Life — July 22, 1926 — page 8: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Life Daring Hold-up of Lire’s Readers you ban- ditry is indeed becoming an One of the seven We're all the A say, art! deadly arts. not sure w other six are—but one of them is begging. Ourselves—we prefer banditry to begging. It requires a more lively technique—a more vivid setting. ccordingly, a few "8 ago Lire, masked, though not totally unrecognizable—too much personal- for that—staged a little high- nan stuff. Your money or their said the bandit to various at various points on the bright map of these United States. Lire was speaking of the lives of the needy little boys and girls who plead through these pages to be sent away lives!" folk from the body-and-soul-sickening ter ts of New York in midsum- me They want to go to Lirr’s Camps at Pottersville and at Branch- ville. The bandit, pointing his tiny toy automatics at the hearts of his tims, cried: “Come now! Hands into your pockets! ‘The fountain pen and the check book, please. Just $20. for one poor child for eighteen marvelous days in the country!” ‘The response was overpowering. Or else he said, looking over his silk handkerchief: “You may keep your watch, sir. All we want is the bank notes!” In other cases he hissed, sweetly: “Just ten cents, madam, and you may go on your way unmolested!” Not a shot was fired. No one was (Continued on page 26) Folk Song NE day I walked with Angus Og, And watched the whistling wings Flit gaily shining round his he Those blue birds—they things— Were bright against the autumn red, are tiny And Angus Og, he questioned me: “Who told you love was de So, then, I took him by the hand, And climbed a stony wall. I showed him little graves in rows, And dead vines over all. He knelt with me and shared my prayer, ; Then tenderly he smiled and said “Who told you, Love, that love was dead?” Mary Kennedy, A Perfect Score IFTEEN blocks to the west, a woman screamed and fell to the sidewalk, a bullet in her left side. To the east, scarce away, a little newsboy was shouting, “Box score! Box score! Suddenly the shouts ceased, and the newsboy, his lungs lead-piereed, sprawled gro- tesquely over his pape A prominent clubman, in a little park twenty blocks to the north, fell with a bullet in his left hip. He was immediately rushed to the hospital to have the glass removed. Three blocks to the south, a stricken bus conductor pitched eraz- ily from the top of the bus. More than two miles to the south- west, the engineer of the Twentieth Century Limited leaned from his cab window, watching the track ahead. A stray bullet: struck him in the temple, but still he hung there, while the Twentieth Century rushed on, and. on, and on, to certain But by this time the reckless auto- ist at whom Patrolman Michael O'Tooligan had firing had drawn quite out of range; so, with a gesture of resignation, the officer ele- vated his weapon and fired his one remaining shot at random in the air. The pilot, shot through the head, slumped forward in the cockpit, and the air mail plane crashed to earth. Asia Kagowan. stone’s throw been THE modern nouveau riche jumps up to change the needle when a radio selection ends. Artist’s Model: .et’s Go To THE Quatz Arts BALL. I HAVEN'T A THING TO WEAR! comicbooks.com