Life, 1922-06-29 · page 11 of 35
Life — June 29, 1922 — page 11: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains two distinct pieces: **Upper section:** A personal anecdote about the author's frustration with K. Dodsworth Panks, who repeatedly advised "Don't worry" during financial losses. The narrator eventually tells Panks to stop worrying about him—a sardonic reversal where the anxious advisor becomes the problem rather than the solution. **Lower cartoon:** Depicts a man on horseback speaking with a sheriff and another figure near a rural fence. The caption reads: "Well, Sam, how did you find your father?" with Sam (recently home on a visit) responding: "With the help of the sheriff and two bloodhounds, sah." The joke relies on the implication that locating one's father required law enforcement and tracking dogs—suggesting either the father was lost/hiding or commentary on absent rural/Southern fathers.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
It was at this point that I first felt definitely annoyed with K. Dods- worth Panks. I am not rich, and do not like to be called so. Some time later I dropped two thousand dollars in oil stocks. I cannot afford to drop two thousand dollars in oil stocks. I cannot afford to drop two thousand dollars in any kind of stocks. In cold fact, I was cleaned. I can say, therefore, that my dislike for K. Dodsworth Panks deepened when, upon telling him of my loss, he again came out with a “You should worry! We all get stung once!” This time I parted from him uncordially. We come now to the day of the murder. An enterprising burglar had, with felonious intent to con- vert the same to his own use, re- moved from my cellar, the night be- fore, six quarts of genuine Scotch. I need state no more than the fact to indicate my state of mind when K. Dodsworth Panks came into my office on Nassau Street and trum- peted, “Heard somebody looted your hooch cache last night.” “Yes!” I answered shortly. LIFE “Oh, well, don’t worry about it,” he blared. “’Z’lots more where that came from!” If it had been the first time, 1 might not have done it. But coming, as it did, as the climax of a long series of similar injuries at his hands, that last “Don’t worry!” was too much. A_ short struggle—a crash. The crash was K. Dodsworth Panks hitting the pavement thirty- two stories below. The coroner’s verdict cide... . In reiterating what I had to say at the beginning of this brief his- tory, I have but one thing to add. For the only time in my life I have followed K. Dodsworth Panks’ ad- vice, and to the letter. What is more, I have actually found his ad- vice good. i am not worrying about killing him a jot. I am not worrying about killing him a tittle. I am not worrying about killing him a single, solitary, infinitesimal iota. was sui- BL 1. fae = “Well, Sam, how did you find your father?” Once Upon a Time HE world has grown old And men have grown stale— What prophet now Rides in a whale? What dragons breathe Pestilential breath? What woman’s beauty Is bright with death? What centaurs race On the mountain slopes? We have sensible fears And eugenic hopes And we live our lives To conserve our powers— But one of their days Was worth all of ours! Bd. C. A Cut-up Either Way “Tuat golfer must be an amateur from the way he is cutting up the turf.” “Possibly, or perhaps he merely thinks that the course hasn’t holes Sam (who has been home on a visit): With the help of the sheriff and two bloodhounds, sah. comicbooks.com