Judge — February 27, 1932 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

Go South, Young Man, Go South! Np so, it having come time to do such things, I filled my rusty Rolls-Ruff full of vitamines, pointed her nose south, and was off thru the Holland Tunnel. Away from the land of gloomy innards to the country of papayas, brassitre bathing suits, and, pardon me, sunshine, I must apologize immediately to my Social Registered readers for choosing my second car for the trip. When I explain that the sheriff has been chauf- feuring the Hispano for some time now, I'm sure they'll understand. Be- sides, the purpose of the trip was to see if it was possible to be High Hat on the silver standard. The first thing I recall on emerging from the Holland Tunnel was a heavy London fog which settled quite veniently on the Jersey meadows. Neatly blotting out the scent of swamp juice, and the rusty old Model- ly encounters—not to nost unlovely scenery this side of the average Minsky burlesque. This kept me busy (thinking is a wonderful thing), and before I knew it I had escaped from Jersey passed thru Philadelphia con- Ts one us mention the and without XO Like TO MEET HER, JUDGE knowing it to congratulating myself for the lucky coup. I know I passed thru Phila delphia, because later I found several messengers carrying ads to the Sateve- post clinging to my fenders. Plus several Confederate soldiers who had come to Phila. because of hard times in the South, hoping to be shot as Postmen—or however that joke goes. A Baltimore I was able to satisfy an old curiosit wondered why all New York off-the- arm places termed Baltimore Lunch. Well, sir, I'll be switched if it ain't no phoney! For Baltimore is simply fecund with lunchrooms. There are blocks and blocks solid with them, of which Hasslingers’ is the most famous. Nobody takes break- fast, tiffin, or dinner in Baltimore. He takes lunch, three times a day. So, full of a Baltimore lunch which con- sisted of raw oysters, cooked oysters and oyster pie, I sped on to Washing- ton, the Dead City, to spend the night at the Willard, the Hoovers not ex- pecting me. UNDAY morning, Congress was. sleeping off its Saturday night as I drove around, so I was not tempted to ‘ run down any people's choices, as they darted hither and thither mailir seeds or carrying pork barrels. I did see one old, bleary-eved codger nest ling in an ash can, and was told it was a Democrat who was ing around for his party to come in so's he could get a postoffice appointment in Sib bernsen, Neb. Anyway, after one sight of those beautiful government buildings, I sud denly understood how political ambi tions come to the subnormal American who wants a career without work. The buildings were ever so. re college ones; and the around them so redolent of college life—going to Washington on the peo- ple's money must be a little like going to Yale on Dad's. Once ensconced within a ctately marble hall, no one would think further of performing usefully, anymore than he'd think of applying himself to his books at collegiate country club, (Am I bitter! iniscent of mosphere craving for scrambled eggs in the new mown hay swhere I stopped I witnessed hon — spine-sitting : great trucks kept rushing loads of Coco-Cola to parched — southern comicbooks.com