Life, 1926-07-08 · page 25 of 41
Life — July 8, 1926 — page 25: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains three satirical pieces typical of 1920s-era Life magazine: **"The Piker"** mocks a young man too poor to court his love interest—he can't afford her cigarettes and gin, making him an inadequate suitor despite her affection. **"Double-Crossed"** satirizes a Purity and Padlock League secretary (referencing real anti-vice organizations of that era). The joke: he dies believing he's reached paradise, but discovers "hell" is a place where his moral crusading finds no authorities to enforce prohibition, no laws to leverage—his entire purpose becomes meaningless, driving him mad. **"Things of Beauty"** makes a double entendre about women's bathing suits—asking whether the customer wants swimwear for actual swimming or for "contest purposes" (beauty pageants/exhibition), implying the suit's real purpose is displaying the wearer's body. **"Another War Story"** references the Herrin Massacre (1922 Illinois labor violence), darkly joking that militia arrival stops the fighting—not through actual combat but through fear of armed confrontation.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
of PCP DRA TTP. The Piker Y love is fair to ecstasy (I'm writing of her looks, of course), And yet, for us, it cannot be “To hold and cherish till divorce.” She smiles and pats me on the hand, ad comfort for my pale regrets. The reason we both understand: I can’t afford her cigarettes. She favors me at every dance; She seeks the moonlight at my side, And if there were the slightest chance, I know my love would be my bride. Alas! Which means I’m pretty glum, No hope exists that I may win. My weekly wage is shy the sum Required to keep that gal in gin. J. K. M. Double-Crossed IS last hours on earth had been tinged with uneasiness, for he feared that his work as an uplifter had not entirely removed the stains of his early indiscretions. Now he found happiness in death. Standing at the end of a long street he could see hundreds of newsstands, book shops, cabarets, saloons, theatres, dance halls, hotels, and bungalows with drawn curtains. “Paradise!” he exclaimed. “A spe- cial Paradise created for me. My service as secretary of the Purity and Padlock League has won celestial recognition and they decided that the common herd’s heaven was not good enough.” So he proceeded to do his duty as he saw it. He entered a saloon and asked for whisky. He got it. It was the same everywhere; these sinners had no shame. The news- stands and book shops yielded a rich ‘aul of prurient literature; the pa- trons of the dance halls and cabarets were indulging in indescribable rev- elry, and he was thrilled to the core by the treasures of moral turpitude in the theatres, the hotels, and the bungalows with drawn curtains. With all the evidence carefully catalogued, he was ready to bring retribution upon the wicked. Stop- ping another soul, he asked to be directed to police headquarters. Half an hour later the cabarets, saloons, theatres, dance halls, ho- Seth THINGS OF BEAUTY Customer: 1 WANT A BATHING sUIT. Clerk: ves, MISS—ER, SOMETHING SIMPLE FOR SWIMMING, OR DO YOU INTEND TO USE IT FOR CONTEST PURPOSES? tels, and bungalows were unoccupied. Everybody was standing at the curb watching a shade who dashed madly up and down the center of the street shrieking, “Let me out!” The ex-secretary of the Purity and Padlock League had learned that this place had no police, district at- torneys, injunctions, legislatures, Congress, lobbies, or campaigns for funds—it was hell. Gerald Cosgrove. Encore! HARoLp: Your sunburn is very Another War Story FUSILLADE of shots broke the fearful silence. The sound seemed to relieve the tense nerves of the men. Eagerly they fired from advantageous points upon figures silhouetted against the blaze of the enemy’s guns. Shells screamed and _ exploded. Shrapnel sent a rain of lead upon the men in the trenches. Snipers were picking off the enemy from hidden positions on the housetops. Suddenly a shout went up. “Cheese it—the militia!” And Herrin was quiet for another forty-eight hours. Cc. G. ALL THE GUESTS OF “THE SURF-VIEW HOUSE” DEMAND A ROOM WITH SOUTHERN EXPOSURE AT THE SAME TIME. comicbooks.com