Life, 1925-01-22 · page 23 of 36
Life — January 22, 1925 — page 23: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
**"The Traffic Problem" cartoon** depicts a Ferris wheel repurposed as a parking solution—a satirical jab at urban congestion. The "ferryman" character operating it suggests cities are so gridlocked that unconventional, absurd measures seem necessary. This reflects 1920s-30s automobile boom anxieties about traffic and parking shortages in American cities. **"A Rotarian in Paradise"** mocks Californians, particularly Los Angeles boosters. St. Peter rejects another LA man because the previous Californian resident complained Heaven lacked California's natural features (ocean, mountains, oil wells, orange groves), forcing angels to labor uselessly. The joke satirizes Californian boosterism and exaggeration about their state's superiority—a common literary target of the era. **The opening essay** humorously critiques winter sports, particularly bob-sledding, describing chaotic, injury-prone recreational outings. It's lighthearted social commentary on wealthy leisure activities. The page exemplifies Life's satirical approach to contemporary American social phenomena: urban modernization problems, regional character types, and recreational culture.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Winter Sports Bob-Sledding \ ‘INTER SPORTS are all right in Y their way, so long as they don't gc: in mine. It isn’t that I don't go in my good clean fun now and then, somehow I just don’t take it out in snow that way. I can stagger from den of vice to another, and tear commandments wide open; but I ce always felt that a series of snow- s to the ear and eight weeks of ble pneumonia ahead just weren't n-ant for me. If there is a Bob-Sled ty to be had, I am usually to be nd at home, before the fire, with a k. There is nothing quite like a Bob- d Party to come at the end of a wded, happy winter’s day. As the tess herself admits, fun isn’t the rd for it; and I confess I have over- ard people suggest better words, my- Strictly speaking, the Bob-Sled Party rts at the top of the hill, though the 1 is more likely to come well towards middle. The first two or three tries 1! suddenly after the first six feet, hen the runners get caught in a tree tangled in somebody's muffler. But t last we are off to what I might call flying start, if I were a hound for a irase that way. So off we go, with many a hip and hurrah! The man on the end is lost, erboard after the first hundred yards, d remains stuck in'a snowdrift with s feet in the air, until somebody res- ses him or the snow melts. But the cst of us go whirling downhill; and { we don’t upset a dozen little girls ith sleds, and an elderly gentleman or » with a cane, then the evening is no ind of howling success at all. And you hould see us bring up against the side { a house, and stick there. Ah! we live nly once. In fact, that last is more or less the rgument I have used in urging the bolition of Winter Sports altogether. If we live only once, we might as well make it last as long as we can. Corey Ford. In a Manner of Speaking USTOMER IN CHAIR (to new barber): I want a shave—can you manage it? Mopest Barner: Well, I'm willing to make a stab at it. - LIFE - THE TRAFFIC PROBLEM LIEIEAE. = | The Ferryman: TAKE YOU ACROSS THE STREET IN MY STEEL MONITOR FOR A QUARTER. A Rotarian in Paradise ‘T AM very sorry,” said St. Peter, “but we can’t admit any more men from Los Angeles. We had too much trouble with the one we did let in.” “I'm sure I'd be a good influence in Heaven,” replied the man from Los Angeles. “Honestly, I'd do my best.” “That was the trouble with the other man,” St. Peter said wearily. “The first thing he told us was that California had on its shores the largest ocean in the world and he objected because we didn’t have any ocean at all. We had the angels shoveling and carrying buckets of water for a year, and then he told us that every Californian had a moun- tain in his backyard, oil wells on his side lawn, an orange grove in his con- servatory and an ostrich farm on the roof. So you must understand we can't admit any more men from Los Angeles. Go find a place for yourself in the great open spaces of the universe.” The man from Los Angeles sighed. “That's what they told me in hell,” he said. Floyd Taylor. | OM: Pleasant suburb you have here. Teo: body. Yes; nobody knows any- comicbooks.com