Life, 1920-03-18 · page 32 of 54
Life — March 18, 1920 — page 32: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains two distinct pieces: **The "Forgotten" Cartoon/Article (top left):** A 1919 illustration reprinted in 1920 showing a disabled WWI veteran. The accompanying text criticizes government failure: President Wilson promised to heal wounded soldiers, yet the Federal Board for Vocational Education had placed only 24,000 of 209,000 eligible disabled veterans into training, with merely 217 actually employed. The satire is bitter—the government's "solemn obligation" to veterans was largely abandoned. **"After All" (bottom):** A humorous filler article joking that the inventor of tin-can locking mechanisms was likely a childhood newspaper boy skilled at hurling folded papers onto roofs—connecting petty childhood mischief to adult engineering. **"The California Trail" and climate quote section:** A romantic poem about California by Clinton Scollard, followed by competing regional boasts about climate versus company—gentle ribbing between California and New York preferences.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
E 8 EAS FORGOTTEN This picture is reprinted from Lire of March 13, 1919. Nearly one year later, in its issue of Feb. 17, 1920, the New York Evening Post reports as follows: While two hundred and nine thousand cases are to be found in the records of the Federal Board for Vocational Education, of whom certainly one hun- dred and ten thousand are eligible for training, the board, after being in existence nincteen months, has placed in training only twenty-four thousand disabled ex-service men and has trained and put in gainful employment only two hundred and seventeen HIS nation has no more solemn obligation than healing the hurts of our wounded and restoring our disabled men to civil life and opportunity. —President Wilson, November 29, 1918. After All DAY of research has not been lost, for, at the hour of going to press, we seem to have established beyond a doubt that the man who invented the key system of keeping one from getting in touch with the edibles in tin containers was in his youth the newsboy who could fold the morning papers into the peculiarly shaped missile which he was able, from a distance of one hundred feet, to hurl under the front steps or upon the roof of the veranda, The California Grail [" was in the dreamy distance Of the days of Far Away That I sought the shores of Sun-Down By the trail of Santa Fé. I recall how I was stranded In the stifling Yuma heat, And the beryl slopes that billowed With San Bernardino wheat; And the City of the Angels As the sudden twilight fell, And the pepper trees in blossom Round quaint old San Gabriel. I can see the dimpling waters Girdling Catalina isle, And the drooping oleanders Over Santa Barbara smile; I recall the breaking billows On the rocks of Monterey, And at Santa Cruz the redwoods In whose aisles there was no day, And the long Pacific rollers Bearing deep barks filled with freight To the wide green wonder-harbor Through the guardian Golden Gate. I recall the broad side-wheeler Maundering along the bay, With the circling gulls above her, And about the drifting spray, Puffing up toward Petaluma With the vineyards on the shore Iridescent in the sunlight That was bright as amber ore; But most clearly I remember, And the thought my bosom thrills, How I walked with Terasita On the high Sonoma hills. Oh, to take a train to-morrow By the olden golden trail And to wind from the Sierras Down a lonely mountain vale; And to have a guide to lead me, From a village I might name Through the wood-clad Napa uplands As the sun sinks low in flame; And to have a star to beckon Till the morn with radiance fills, And to walk with Terasita On the high Sonoma hills! Clinton Scollard. “LJEAVEN for climate, hell for company,” says Mark Twain “California for climate, New York for company,” says the New Yorker “You're jealous!” says the Cali- fornian. comicbooks.com