Life, 1925-01-15 · page 14 of 36
Life — January 15, 1925 — page 14: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a humorous folk tale adaptation featuring characters from the Uncle Remus stories (Brer Rabbit, Brer Fox, etc.) reimagined in a contemporary jazz context. The narrative concerns a jazz cornet contest where Brer Rabbit initially claims superiority but ultimately cannot play the instrument. The satire appears to mock both the competitive boasting culture of jazz musicians and perhaps the exaggeration of folk tales themselves. The illustration shows figures fishing by the ocean, likely the setting where the musical dispute occurs. The bottom captions contain editorial jokes about surf fishing and hiring practices—typical Life magazine commentary on contemporary social situations, unrelated to the main story's themes. The piece combines African American folklore with modern jazz culture, a popular literary approach of the early 20th century.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
12 LIFE - Brer Rabbit and the Jazz Cornet “ AIN'T yo’ never hearn tell erboat Brer Rabbit an’ de jazz coronet contest?” asked Shad-mouth George, the nephew of old Uncle Remus. Hav- ing inherited his uncle's gift for story- telling, he was training to be the only colored broadcaster in the business. “One day,” commenced George, “all de bea git to argufyin’ who de hottes’ papa on de jazz coronet. Finely dey decides to have a contes’ de next day, wif ole Brer Owl and Brer Craney Crow and Brer Tu'key de jedges. Dat suit eve’ybody sc’umptious hut ole biggety Brer Rabbit. “‘Whut's all dis foolishment?’ he ask. ‘Ain't it de troof I'se de best puffawmer on de coronet whut us has?’ “Is yo’ se'ious, Brer Rabbit?’ ask Brer Coon. “‘Se'ious is whut Ah is nothin’ else but, Brer Coon,’ say Brer Rabbit “‘Go ‘long, Rabbit,’ say Brer Fox, ‘yo’ kain't play no coronet. Wuz coro- net playin’ de Atlantic Oceum, you's de Sahary Dessert! Yo’ kain't concen- strain sufficial breaf to cool yo’ soup!” “Well, suh, ‘at was de troof. Rabbit, he got a split lip and he know puffickly well he -kain’t play no coronet at all. Resort Proprictor: THAT PRETTY GIRL WE HIRED TO DO THE SURF FISHING DOESN'T EVER CATCH ANYTHING. MAYBE WE'D BETTER GET ANOTHER GIRL. Press Agent: TAKE IT FROM ME, CHIEF, THE GIRL'’S 0.K. WHAT WE NEED 1S ANOTHER OCEAN, But he so stuck-uppety he jus’ won't demit he kain’t do nothin’. ‘Does yo’ say dem kind wuhds to two hunnerd dollars?’ say Brer Rabbit takin’ out he pocketbook. “‘Gimme fifty smacks ob ‘at,’ yell Brer Possum. ‘An’ me, an’ me!’ yell Brer Coon and Brer Mushrat. o Rabbit he bet two hunnerd dol- lars even money he win de jazz coronet contes’ de nex’ day. “He thunk all ‘at night an’ he thunk all de mawnin’ how he goin’ ter make a noise on he coronet, let alone win de prize. But he don’t get nowheres at all, Finely it come time fo’ de contes’ an’ he heah eve'ybody assemblin’ in de cleahin’ and he no better off ‘an befo’. He hear Possum play he chune, an’ Fox his'n and Mushrat his'n, an’ he got so plum ‘stracted he run smack into a ole p'simmon tree. 'Nen POW! a ole green p'simmon drap off dat tree and hit Rabbit right on de haid. Rabbit so doggone wild by dis time, he puck up dat p'simmon an’ gin it a big bite! “Jes’ then they’s a ery from the cleahin’, ‘Wheah Rabbit? Wheah Rab- bit? Eve'ybody done competed, now wheah he Rabbit, he bresh off his vest and walk into de cleahin’, bowin’ perlitely right an’ left. “‘Hoo!' say Brer Fox, ‘heah comes nothin’,” “Rabbit, he don't answer. He jes’ puck up a coronet fo’ hisse’f an’ he blow ‘tootle-tee-too-too-tootle’ on it, it, sweet as a yam. “Hot dam!’ yell all de ‘Lissen at ‘at blowin’ fool. gas, brother, make it hot!" ‘Tootle-too, tootle-too, tootle!’ go Brer Rabbit. Lady Luck, kiss me good night,’ groan Brer Fox. Theah gocs mah fifty, “Well, suh, dat ole green p'simmon done tie up Brer Rabbit's mouf in sech a knot, he play jazz dat none of dem beastses ever hearn in dey lives befo’. He win de contes’ walkin’ hands down. Dey say he de impe’ial champeen jazz coronet sup'eme wizard. “The on’y thing,” chuckled George in conclusion, “that ole green p'simmon tie his mouf up in sech a knot he kain't say nary a wo'd fo’ two weeks, which doggone near like to kill dat braggety Brer Rabbit.” Henry William Hanemann. beastses. Step on de too-t rt t= comicbooks.com