Judge — September 20, 1930 — page 20: what you’re looking at

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

\AIG. “Old Mauriel” Pur more the whiskers of age and 1 sprout from my venerable mental chops, the more I marvel at s of drinking Americans. In this instance I am reminded of the ues between New nd the Great American Oasis —Montreal. Most of the guzzlers who make the trip act as if they were a group of hungry lumbe free after two years in the woods in a tank town sporting three women. This is their itinerary. They enter a closed car from their apartment in New York. They travel fast and furious until they reach the desired haven. Here they disembark and make directly for a hotel room. Dis- patching bellboys on every occasion the Liquor Commissions open for business, they open up and raise y wahoo. Time comes for their Embroidered with han overs, they pile in their cars and shoot back to New York. Th have not sniffed a breath of during the whole journey nor inspected the quiet, nified city which rambles pleas- around the Canadian landscape. The laws of sensible, human drinking never have crossed the! minds. If this is fun, give me dearth! Why doesn’t someone get up a pneumatic tube for this group of frivolous drink- ers? Steel Rising! i you want to pick up a couple of hundred structural steel workers to acai Pe ian WeY- WHOODYA Tink YOU ARE, a SlPLIakT f/— WHADDYA MEAN WANA ‘i of ME, \ DONT f ENEN ‘Knowl wal G'WAN HWE s BADGE put up the skeleton for a Chrysler ‘Tower for you, the idea is to hop over to Atlantic Avenue subway 4 visit the little street island located i the midst of Brooklyn traffic at Times Plaza and Flatbush Avenue. Here they all congregate, the who raise the steel be: > boys who pat them in pla s who heat the rivets, the boys who catch them i the buckets and the boys who drop them. They can’t turn out steel fast enough for these lads and the result is not all of them are alw em- ployed. They all have nerves, too, and it is well known they usually down a couple of snorts before they wet out on those b lt 's the only way they can y, they tell you. is summar t with, is a matter of life and death. boys ly The uge life of a steel worker is not : it gets them. I suggested to one he ought go in for tight-rope walking instead of this business. He ned me with Vhattaya think I am—a pansy?” \T IS NOW LEGALTOBAWL OUT A TRAFFIC GP! 18 RIGHT HERE THe TI PNEUMATIC TUBE “1 MONTREAL'S “TAP Rooms f Hihatrocity I a little tired of reading thos: New Yorker encomiums of how gentle, courteous and witty thos: glorified gorillas, the New York taxi drivers, are. Here’s an instance of their thuggery. A ride from New York thru the Holland Tunnel to the beer-stubes of Hoboken is worth about -50 by meter. The taxi-boys will ask you if you'd like a € or the meter. If you take the meter—as you will—the driver will get you to Ho: boken and then calmly der % There is no fixed taxi rate and you are at their merey. If you cop, refuse to pay If you it and go home by airplane, per. Jersey, don't, F it’s ch Pullova Tathacoib! He most gratifying, tisfying, stummick-warming new I've read in a month of murders is the verdict handed down in this great, wonderful bolshevik city of New York that it is legal to bawl out a traffic cop. No more will “repartee be what you think of on the way home from a bawling out,” but it will be a thing of mighty shoutings back and forth with a load of fancy euphemisms thrown in for hot seasoning. Whe : dwen you boin!” my hand gowup?” ch you roar: “Yeah! I seenit! Ya hellit up afta I got haffway by ya. How wuz I goinna ‘stop tha cah? By runnin’ it inta ya, fat- And so on, Synoi mous (Continued on page 31) comicbooks.com