Judge, 1932-03-05 · page 11 of 36
Judge — March 5, 1932 — page 11: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "Judge" Page Analysis This appears to be a humorous short story about children on an outing, rather than political satire. The narrative involves young people spelling words competitively—a parlor game—with adult judges including figures identified as "Brooks," "Groucho," "Walter," and others. The satire targets **theatrical people and their pretensions**: The story mocks Broadway personalities (the references to "Fanny Fontanne" and performance teams suggest theatrical circles) who take themselves seriously while children play innocent word games around them. The bottom illustration's caption—"the only reason I took this hunting trip was to forget the market!"—satirizes the financial preoccupations of the era, likely referencing stock market anxieties. The closing reference to "Harpo Marx" (the silent comedian) pursuing "the fourth from the left" is self-aware comedic randomness typical of Judge's absurdist humor. Overall: lighthearted satire of theatrical vanity and urban financial worry, not political commentary.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
“I say, to hell with it,” said little Hope Williams, casually. “Miss Westley! Miss Westley!” shouted Brooks Atkinson, hopping up and down like a little boy who has to xo to the boys’ room, “Percy stuck Fanny Fontanne in the Lynn with a pin!” “} {ov your tongue, you litth—” cricd Miss Westley, just eateh- ing herself in time. “If I am to hear sbout it at all, it should be from Fanny, 1 mean from Lynn.” For you must know that while Walter's team play- fully called Brooks “The Little Schoolmaster,”” Groucho's team called him, “The Little SoandSo.” “And now, Master Howard, ‘hippo- potamus,’ if you plea “H-i-p, hip, — 1 er Teufel soll dich holen! What I wish myself should fall on you? I wish myself a house!” cried staunch little Leslie, tears springing to his eyes at the in- ity of it all. shricked every mus- “Down the lane is coming Al gel wit Lillian Shade wit a new tandem bicycle! Oh boy, oh boy And soon the newcomers were sur- rounded by the group of laughing children, ‘I'l take Al—you take the gel, Groucho,” shouted Walter. “AL Siegel's better, Ahl Siegel ” murmured Groucho, appr ou are just in time to spell ‘lily’ JUDGE “Now, Admiral, Master said Miss It’s been spelled with two Siegel,” new act better than B’s, I ask you?” “Marvelous, Al! Best act ever seen on the Big Time! Best thing you ever did! Stopped the show! Won- derful!” shouted Groucho’s team mates, knowing what was expected of them. “Oh, to hell with your Act!” shouted Hope and Miss Westley, in “Gosh! And the only reason I took this hunting trip was to forget the market!” no wig-wagging!” perfect fifths. “Let's get back to our play,” added Miss Westley, blushing prettily for having so far forgotten herself. Il us, Master Grantland, if you please, how to spell ‘blurb’.”” “B uike in Blue, was the haze this 9 afternoon that floated over the Yale Bowl; L, like in Lengthening, the shadows of purple and prussian blue as the sun sank, triumphant still, into the golden west; U, like in Unheeding, the mighty blue engine; R, like in Running, ruthlessly over a gallant but hopelessly outclassed brood of clax- less tigers; B, like in Before, a capac- 1 of 80,000," muttered little nd Rice, his hands protecting t an outery there then, children! I am obliged to say that Alee filled his toy bank in short order, “Children! Children!” cried Miss Westley, finally ing herself heard above the din, Ve should thank Grantland for reminding us. It really is time to go home.” It was a quiet but happy group of young folk that drove slowly home in Farmer Broun’s hay wagon, leav the meadow to its ustomed silence. Did the meadow miss, perhaps, the jolly sound of children’s voices? Who shall say? The sun dropped, the dew fell, the first faint stars began their twinkling. Now nothing broke the stillness—save in the dim distance, the che sputter of Harpo Marx’s motorey as he ruthlessly pursued the fourth from the left (if memory serves) from “Of Thee I Si —Freverick O. A was comicbooks.com