Life, 1929-07-05 · page 17 of 41
Life — July 5, 1929 — page 17: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains two separate comic sketches satirizing urban life and workplace dynamics. **Top cartoon**: An elevator operator brags about access to gossip, mentioning a "dizzy blonde" stenographer who married her boss for financial survival rather than love—mocking both the woman's ambition and the boss's poor judgment. **Bottom cartoon**: A hobo attempts to steal tobacco from a sleeping vagrant, but the sleeping man catches him mid-theft with a fishing pole. The humor derives from the unexpected competence of someone appearing helpless, and the absurdity of using a fishing rod to protect one's meager possessions. Both sketches target working-class and impoverished figures common to 1920s-era urban satire, using exaggerated situations to comment on desperation and social pretension.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Life fF veneer OT \ The Wevator Get in, gentlemen, get in. There's always plenty of room at the top. Good morning, Mr. Murphy. Yes, poor Ed. got fired. Too bad. He started in at the bottom of the ladder and then walked under it. Nice weather, Mr. Cohen. I hear you got robbed the other day. But never mind. Some of these New York crooks are so dumb they get caught. Call your floors, please. I haven't finished my course in mind-reading. You said it, a correspondence course. You can get anything from a corre- spondence school except sales-resist- ance. Oh. yes, lady, there is a thirteenth una: , floor in this building; but they call it Officer! I'm the only one who the fourteenth. That's just to give it can call my husband those a lucky break. names! Did you get that dizzy blonde? Everything made up but her mind. She's just a poor stenographer trying to carn her own living by marrying the boss. Going down! Don’t be telling me how to run this car, please. No back- seat drivers allowed. This is as far as you go, folks. Next stop the basement. —I. W. Scott. “Can't reach thet can o° tobacey, nohow. Cripes, he got to quit smokin comicbooks.com