Life, 1904-12-03 · page 8 of 22
Life — December 3, 1904 — page 8: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page from *Life* magazine contains satirical content about early 20th-century American society. **"To an Indian Skull"** is a poem by Wallace Irwin mocking American industrialization and wealth accumulation, contrasting Native American traditions with modern capitalism ("steel tepee," "million-dollar"). **"Inaugural"** section describes an elaborate presidential parade where wealthy businessmen display new automobiles and promotional merchandise—satire of commercialized civic ceremony. **The cartoon** (right) depicts a bank president reporting to a director that a cashier has absconded with $100,000. The director offers partnership as a solution—satirizing how embezzlement could be overlooked through business accommodation rather than prosecution, reflecting Gilded Age corruption and lax financial regulation. The overall page critiques American materialism, corporate malfeasance, and the erosion of authentic culture by commercial interests.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
ARE CHRISTMAS PRESENTS A BLESSING OR A NUISANCE? FOR the best answer to this question, contained in five hundred words or less, Live. will give fifty dollars. Correspondents may treat the subject in any way they prefer. As our guestion applies only to adults, it meets with the Sull approval of Santa Claus. To an Indian Skull. (Found in a Broadway excavation.) AUNT relic with the vacant smile, What think you of Manhattan isle Your tribesmen sold in trustfulness For thirty dollars, more or less ? My! if your legs were with you yet, You'd kick, Iam disposed to bet, Because you sold out in a slump Before your stocks began to jump. Step lively, please ! this hallowed ground Ill suits your mouldering rest profound ; Since these God's acres have been sold For very near their weight in gold, Where once your wigwam fluttered, see Yon million-dollar steel tepee— Where once your war-dance gave its thrill, Now flings the nightly vaudeville, Here sat your god of wood and stone— Ah, how his pagan time is gone! Now through the tweed-clad tribes is borne The Calf of gilded hoof and horn, Where once your tribesmen tread the trail Behold the hansom smartly sail, Wherein the Johnnie sits alone, With skull as hollow as your own, Well may you hear, with loosening teeth, The L" above, the Sub” beneath, The auto's toot, the rumbling van— Sleep on, poor relic—if you cant Watlace Irwin. Inaugural. HE Inauguration ceremonies were the finest ever witnessed. The President's daughter, in a float provided by the Zip Breakfast Food Company, headed the procession. Eight thousand novelists, each with his typewriter strapped to his back, came next. Two million automobilists followed in overalls, just as they came from repair- ing their machines, The enthusiasm and odor were intense. After this came the Imperial guards, all with uniforms provided by the New Clothing Syndicate, just incorpo- tated by the Government. And then— Fifth, Head of the Beef Trust, sitting on a golden throne. Sixth. A float representing the* union of the Standard Oil and the Bap- tist Church, Seventh, The President, in a go-cart with the following legend inscribed in red paint : 1 love my country for what there is in it. Bank President: THOUSAND DOLLARS, Director: DON'T GET EXCITED. PARTNERSHIP, WE'RE RUINED! Incompetent. RESIDENT: We'll have to dis- charge that superintendent. The doctors hate him. GENERAL MANAGER : trouble? “Why, he wants to take off the open cars before the winter is half over.” What's the THE CASHIER HAS ABSCONDED WITH ONE HUNDRED HE HAS LEFT A NOTE OFFERING TO TAKE US INTO comicbooks.com