Judge, 1936-02 · page 10 of 36
Judge — February 1936 — page 10: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "Mistress Pepys' Journal" - Analysis This is a society gossip column mimicking Samuel Pepys' famous diary, written by Baird Leonard for *Judge* magazine. The January 1936 entries humorously chronicle upper-class complaints and observations. The content satirizes wealthy leisure-class anxieties: unpaid bills, medical ailments (the author's foot cast), Christmas gift-giving etiquette, and social hierarchies. References to "rich relatives who give you a dictionary" mock miserly gift-giving among the wealthy. The small cartoon shows golfers frustrated by weather, linking to "The First Round"—a dialogue where men discuss being stuck golfing on a poor day, longing to escape to better courses. The satire targets the genteel boredom and petty concerns of the leisure class during Depression-era America. The Pepys parody format allows *Judge* to mock society's self-absorption through mock-serious documentation of trivial domestic drama.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Judge Mstress Pepys’ Journal By Baird Leonard ANUARY 2.—Reading in the public prints that tl ed over ours, which always strikes me as approaching the national debt in mag- All the morning gone in reading over our Christmas ecards and filing them awa thousand dollars, [Iw what ch nitude. and my favorites are the poem with the following Synonyms and antiphlogistines as I stood on the wrote special for me by Jimmy Cooley prologue: porch of Broad Hollow House on New Year's Eve, 1935, In the distance I could see the flashing lights of the great city of Old Westbury, and because of the flood of light I could see the figures of Mussolini, Hitler, Haile Selassie (or is it ie), and the receding chin of Carol of Rou- mania, walking ough the Plaza.” Also the photograph from the Randolph Rays of the altar in the Little Church Around the Corner where Sam and [ were married, and the verse from Katherine Haviland Taylor of York, Pennsyl- vania, of which the first stanza went: Limited pigs, and potatoes, too! And who buys books? And what to do? But here's the cheering fact, hey, hey! No can limit Christmas day! What Sam and I sent out this year was not so caloric, but I was on a couch of pain and Sam was shooting quail n in Florida, so the best I could think of was: Christmas tin Give the g 3 ip the hallboys with a cheer. Do your best by food and drink, Go the Yuletide pace that kills, Revel, and try not to think Of your January bills. But Lord! { am thinking of my bills, and I do hope tnis new year will rid me of the Ors me during the past ¢ r my chief nightmare t present is that my foot is back in aster cast, but Dr. ott tells me that [am almost whole of my malady dT may shortly be entirely so if I do not act like Luc I sit « nd nurses who were so necessary t Mus when n to meals. ANUARY 3.—Early up and at the journals, and T was pleased to see that William Soskin has » discovered the little English book which has long been one of my main delights, “The Perfect Hostess,” by Rose Henniker Heaton, and I have never forgotten that she admonished women never to marry a man who did not eat a good breakfast and stated that early risers were conceited in the morning and stupid in the afternoon, Puttin way my Christmas pres- ents this day, and albeit all are charming, my favorites are cellarette from Cousin B, and Worth and own from Cousin F., for the latter has a long train which makes me feel like the Duchess of Suther land, or somebody, T would willingly match it against nything in the wardrobes of Mrs. Harrison Willis or Lady Mendl. Sam, the old zany, after hearing me joke all my life about rich relatives who give you a dictionary for Christmas when you are expecting at least a rose diamond hilariously with The 1 the Sherato k ts evening g brooch or bracelet, did present’ me Columbia Encyclopedia, but [ confounded him by becoming rbed in it that he was at some pains to g this night in the poems of Lizette Woodworth Reese, who died recertly, a great loss to poetry, and I do think her sonnet “Tears” one of the most be: ful in our language, and was horrified to find a bad typographical error in it, and had [ been she, [ should have and prootreader, so ab: t me to an- swer a civil question. Readi gone down and shot the publi The First Round 66Q OY, oh boy, whatta day, whatta day! Wouldn't I like to be out of here sockin’ ‘em down the old course on an afternoon like this! Some fellows are just naturally lucky being able to get out there on the fairways anytime they want to.” “You said a mouthful, John, It sure is an ideal d. out, I'll bet those greens are in perfect condition by this time, too. Not too wet, not too dry, not too rough.” “Yes, sir, [ think I could sink a couple of fifteen foot putts myself if I had the chance.” “And can’t you imagin old number eight fairway “And a perfect hook around that woods on seven! “Darn it, it certainly makes me sore, us two stuck here in this little hole on a beautiful afternoon like this, while those other lucky guys are out there on the course.” “LIL tell you what, let's sneak out. Nobody will see us get out of here if we're careful.” to be a long low drive zooming down “Okay. There's no use of our spending all afternoon trying to play out of this damn sand trap. We'll just la on the edge of the fairway them out and start all over again. —Scott Brown. comicbooks.com