Judge — December 1937 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

SANTA JOINS THE UNION By SCOTT CORBETT ITH a jingling and a clatter, with each tiny reindeer pulling for all he was worth, Santa drove on across the clean blanket of white snow and through the sparkling, dancing snowflakes to- ward his next stop. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, and he whistled and shouted, and called them by name: “Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! On! Comet, on! Cupid, on! Dunder and Blixen ° “Hey, Buddy! Just a minute!” “Eh?” Santa pulled his eight tiny rein- deer to a stop and gazed with unper- turbed surprise at the group of men who barred his way. “Ho! Merry Christmas, my friends! What is it?” “Yeh, Merry Christmas to you, too,” said one of the men, and then got down to business. “Let's see your card.” Santa blinked. “Card?” “Sure. Your union card. You ain't got one, have you? We heard some guy was driving around in a sled with a load of toys, and we knew you weren't in the union, so we came out to look for you.” “What union are you talking about?” asked Santa, completely puzzled. “The Toy-Maker’s Union, Local No. 4961," the spokesman for the group re- plied with elaborate and slightly sarcastic patience. “The union says you can’t de- liver these toys without a card.” “What?” roared Santa, feeling sud. denly angry at the presumptuousness of any mere mortal trying to tell him what he could or could not do. Then his anger left him as quickly as it had come, and he chuckled. He had a broad face and a little round belly that shook, when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly. “Cackle all you want to, Gran'pa,” said one of the union men, “but you ain't delivering no more toys without a card.” Still chuckling to himself, Santa con. sidered. His eyes how they twinkled! his dimples how merry! his cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry. There were several things he could do. He could vanish into thin air, for instance, and leave these men standing there with their eyes popping out of their heads. Or he could summon a score of his little helpers out of the winds and have them chase the men home, cuffing and pinching them every inch of the way. However, this was Christmas Eve; besides, he was curious \4 to know more of this union business. “How do I get one of these cards?” he asked. The union men relaxed. “Now you're talking,” said one. “Well, to join the union will cost you $20:and then $2.50 dues a month.” “T see.” Santa nodded unconcernedly. “Very well, I'll join right now.” “Right now?” echoed the men, sur- prised. “Certainly. Right here, right now. “Well . . .” They looked at one an. other uncertainly. “Well, I guess you could sign him up, couldn't you, Joe?” Joe studied a moment. “Don't see why not. I haven't any regular card here, but we can fix up some kind of temporary one, I guess. That ought to be all right with Rumplemeyer, long’s we get the dough.” s¢ HO'S Rumplemeyer?” — asked Won, “Mean to say you ain't heard of Rumpy? He's our top man! Why, he's practically a right-hand man of Lewis himself.” “Lewis?” Joe snorted. “Now I suppose you're going to tell us you don't know John L, Lewis is the head of C.1.0.?" The men had a good laugh at this. Meanwhile, Joe got out a foun- tain pen and searched for paper. “Anybody got any paper?” The best anybody could do was an old envelope. From the sleigh Santa obligingly brought forth a blackboard for use as a writing-stand, and Joe sat down on the step of the little sleigh, with one of the men holding a flashlight over him, and prepared to organize Santa. “What's your name, pal?” “Claus. S. Claus.” The men laughed. “Swell name for a toy-maker—practi- cally the same as Santa Claus,” said one. “I guess that’s what gave you the idea for this classy delivery outfit.” “Sure a neat little job,” said another. “Must have set you back a nice piece of change, all right. Where'd you ever get these little reindeer?” Santa smiled broadly. “They came with the outfit.” Joe looked up. “And now, Claus, about the dough—” “Oh, yes,” said Santa. “I'll get it right away. How would, say, twenty, and five for my first two months’ dues, do?” “Swell!” said Joe. “Shows confidence in the organization. Yessir, that would be okey-doke, Clausic.” “Just call me Nick,” said Santa. He thought for a moment, deciding where he wanted the money to come from, and once again his eyes twinkled and his dimple was merry; and again, once again, his little round belly shook, when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly. Holding out his hand, he snapped his fingers, and two tens and a five appeared between them. The union men looked on with amusement and admiration. “Sleight-of-hand stuff, huh, Nick?” asked someone. When the matter was finally settled, Santa inspected his eight tiny reindeer, and prepared to leave. “So long, Nick! See you at the hall!” cried his new comrades. Santa smiled at this. He feared he would not be able to attend any meetings at the hall. “Goodby!” he cried. Then he sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle; and away they all flew like the down of a thistle. And then, as the men watched, the sleigh seemed to rise off the ground —you couldn't quite be sure, on account of the snowflakes falling so fast and so big, and of course it was just an optical illusion; but it was a funny thing. The little old coot in that little sleigh of his looked so merry and so—so kind and all —just like you always imagined Santa Claus when you were a kid —that a funny feeling came over the whole bunch of them. And all of a sudden they waved their hats at him, and sent up a ringing shout: “Goodby, Santa!” And they heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight!” Christmas Day was somewhat marred for Mr. John L. Lewis, for when he rose that morning he found that during the night some thief had sneaked in, heaven knows how, and had stolen twenty-five dollars from his wallet. Judge comicbooks.com