Life, 1929-06-07 · page 21 of 48
Life — June 7, 1929 — page 21: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page features satirical humor typical of early 20th-century Life magazine. The main piece, "Letters of a Modern Father," mocks both the romanticized idealism of youth and the practical frustrations of working fathers. A college son wants to spend vacation in the wilderness living simply and "finding his soul," while his father—exhausted from locating lost railroad cargo—gently deflates this romantic notion by describing his own unexpected beauty (stars over Detroit's industrial yards) and imposing practical conditions, like requiring the son not return before Labor Day. The scattered jokes below ("Absent Minded Painter," "Sunday School Teacher") follow the era's quick-gag format. The cartoon showing the contortionist's wife making her errand demand is a visual pun on marital obligation transcending even physical extremes—typical vaudeville-era humor reflecting early 20th-century domestic comedy conventions.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Letters of a Modern Father My Dear Son: Returning to the office after trying for two days and a night to locate five carloads of brick that are lost somewhere between here and that schoolhouse job at Ishpeming, I find your letter saying that in- stead of coming home from college for vacation you de- sire to lose yourself in the \_/ wilds and learn to know your own soul. Before I go out to see why the cars on Spur Track No. 3 aren't being loaded, I will take , time to say go job of losing. Your sister Francie ahead and do it. has just left her husband again and But I insist y WNW J; will be home in two weeks with her on a good / U children, so we will be needing your room. Just now I enjoy picturing you in the rude cabin you mention, — It can’t be too rude for me. You say you crave to live on berries and fruit plucked by the roadside and walk beneath the maj- esty of the stars. I understand how you feel. You should have seen the stars last night, hang- ing low and mysterious over the classification yards out side of Detroit when I almost found those five cars of brick. Iam a little puzzled by one thing in your letter. I do not see what you want with eight hundred dollars in the wilds. But I haven't time to argue, I am putting in the check on condition that you will not find yourself before Labor . Day. Your Affec- Assent MINDED tionate Father, Painter: What! No —McCready house? There's something funny go- ing on around herel You'll find sympathy in the dictionary, and everything else in the drug store. Sunvay ScHoot Teacter: What a : i. The contortionist's killed Samson? é wife makes sure he Witu: Falling arches. x ¥ . won't forget her errand. comicbooks.com