Judge, 1929-06-08 · page 22 of 36
Judge — June 8, 1929 — page 22: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page presents a sentimental story about an old automobile named Pontiac Bess, told in exaggerated Southern dialect. A nostalgic narrator reminisces about his sister's beloved car—a "Grade 'A'" vehicle that heroically transported their sick sister to a doctor during a storm, then collapsed and had to be shot, sacrificing itself to save the child's life. The satire targets **anthropomorphization of automobiles** and the romantic attachment people develop to cars. By treating a Pontiac with quasi-religious reverence (the car "understood," chose to help), Judge mocks both the automobile industry's marketing and Americans' sentimental over-investment in machines during the early automotive era. The heavy dialect and rural setting likely amplify the humor—contrasting rustic simplicity with modern technology. The closing dismissal of "stinkwagons" (modern cars) suggests nostalgia for older, "better" vehicles, poking fun at how quickly automotive preferences shift.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
JUDGE “Are those Grade ‘A’ Marse Abbey’s Grandson Follows in His Footsteps “Cravin’ yoh pawdon, seh? Yes, she is a right smaht little roadsteh, seh. But, Lawd—yo" should have seen her mammy—ol’ Pontiac Bess. Daid black, she was, seh, with a blazin’ white stah on her radiateh front. Purty? Bless yo" haht, strainjuh. We used to gatheh flowehs, my little sisteh an’ I, an’ twine ‘em in heh J wheel. 2. . “Yes, seh, thishya’s heh filly. A right smart little trick, but they’s a lot fo’ heh to luhn. Still Takes nussin’, strainjuh, nussin’ an’ knowled, to handle old Bess’ strain. H geared, seh, all of ‘em... . “Old Bess? No, seh, we-all lost old Bess when my little sisteh was took with the typhoid feveh. jest like one of If y’ could have only n heh, rollin’ up so soft while we all were at dinnah, stickin’ heh haid-lights th’ough th’ open win- cows?” duh of th’ dinin’-room, beggin’ fo’ a lump o° sugah, o' a quaht o° jad oil. ... Well, when my little sisteh took sick of th’ typhoid feveh, my fatheh said they was only one thing te do—drive up the mounting fo’ the doeteh. Lawd, seh, it was a wild night rainin’ an’ blowin’ and th’ tin streams ovehrunnin’ th road. But fatheh said, ‘It’s fo little Goldie’s life, Bess * Bess she sort of quivered an’ throbbed all th’ough heh blessed old mech anism like she understood. She evied fatheh right enough though that rain an’ torrent an’ over them terrible roads right to th’ docteh’s. But fifty yahds fom th’ docteh’s house Bess skidded and bust heh back axle 7 an’ fatheh had to shoot heh. .. My sisteh? Yes, seh, she re covered, thank-y, seh, but) heh haht liked to break when she luhned that Bess had given up heh life to save Goldie’s. . . . “Fo'give an old fool fo’ runnin’ on like this, seh. . es, seh, th’ roadsteh’s purty eight day clock on heh dash an’ all that —but theyll nevah be anotheh Pontiac Bess. I wouldn't have told you all this, seh, but [can see you love an’ appreciate a good motah-caw. They's few of us left, seh, tha have the propeh vod. : ah aeroplanes, seh! L: Damned. stinkwagons, seh! “Well, seh, good-bye an’ nt journe jorie! Put y task, g: vod loon tiahs to t goin’... .” comicbooks.com