Life, 1923-07-05 · page 16 of 40
Life — July 5, 1923 — page 16: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page satirizes the implementation of Daylight Saving Time in Connecticut. The author (Alfred Harding) humorously recounts being forced to adjust his clock by legislative mandate, with a fine of $100 for non-compliance. The cartoon depicts a boat scene where someone appears confused about timekeeping, with dialogue referencing "seven bells" and frustration over "daylight-saving" adjustments. The satire targets the absurdity of government-mandated time changes—treating the bureaucratic intrusion into citizens' private lives as ridiculous overreach. The piece mocks how authorities policed compliance with the new system, suggesting the regulations were comically draconian and that adjusting to synchronized timekeeping created genuine practical confusion for ordinary people conducting daily business.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
EAUTIFUL place, Connecticut. If I could only get a surveyor to move the state line a few feet farther north, I wouldn’t ask for a nicer place to live. But there it is, and here I am; and one of us must move. It's a nice business I have, or had. All kinds of clocks and watches. Lots of business, too. And then Connecticut had to down Daylight Saving. But since most of my customers live in New York, the big clock in front was allowed to reg- ister the new time. A committee of neighbors, headed by one of the mem- bers of the State Legislature, waited on me, and pointed out the vicious error of my ways. Now, I like Daylight Saving, and so I let it stand. The Connecticut Legislature retorted by passing a measure which imposed a fine of one hundred dollars on any one who “OH DARN! LIFE Clockitis wilfully displayed a clock which differed from Standard Eastern time. There isn’t any use arguing with statutes, and the clock was changed. And when the committee of virtuous, time-minding neighbors, headed by the legislator, called on me again to make sure I wasn’t corrupting any one secretly by keeping my own time, I welcomed them in. The chairman strode to the back of the room. “Are you aware of the time this clock shows?” he inquired, pulling out his own watch to compare with the larger timepiece that stood before him. I had to admit I was. “See here,” he called. “I was right. He admits that he knew this clock differed from Standard Time.” And he pointed a long bony finger in my direction, But as he was noting the offense, together with the time (Standard Eastern) at which it had occurred, “THERE GOES SEVEN BELLS!” and names of the witnesses, I re- monstrated. “That is a sidereal clock. It meas- ures the time of the heavens,” I de- clared. A crestfallen look crossed his face; but only for an instant. “But this,” said he, turning to another. “This js not the same. You can’t claim it is.” “No,” I replied, “I can’t. That one shows Greenwich Time; the observ- atory from which all time and dis- tance are reckoned.” But that was more than the com- mittee would believe. I have been notified that I must either make my clocks conform to those of the rest of godly Connecticut; or take them, and their heathen time, across the state line into New York, where it is understood such goings-on are toler ated, Time hangs heavy on my hands. Alfred Harding. I NEVER CAN GET THIS DAYLIGHT-SAVING STRAIGHT.” comicbooks.com