Judge, 1930-10-25 · page 11 of 36
Judge — October 25, 1930 — page 11: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "The Essex Society Hounds" Satire Explained This humorous article by Jack Cluett mocks upper-class fox hunting traditions among wealthy New Jersey elites. The author satirizes the pretension and absurdity of the sport: riders care more about social status than actual hunting; horses do the real work while riders often fall off; and the "fox" is frequently already dead, purchased from a butcher. The cartoons reinforce the jokes—one shows a judge at his desk while a doctor boasts about referrals (likely mocking professional self-promotion in high society), and another depicts a chiropractic student injured from a hunting accident, exemplifying the physical hazards these "society editors" endure. The satire targets how wealthy Americans used fox hunting as performance for social climbing, complete with staged rituals, elaborate dress codes, and press coverage—ultimately revealing the whole enterprise as pretentious theater rather than genuine sport.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
The Essex Society Hounds By Jack Cluett [™ going out to Far Hills, N. J, today and take in the Essex Fox Hounds even if it kills me. If I'm lucky enough to get a fox you'll never hear the end of it. If I miss out I'm “ to Gunther's cold-storage house and pick one out. It seems the idea of fox hunting is when somebody blows a bugle a lot of horseback rid stop drinking and dash through New Jersey in red coats ind derby hats. The person that jumps over the most number of fences is considered the best fox hunter, pro- vided his horse jumps over with him. In other words, if you go over a fence and leave your horse on the other side to graze you're considered a third of «a ghost. As I understand it, the horses don’t give a rap about the fox at all. If they see the fox first, it’s their business to keep their mouth shut ind wait for the hounds; and if the hounds see the fox first, they're sup- posed to stop and point, which I think shows lousy breeding. All the riders have to do is stop and pick up their wounded comrades. If you happen to be out picking berries and see a fox, you've got to sneak back and tell the M. F. H. that seen a fox. Then he organizes JUDGE “And I want you to know, Doctor, that I think you've been wonderful and I hope all my friends get sick so I can recommend you to them.” are sent out the fox has been caught in a trap and is around some woman's neck, hanging onto its tail with an au- tomatic clamp arrangement. MeTimes, after a rider has been thrown, the hounds mistake him for a fox with a broken leg and a derby hat and chase him the hell and gone up a tree. When the other hunters gather around for the “Kill” you're supposed to shout down at them: CorresponpeNce StupeNt or Curropractic—There, now, Dad, that’s as far as I can go until the mail comes with my nest lesson. 9 “Hey, dummy—I'm not the fox! The fox has run on over into Pennsyl- vania.” Then the hunt is abandoned, toasts are drunk, and the Radnor Hunt Club is notified that it’s their turn to drive the quarry over into Ohio. The hunters, however, are never disappointed, because it is the duty of the M. F. H. to collect the hounds to- gether after the hunters have knocked down all the fences in New Jersey, and toss a piece of steak into their midst. The hounds yelp, the M. F. H. blows a bugle, rushes in and brings out the much coveted brush, which is usually an old whiskbroom died red. This is thrown to the riders who scramble around for it and yelp until a toast is proposed. Then the horses are put in a moving van and shipped to Radnor, Pa. No hunt is complete without a pack of society editors—just as no hunt would be complete without ice and lemons. The society editors start off with the hounds and when they scent one of the 400 coming over a fence (head first) they lift their forepaw and bay. If there’s mud on the rider, they laugh and wag their cameras. This is called the run to cover or covey. Personally, I like snipe hunting much better, even if you don’t chase them on horses. comicbooks.com