Life, 1920-08-12 · page 24 of 44
Life — August 12, 1920 — page 24: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
**"If Gasoline Goes Much Higher"** (top cartoon): Shows cars flying off a cliff into water and wreckage—satirizing the anxiety about rising gas prices. The joke: if fuel costs keep climbing, people will literally abandon their vehicles. **"A Tale of Horror"**: A humorous short story where the narrator spent a terrifying night in a "haunted house," only to reveal the real horror was free-verse poets reading their experimental poetry to him until dawn. This mocks the avant-garde poetry movement of the era as genuinely unbearable—worse than supernatural terror. **"Triumph of Mind"**: Mrs. Hippo dances by repeating positive self-talk ("I am graceful as a fawn"), suggesting early pop-psychology about willpower overcoming reality. **"For the Heathen"**: A parson intercepts churchgoers heading to a club on Sunday morning to collect tithes before they spend money elsewhere—satirizing clergy financial desperation. All reflect 1920s-era anxieties and social satire typical of Life magazine's humor.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
LF GASOLINE GOES MUCH HIGHER A Tale of Horror The Haunted House HE hideously long night was over. That I had lived through it was something. The material part of it re- mained—the haunted house stood just as it had stood so long—and I determined, as I emerged on the threshold in the broad light of day, never, never to tell what I had witnessed. The frightfulness of it still clung to me—like a damp web that made me shudder as I recalled that glimmering horror I had felt—but—I must not dwell on that. No—I would never tell. And I knew in advance what that meant—of the pres- sure that would be brought to bear on me to tell. But I could not. No one would believe it. And so I passed on up the street to where Stanton waited for me in his car. I knew he would be there. FOR THE HEATHEN “Good God!" he exclaimed, as he looked in my face. “What has hap- pened?" This was my first intimation that I showed what I had been through. It was known, of course, that I had passed the night there. They took precautions against that. I had passed the two watchmen go- ing out. That they also had not ex- claimed was because I had put my hat well over my eyes. They did not speak They had heen ordered not to. That was in the conditions. Stanton was more than kind. Not an- other word was spoken. He lifted me gently into the car. The ruin in my face was so plain that I think he feared I would pass away before he could get me home. At last we were alone in my room. He placed me on the sofa and covered me with a shawl. “Do you expect to recover?” he groaned. “Never!” I replied feebly. “WwW did you see? Tell me. Your secret is safe.” I hesitated, but Stanton was true blue. My shame would not go out through him. “That house isn't haunted,” I whis- pered. “But—two Greenwich Villa: free-verse pocts use it at night to write in, and last night they grabbed me as soon as I entered, and read their stuff to me until morning broke.” T..L. BM. Triumph of Mind RS. HIPPO (shimmying for her hus- band): There! Don't I do it well? Mr. Hirro: Marvelous, marvelous! Can you show me? # “Surest thing you know. All you have to do is to keep saying to yourself, ‘I am as graceful as a fawn.” FROM THE HEATHEN PARSON PRATT WILL NOT BE CHEATED OUT OF HIS SUNDAY MORNING COLLECTION, SO HE WAYLAYS HIS WAYWARD FLOCK ON THEIR WAY TO THE CLUB thi comicbooks.comu