Life, 1921-11-17 · page 13 of 34
Life — November 17, 1921 — page 13: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This satirical piece by Corey Ford criticizes slot machines—specifically penny-operated devices in public spaces. The illustration shows well-dressed people gathered around a malfunctioning machine, with one woman having extracted her clothing tangled in it. Ford's complaint centers on how these machines are unreliable: players insert money but receive nothing in return. He recounts an incident where a stuck button activated music and attracted crowds. A woman's garment became jammed in the mechanism, requiring four people and chewing gum to extract it. The satire mocks both the machines' poor design and their presence in public spaces. Ford concludes by calling on Mayor Hylan to have such devices closed, viewing them as urban nuisances exploiting the public rather than providing legitimate entertainment.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Give Him Time “Isn't Charley Castleton one of Adele’s former husbands?” The Devil in the Machine would rise in formal protest against the great big vrporation that takes all our pennies in the subway ines, and gives nothing in return. We like choco- we are rather fond of Chiclets, but we forego both now because we cannot bear the ordeal of facing the public gaze if sensitty to us t our penny goes wrong. Perhaps we are unusually for example, it is always particularly distressing : fill our fountain pen from hotel ink, because the Princip! always seems the same as that of eating all we can get at an invitation tea, so that we won't have to go and get any supper. . Yesterday we put our penny in a little slot machine and Pressed the button. It is always a sinking moment wher We press a button, because once when we pushed something to get weighed, a little orchestra inside the affair hegan to Play, and a baby pointed: “Oh, mama, see the man have fun!” When we pushed the button this time, however, nothing happened. Three or four people stopped, suggested that we push again. We pushed again and banged the side a little. We put in another penny and tried it over again, while the crowd formed a circle. We took the machine by the sides and shook it; we pounded all four buttons at once. An old lady stepped out from the mob and held out another penny towards us. We took it from her and ran at the thing, jamming it in torment. Four pieces of Wintergreen chewing gum fell into our hand. The mob applauded, and three or four people hanging from posts screamed at us. We don’t chew Wintergreen. We are not sure of the identity of the firm that handles these slot machines, but we are convinced that it also has a partial interest in the keys to peel open sardine cans. Mayor Hylan should order it closed, along with the streets. . Corey Ford, comicbooks.com