Life, 1922-12-07 · page 55 of 80
Life — December 7, 1922 — page 55: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains a humorous narrative poem illustrated above, followed by inspirational advice for aspiring writers below. The poem tells a mock-heroic tale of Lummox, a desert warrior, who discovers his servant failed to sharpen his sword before battle. Rather than punish him, Lummox improvises by using a chariot wheel as a grindstone—turning necessity into invention. The poem's overwrought language and rhyme scheme parody epic poetry while celebrating practical problem-solving. The lower section, "Helpful Hints to Growing Authors," offers encouragement to struggling writers by citing famous authors (Shaw, Kipling, Munsey, Tarkington, Rinehart) who experienced early financial hardship before success. The juxtaposition suggests that like Lummox overcoming his obstacle, writers must persist through their lean early years. The satire operates on two levels: mocking grandiose literary conventions while genuinely motivating readers that difficulty precedes achievement.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
THE FIRST GRINDSTONE UT into the desert fared Lummox, the grouch, In search of his enemy, Haid, Intent upon pinking the skin of the slouch By means of his good lethal blade. The sand swirled in eddies, like elfins at play, About the gnarled legs of the steed And burnished the gilt on the chariot gay, Of which it stood sadly in need. Then Lummox demanded of Ran Cid, his aid, And his voice split the silence of space: “Ho, varlet, didst sharpen the edge of my blade Before the advance from our base?” “No, sire”, Ran replied and he shook like a leaf, “ There wasn't a whetstone in stock.” “Thou negligent mut and son of a thief, I'm minded to lop off thy block!” But staying his hand by the force of his will, He leaped from the tail of the cart And lit on the sand with an acrobat’s skill And a manner decidedly smart. Then clapping his sword to the rim of a wheel He ground the dull edge of the blade Until it was sharp to the touch and the feel And perfectly fit for the raid. All honor to Lummox, the peer of them all, For he the first grindstone achieved! Necessity whistled and he heard the call And all the dull world was relieved. D not despair if at first you meet with failure. Remember that there is no royal road to litera- ture. Here are some facts that will serve to hearten you in your work: Bernard Shaw had to wait six weeks before he made his first thou- sand pounds. Before Rudyard Kipling bought his first steam yacht, he was paid Helpful Hints to Growing Authors only eighty cents a word for his stories. “Tt took me two whole years,” said Frank A. Munsey, “before I could save up enough money to buy a paper that would print my stuff.” “IT had to wait for nearly four P.N. weeks,” said Booth Tarkington, “be- fore the first ten thousand dollars for one of my short stories was sent to me. Fortunately we were well _ supplied with canned vegetables.” Mary Roberts Rinehart at first re- fused to speak of her early struggles, while the tears coursed down her cheeks. All that she could murmur was: “It’s the first fifty thousand that’s the hardest.” T. L. M. comicbooks.com