Life, 1883-07-12 · page 12 of 16
Life — July 12, 1883 — page 12: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Political Satire on Corruption and Chinese Immigration This page satirizes late-19th-century American political corruption and anti-Chinese sentiment. Mr. Robeson (likely Secretary of the Navy) seeks favor from Commissioner Thompson, who oversees a massive $20 million aqueduct project—suggesting graft and patronage networks among public officials. The introduction of Wong Chin Foo (a real Chinese-American editor) and Tom Lee (a Chinatown boss) signals the story's satirical pivot. Their exchange in Chinese and knowing glance implies a scheme: they're setting up Thompson for something sinister. The "parabola" gesture suggests violence or elimination. The subsequent terrible dinner at a Chinatown restaurant appears designed to humiliate or harm Thompson. The satire mocks both corrupt American politicians and plays on period xenophobic fears about Chinese immigrants as dangerous "others" capable of conspiracies against white authority figures. The illustration reinforces this: two menacing Chinese men confronting a Caucasian figure in shadow, evoking contemporary "Yellow Peril" anxieties.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
22 fat gentleman sitting at the table with the fifteen champagne bottles, the obsequious friends, and other tokens desoting that he is a successful public official ?” “That,” replied Mr. Stokes, “is Hubert O. Thomp- son, Commissioner of Public Works, who has a $20,000,000 aqueduct on hand.” An expression of mingled admiration and envy passed across Mr. Robeson’s face. He repressed his feelings by an effort. Presently his eye lighted up with an ill-suppresed joy as the noiseless Twenty-fourth Street doors swung apart, admitting two Chinamen. One of these was young and jaunty ; he carried a lead pencil behind his ear, and his pockets were stuffed with newspapers ; he was Wong Chin Foo, editor of the Chinese American. The other was older; his brow was seamed with the lines of wisdom ; his eye was muddy, and he had lost several of his teeth ; he was Tom Lee, Boss of Mott Street, and ex-Deputy Sheriff. The two eagerly greeted Mr. Robeson. “ Dinner all leddy,” they cried in concert. “ Hang the dinner,” returned Mr. Robeson. “ Does Li Hung Chang desire me to furnish a navy for China?” “ Evlyting all light,” replied Tom Lee. “Li Hung Chang says the Fader of the Melican navy is the only fit palent for the navy that China expects.” “Now, THERE, YOUNG FELLER, ANY TIME TO-NIGHT AN’ 1T’S THE POST I’LL BE WANTIN’ FUR THE NEXT STAIMER.” - LIFE: As Tom Lee said this he exchanged a quick glance with his young companion. Mr. Robeson did not observe it. If he had it might have suggested itself uncomfortably to him, as an omen that comes to one in the night. The editor at this moment discovered Mr. Thompson, and declared that he also must go to dinner. Tom Lee looked queer. ‘What have we against him ?” he said, in Chinese. “ That's all right,” Wong Chin Foo replied in the same language. “ He can stand it’"—and the younger Chinaman with his hand described a bold parabola, beginning at his chin and ending just below his waist- band. Mr. Robeson urged that he would like to meet the man with a $20,000,000 aqueduct on hand, and Tom Lee nodded, Wong Chin Foo went over to the Com- missioner.and invited him to dinner. Mr. Thompson, who had eaten nothing since a lunch of Southdown chops and Welsh rarebit at Brown’s as much as an hour and a half before, accepted with alacrity. “I am ravenous,” he said. He was made acquainted with Mr. Robeson, and the four gentlemen were quickly seated in a hack that was waiting outside. “To 4 Mott Street,” cried Wong Chin Foo. The hack glided smoothly away over the incompar- able pavements that distinguish the American metrop- olis. Mr. Robeson endeavored to engage Mr. Thomp- son in conversation concerning the aqueduct, but the latter was too weak from the lack of ‘food to converse much. When Mr. Robeson would say: “ This aque- duct business seems to me to afford boundless oppor- tunities for a man of genius,” Mr. Thompson would vaguely reply, emitting the words much as a hasty pudding that is cooking emits bubbles, “I hope there will be plenty of solids "—referring probably to the dinner. The party alighted in a wild waste of bright signs, lanterns, jabber, and other evidences of heathendom. They went up a flight into Tom Lee's restaurant, where they sat down to eat. It was a terrible meal. Mr. Thompson apparently liked it. When the thirty- eighth course was presented Mr. Robeson pushed his plate away. “I cannot eat any more,” he said. He seemed much distressed. At this the Chinamen sat bolt upright ; their faces were very grave; they ig- nored the dishes before them. “Let’s eat,” said Mr. Thompson. “We cannot,” replied Tom Lee, in pure and exalted English. “ Our guest refuses our hospitality.” “My God !” said Mr. Robeson, “I feel sick.” “Tt is exceedingly painful to us,” said Wong Chin Foo, also in fair English, to Mr. Thompson, “that the Father of the 'Melican Navy should despise that which we have been at such pains to provide.” “Oh, eat, Robeson,” said Mr. Thompson, setting a vigorous example. “Gimme the dish,” Mr. Robeson gasped. When he had finished it he showed alarming symp- toms. He was much distended. His body, from his armpits down, seemed incapable of motion. His — | ' 1 | we ¢