Life, 1922-07-27 · page 7 of 36
Life — July 27, 1922 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains a sketch-based cartoon depicting what appears to be a social encounter on a street. An "Irate Housewife" confronts a "Tramp," accusing him of being the same man she gave a mince pie to at Christmas. The tramp replies bitterly that he's not the same man because doctors say he'll never recover—implying serious illness or injury from his circumstances. The satire targets early 20th-century attitudes toward poverty and homelessness. It mocks both the housewife's patronizing charity (a single pie) and society's indifference to the tramp's deteriorating condition. The dark humor suggests that minimal charity cannot address systemic poverty, and that the vagrant's fate is essentially sealed by his circumstances and lack of medical care.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
there couldn't be any othe™ answer. Nose—Long, short, broad, pointed, retroussé, aquiline, straight, medium or Roman. Eyes—Blue, brown, gray, green or hazel. I wrote as follows: Nose—Green. Eyes—Aquiline. Complexion—Partly bald. Hair—Sallow. The dotted line was doing to me what it always did. Distinguishing marks— Here was a puzzler. Of course I remembered that my knee caps were somewhat prominent—that intimate friends who had seen me in my bathing suit had —well, some of them had laughed a bit—you know, just as friends of long standing will do; but I did not think that the Government of the United States had any right to pry into that. After all, one is entitled to some privacy, even if one does want to take a trip abroad. So I “HLH ~~ LIFE wrote “An air of manliness and fearlessness” on the line. Then I went to the photographer's and had two photographs made “on thin paper with a light background and about 3 inches by 3 inches in size.” I couldn’t have been looking my best that day. Something was wrong. A low-grade moron stupidly leered out of the picture looking like the fag-end of the famous Jukes family. It was disheartening. Urged, or rather ordered, by my family, I tried another photograph. This time I came out a cross be- tween Eddie Foy and Zip, the Hu- man What-is-it. I tossed a coin and the last of the noble line of Jukes got the decision. If you care to take the trouble, you'll find a copy of it in the archives of the State Department. Finally it was all finished and I took it down to the Custom House, where I fought my way through a av 5 crowd of Esthonians, Armenians, Serbs and school teachers to a young man at a desk. I dislike to recall the scene. After he had got control of him- self he explained just why I had bet- ter try again. I’m trying now. R. K. The Mask [= made myself a mask, Since Love has made me wise; It covers all my face With holes for mouth and eyes. And all the fools I know, Who live along my way, Can knock upon my door With things they have to say They can forever peep To see what they can see, But they'll never glimpse again The real face of me! Ul { | Irate Housewife: Tramp (bitterly): Ain’t you the same man I gave a mince pie to last Christmas? No, mum, I’m not; an’ wot’s more, the doctors say I never will be again. comicbooks.com