Judge, 1929-11-02 · page 30 of 36
Judge — November 2, 1929 — page 30: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Judge, 1929-11-02. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
| eyes you envy Those eyes on the sereen that you so enviously admire owe much oft aty toMurine. it harm- lessly brightens their eyes and makes them look muchlarger. 60c at drug and dep’t stores. Somehow he coulda’t look well-groomed His clean finger nailsof the morning were a total loss by nova. But aot af terbebegan to use Gem, the handy pocket manicure that Keeps nails neat all day. Os 1S Cerrina aN pour ere Tne it. C £00k co. Co cixcs Earn Xmas ae The PRESIDENT Atlantic City’s Newest Boardwalk Hotel Offers for the Fall end Winter Season Single Rooms with Bath— From $28.00 weekly, European Plan Or $49.00 weekly, American Plaa Double Rooms with Bath— From $42.00 wee! Or $84.00 weekly, A: Sea Water Swimm Marine Deck—Concert ‘Oren tra Under the management of Charles D. Boughtow Judging the Shows (Continued from page 18) outdistances her rival and takes the lead. The Mlle. Cowl, in- deed, is so excessively cute that th idience momentarily fears she will lose her did She gur- gles like a soda-water tap; she flounces sweetly — hither and thither; she makes goo-goo ¢ * that the C Society have started to make in- quiries; she indulges in the dali moués; she flutters about the stage with an open palm pressed timidly inst her cheek; she makes ¢ \ kin movements with her fingers; she radiates a synthetic minxy charm; she plays sweetie, precious and snookums all over the place. she is so “your She is, in short, as cunning as hell. And, gentleman though I am, she gives me something of a pain in the deleted-by-the-editor. In this pain I do not scem to be alone, for I observe th colleagues on the daily have also had to lay in larg plies of liniment, Just why these women of mature years should wish to make monkeys of them- selves trying to pass themselves off as tender little tootsic-wootsies passes the understanding. Miss Cowl some years ago showed that she knew something about actin: A silly vanity has now reduced her to the level of a pathetic clown. The play in which she makes mock of her talents is not worth criticism, [7,55 sith @ fine feeling of re- lief that we turn from such pseudo-art and such affectation to the excellent, — straightforward humors of Ring Lardner’s and George Kaufman's “June Moon,” which I urge upon your attention as strongly as I bid you pause in the instance of the two other ex- hibitions. If you cherish an eve- ning of healthy fun, if you care to see the foremost American hu- morist and one of our most ex- pert theatricians in combined gala shape, if you want a couple of hours of ‘genuine hilarity, the Broadhurst Theatre is the stop for you. As a play, critically speaking, you won't’ find much, But if you are looking for jocos- ity de luxe, you'll find all you'll need. In addition, you'll see some very droll acting. | Norman Foster as the boob lyric-writer, Frank Otto as the tin-pan Chopin, Jean Dixon as the latter's sourly skeptical frau, Lee Patrick as the proficient coin-digger, and Harry Rosenthal — the most amusing of the lot—as the eynical accompanist, are perfectly cast. And for good measure there are two uncommonly decorative young ladies: Linda Watkins and Flor- ence Rice. An agricultural news item states that weeds cost the state f Wisconsin $47,000,000 a year. The state purchasing nt should be instructed to buy ¢ expensive kind of weeds. —Sovtuers Lumperman Doctor—I'm afraid | have bad news for you. You never will be able to work again. College Student—Whadda you mean, bad news? —Answens “Don't sign up for geology. I took the course and didn't like “What was the matte “Well, you can't sleep on rocks.” —Toroxto Gontin We often think it would be better to let the question of bear- ing arms go and ask the appli- cants for natu jon if they conscientious objections —Omo State Journat Two druggists were talking about one of their confreres who had just died. “He was a great druggist,” said one. “He was,” admitted the other. “But don’t you think he made chicken-salad a little —G. E, Tocreturr Solution of Last Week’s Puzzle TCT comicbooks.com