Life, 1922-08-31 · page 12 of 36
Life — August 31, 1922 — page 12: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
The single cartoon at the top depicts a restaurant scene where a waiter approaches a table with a dirty plate. The guest responds defensively: "Beg pardon, force of habit. I'm an umpire." This is a straightforward joke playing on the stereotype of baseball umpires. The humor relies on the implication that umpires are accustomed to making dismissive gestures (the wiping motion) as part of their job calling plays—specifically, calling runners "out." The cartoon suggests the guest unconsciously mimicked this habitual gesture while handling the plate, conflating his professional role with everyday dining etiquette. The page also contains two poems: "It Is to Yawn" and "The Elfin Secret," which are unrelated to the cartoon.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
LIFE ao SWE H i \ Waiter: No need, sir, to wipe off the plate in this restaurant. Guest: Beg pardon, force of habit. It Is to Yawn FERDAY in the subway I had to yawn. So I yawned; a great healthy yawn that lasted till my jaws cracked behind my ears. I think we used to call it a gap. I remember that there was a stout gentleman opposite me at the time. Immediately after I had finished he appeared to be struggling over some- thing, and he tried to clench his teeth. In vain; his jaws flew open with a snap, an embarrassed hand flung up before his mouth, and he yawned. I shifted my gaze rather guiltily. An elderly lady had been watching him; now she commenced to frown, she wriggled uncomfortably; a’ mo- ment later a gloved hand raised “The Atlantic Monthly” like a screen, and I knew she was yawning behind it. Conscience-stricken, I looked away. A large person beside me, who had a kindly look about her, was wriggling pitifully. My worst fears were realized. Her eyes filled with tears; her lips twitched; she grew red. Her struggle was primitive; and only a little white handkerchief concealed her bitter failure. Then a pleasant old clergyman watched me reproachfully, wrinkled his face, fidgeted, took a deep breath, and yawned inside. His gray eyes haunted me. A stout salesman yawned frankly, and glared at me. I left the car. I left the train, three stations too early, because the guard was yawning and I couldn't understand what he said. Next time at least I shall wait till the subway is an elevated, and there’s air. C. H.-F, Sometimes all the early bird gets is up. * # & To the pure all towns are Holly- wood. * * * It’s hard to keep a good man quiet about it. I'm an umpire. The Elfin Secret NDER the sprinkled, the asters, bright and wrinkled, Throngs of elves skip, bright and small; While sunbeams shine and rain- drops fall. roses, all dew- Under Past the brook, around the plain, "Neath the tree, they’re back. again; Why do they laugh and jump on toes? They have a secret no one knows. Past the roses, all dew-sprinkled, Past the asters, bright and wrinkled, Go to the brook some summ’ry day And watch the shadows at fheir play. Watch for bees and birds about And you will find their secret out. comicbooks.com