Judge — July 13, 1929 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

JUDGE DOES YOUR LUGGAGE SHAME YOU? 7 | SHOULD HAVE INVESTED IN A? LOLDIARB TRAVEL TRUNK THOUGHT ‘FRED WITH BURNING EARS: The next selection of the Feinberg Furriers will be “Doing the Raccoon—and the Customer.” (Note—There are no harps | in this orchestra.) “Deep breathing, you understand, kills mi- crobes,” chirped a chirurgeon. “But, Doctor, how can I compel them to breathe deeply?” fluttered Miss Ingalls. Aw, gee, sergeant, the darn cartridge-belt keeps sliding over my hips! Ring arrangement to keep the fighters from laying down or running away. Gives the fight follower his money’s worth. JUDGING BOOAS [> his early he gave of his pennies to God; later God returned them—with interest. Such is the parable for the good little business man underlying John K. Winkler’s tremendously absorbing biography, A Portrait in Oils. plete” book: lac pictures newspaperman’s vision, we're nevertheless thankful to Herr Winkler for what there is. He's let unholy, irreverent light through the gla do blur sur- rounding the silent, shrivelled Oc- topus of Pocantico Hills. His intentions are good; if his execu- tion is wanting. What a Rover Boy story the Vampire of Oil's would inake. Born to a beer-slogging, sharp- dealing quack doctor by a puritan mama, John the art of nny-pinching in the cradle. F poor, he mixed hymns and nickel-squeezing through his teens. Followed the feverish crescendo of the years of Napoleonic mil- ing, the rapacity of I've given even Attila Then the calm after this rape of business, with nt salving of conscience y mockery of scientific philanthropy. ‘Thus into old age, with its golf and numeri nn-shouting, dime-throwing: e in the assurance of a life I spent and in two descendants able to carry the billions far in the future Without dropping a cent. Surely a life that makes Arat Nights look as tame bedtime story. Unquestion a story to be engraved on a dime. We like Booth Tarkington's oung Mrs, Greeley,” a sharp, readable story of how a certain missus minded her breadwinner's p's and q's; Jessie L. Rickard’s “The at Club,” the week's best mystery thriller, done a la “One-a-Minute” Oppenheim Phillips Russell's “Red T a thousand and one adventures among the Mayas of Southern Mexi a thrilling evening for jous_ traveler, —Trp Suanr. comicbooks.com