Life, 1909-06-10 · page 13 of 32
Life — June 10, 1909 — page 13: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This cartoon depicts a figure wearing a crown and elaborate robes sitting atop a large bag labeled "LIFE," suggesting wealth or privilege. The illustration accompanies a story about flying machines. The satirical point appears to target class disparity: the crowned figure represents wealth or aristocracy literally sitting above ordinary people's concerns (represented by the bag). The story's narrative—involving someone learning to pilot a flying machine and romantic complications—uses the aviation theme as backdrop for social commentary. The title "The Poor Man's Friend" is likely ironic, suggesting that what claims to benefit common people actually serves the wealthy or powerful instead. The exact historical context and specific figures referenced are unclear without additional publication date information.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
jg lua \| yp uh al ‘ah THE POOR MAN'S FRIEND “Flying machines,” I whispered This was the safest thing I could think of. 1 mean, of course, for purposes of narration. For no one could contradict me. I hurried on rapidly, fancying I de- tected a disappointment. “You see,” I went on, “I played up to all the sports. Now, golf is a boy’s game in my opinion. I used to go around in 84. That satis- fied me. Then I took up tennis, putting the shot, throwing the discus, wrestling, auto racing ’? (I mentioned all the sports I could think of), “horse racing, but flying machines beat "em all. I can't do anything else. would ruin me. It takes all the nerve a man has. Now, the other night I zigzagging over Long Island when one of the blades of the aeroplane got tangled up with the steering apparatus. The result was that I had to grab a parachute in a hurry and jump. out Landed in Jamaica. Did you ever "—I looked at her calmly and disinterestedly —"land in Jamaica at midnight from a flying machine?" She looked at me breathlessly. Of course A tennis arm ‘LIFE: “Good gracious, no!" she exclaimed, getting back unconsciously to the phrase- ology of thirteen.“ Did—you—land ean “Oh, yes," I replied nonchalantly. “I only broke a couple of ribs—or was it three? I believe, now that I recollect, that it was three.” “And did you get back? ”* “1 didn’t bother with it. It was a hoodoo anyway. But I went back home and made another.”’ “Do you make them yourself? “Sure thing. But——" I looked about me once more, then gazed at her solemnly. “You'll say nothing about course."” “If you wish I smiled grandly. “You see,"’ I said, “I ran down here for a few days’ rest and quict. What I do is not generally known. If it were I would be followed by crowds."’ I leaned forward once more, my face close to hers. “It’s my secret,” I said. “1 understand,” she replied, “ only— couldn't you—take me with you some time? I'd just love it.’” I shook my head. “T'm afraid not,” I said. “You see, aside from the risk, it's the weight."’ “I could train down.” I gazed at her critically. mitted humbly, nay, anxiously. “Well,”” I said, sotto voce, “ I'll see.’” I started up. “ By the way I said. “I discovered a punching bag in the stable this morn- ing. Perhaps you'd like to have a go at it, I'll be referee. I'd like to my- self, but, of course, I have to be careful Come—"" I said, plucking at her sleeve, “it will help you get back your wind I'll time you in three-minute rounds.”” She looked at me in dismay. “Isn't it too soon after luncheon?” she asked. “Nonsense! You're not the ring, are you?" But she held back. Somehow she didn’t seem the same girl she the flying machine. “To tell you the truth, never tried punching a bag I never got around to it.”” Was I wrong at this moment in sus- pecting something? Perhaps. “Well,"’ I said, “you must get off some of that weight 1 looked at her fastidiously. “Not that you're so badly out of con- dition, but some sacrifice must be made Let's look up the Charley boy you men- your machine this, of But why not?"? She sub- going into was—since she said, “I Somehow, 817 tioned, or whoever he is. Get him to play singles with you. What if you beat him? Remember,"’ I went on earnestly, “that you're doing it for a purpose. You must take off at least fifteen pounds. Come. We'll find him around the grounds—" She looked at me in a frightened way Her voice trembled. “Don’t!” Really I—I can’t play at all, so there! He beat me yesterday. I'm azful at golf. I’m not a sport. Truly, I'm not. It’s only the dreadful vocabulary. I picked it up at college, you know. I didn’t mean to fall into it, but somehow, after I got started, 1 felt that I must xo on. And I wouldn't go up in your flying machine—for anything. It makes me shudder to think of it.” I put my arms around her at once. I felt there was no time to lose. Fortu- nately we were in a pergola, screened she said. “ Please don't! from common observation “This comes,’ I said, kissing her al- most sternly, “of too much I've always felt it wasn’t good for a dear little girl like you. But I beg of you, my dear, not to take this too much to heart.”” “But I do,” inost a sob in her voice. Then she looked at me archly “You sce,”’ she said, “I didn’t realize nust appear to others until 1 saw learning. she said—there was al- how I you— “Saw me?"* “Yes—tell me—about yourself, and how I must have appeared. made me so remorseful.” I did not lose my nerve, even then. “Never mind, darling,”’ I said, fold- ing my arms about her more closely. “We are in the same boat. Let us get over it together. Chesterton Todd. such a whopper—excuse then IT knew And it has I had a little Bub "Twas painted red and gray; T lent it to some Stoodent Who promised they would pay. They wrecked it, they smashed it, They punctured every Tire! I wouldn't lend my car again For any Stoodents' hire. comicbooks.com