Life, 1922-01-05 · page 14 of 34
Life — January 5, 1922 — page 14: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains three distinct pieces of satire: **"Revolving Doors"** (by Corey Ford): A humorous complaint about the mechanical frustration of revolving doors in public buildings—particularly how they spin unpredictably, trapping people and possessions. The author suggests taxing these devices as a nuisance. **"He Didn't!"**: A satirical tribute to George Washington's honesty, listing supposed examples of his integrity (never lying about income taxes, never making campaign speeches, Martha trusting him completely). The humor relies on readers recognizing these as clearly false modern behaviors Washington supposedly avoided. **"The Impromptu Party"**: A cartoon about an unexpected guest arriving, with one woman claiming it's merely an "accident" while another questions what qualifies as accidental. The page reflects early 20th-century urban life complaints and period humor conventions.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
7 “Why, of course, my dear, if you say it’s fresh, I realize that I must be mistaken.” He Didn't! EORGE WASHINGTON never told a lie for the fol- lowing excellent reasons: He had no income-tax blanks to fill out. He was elected President without making any campaign speeches. When Martha found a strange hair on his shoulder, she always figured it came from his wig. The Anti-Saloon League never asked him where he stood. The tough breaks he suffered that winter at Valley Forge required no exaggeration. He never applied for life insurance. Revolving Doors ESTERDAY we were pursued by a revolving door. When we stopped to argue with it, it caught up with us and bit us on the heel. So we kept on trotting. We intend to move to Cuba some day, where it is warm and they don’t have revoiving doors, only swinging doors. We have had an animus towards revolving doors ever since we got lost in one at Wanamaker’s at the rush hour. Since then we have had in inherent dislike for merry-go-rounds and squirrel cages. We enter a revolving door with the best intentions in the world of getting it over quickly; and then a messenger | boy or someone in a hurry shoots through it like a Pro- hibition Amendment and sends it spinning around past the ! opening three or four times before we find where the opening is. There had been a young lady in the section | just in front of us, whom we were escorting somewhere, and we run around three or four more times inside the door looking for her, till we decide the young lady in question is out of the question. Then we lay our plans to escape. There is a stout lady in the compartment just in front of us by now, who has gone around several times herself, and we make up our mind that when she goes we follow her, so to speak, out. When we make the break, the thing takes off our rubber, and our umbrella unties our shoestring. Then we discover we're still out in the street where we started. We should like to suggest to Mayor Hylan or somebody important that they put a tax of five cents on revolving doors. Then we can express our disapproval of them by not paying it. Corey Ford. The Impromptu Party “I just know there’s been an accident.” “Oh, accident, flub-dub! They'll be here any minute. Probably Jimmy’s aunt decided to come or something.” “Well, what do you call an accident?” comicbooks.com