Life, 1914-06-04 · page 13 of 52
Life — June 4, 1914 — page 13: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This cartoon satirizes the suffrage movement through a "tug of war" between a well-dressed man and a woman holding a banner reading "WE ARE BRINGING TOWARD THE LIGHT." The woman appears to be winning, pulling the reluctant man forward. The accompanying story "Clarence and the Ladies: A Babble Ballad" mocks a young man named Clarence who is pursued by women, particularly Miss Virgie St. Clair. The narrative suggests that women's assertiveness—whether through suffrage activism or romantic pursuit—is pulling men unwillingly along. The satire criticizes both the suffrage movement and women's increasing social agency as forceful and emasculating, positioning men as reluctant victims being dragged toward change against their will.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
‘EVE Es “A Tug of War” 'HE well-dressed, portly man stood for several moments watching the brawny drayman who was laboriously tugging at a large, heavy-laden box, which seemed almost as wide as the doorway through which he was trying to move it. Presently the kindly disposed onlooker ap- proached the perspiring drayman and said, with a patroniz- ing air: Like to have a lift?” “Bet yer life,” the other replied, and for the next two minutes the two men, on opposite sides of the box, worked, lifted, puffed and wheezed, but it did not move an inch. Finally the portly man straightened up and said, between puffs: “I don’t believe we can get it in there.” “Get it in?” the drayman almost shouted. you blamed muttonhead, I'm trying to get it ou! “Why, 'O save himself the disgrace of dying rich a man has merely to buy his wife all the things she’s sure she can't do without. 1009 Clarence and the Ladies A Babble Ballad AY SUNG Clarence is charming, good looking, well born, His clothes are well made and his chin is well shorn; A sportsman, a reader, of excellent parts, Successful in business yet fond of the arts, Efficient, eugenic, to date, calisthenic, A wit, but not caustic, a cheerful agnostic— What wonder he causes a flutter in hearts? And all through the city the knowledge is rife That Clarence is looking—O girls!—for a wife. Through homes of refinement and culture he hunts (He had a nice mother—you feel that at once) ; At last it is breathed through the palpitant air, He's paying his court to Miss Virgie St. Clair: A lily, a mystic, creative, artistic, Of futurist cravings and moonlight behavings— It needed a pretty bold person to dare. Her splendor of soul you may see at a look, But really, you know, could she fire the cook? He sits by her sandals the whole evening long, She reads him a poem, he sings her a song; They murmur Italian, a zither is played, Together they worship a bit of old jade. They talk of emotions, of deathless devotions; In lyrical fashion they analyze passion— But all of it stops with the head, I'm afraid. They meet in the pure upper realms of the mind; It’s high, it’s asthetic, but, Lord, it's refined! Now, Clarence is only a man when he woos; He'd love her forever if she would refuse, But sharp disillusion is his when he sees That Virgie is willing, nay, anxious to please. Ashamed of defection, of low predilection, Yet filled with a loathing for picturesque clothing, For incense and lily, he’s up from his knees, Her grace is unquestioned, her spirit is rare, But how could you breakfast with Virgie St. Clair! He says in his heart, “I'm a brute, I'm unfit; Another such night—I should swear, I should spit!” And so he has turned, with the zest of relief, To the practical home of Miss Betty O’Kieff, A plump little party, good humored and hearty, A kitchenette charmer who reads her Miss Farmer And turns out a rarebit that passes belief. She greets him with mushrooms sautéed in the pan. (I've told you that Clarence was only a man.) The suppers that brisk little person can serve! Young Clarence’s waistcoat is taking a curve. It's going ahead like a whirlwind until— For obvious reasons—poor Clarence falls ill. comicbooks.com