Life, 1922-03-30 · page 23 of 34
Life — March 30, 1922 — page 23: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a humorous retelling of the classic "Bluebeard" folktale, reimagined as a modern American domestic comedy. The satire targets **Prohibition-era drinking culture** (1920s-1930s). The joke: A wife discovers her husband's secret stash of liquor in the attic—the "forbidden room" of the original tale. Rather than a chamber of murdered wives, it contains bottles. She throws a party and depletes his supply. When he discovers this, he's enraged not by infidelity but by the consumption of his hoarded alcohol. The humor relies on: - The absurdity of treating contraband liquor as seriously as the original tale's dark secrets - References to Jazz-Age excess ("hair nets ruined" at wild parties) - The husband's ridiculous rage over consumed booze - The climactic chase played as domestic farce The cartoon mocks both the culture of hidden drinking during Prohibition and the melodramatic seriousness with which men guarded their alcohol supplies.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
) case. - LIFE - Airy Fairytales The Horrible Story of Blue Beard, Jr. “« Y DEAR,” said Mr. Beard one sunny morning to his attractive young wife, “I have to go down to Pinehurst on a very important law case. Here are all the keys to the house. The littlest key opens the attic door. Don't touch. Défendu!” And he pinched her cheek and shoul- dered his golf bag and departed for Pinehurst on his very important busi- ness. ° Naturally, it wasn’t long before young Mrs. beard’s curiosity about the attic reachei several hundred degrees. So she took the littlest key, opened the door and found—exactly what you imagined she'd find, bottles and bottles and bottles of it. Oh, what a fat party there was that right! More fun... more hair nets ruined! And once started, Mrs. Beard, who had been told to amuse herself anyway, continued entertaining until the supply of entertainment was entirely exhausted. . Soon after that her husband returned, ) all sunburned from working on the law “Where's the littlest key?” he ) demanded at once. “Since you told me to leave it alone,” his wife answered, “I've put it safely away Well, you chase right after it,” said Blue (he was called “Blue” because he had once made a touchdown against Harvard ina Yale-Harvard game), and he smacked his lips. When Mrs. Beard returned with the littlest key, Blue took it and sniffed. vcard he yelled. ireatly dismayed, he tushed up to the attic. In less time than it takes } to stir a highball, he (knew all, His-face grew livid “That settles it!” he declared angrily. “You and | are through.” No, no!” sobbed Mrs. Beard. But Blue Beard made a horrible face and stamped downstairs, and began throwing the wed- ding presents through the French windows. Mrs. Beard rushed to the telephone and called up her father. “I used Henry William Hanemann “The littlest key—don’t touch!” up all of Blue’s liquor,” she explained, “and he’s gone off his nut. Save me!” Posting her Sister Anne at the bed- room window as a lookout, she ran downstairs again in a brave attempt to assuage her husband's wrath with a mixture of furniture oil and metal polish. But Blue would not be pacified. He stamped and stormed about, beating the “More fun . . . more hair nets ruined!” top of the piano with the cloisonné vase Aunt Emma sent. He pulled all the legs off the Louis Quinze chairs and threw them at the light fixtures. Be- tween barrages, Mrs. Beard ran to the stair-landing and cried in great anguish: “Sister Anne, Sister Anne, don’t you see anyone on the road?” And Sister Anne replied: “No one but poor Mr. Duffy, trying to get his ball out of a sand trap.” Blue Beard grew wilder and wilder. Ever and anon, his distracted wife would sneak to the stair-landing and call: “Sister Anne, Sister Anne, do you see no one on the road?” And Sister Anne would reply: “No one but Mr. Duffy, who is hunt- ing for a lost ball.” Blue Beard grew worse and worse and began to trail Mrs. Beard about the living room. “Sister Anne, Sister Anne,” she shrieked, as she went around and around, “don’t you see any- body at all on the road?” And Sister Anne replied: “Not a soul but Mr. Duffy, who is pulverizing the head of his favorite ivory-faced spoon.” Faster and faster went Blue Beard after his unlucky spouse. Faster and faster ran poor Mrs. Beard. When Blue finally tripped over a gathering in the rug, she had hardly enough breath left to cry once more: “Sister Anne, Sister Anne, do you or don't you see anyone coming?” This time Sister Anne replied: “Yes, Ido! I see a nifty sedan coming like the wind. The driver has on a beautiful fur coat with a real seal collar.” “Thank Heaven!” cried young Mrs. Beard, joyfully, “that’s father’s bootlegger.” ee ® After a bit, Blue Beard calmed down and apologized humbly for his ungentlemanly con- duct. The very next week Mrs. Beard had a new roadster, a genuine Oriental pearl necklace and the love- liest little platinum and diamond kanga- roo for her wrist. comicbooks.com