Life, 1928-05-17 · page 38 of 42
Life — May 17, 1928 — page 38: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains two separate pieces of satire: **"Spalding—you have lied to me"** is a humorous advertisement for Spalding Kro-Flite golf balls. It satirizes misleading product advertising through fictional telegrams where a customer (Waldo P. Cragg) accuses the company of lying about their ball's performance—it supposedly can't be "cut" or "outdriven," yet he's been badly beaten in matches using it. When he asks how to achieve greater distance, Spalding absurdly suggests "Buy a cannon," exposing the company's inability to justify their product's actual failure. **"The Tower of Babel"** (right column) is a chaotic stream-of-consciousness satirizing a newspaper office. It's a jumble of overheard conversations, complaints, and gossip among journalists—reflecting the frantic, gossipy, and underpaid environment of early 20th-century newsrooms. The title references the Biblical tower where languages became confused; here, the "confusion" is editorial chaos and workplace drama rather than language barriers. Both pieces mock specific American institutions through exaggeration.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
‘Spalding— you have lied to me’ { An episode in four telegrams} A. G. SPALDING & BROS., NEW YORK CITY SPALDING YOU HAVE LIED TO ME STOP ADMIT KROFLITE CANNOT BE CUT BUT YOU ALSO SAY IT CANNOT BE OUTORIVEN STOP IN MATCH WITH PRO TODAY HE OUTOROVE ME AVERAGE OF THIRTY YARDS STOP CAN YOU EXPLAIN THIS WALDO P. CRAGC WALDO P. CRAGG, BAR HA SUGGEST YOU SWAP BALLS WITH PRO STOP YOU PLAY HIS AND LET HIM PLAY KROPLITE A. G. SPALDING & BROS. A. G. SPALDING & BROS. NEW YORK CITY TOOK YOUR SUCGESTION STOP PRO OUTDROVE ME AVERAGE OF FIFTY YARDS STOP HOW CAN 1 GET DISTANCE AS GREAT AS PROS WALDO P. CRAGG, BAR HARBOR, MAINE BUY A CANNON Guaranteed for 72 holes We absolutely guarantee replacement of any Kro-Flite ball which is cut through or becomes unplayable from any cause in 72 holes of play. But we honestly believe that every Kro-Flite is good for many more holes than 72, for it is practically indestructible. J RO-FLITE 5 ead why ne Nass The Tower of Babel “Tuat dirty shirt? Say, I wouldn’t work on that sheet if I owned it!....—turned in a column of good stuff and he cut it to six lines—. . . Well, well! How's things in Boston, Pete? The Monitor sil knocking "em dead?...—oh, yeah, he can write, but he don’t know news am more than my aunt's hind leg!.. . This is the way you do it: you put in an order for expenses—...—one terrible slave driver. Simon Legree was a lady sida him....Gosh, I'm sorry, old son, all I've got is a dollar and a half. . . . Messen- ger! Anybody call a messenger? . . .—sent me all of the way out there, too, when he knew darn well she’s left town; that's the kind of a—...—on a slab up at Davy Jones’ Locker, but it’s not the same man—...—and all the front page ink he ever got you could put in your cye and have room enough left for the Berengaria..... Lamb! Lamb! My God, what a paper, where the hell is LAMB? ..-=matter with the Old Man? Scems to have a bee in his trousers—. . . Elbow room, men! Just sold a spoof story by the word! Don’t speak to me. I’m an author now....—a sweet fight, Dave. I was right down where I could hear the ears flatten out....—he’d marry his grand- mother to get his name in the—... Hey, anybody know where Ceefus Street is? . and you can’t even get a decent cup of coffee—...—sure was a good guy; it’s a darn shame!...Say, listen, if the Old Man wants me, I've just this minute stepped out, see?...Take your rotunda off my pet language-piano, Bill, | gotta work—...—the bullet in his neck was from her revolver, but they can’t figure who shot him in the abdomen—... ‘wonderful to be a reporter,’ she sighs. Heh! Heh! Heh!. . .—well, my slant oa this theosophy racket is—...—one of the Deputy Chiefs crawled through that hole just in time to get the whole stream right in his gold teeth! Funny? I thought I'd —...—she says, ‘Are you from the press?’ and I says, ‘Oh, no, ma’am—’... -~surely get it back to you pay-day, Sam. ...Pinnotz, orrinchiss, sperrmintta gum, siggrettz—...Hey, Tony, my_ love, I want an orrinch!...Luckies, Tony!... ~~a desk man now, the lazy slob—. and get a picture of Sumner—you know, the vice addict. ...-—-sorry, Ed, only got two dollars myself. ..—so this baby-Berm- hardt says—...—haven’t seen your dar glue-pot; why don’t you chain it to your vest?...—just for a day or so, Sid, sure is an accommodation—. ..Parker! Park- er! Where the hell is PARKER?. . .Ob, Joe, could you let me have ten until— ...Pinnotz, siggrettz, orrinchiss....” Heman Fay, |r. ad “Husband and wife or near relatives are rar seated side by side at a dinner but are given oF genial partners."—Newark Star-Eagle. Fasuiy Life in America; or, What Every Psychoanalyst_ Knows—New York World. comicbooks.com