Life, 1911-11-30 · page 24 of 40
Life — November 30, 1911 — page 24: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This satirical scene mocks major American publications—the *New York Times*, the *Outlook*, the *Sun*, *Collier's Weekly*, and *Harper's Weekly*—as perpetually self-pitying and maudlin. The joke imagines them as spirits gathering nightly to bewail the world's injustices while actually defending corporate interests and the wealthy. The satire targets their contradictions: they claim moral outrage over workers' suffering while criticizing strikes and labor demands. They pose as reformers yet defend J.P. Morgan and business elites. They bemoan the "high cost of living" while resisting solutions. A key moment mocks *Harper's Weekly* for supporting Governor Wilson yet resenting his criticism of "money power." The cartoon's final punchline—a crude exchange between street urchins about "cruel innocent animals" versus "ladies [who] carry all de shoppin'"—suggests these publications' moralizing disguises hypocrisy about class and gender. Life critiques these journals as sentimental frauds, performing grievance while supporting the status quo.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
950 eB) a The Weepers CENE: Madison Square at midnight. > 4p Qesasion: The weckly meeting of the Lachrymose Club. (As the curtain rises various shadowy spirits are dis- covered wandering dejectedly about the park. At inter- vals, and one by one, they stop, stretch their arms toward heaven and emit wails of harrowing grief. As the clock in the Metropolitan Tower strikes twelve the mist clears and the spirits are more easily distinguished.) Spirit or tHe New York Times (coming down cen- ter): Oh, my! oh, my! It is a sad, sad world. Sprit or THE OutLook: 'Tis true, oh, Comrade Spirit It keeps me weeping regularly every week. A most nerve racking occupation. Times: Every week, forsooth! day and I am sorely put to it. Ourtioox: Alas! yes. I weep for you, neighbor. Isn't it pitiable the way workingmen act after all we have done for them and said to them? Times: Most pitiable. Ah, woe is me and them and everyboe Outtook : If the workingmen would only leave it to me and be contented I would soon have them out of their difficulties. But they are so impatient. They insist on striking. And—pardon this tear—they resort to violence. If there is anything I abhor it is violence, except, perhaps, in a Contributing Editor. (Enter the Spirit of the New York “Sun.”) But, look, who's here? Perhaps he can cheer us up. Sun: Good morrow, friends. It is a sad, sad world. Outtook: How, now! We did not expect you to join the chorus. We thought you were the apostle of smiles and jests. Su las, you do not understand, I want to apply for membership in the Lachrymose Club. Times: What! The master merry maker! Oh, this is (Buries head in hands and sobs I have to weep every more than I can bear. convulsively Sun: The times are out of joint. I try to smile, but I do it to hide my tears. Nobody laughs at my badinage any more. And nobody takes my advice. Mine is the mourn- fulest role of all. Wearing the cap and bells amid so much gall and wormwood is undermining my safe and sound constitution. My smiles, good friends—and this, of course, is not for publication—are but grimaces in disguise. Times: But you seem unusually depressed this even- ing. Have you been reading one of my editorial explana- tious of how the high cost of living helps the poor? Sun: Something still worse, alas, than that. A public man to-day spoke slightingly of Mr. Morgan. It broke me all up. I cannot understand why men can be so cruel to this great and good financier. (They all wipe away tears ith the corners of their shrouds. Enter the spirits of Collier’s Weekly” and “ Harper's Weekly.”) Sun: Hail, fellow weepers! Ovttoox: Pardon, dear Sun. You are a new member and, of course, you did not know. We do not greet each other that way. We do not say, “ Hail.” We always say “Rain, fellow weepers.” Sun: Thank you. I will remember. But, as I was whining, next to the disrespect shown to our magnates, it is the Democrats that try my temper. I have been trying to teach them to distinguish themselves from the Repub- licans without being different. But they persist in being unconscionably foolish in spite of my hottest lachryma- tion. It is enough to make one think there is no such thing as gratitude, Harrer's Weexty: Gratitude! That's the dear old whimpering word. Think of all I’ve done for Governor Wilson, and then to have speak slightingly of the money power! It almost broke my heart. (Keeps back the tears with a heroic effort and heaves a prodigious sigh.) Times: Same here. It is almost a little bit too ex tremely agonizing. lawn.) Cottier's: I was just thinking of Governor Wilson myself. I expected so much of him. Here at last, I thought, was a man who could be radical without touching upon anything important and who could reform without injuring anyone's graft. Times: You have hit the point squarely, dear Niobe. If he would but be the dignified academician and ex-college president and refrain from doing, saying or being anything that matters, I believe we could weep him into the Presi- dency. Att: So say we all of us. Ovuttoox (flapping the sleeve of his shroud violently upon the back of the bench): Is there any regular business to come before this meeting? tes: Yes. I move that the following be accepted as the motto of this club: “On with the wail! Let grief be unconfined |" Severat Voices: Second the motion. OvttooK : All those in favor signify by the customary sigh. (They ail sigh enthusiastically.) OvtLook: The motto is adopted. business the club will adjourn. (curtary.) (Wrings out handkerchief on the If there is no other “DO YoU KNOW WHERE LITTLE nOYS GO WHO ARE CRUEL TO INNOCENT ANIMALS?” “WELL, WHERE?" “DE SAME PLACE DAT SWELL LADIES DO WHAT MAKES DEIR HUSBANDS CARRY ALL DE SHOPPIN’.’ comicbooks eon