Life, 1923-07-19 · page 24 of 36
Life — July 19, 1923 — page 24: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains two distinct pieces of satirical content targeting upper-class American leisure culture (circa 1920s). **"A Condensed Guide for the Modern Week-ender":** A humorous directory mocking wealthy families' country estates, rating them as weekend destinations. Each entry catalogs the host family's flaws—boring conversation, poor liquor, sleeping habits, or eccentric interests (mah-jongg, spiritualism, psychoanalysis). The satire targets both the pretensions of the social elite and the exhausting obligation to visit these homes. The final entry suggests arranging a fake telegram to escape a particularly tedious household. **"Columnists Are Singular":** A brief editorial complaint about newspaper columnists (specifically naming Heywood Broun and F.P.A.) who use the royal "we" instead of "I" when writing personal opinion columns. The writer argues this grammatical affectation is indefensible and should be prohibited by law. **The cartoon** depicts a married couple in bed; the wife explains she's "training" her husband to talk in his sleep—likely satirizing domestic management and marital dynamics of the era.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
LIFE A Condensed Guide for the Modern Week-ender ‘HE Varrowbys—Glen Cove. Passable cocktails but atrocious Scotch. Short on bath-rooms. One of the daughters, a suffragette. The old man, a bore. Advise arriving late Saturday and leaving early Sunday. The Barkletons—Southampton. Golf fiends. Excellent port and brandy but synthetic gin. Never any newspapers. Plenty of cigars. Suggest leaving not later than Sunday evening. The Clayton-Tilbys—Tuxedo. good dinners. Boxes of dried-out cigarettes all over the house. Also broken squash racquets. The Blue Room, not bad. Look out for the others. Early risers but give The Demmingbrookes—Westbury. Horse talk from morning till night. Not a thing to read in the entire house. Mrs. D., a singer of sentimental ballads. Mr. D., usually asleep after 10 p. m. Excellent home-brew. The Farleighs—Lenox. Teetotalers but great on lunch. Plenty of hammocks and sofas. Everything made for sleep. Just the place when you're “all in.” Bring your own liquor. The Pandillitons—Newport. Twenty-two bed-rooms, all of which look exactly alike. Always a big crowd. Never necessary to see your host or hostess. Stay a month if you want to, Advise against it. The Hemmingates--Westchester. Not the place for a quiet evening. Jazz bands and sky-rockets. Colossal cellar. Something doing every minute. Toe dancing atter la. M. Better take Monday off. The Starberrys—On the Hudson. Mah-Jongg-mad but sensible about champagne. Loads of Clicquot. Musty bed- rooms and swarms of dogs. Plush-covered furniture, The tennis court, an antique. Advise making arrangements for the fake telegram. The Kipfarrows—Lakewood. Go in for faacy-dress parties and non-alcoholic Vermouth. House full of rubber- plants and divorcées. Don’t get Mrs. K. started on psychoanalysis, or you'll never hear the end of it. The Ruggletons—Bernardsville. Spiritual séances. and three-handed bridge. No scap in the bath-rooms. Much talk of playing games but never do. Not bad as a last resort. Advise leaving within twenty-four hours after arrival. Charles G. Shaw. Columnists Are Singular SOMEHOW the legislature of New York adjourned without making a law prohibiting the use of the edi- torial “we” to columnists. Public opinion should remedy this omission. Columnists should know, but seem not to, that they are singular. Heywood Broun, who provides a column for the World under the title “It Seems to Me,” is “we” in his remarks, and so is “F. P. A.,” though not so copiously as H. B., and Christopher Morley and Don Marquis, and doubtless all the rest. Indefensible! “DOES YOUR HUSBAND TALK IN HIS SLEEP?” “NO, BUT I'M TRYING TO TRAIN HIM.” comicbooks.com