should be casy you are so musical, Your loving Mommer. The fact that the trafic cop Since champions are going in for art, we may expect the ring to whistles at his work doesn’t seem become more aesthetic in appearance too. to make him good-natured. comicbooks.com