Life, 1928-04-05 · page 51 of 59
Life — April 5, 1928 — page 51: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains three distinct pieces: ## Main Content: "Ballade of the Man Who Made Himself Over" A satirical poem by Kenneth Allan Robinson mocking self-improvement through mail-order courses. The narrator buys books promising success—gaining conversational skill, workplace advancement, dancing ability, and proper etiquette. Each improvement impresses people around him, yet he remains unable to speak French to a waiter, suggesting that genuine sophistication cannot be purchased through correspondence courses. The repeated refrain undermines his manufactured self-improvement, implying that authentic refinement cannot be manufactured. ## Minor Content: "The Honest Burglar" A brief joke: A burglar broke into a store for a cigar but was caught at the safe. When questioned, he claims he was "putting in the dime"—a pun on the expression "putting in" effort, suggesting even criminals follow proper payment methods. ## Advertisement: Douglass Lighter A product advertisement occupying the right side, promoting automatic cigarette lighters with luxury positioning (mentioning a Prince of Savoy). This is commercial content, not editorial satire.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Ballade of the Man Who Made Himself Over by Answering Advertisements | HELD them spell-bound by my conversation— I'd got the book by mail the day before— The boss looked up and swooned with admiration At the new look of Power and Pep I wore. “You're going far with us, young man,” he swore— Last week he'd nearly chased me to the bench— And yet the fates refused a perfect score,— The waiter wouldn’t speak to me in French. I played choice bits of deathless syncopation— “Why, Jack! Who taught you? Tell us, we implore!” I smiled and danced a graceful hesitation— My first five minutes on a ball- room floor. Girls crowded round and whis- pered “je t’adore,” Who'd styled me once the world’s worst monkey-wrench. And yet one fly the evening's oint- ment bore,— The waiter wouldn't speak to me in French, I chose my forks with calm discrim- ination, I who had muffed them so in days of yore. My cyebrows sought a_ well-bred elevation Where once I'd set the table in a roar. “They wasn't” and “has went” [ used no more, And finger-bowls no longer made me blench; Yet the prize trick was wasted of my store,— The waiter wouldn't speak to me in French. L’Exvor Waiter, I've conn’d my various lessons o'er With feverish zeal impossible to quench. Now would you bring to nothing all my lore?... (The waiter wouldn’t speak to me in French!) Kenneth Allan Robinson. The Honest Burglar UDGE: So you broke in the store | Just to get a ten-cent cigar? Then what were you doing at the safe? i Prisoner: Your Honor, I was put- ting in the dime. The Silhouette Doug lass— thin as a modern watch | | Be so much simpler just to press a trigger and get alight. So much neater —no soiling of hand or glove. The Douglass is automatic; precise in a&tion; always dependable. Unique in that. Silhouette Douglasses, moreover, are distin&ively thin— 379 thousandths of an inch thin. Graceful as a modern watch, as the trickiest French compadt. The better shops have Douglass Lighters. Silhouette models from $10 to $1000; Standard models at $5 and up. They also have Douglass Fluid in cans so convenient you'll never let your lighter go dey. The Douglass L ighter Sponsored by HARGRAFT, Wrigley Bldg., Chicago, Canadian distributor: You might as well have an automatic lighter The illuftration shows the beautifal gold Douglass order= ed for a Prince of the House of Savoy — The Douglass windshield attach- ment for Silhouette or Standard mode!s, $1. Here shows on triple plated silver Douglass priced at A.W. W. Kyle Co., 5 St. Nicholas St., Montreal, Quebec comicbooks.com