Life, 1922-04-20 · page 9 of 34
Life — April 20, 1922 — page 9: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This cartoon depicts a crowded, energetic jazz club scene during the Jazz Age. The sketch shows well-dressed patrons in animated poses—dancing, drinking, and socializing in what appears to be a speakeasy or nightclub. The accompanying text sections satirize different types of New Yorkers: wealthy urbanites obsessed with status symbols, Wall Street types, and those affected by Jazz Age culture. The "New Yorkers" section mocks pretentious city dwellers and their shallow concerns. "In the Crowd" (a poem by Ethel M. Pomeroy) appears to critique the hollowness of Jazz Age social life—describing participants as "timid, constrained" despite outward gaiety, suggesting the scene represents superficial conformity and lost dreams beneath the era's glittering surface. The overall message critiques 1920s urban excess and social artificiality.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
off. Perhaps she hadn't got it. She was a bright woman, though, was Mrs. Follensbee. I was sorry it had got past her, for she had a quick responsive mind that loved to juggle ideas. I would give her one more chance. She was waiting for her car when Watts came out to get into his yellow run- about with the purple disk wheels. Here was my opportunity. “Wouldn't w it!” I said to her, pointing to his car. “The man is a ” Mrs. Follensbee looked me hard in the eyes and said, “The man is a_ sartorial moron.” It all flashed back to me. My whole shameless past rose and engulfed me. \Vhat a fool—what a—a moron I had been!. “Never mind,” she said sweetly, “It was good—once.” Rollin Kirby. Foregone Conclusion ‘I \VAS in Washington last week nd made a call on my old friend, the President.” “What office was he sorry he couldn't give you?” - LIFE - New Yorkers EW YORKERS make me vous: New Yorkers who about the “Great White Way” and wink knowingly; New Yorkers who have never been south of Washington Square; New Yorkers who think they are cosmopolitan; New Yorkers who get their hair cut, telephone Chicago, smoke three cigars and drink five cock- ner- talk tails in half an hour; New Yorkers” who brag about their business shrewd- ness and are then bamboozled out of their final sou by some hick from Joplin, Mo.; New Yorkers who are always making jokes about New Jersey and Philadelphia; New Yorkers who have spent seven-eighths of their lives in Hohenschwangau and who speak an unintelligible tongue; New Yorkers who have spent seven-eighths of their lives in Wall Street and who talk like a stock ticker; New Yorkers who know every bootlegger north of Fourteenth Street; New Yorkers who dance nightly in Broadway restaurants; New Yorkers The Jazzberries 7 who talk to the squirrels in Central Park; New Yorkers who look like Karl Marx; New Yorkers who talk about “little old New York.” In the Crowd IMID, constrained, she seems, With vague, sad eyes— Gray eyes, grown dim With watching for lost dreams; She moves amid the throng, Detached, alone— Perhaps she feels The lilt of some old song Throb in her barren breast . . . Life was too swift! It hurt—it bruised— So much seems manifest. More one may scarcely know, And yet—and yet— Here gods have passed... Step softly as you go! Ethel M. Pomeroy. comicbooks.com