Judge, 1930-01-11 · page 4 of 36
Judge — January 11, 1930 — page 4: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis of Judge Page This page contains two unrelated pieces: **"Big Business"** (top): A satirical article mocking corporate expansion, suggesting that once a firm becomes large enough to call customers "clients," it considers itself among commercial giants. The accompanying cartoon shows a businessman with a painting, joking that while his stock portfolio has vanished, at least the artwork gives his basement "proper atmosphere"—likely referencing the 1929 stock market crash and resulting economic devastation. **"A Thumping Mystery Story"** (right): A humorous narrative by Hal Smith about a neighbor's increasingly elaborate piano playing. The accompanying cartoon grid shows repeated figures reading newspapers with mounting frustration, illustrating the escalating musical annoyance. The joke satirizes both intrusive neighbors and the neighbor's financial constraint—he can only play notes he's "paid for."
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Big Business You can feel your firm is truly great And among commercial giants As soon as you start to desi Your customers as “clients.” They can talk all they want about the climate in California and Florida, but Chicago is always bomby too. A few suggestions for mergers that would really amount to something: the Notre Dame football squad and the Pennsylvania Railroad; the de tors and the apple growers; the Daily Graphic and the New York Times; “My private stock may be all gone, but this painting by Bilkins at Senator Borah and the G. O. P least gives my basement the proper atmosphere.” A Thumping Mystery Siory Thad been annoyed night new next-door neighbor's} shouldn't have minded it so much had he played something tuneful, but his idea of music seemed to be a sort of thumping on only four notes, first one. then another, more or less rhythmic, I'll grant you, but not music. The very next night I heard him in, and he seemed to be expanding tions on not only four but eight notes—awfully weil done, I suppose, if one cared for that sort of thing, but I didn’t. This new stage of progress con- tinued for a week, and then came an- other change. My virtuoso was now playing on no less than twelve notes four more than on the previous week! Curiously I awaited further devel- opments. The beginning of the next week there burst upon my conscious- ness the sound of rippling, rolling ar- peggios, chasing each other up and down the scale—to be qui ot, two seales—sixteen notes. The maestro had added four more notes to his repertoire. Now here was a mystery, if there ever was one, and with all my sleuth- like tendencies and detec instinets tushing to the fore, I decided to ask the service maid, who takes care of all the apartments, if she could throw any light on this mysterious mus| Which she did. The fellow, it seems, was a bit too much on the fair-play side. Conscience and that sort of thing leaned over backwards so far he almost fell. Anyway, he had just bought the piano on weekly terms— and only permitted himself to play on the notes he figured he'd paid for each week! —Hat Ssurn comicbooks.com