Life, 1922-04-20 · page 22 of 34
Life — April 20, 1922 — page 22: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This satirical retelling mocks early 1920s courtship customs and the "Princeton man" archetype. A wealthy Princeton student becomes obsessed with a debutante's photograph, specifically her long hair, and serenades her nightly with a banjo-ukulele—behavior presented as simultaneously ridiculous and typical of his class. The joke pivots on the "bob" haircut, a radical 1920s fashion trend where women cut their long hair short. When Rapunzel reveals hers has been bobbed, the suitor's romantic efforts become instantly obsolete. The cartoon mocks both the Princeton man's superficiality (loving only the hair, not the person) and the generational clash represented by the modern woman who dismisses his outdated romantic gestures. The punchline—the milk can—suggests his banjo-ukulele ends up in the milkman's delivery, a final indignity to the pretentious serenader. The piece satirizes class pretension, romantic cliché, and generational change.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
LIFE Airy Fairytales Rapunzel, Or the Girl with the Beautiful Hair HEN Rapunzel’s picture ap- peared in Débutante’s World, a handsome young Prince—or Princeton man, rather, promptly fell in love with it. There she sat, her beautiful long golden hair streaming down and twin- ing its silky tendrils about his heart. He loved long hair. It was hereditary. His father and six uncles had all been infatuated with the Seven Sutherland Sisters. For a long time he pondered just how he could meet her. To find a common friend and be properly intro- duced was impossible. First of all, he was a Princeton man. They do things differently. That was the reason he appeared night after night under Rapunzel’s window, singing to the accompaniment of a banjo-ukulele a song that he had composed himself. Henry William Hanemann “Oh, Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let down your hair That I may climb up To your window, there,” he sang. It wasn’t a very good song, but his heart was in his work. So much so, that the neighbors complained to Rapunzel'’s father and mother. Rapunzel, herself, never heard him. Being prone to the festive foolishness, it was her usual custom to sneak down the back stairs every evening, to return only long, long after midnight. It was Fate, or something very much like it, that caused the beautiful young girl to return one morning, earlier than her wont. She heard a strange moan- ing outside her window. It was the Princeton man, singing his praise of her long, long hair. How his Brooks’ suit glistened in the moonlight! “Well, for the love of horseradish !" The Boy: Now how’d she find out I got a dime in my pocket? exclaimed Rapunzel, having been well educated. “What's troubling you’” “Ah, Rapunzel,” breathed the Prince. ton man, who was the soul of poetry, “I love you. I love you madly.” And he raised his banjo-ukulele and sang: “Oh, Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let down your hair That I may climb up To your window, there.” “Of all the cast-iron nerve!” cx- claimed Rapunzel, terribly pleased, “That's awful. Sing it again.” He sang it again. And then “Ah, Rapunzel,” he said, “night night I have come under your to tell you my praise of your beauti long, long hair. I have sung it wist- fully, proudly, passionately. 1 have sung it softly and at the full extent of my lungs. And now I shall sing it just once more, for I see the milkman com- ing in the distance.” And the Princeton man raised his banjuke and sang for the last time: “Oh, Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let down your hair ‘That I may climb up To your window, there.” “Oh,” said Rapunzel, in “do you think I’m a back number? poor fish, for the past three wecks my hair has been bobbed!” kk All his life, the milkman could never make out how the banjo-ukulele got into his favorite, brand-new milk can. Maxims EN soon forget. A vow, a sigh, And to another bloom They fly. While women will Slaves ever be To the fragrance Of a memory. * * * She who is wise, If wise is she, Keeps wisdom In obscurity. For rather suffer Euclid from the rose Would any man Than hear what woman knows. the bu That That foreign That fellows § White ¢ That I Ford « That D dirty al comicbooks.com