Life, 1883-06-14 · page 7 of 16
Life — June 14, 1883 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "The Juice" - Political Satire on Irish Immigration and Religion The main text satirizes **Policeman Gilligan**, an Irish immigrant transferred to Avenue A (a tenement district). The humor hinges on ethnic and religious stereotypes: Gilligan complains about whiskey quality, then defends Jewish neighbors against prejudice, creating ironic commentary on inter-ethnic tensions in working-class New York. The narrative mocks both Irish drinking culture and religious rigidity—Gilligan arrests a man for violating Jewish Sabbath observance, then discovers the "corpse" at the man's funeral was actually a ruse. The satire suggests Irish cops' arbitrary enforcement of laws and their misunderstanding of immigrant communities. The accompanying cartoon (right) depicts a woman at a window, likely illustrating domestic scenes referenced in period humor. The page reflects early 20th-century American anxieties about immigration and religious/cultural conflict.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
: - LIFE: THE JUICE. POLICEMAN Gilligan, who had been transferred to Avenue A, was asked how he liked his new beat. . “It's the divil’s own bate intoirely,” replied imported official ; “ but the wust av it is the Juic “Indeed ! Is the whiskey so bad down here ?” “Tt ain't the whiskey I'm complainin’ av, sor. Whiskey is whiskey, wheriver yez foind it. It’s the Juice—thim bloodhy Pagans that made the Howly Vargin an orfin, Bad cess to thim, I can’t git along with thim at all at all.” “What's the matter with the Jews, Mr. Gilligan?” “ Phwat dir yez think av this, now ? There’s wan av thim wid a jawbreakin’ name that kapes his old clo’ shtore open wake in an’ wake out. I wint in to arrist him wan Sunday, an’ he tould me he kep’ Sathurday for Sunday accoordin’ to his religion. I didn’t belave him, but sivinty-sivin other Juice collogued in wid him, an’ they said to me, ‘He does,’ sez they. “Thin I laid for him the nixt Sathurday, an’ the shtore was wide open; but phwen I arristed him he said it wasn't Sunday. ‘Yez tould me,’ sez I, ‘that yez kep’ Sathurday for Sunday.’ ‘ But I've changed ion,” sez he. “So I shtopped in on a Sunday, an’ the shtore was full av people, an’ Ne was busy as the divil shwindlin’ thim right an’ lift. ‘I've got yez now,’ sez I. But he up an’ tould me that the corpse av his brother was in the back room, an’ the neighbors had come in to the wake, an’ he was fittin’ thim out wid funeral close at own ixpinse, an’ it was a big cost to him intoirely. I wint into the back room, an’ sure enough; sor, there was the hooknose corpse in a chape coffin, an’ sivinty- sivin hooknose mourners, an the shmell av Kimmel dhruv me out. “Thad to let him go ; but I sint a detictive around the nixt day, an’ the detictive found the wax mask av that hooknose corpse in a corner. Phwat can yez do wid thim Juice, annyhow ?” the WHAT I WOULD DO IF I MADE $1,000,000. ‘Tuink | had got the worst of the deal. — Yay Gould. Nor pay my debts.—Gilded Youth. Lose it in Wall Street.—Penniless Speculator. RAISE Mapleson $1,000 a performance on Patti.—Henry F. Abbey Buy a place in the country. —City Resident. Remove to the city.—Country Resident. Set upa liferary bureau.—7. F. Bayard. By dimons and buckets of flours for Lilly.— Freddie. Maxe another, if the Americans were geese enough.—Lilly. Exvow Harvard College with it.—8. F. Butler. Say I had made $10,000,000.—Ru/us Hatch. decorator who understands outside work. Address, WANTED-A L.F.O. SERENADE, OVER ye Newark flats ye snipe Wendeth hys mystick way; Ye woodman puffs hys evening pype. While ye four-spot taketh the tray. Ye cat lyes down on her tuneful breast, And all thyngs are happy but me; For I am a lover with love oppressed, I pyne, I pyne for thee. Ye radiant, soft electrick lyght Eclipseth ye twynkling star; And ye waves of liquid, warm delyght Break on ye hotel bar. Ye polyceman sweareth upon hys beat, And all thyngs are restful but me; As I said before, and now repeat, I pyne, I pyne for thee. W. J. Henperson. UNFAMILIAR ANECDOTES, Sir Perer Levy AND CROMWELL. IR PETER LELY being abouf to paint a portrait of Crom- well, the Protector exclaimed loud enough to be heard of the reporters in the ante-room : ‘* Have a care, sir! Paint me as Lam. Leave out one wrinkle, one line, that wart on the end of my nose, at your peril!” Unhappily the painter, being short- sighted, did not notice the wink with which this speech was ac- companied, and applied himself to the work with such realistic zeal that when it was completed the Protector, after dancing upon his hat with delighted appreciation, seized the earliest op- portunity to confiscate his property and exile him to the Continent as a Royalist conspirator against the Commonwealth. ALY, fairy Lillian has Russelled away, as it were. She is on the bounding high C, a-telling the little fishie-wishes how much she loves ‘em, and how she would like to feed ‘em some more, only she can't, and then she will tell ‘em all about the fishes she caught in New York, which were suckers. Naughty, naughty Lilly! Consider this Lilly, how she grew. She toiled not, neither did she spin, and yet Solomon, in all his glory—but just wait until Solomon's first wife catches him on the other side! comicbooks.com