Life, 1924-11-13 · page 6 of 42
Life — November 13, 1924 — page 6: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This cartoon depicts two men in what appears to be a WWI-era trench or military setting. The figure on the left wears a military uniform and helmet, while the figure on the right appears to be an officer or superior. The caption "WHAT PRICE GLORY?" references the famous 1924 play about WWI combat. The accompanying article, "The Winning Play," describes a football game as analogous to warfare—using military language ("driven," "scrabble," "victory") to satirize competitive sports. The cartoon likely comments on the glorification of combat and competition, questioning the actual human cost of such "victories," whether military or athletic. The satire critiques how society romanticizes conflict while ignoring its brutality.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
“WHAT PRICE GLORY?” The Winning Play (As Reported by One of Our Authors of the School of Dismalism) IFE scemed futile indeed to Harold Scrabble as he stood on his own ten-yard line hopelessly awaiting what the future might bring forth. What was the use of it all? he asked him- self. After that game there would be other games—games played against a drab sky by drab-faced, drab-clad men like himself. Yet how unlike himself! And to what end? But he must go on. Driven. ..driven.... Subconsciously he saw the ball float into his arms. They expected him to run with it. To run! His lip curled. Yes, he must run. He ran, feet plodding up and down, while his mind groped with the utter inutility of everything. Somewhere in the stands sat Mildred, of whom he had once thought as his soul partner, Ah, bitter revelation! His soul partner! Her soul, her shriveled Main Street soul, aflame over football and the “honor of dear old Yarvard.” Pah! What did she know—she—of the only delight left in a gray world, the knowl- edge that nothing counted? Pah! Pah! Hands sought to clutch him, and mechanically he avoided them, while still his numbed brain sought the mean- ing of it all. Was this, then, what life was to be? The pounding of fect, the brutish contact with small minds igno- rant of psychoanalytical phenomena, the soul-torturing process of being driven past white line after white line? Would it not be better to give himself up— to surrender to the forces that pro- pelled him, and yet dragged him down? Gradually, through his fogged con- sciousness, came the realization that he had sunk to the ground, and that be- hind him loomed dank, white, cross- barred posts, emblematic of victory. “Victory!” So they called this “Vic- !" Pah! Pah! Pah! Dimly, as from afar, a chorus of puerile voices battered itself against his eardrums. They.were chanting: “Ya-a-arvard! Ya-a-arvard! Ya-a- arvard! Rah, rah, rah! Scrabble!” What did that matter? What did anything matter? Dully, he went out to the ten-yard line and kicked the goal. Tip Bliss. Double-Crossed RUE: The latest from Paris is that wigs are coming in. Dorotuy: Can you beat it? Now they'll be selling us back the hair we had bobbed. Magazine Impressions of Women HE LADIES HOME JOURNAL: Sensi beauty gloriously. Maternit Sweet dreams and a prett love. Puritanism and a_ politi cal future. Shapeliness rampan The Saturday Evening Pos Young life and a_ gorgec shimmering. A_heart-to-hear confidential helpfully. Knee deep in the brook. But } father’s daughter and John’s in spiration. Love. Yards of bac Distance. Elegance in blac! Smoke. Vanity Fair: Naugh naughty. An impishness and compromise. Nothing to do by wear clothes at men. Immensit of shape and a mad dance, H¢ past, her past. The Cosmopolitan: Paint ready for a kiss. A white nec} Men's ideal, men’s fool; mens cause, men's plaything. Riches. A hari life in the desert with the sheiks Knickers. Harpe Motherhood in a your girl. Diffidence and a bal-masque. C: steel and a haughtiness queenly. Mi- lady at the cupboard. Safe and sane. The American Magazine: He father’s darling expectantly. The st nographer capable with curls. Taffy taffy....Ready for the camera, pawi baby clothes, steaming dishes, the car party and her evening gown. Success! Beautiful Womanhood: Skin. Edmund J. Kiefer. THE COLDEST LIVING GRADUATE comicbooks.com