Judge — September 21, 1929 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

“But that’s the climax,” TD re- monstrated weakly, “It's the hig—” “T don’t care,” said Whitmore firmly. “Of course, this is a new game to me, but even writing shout things like that is ge >a lot of women who are left n the evenings.” “That’s a fact. Whit,” nodded Davis. “I felt the same way, though I mightn’t have recog- nized it quite so clearly. People get enough sensationalism in the daily papers as it is. Yes," he turned to me, “I'd certainly re- write that, old man, if you don’t mind my saving so, “Of course I don’t. What other situation did you have in mind?" “We-ll,”” Davis squinted at the ceiling, “of course I'm not a writer, so I can only see it as an ordinary Jayman, but I'd- sug- gest" “T've got it! exclaimed Whit- more, around his cigar. “Make this guy Fred a baker, instead of » mechanic. Then you can have the crook hide in his bakery at night and get his arm torn off in the dough mixer while he's trying to escape! I read about something like that in the news paper a couple of weeks ago.” “But,” L began— “Sure,” bed Davis. “That's more like it. I'd keep him out of the apartment, at any cost. Or you could have him run over by a taxicab, sent up to Sing-Sing, eseape and reform, and wind up by saving that other bird's life with a blood transfusion.” “But,” I said hopelessly, “what's the sense of th: got to have some sort of a pattern for even a short story, Ted.” There you go, getting techni- at’s out trying Hell, you'd be just as much at sea before a stock board, now, wouldn't you?” “I'd be sunk—I wouldn't even come up three times.” “There you are,” he cried tri- umphantl. nd let me tell you this—a stock board is one of the most complicated things in the world. It takes years even to (Continued on page 32) JUDG “Help! Murder, mayhem, arson, assau!t and battery!” “Aha! So you suspect foul play?”