Life, 1907-12-26 · page 6 of 21
Life — December 26, 1907 — page 6: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
**Main Article: "A Good Enough American to Lecture"** This satirical piece critiques the controversy surrounding Professor Schofield of Harvard, sent to Berlin as an "exchange professor." The article mocks objections to his lecturing abroad because he was "not an American" (not a U.S. citizen), despite being Canadian-born. The satire argues this distinction is absurd—his learning and work are American, and other Canadian-born figures (Dr. Osler at Oxford, Schurman at Cornell) represent American interests abroad without controversy. **Secondary Content: "Lines Written in a Broadway Playhouse"** Wallace Irwin's poem satirizes an ornate Broadway theater, criticizing its excessive decoration while the actual stage performance disappoints. The accompanying illustrations mock theatrical pretension versus mediocre entertainment. The page's overall theme: attacking parochial nationalism and bureaucratic absurdity.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
«# LIP E : A Good Enough American to Lecture ‘T SEEMS that Professor Schofield, of Harvard, who was { sent to Berlin to lecture as “exchange professor,” is a j} Canadian and a British subject. There has been some ‘outcry because he was ‘not an American,” meaning not a Z citizen of the United States. It is funny that the exigencies of language should have deprived Canadians of their natural geographical right to be known as “Americans”—but let that go. So far as concerns his qualifications as a lecturer Mr. Schofield is an American, His learning is American. 3 There is free trade in knowledge between Canada and the United States. Mr. Schofield represents American learning at Berlin, just as another Canadian-born man, Dr. Osler, represents it at Oxford, and as our Canadian-born Schurman stands for it at Cornell. Lines Written in a Broadway Playhouse COSTLY pile, divinely built, And filled with art nouveau and gilt, Whose color-scheme suggests the lilt Of times forgotten; Replete with dome and minaret, Caryatid and arch—and yet, Though much impressed, can I forget The play is rotten? Those splendid rows of velvet chairs, Suggesting ease for millionaires, Those clustered lights whose gemlike glares Might dazzle Mammon ; I don’t object to stately halls Fit settings for some Muse divine With tapestries upon the walls. Are here intended to enshrine ‘The carvings which adorn the stalls The Art of rough-and-tumble line, My praise engage, sis. FRR SOR ‘The man who built the place deserves Great credit for his lines and curves— The only thing that jars my nerves Is on the stage, sirs. So fine a building to erect One needs a famous architect And mural painters quite select To put before us A background worth the upturned hose Of little Tottie Twinkletocs, What use? the chorus-ninnies leap Who sings the lyric, “There She Goes,” To music shrilly. And kicks the chorus. I seize upon my hat and quit The place in somewhat puzzled fit— The show has surely made a “hit,” For I’m knocked silly. Wallace Irwin. Ah well, I count my ticket cheap If I can settle back to sleep— “OH, WAD SOME POWER THE GIFTIE GIE US T. R.: THIS IS A PERFECTLY SAFE RALLOON TO SEE OURSEL’S AS OTHERS SEE Us!” AND IS ABSOLUTELY UNDER MY CONTROL comicbooks.com