Life — August 5, 1926 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

“1 CAN REMEMBER HIM WHEN HE DIDN'T HAVE CAR-PARE.” “How pID HE MAKE IT?” “HE GOT THE STATE CONTRACT FOR PAINTING DETOUR SIG) Mistaken Identity Diogenes of old I have taken my lantern and searched, lo, these many years, for a But the object of my search, I have come to believe, is even rarer than that unique creature sought by my predecessor, an honest man. I have been looking for the man who poses for the collar ads. I thought I had found him the other day. I was sitting at the con- fectionery counter of a downtown drug store when he entered and sat down at a stool near me. A care- fully oiled and twisted mustachio emphasized the straight set of his mouth and chin and the square jaw behind them. His nose was strong and well formed. One look at his level eyes, as they bored into mine, and I could have sworn that my journcy was ended. His collar was faultless, his necktie a riot of color. He wore a stylish Panama hat, from under which there showed two very precisely amputated sideburns. Moving over nearer to him, I watched him intently as he sat, care- lessly erect, ordering a glass of Coca- Cola. As his lips parted I could see two rows of even teeth, set like pearls in his handsome mouth. From head to foot he appeared to meet my every condition. My brain swam with triumph. At last! I had come to believe that no man had ever lived to pose for the billboard man, artists, that it was all a cruel jest, the mere imagination of a deceitful commercial drawer. But here he was, sitting right beside me. I fairly swooned. O fool! To believe that all is gold that glitters! To think that the end of the rainbow can be attained, Pe- gasus harnessed. Vain is he who shall strive for the unobtainable. Foolish is the man who shall num- ber the produce of his prize poultry specimen before the latter shall have functioned. My friend had taken off his hat. His hair was parted on the side! George C. Jordan. Culinary Conversation “MPHAT new cook of ours is a jewel—wasn’t she?” The Hen: yes, cuitp, THERE’s THE VERY ROOM YOU WERE BORN IN. RING me not goldenrod B Nor clematis nor clover Nor any flower of moss or sod That heaven arches over, Nor garden rose that lures the bee, The ranging honey-reaver; Bring me not goldenrod, Because T have hay fever! Arthur Guiterman. If Summer Comes I* response to many requests, a standard list of equipment to be carried into the refrigerated motion- picture houses is herewith furnished. Six (6) flannel shirts. Twelve (12) pairs of woolen One winter ulster. One leather jacket. Three (3) pairs of mittens. One woolen tam-o’-shanter. Patrons are advised to grease themselves thoroughly, using the grease employed by English Chan- nel swimmers. A heavy fur coat may also be useful, though it is not neces- sary. The usual remedies for frost- bite and chilblains are easy to take. Galoshes will not be needed, but a stout pair of high boots will be found very comfortable. For those who expect to remain throughout the entire performance, a ration of pemmican is advised. Edwin H. Blanchard. comicbooks.com