Judge — March 1937 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

Isn’t It Marvelous? “THAT'S SOMETHING by Bach they're playing, isn't it? Oh, I just love music like that, Mrs. Wifley! It’s so in. spiting and... and soothing. That part, now .. . How perfectly lovely! But that can’t be Bach . . . I think it's Beethoven. Yes, that's who it is, Beet- hoven, of course. I wonder if this is one of the things he composed after he went deaf. It was Beethoven who lost his hear- ing, wasn’t it? Or maybe Schubert. I be- lieve it was Schubert, after all. My, think of writing anything so beautiful and not being able to hear it played! You'll never know how glad I am I dropped over, Mrs. Wifley. It's wonderful to be able to listen to classical music for a change, or any kind of music, for that matter. My husband always tunes in some noisy swing stuff . . . Now, that part, Mrs. Wifley! Absolutely heavenly, isn’t it? And to be able to sit here in peace and quiet and enjoy a good concert! Hon. estly, Mrs. Wifley, my husband almost drives me crazy, the silly tunes he likes. And I'm just sick of this swing stuff, aren't you? Goodness, I never get a chance to tune in anything like this. And the children . . . well, they turn the radio on full blast and then pay no at- tention whatever to it, just keep on bab- bling and shouting . .. Mmmmm.. . Tah.tum.ta-ta-te-tum . . . Simply gor- geous, isn’t it? Sometimes I think I could sit back and listen to beautiful classical music like that forever. But I'll never get the chance at home. If there was concert by angels on the air my family would dial a jazz station and then start yelling at me from all over the house. You'll never know how fortunate you are, Mrs. Wifley, to be living alone and enjoying the things you like all by yourself. Ah, that melody is divine, simply divine! The other evening we had some station and it was broadcasting a beautiful number, but my husband's cousin was there . . . I don’t think you ever met him, did you? Well, anyhow .. . Oh, Mrs. Wifley! Really, you needn't have turned it off! It wasn’t bothering me a bit, really it wasn't! Why, I've been sitting here drinking in every note, I'm so starved for good music!” —CHET JOHNSON. v 553-10-2693 These figures on a card forecast é An old age spent in peaceful slumber; And let me know that now, at last, Uncle Sam has got my number! —W. B. FRANCE. v The man who invented the white stripe in the middle of the road has been given a medal. We understand the com- mittee is now searching for the fellow who stays on his side of it. March 1937 “He came in the coal this morning! Must have gone to sleep in the mine!” Call It Fashion Down with the stylists of Gay Paree Delving in tomes of antiquity. Down with designers that make us look Like the colored page of a history book. History's grand and fine in it's place, But . . . what's wrong with our present Year of Grace? My blouse with the dots is from Mary of Scots My coat has the new Princess shape. Topped off with the snap of a Robin Hood cap And worn with Napoleon's cape. My velveteen dress was designed for Queen Bess, My shoes are a little bit eerie. I'm sure they'd bewilder even Brunhilde Though they once shod her winged Valkyrie. I've been every old nation from Scotch to Dalmatian, My ski suit was filched from the Tyrol. And I'll surely go mental with mules Oriental Curling their toes in a spiral. So down with Harper's Bazaar and Vogue With their Cavalier boots when I ask for a brogue. Down with their fabulous fashion chit-chat That sells me a hillock instead of a hat. Go, you designers, go stew in your juices, I'm darned if I'll ape your historical whoosis. I don’t want to be foreign or classic or quaint. I want to be modern and—yes!—fresh as paint. What subway, I ask you, has half enough room For a curled Restoration ostrich plume? So please, dear designers, in the goodness of heaven Give us clothes dated °37. —GwyNeTH Evans KAHN. comicbooks.com