Judge, 1930-07-05 · page 6 of 40
Judge — July 5, 1930 — page 6: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "The Love Racketeer" by S. J. Perelman This page contains the opening of a humorous short story about a narrator who enters a romantic entanglement. The narrative describes visiting a country club where he meets "Red" Harvey and encounters a woman named Rhoda Trotwood, who is involved with someone named Warren. The accompanying cartoons below depict exaggerated caricatures of men in formal wear engaged in slapstick situations—one man gesturing dramatically, another appearing to stumble, and a third figure on what appears to be a seesaw. The final caption mocks a customer furious about the shine on his blue serge pants, satirizing petty consumer complaints and dry-cleaning disputes. The humor targets both romantic entanglements and trivial service industry grievances.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
The Love Racketeer By S. J. Perelman [ sate always remember the first night Rhoda Trot- wood came into my life. It was one of those warm trop- 1 evenings just made for *, and everybody in the was listless. I was over my punch- n I looked up to see Red” Harvest and “Buck” ‘Tooth standing over me. “Let's knock off work and go to the dance in the Coun- try Club, Warren,” suggested *Red" impetuously. “I can't work on these warm, tropical evenings just made for love!” In the twinkling of an eye we were off, with our hair streaming in the wind. It seemed but a moment before we were mingling in the gay thro’ which was rending homage to the ( dess of the Dance. The muted cl nets ebbed sweet pain in the flowering night. I thought vaguely of similar nights on the Prado Havana... the fringed mantone of a bronzed A dalusian dancing girl . . barbaric shawl e which one saw th conquistadores . . a bright hed in vermilion, in ntire history of the the powdered Joseph Hergesheimer ... bored planters on the Bund in Shanghai. Smoking a cigarillo in the shoulders of “Do as I say, Grimes—I will assume the responsibility!” patio, I felt Inez Pettibone’s hand on my shoulder. “Warren, I want you to meet Rhoda Trotwood,” she st *“Rhod, is Warren Factions. vividly, in the shrubbery alone to face with this was Mrs. Trotwood, the wealthy young widow of whom I had heard so much! I bent low over her hand and drank in her beauty. She wore white, some sheer frothy material, which fell in bewitching curves to her trim ankles. In a few minutes we were gone, ving me face wood tentions, showered me exchanging confidences; she told me that she loved dainty underthings and alw moved in an aura of he trope. I was beside mysclf with passion, and, reckless of consequooms, would have risked death for a kiss from this undefiled camelia. “And you?” asked, ing a small bag of sweets I told her of my in the cannery, of my dreams of a college education. “You shall go to Rollins College,’ she decided. “Meanwhile — you Me be my secretary this summer, with a little dirt-farming thrown in.” she Several days later I moved into her big white house on the hill. My duties were not irksome, and Mrs. Trot- with small at- She decorated my room with a cool green rug and hot yellow cur ns of a receding chintz. I was always sure to find a dish of gossoon pudding, a glass of milk or something of that ilk when I came home eve- nings. the ice-box, I Often richly of st pie served butler, As my room happened to be was not surprised. we dined together and ate ned clamps and humble y Grimes, her obsequious Then we loitered, arm in arm, (Continued on page 32 “HEY, TAKE THE SHINE OFF MY BLUE SERGE PANTS!” EXPLODED THE INCENSED Don’t mind that horticulturist yelling, dear; full many a florist is born to bluster unseen. CUSTOMER “They tell me the building inspector condemned that mausoleum,” remarked the.senior member of Sacklaw and Asher, Mod- ernistic Morticians. Sacklaw. “How come, babe?” grilled Asher. And if that car doesn’t develop fifty horsepower, I'll return your Stutz fee. “Aw 4 , there were no fire-escapes on it!” snickered comicbooks.com