Life, 1911-02-16 · page 28 of 44
Life — February 16, 1911 — page 28: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page satirizes American ambition and newspaper culture circa early 20th century. **"The Great Purpose"** poem mocks the relentless pursuit of wealth—people "struggle and strive," "scramble and scurry," all driven by the singular obsession to gain "the money some other possesses." It's social commentary on capitalist greed. **"Terrifying"** is a joke about a newspaper publisher's nightmare: he dreams his paper must actually *pay out* the large cash prizes it advertises. The satire targets sensationalist journalism and false advertising—publishers promote extravagant prizes they hope never to award. **"Life's Family Album"** profiles Ellis O. Jones, a Columbus newspaper editor. The interview humorously establishes his credentials (Yale-educated, reads widely, vegetarian, humorous) while gently mocking his earnestness. The final exchange—his suggestion that editors should "think before writing"—is self-deprecating humor about journalism's quality. The cartoon illustrations show Jones amid newspaper/publishing activity. Overall, the page critiques press dishonesty and the era's obsession with money and success.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Stranger: pors Wk ALWAYS AKGUE WITH MISE Native: We AIN'T aKGUIN’ WiTIt ISSEY. IN SPIRITUALISM. A WIDOWER AND IE The Great Purpose RIMLY they struggle and strive, Madly they scramble and scurry ; Darkly they scheme and connive, Mirthless and heartless, they hurry; Daily their battles are fought ; All with one purpose, one thought, Ever they watch and they worry. erly, early and late, Each in the mad pursuit presses; Daily petitioning Fate, Fawning on those whom she blesses, Ever they anxiously strain, Zach with one purpose--to gain The money some other possesses. S. BE, Kiser. Terrifying E great newspaper publisher awak- ens with a shrick. “What is the matter?” exclaims his wife. “Oh-h-h-h!" he moans. “ Where am 1? “Right here at home, in your own bed. Calm yourself. You must have had a nightmare.” “Nightmare? It was worse than all the nightmares I ever had, rolled into one. I dreamed that we had bad to pay ‘one Olihe prodigious cash prizes weiare offering: in the paper Life’s Ellis O. Jones HE boardwalk at Atlantic City is usually a crowded place, and yet, on a certain day in ——, we had no diffi- culty in locating Ellis O. Jones His I and manly form loomed largely above the horizon. Under one arm he carried the Ladies’ Home Journal, under the other a copy of Lire, We immediately escorted him to the rear of an auction room, where all was peace and quiet. The following conversation took place: “Mr. Jones, you are about to be in- terviewed. First, what high crimes bave you committed ?” “Tran a newspaper in Columbus, Ohio.” “ Anything worse than this?” “Can you conceive anything worse?” As we were naturally silent in reply, he continued cheeri “ Ask me another. “Where were you born?” “In that same Columbus.” “And educated “At Yale, and in Philadelphia. have also read somewhat extensively Family Album in economic literature and made more or less of a study of social conditions.” nd yet you do not scem to be a simist. Well, you see, I am credited with nse of humor. I am also a vege- tarian, which prevents me from being overmelancholy over present conditions.” “What is your favorite character in fiction?” “The Man from Mars.” “ By the way, when were you born?” “Contemporaneously with the well known and much-lamented crime of °73.’ “Mr. Jones, we want to convey an idea of your admirable insight into some of the crying evils of the day—of those brief, paragraphic flashes, in which you so ably sum up an entire situation. Can you suggest any way in which this can he done?” “You might say that I do my thinking hefore my writing.” “Would you recommend this old- fashioned method to any one else?” “Well, not unless they had edited a paper in Columbus, O.” comicbooks.com