Life — March 15, 1923 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

The Mother Tongue JE (my wife and I) are West- erners born and bred, and we wish it understood that the West is good enough for us. Occasionally, however, we like to take a trip to New York to see a few good plays, our theory being that New York is a delightful place to visit, although, of course, we wouldn’t live there for anything. The last time we went, we decided not to bother with the opera, because it is sung by foreigners in various foreign languages, and we _ think that America for Americans is a goo! enough motto for anybody. So we went to a theatre. The electric sign said that the name of the play was, “Vladislav Tscher- ensky’s Droshky.” “It sounds rather Russian,” said my wife to the man in te box office. “Is it in English?” “No, madam,” said the man, “it is in Russian.” \Ve went to another theatre. The sign said: “Yiddish Players in Rep- ertory.” We did not bother the man in the box office there. But the next re looked more promising— Oui, Suzanne.” Frivolous, per- haps. but intelligible. Several specula- tors had tickets for sale. I asked one of them: “Is it in English?” He said: “Nah, French.” That evening we went to a movie, and later, at the hotel, we asked to have some good plays recommended. “Well,” said the man who sold eatre tickets, “the big successes are the Czecho-Slovak plays, the Impe- tial Chinese Players, and the German company that is putting on ‘East Lynne’ in the original Plattdeutsch.” We determined that the next even- ing we would go to the first theatre we came to, regardless, hoping for the best. We did so. Not until we were seatvd and looked at the program did we have the least intimation of what the play would be like. The program said: Stil’, by Eugene O’Neill.” “'t sounds like English,’ I said hopefully. ‘The curtain rose. Two men were on the stage. One of them said to the other: “You — —, if it wasn’t for the — — police, by — —, I’d blow the whole — — works.” The second man said: “Oh, — —!” _ Thank God,” said my wife, “it is English |” Saks “The Big “I thought, Mrs. Brown, that you couldn’t stand cigarettes.” “They make me frightfully ill. But I smoke occasionally when the children are looking, so they won't have to call me old-fashioned.” ; The Internationalist E spoke with pride as a su- perior soul, “T am an Internationalist said he, “No pent-up Utica of native land Commands allegiance of my heart and hand, Iam not thrilled by any flag unfurled Unless it be the flag of all the world, Nationless, free.” “An Internationalist,” I slow replied. “Nations I know, and ‘inter’ is be- tween, But in between the nations, on the map, There is no room for any one, poor chap, Their borders touch; still, if you so hate slaughter, might be water, At sea, I mean. You International—in “When nations, as our states have done, unite, Each seeing the advantage due to him, A Federated World grow, By natural laws which we already know, But if no native land you can endure, And this adopted one you find so poor— Go swim! Go swim!” will slowly C. P. G. comicbooks.com