Life, 1919-07-17 · page 15 of 40
Life — July 17, 1919 — page 15: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
The top cartoon shows a mother catching a boy named Willie making pants for "a poor little Belgian boy." This references **WWI-era charitable efforts** to aid Belgian civilians, who suffered terribly during German occupation (1914-1918). The humor lies in Willie's resourcefulness—he's repurposing materials to help—though the mother's intervention suggests she disapproves of him giving away household goods. Below is "The Renter's Rhapsody," a poem by Thomas M. Griffith describing the plight of a perpetually displaced tenant—someone constantly moving, homeless, and rootless. This reflects **urban housing instability**, a recurring social problem of the era. The lower illustration advertises a damaged book about the "League of Nations," likely relating to post-WWI political reorganization.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
‘LIBRE: Sal Ba Hi Mamma (to Willie, sliding down the cellar door); WILLIE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? Willie: MAKIN’ A PAIR OF PANTS FOR A POOR LITTLE BELGIAN BOY. The Renter's’ Rhapsody Book Advertisement ;, AM a hapless nomad. OR SALE: “League of Nations.” Several pages miss- So I am a despairing wanderer, an immitigable ing; binding gone in spots. Damaged by fire and water. peregrinator, a pilgrim on a progressless Valuable historical document. Author now unknown. As is. path, A bird of passage flitting from Whence to Whither and never knowing Wherefore, A tourist of cities, an explorer of homeless houses, a fugitive Jehu, An enforced excursionist, a perambulating vagadondia in- carnate. A peripatetic home-hound, a somnambulist in the night of dissatisfaction, A wagonless gypsy, a tentless Arab, a Bohemian without a rendezvous. T am a hardened, hopeless voyager through a melancholy life, A visionless Merlin following an invisible Gleam. T am what humanity rightly calls a benighted, forlorn and incorrigible “enfant perdu.” Yea, all these am I, and more than these— I am a RENTER. Thomas M. Griffith. WHY THE MAIL WAS LATE comicbooks.com