Life, 1926-12-23 · page 10 of 37
Life — December 23, 1926 — page 10: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a humorous travel narrative by Robert Benchley about a bicycle expedition from Scarsdale to the North Pole. The story satirizes overly ambitious amateur expeditions and their inevitable failures through comic exaggeration. The illustrated map shows the planned route northward through New York state. The cartoon below depicts the predictable outcome: Bobby attempting a bicycle stunt, flying over the handlebars, and crashing—a visual punchline mocking the gap between grand aspirations and reality. The accompanying text includes Benchley's typical self-deprecating humor about physical mishaps and his father's skepticism about the venture. The satire targets both the foolish overconfidence of amateur adventurers and the publishing industry's appetite for documenting such doomed exploits. The humor derives from the inevitable comedic failure of an absurd enterprise.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Life Bobby Goes A-Bicycling Special North Pole Correspondence from Bobby Benchley, Juvenile Member of Live's Bicycle Expe- dition, En route to Pole. ORTH WHITE PLAINS, N. Y.—When we left Scarsdale on the second dash to the Pole my fa- ther told me that he would write the account of our trip and that I should sign my name to it, as every expedition has to have a little boy along who writes a book about it later. “You write it and I sign it?” I asked him. “That's right, Bobby,” “Daddy writes it and Bobby signs it and Bobby gets all the publicity.” “Publicity me ey was my an- swer. “If I sign it, I write it. I'll take no responsibility for your drivel. I know your stuff and I pre- fer to write my own, if you don't mind, The rest of the school would kid the pants off me if one of your books came out with my name signed ; angered my father and he if to hit me, but I ducked into the house. “All right for you, you big bully!" I yelled out at him. “Just for that I won't go on your old expedition.” This sobered him up and he agreed to let me write my own stuff and sign it and take ten per cent. of the royalties. Tf the book sells as it ought to, with any kind of push- ing at all from the publishers, I ought to clean up enough to marry Ruthie Henshel in the spring. So here we are, as far as North By Robert Benchley White Plains, and very dull it has been up till now, too. We left Scarsdale at ten o'clock Wednesday morning, I on my new Demon with special coaster-brake attachment and FOUR DAYS OUT FROM SCARSDALE, THR EXPEDITION IS NOW SOMEWHERE AROUND NORTH WHITE PLAINS, N. Y. 0 ON AT THIS RATR, WR'LL BEFORE LONG. a swell cap with a big visor on it to keep the Artic sun out of my eyes. It is my private opinion that all the Artic sun we sce on this trip you could put in my right eye and I'd never notice it. (Proofreading note by Benchley, Sr.—I told Bobby he ought to let me write out a rough draft for him first. You see what he has done with “Arctic.” However, if he is going to be just stubborn about the thing—) The trouble with the expedition so far is that my father and Licut.- Commander Connelly get winded so They can’t pump up even a little hill without having to get off at the top and rest. We're lucky to be at North White Plains, let alone the North Pole. I began by going on ahead as fast as I could, but this just made them sore and I lost them going through Hartsdale and had to sit down by the roadside and wait for them to come up. They both got pretty fat during the summer ha ing around at the base in Scarsdale, and my father especially has got to look oat or he'll look something awful in another year. I told him so, too, and he told me to shut up or he'd send me away to military school. Well, anyway, what with the old folks pufting along behind and En- sign Thermaline having to stop off in White Plains to sce an old girl of his, it has taken us just four days to get this far. OMING through White Plains, my father tried to tell me a the battle that was fought there dur- ing the Revolutionary War. “What battle was that?” T asked. “The Battle of White Plains, of course,” he said. “What did you think it was, the Battle of Prince- ton, N. J.?” “Princeton beat Harvard, didn't they?” T came back at him. (Continued on page 2+) “AT THIS HE MADE A LUNGE FOR ME, AND FELL OFF HIS BICYCLE.” comicbooks.com