Life, 1928-04-05 · page 45 of 59
Life — April 5, 1928 — page 45: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains a satirical dialogue about "taxi-dancing"—a 1920s-era commercial dance hall practice where men paid women (taxi-dancers) per dance. The humor lies in the dancer's practiced flattery and evasions: she compliments her client's dancing while subtly insulting other dancers, claims to do this to help her mother, and deflects personal questions with rehearsed charm. The satire mocks both the transactional nature of the interaction and the taxi-dancer's scripted persona—her constant reassurances, invented compliments, and strategic vagueness about her life. References to "truck-dancers" and the taxicab joke suggest contemporary slang criticism of the profession. The page's second half is a full-page **advertisement** for Arrow Starched Collars, using the portrait framing device to argue that grooming (specifically, a proper collar) frames one's appearance—particularly important "where appearance counts most." There is no political cartoon here; the content is primarily satirical social commentary paired with commercial advertising.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Taxi-Dancer, Sir! “HLEASED to meetcha, Mister Leaming. Yes, it is. I'd be happy to. Gotcher tickets? Oh, yes, you gotta have tickets. Here, Tll show you where, or mebbe you'd like for me to buy them? No Glad to do it. Why, they generally that is, a dollar and a half’s worth would be about right. “Here you are. Oh, would you rather I held them? All right. There's a hot number now. I say, there goes the music and it’s a de- lightful tune to dance to. Yeah, that's right, it is crowded. Eleven o’clock--that’s the crowdedest time. Late ones all get here then—early ones haven't started home, “Oh, don’t say that, Mister Beam- ing. I think you dance just splen- didly, really. No, that didn’t hurt. Honest, it was my fault. Why, I like to dance with you. Your danc- ing is different. You got originality. Old? Not atawl. Not atawl. What? I wouldn't of believed it. High school? How old is she? Well, well, I thought you was about thirty-four, or thirty-six, at the out- side. Lumber? That must be awful fascinating. “My fault. No, really, it was mine, Mister Reaming. I guess I shouldn't of come to work to-night. Oh, I kind of sprained my ankle this afternoon---not serious, but painful. “You like it? It isn’t much, Yes, we all wear evening gowns. Oh, I really haven't much to tell. Just an uninteresting little girl. Yes, I do this to help my mother. Taxi- dancing? Yes, somebody named it that. But they was kiddin’ us girls. If they'd dance with some of the eggs we pair off they'd of called us truck-dancers. Mebbe they call us taxi-dancers because so many men that dance with us think they're in a taxicab instead of in a swell ball- room. “If you find it hard talking and dancing at the same time and really feel like having a nice little chat, Mister Beaming, we can sit a few out. Just so the house gets the tickets they don’t care whether we dance or start telling each other our first names. We can sit back at one of those tables and order a little drink. Oh, no, just lemonade and things like that. Us girls aren't allowed to drink a thing here-—not that I ever want to. I think a girl is better off without it. “Here, how's this table? Oh, Mister Beam, do you really think so? Who, that one in the silver? Ha! Ha! She thinks she’s an Adagio dancer. A turnip mebbe, but not an Adagio dancer. I take Adagio les- (Continued on page 44) Your Face It’s the only one you have. Make the most of it. When people look at you, they look primarily at your face. Your face is YOU. —and your Collar is a frame to the picture. Does it help—or harm? Where appearance counts most—at the office— over the conference table—at the club—a game of bridge—wear a Starched Collar. Notice the difference—in your own mirror and in the impression you make on others. They won’t even know it is your Collar. Its effect is subconscious. They “see” only the picture, not the frame—but the frame helps. ARROW Starched COLLARS Cluett, Peabody & Co., Inc. ARROW SHIRTS, COLLARS, UNDERWEAR, HANDKERCHIEFS comicbooks.com