Life, 1894-04-26 · page 7 of 20
Life — April 26, 1894 — page 7: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# "An Appeal to the Editor of Life" - Analysis This satirical poem critiques the editorial practices of *Life* magazine itself. The speaker describes visiting the editor's office, where he encounters a mysterious, supernatural disturbance—"a buzzing," "fluttering," and "creatures" filling the air—that he feels stealing away something indefinable and strange. The accompanying illustrations show the editorial office as chaotic, populated by well-dressed figures in animated conversation or apparent distress. The satire suggests the magazine's editorial process transforms or corrupts submissions, or that the office environment itself possesses a strange, almost ghostly quality that affects writers and their work. The poem ultimately critiques how *Life's* editors reshape or reject contributions, leaving writers bewildered about what happened to their "usual *savoir faire*."
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
AN APPEAL TO THE EDITOR OF LIFE. 1. HE editor of Lire once sat Within his sacred den, And strove to write, as was his wont, With ready, witty pen; Alas,” he cried, ‘' whence comes this gloom, Which o'er me seems to steal ? What is this queer presentiment Of something strange, I feel? Mt. A buzzing in my ears I hear, A fluttering, as of wings, The very air around seems filled With countless living things.” He started, as upon his arm Was laid a woman's hand, And turning, saw his sanctum filled With a mysterious band. 3 Balter fae > Vv. Are we the shallow, vapid things You'd have the world believe ? Do aé/ the women whom you know The other sex deceive ? Look through your papers, can you read With no touch of remorse, How oft you hint that women wed Intending a divorce ? VI. Your artists, with consummate skill, Our beauty have portrayed, Until within no country is Our claim to that gainsaid ; But, sir, would Gibson, Wenzell, Van, Young Johnson take less pains, Decline to draw us if you showed We were endowed with brains? —_ — SS WO LIFE: Mt. They seemed no ghostly visitants, No creatures of thin air, But brilliant girls with flashing eyes, And women young and fair ; No frumpy, blue stockings were these But graceful creatures all, Fit daughters of the gods, scarce one But was divinely tall. Iv. And she whose touch had startled him Drew back with haughty mien, While from her glorious eyes there flashed A glance both proud and keen. “We are young women, sir,” she said, ** Americans each one, Who feel that you our race and sex A mighty wrong have done. Ix, The editor essayed to speak, But stammered—turned aside, Embarrassed how to meet a charge Which could not be denied ; And e’er he had recovered quite His usual savoir faire, He lost his chance, for lo, the band Had vanished into air, To you the working-man owes much, You bravely took his part, Till now his Sundays may be spent Within the halls of art; Your Fresh Air Fund—your scorn of those Who poor dumb beasts abuse, Prove that for every cause, but ours, Both heart and head you use. vit. y."" she cried with trembling lip, ** Proclaim us hard and cold, Imply we laugh at honest love, And marry but for gold ? Oh, sir, these jokes have gone too far, Be just, we ask no more!” And all the others chorused her *“'Tis justice we implore.” comicbooks.com