Life, 1928-08-09 · page 12 of 40
Life — August 9, 1928 — page 12: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page from *Life* magazine contains a diary column and an illustration titled "Moving Picture Magnate (To young writer): You say you're starving? Well, that's too bad. Have you got any funny ideas?" The cartoon satirizes Hollywood's ruthless treatment of struggling writers. A well-dressed movie executive dismisses a clearly impoverished young writer, suggesting that studio heads only value creative output ("funny ideas") rather than caring about artists' actual welfare or hardship. The diary entries above record mundane social observations—cancelled dinner plans, household mishaps, marital tensions—typical of satirical domestic humor common to early 20th-century *Life* magazine. The overall page mocks both Hollywood's callousness and middle-class social pretensions through contrasting narratives of glamour and disillusionment.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
LIFE RS. PEP’S DIARY July The telephone a-ringing carly, and it was Letty Philbrook 7 saying she could not dine with us this evening, a statement which should never be made at such short notice unless accompanied by a doctor's certifi- cate, and when I did tell Betty as much, she pleaded that it was her rich Aunt Alice come suddenly to town, the only relative who does now stand between her and an Old Ladies’ Home, so I was obliged to be reasonable. But Lord! I do verily believe I had liefer be an inmate of an institution for aged females, with cronies always at hand for gossip and bridge, than Yave but sufficient income to keep me in Florence or Sorrento, listening ineffectually to distant music and laughter. All the morning gone, therefore, in tryin; to get a fourth for the evening, but wit! no success, and later, when I did go out to the shops, I was at some pains not to ask the salesman who fitted me to slippers whether or not he played a decent game of contract. Butwhen I reached home,Sam said he had corralled Pete Gilbert, who arrived betimes enough to join in the mockery of my day’s purchases, which in- cluded novelties in bathroom accessories, some footgear of lizard skin and a wash- able linen hat, but he made up for it afterwards by praising the dinner super- latively and remarking that ours is the only private house in which he dines wherein sufficient hollandaise sauce is served to warrant a guest's helping himself to more than a meager spoonful. My for- tune at cards extremely good, and so very content to bed, reading in Mistress Tay- lor’s “The Youngest One,” a well-wrote tale of life in an American rectory where- from I did take an indirect lesson in the heroine's great-aunt, who was “‘the sort of Frenchwoman who would kncw how many carrots had gone into the soup even if her fortune eclipsed that of a Roths- child,” for here am I, seldom solvent at the bank, never bothering when I order to ask the price of anything save green peppers, ang that only to learn whether they are five cents straight or three for ten. July Astir betimes, _ threatening 8 Sam with divorce if he do i not arrange with the agents to have the flat redecorated in August whilst we are in Cooperstown, and then to the shops again to get material for two lace dresses, one black and one beige, not Yjy “I wonder if she has retained her own per- sonality since she married Alan?” “Absolutely, and Alan's too.’ overlooking a washable print which did take my eye. Through the housewares department to find a dustpan and some kitchen bowls, and home exhausted, bawling loudly for a claret lemonade, whereto Katie quoth, “Even if the carafe is empty and I must decant another bottle?” causing me to think seriously of slapping her. So stretched out upon the chaise-longue with my beverage on a tray, reading in “Seven Days Whi ing,” a curious and absorbing tale sed on the emotion of fear, and it was a stroke of genius, methinks, for the author to have made the intruder an Indian, for Lord! I could never behold without a shudder even the wooden specimens of that race which formerly stood in front of cigar stores. Sam home betimes, and so by motor to the country- side with a great box of supper, which we did eat in as rustic surroundings as we could find. And on the way back to town we were besought for transportation by more persons bs we could count, but Sam said he would not take in even a female octogenarian on crutches, for an he did, the chances were that the minute she got in the car she would pull off her wig and bash him on the crown with one of her props, demanding his loose change and personal jewelry the while. Baird Leonard. JAZZVICTUS Ir matters not how great the heat, How charged with Bacardi the bowl, Movinc Picrure Macnate (to young writer): You say you're starving? Well, that’s too bad. |! am the master of my feet, Have you got any funny ideas? I am the captain of my sole. comicbooks.com rt