June 29 1909 — Herriman supplies both a cartoon and the accompanying article about the latest offering at the Orpheum. I take it that it is a vaudeville revue of some sort, but you’d never figure much out from George’s wacky article. Unfortunately I did not get the complete text in my copy, but this’ll give you the gist:
“Artichokes,” said Joe Beamish, the well-known cultivator of that unctious fruit, “are the most oncertain luxury. Here I comes in town with perhaps the first of that variety of the season, expecting to have Joe Reichl meet me at the station and offer me at least eight dollars apiece for them, but, as he tells me, there ain’t a single Kansas millionaire on the register and Izzy Klingenstein is most impartial to artichokes, so the best he could do for me was two-bits for the pair,”
With that weight of gloom on the chest of a man of my finicky temperament, the Orpheum is the only place it can comfortably evaporate, so, as Billy Van says, getting confidential, “Lemme tell you,” the Vindabonas, all the way from Europe — and I’ve got Hambletonian Klein’s word for it — whether there’s a heavy duty on a name like that or not, they sure slipped by Ellis Island with a brand of Harmony that would make the tariff on nutmegs look like a debate between a Petaluma cheese and a Yacqui sandwich.
…idea that gravitation is all the bunk, the way they handle bikes and wheels.
Pete Donald, the brawny Scot, and Miss Neta Carson do a Highland terpsichorean stunt that has the flavor of the heather and blue bell.
Closing, we get a taste of the Sunny South.
Now, on the low-down, between ourselves, I’d sell out the artichoke farm in a minute if I knew I could see Mike out in the field talking earnestly and eloquently now and then putting his index finger in Hank O’Day’s eye — and I guess there’s lots in the Bronx as would, too.