Life, 1913-06-26 · page 9 of 45
Life — June 26, 1913 — page 9: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a satirical letter-to-the-editor mocking **Dr. Hon. Doc Freidmann**, apparently a notable but controversial public figure of the era. The cartoon shows a Japanese photographer (J. Haro) reporting absurd claims attributed to Freidmann—that he's discovered cures for all lung diseases, uses turtle juice for medicine, and manufactures "mock-turtle serum" to treat consumption (tuberculosis). The satire targets Freidmann's apparent grandiose medical claims and self-promotion. The letter's sarcastic tone—praising his "scientific" approach while listing increasingly ridiculous "discoveries"—exposes him as a charlatan or fraud. The Japanese perspective adds comedic distance, allowing the author to describe Freidmann's behavior as bizarrely exotic to American readers. The joke relies on Freidmann being recognizable to Life's contemporary audience as someone known for dubious medical claims.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
“BEPE* 1257 Letters of a Japanese Schoolboy Are Hon. Doc Freidmann Curable ? To Editor “ Life Paper,” whose smile is deliciously filled with knocks: EAR SIR: J. Haro, Japanese photographer, who have just returned back from County Hospittle where he were en- joying tonsorial sore throat from too much Japanese war-cry, approach up to me yesterday. This Haro man feel very scientific because he have held pulses with so many eminent doctors. “All lung diseases is now cured,” he report from news-print. “How happy to hear!” I say so. “This will be very nice for oratory next Republican election. Who has re- moved this pulmonia complaint?” “Hon. Doc Freidmann,” snuggest J. Haro. “OM” This from me. “You no like this Hon. Freidmann?” require Haro shock of tone. “TI never met his acquaintanceship,” I say back with Medical Society expression. “Yet how should I? Every time some strange gentleman named Doc come bursting out from Nowheres and say he have dishcovered some- thing worth $125,000, I enjoy delicious reminders of North Pole.” . “And yet this Freidmann individuality have went into subject with considerable complex” renig J. Haro, Japanese photographer. “In this news-print I read his ottobiog- raphy which was wrote by eminent scientist or some other press agent. ‘teen annual years ago,” say him, ‘this Doc Freidmann were setting in Germany thinking the language when long come one turtle full of important serum. “So ha!” holla Hon. Doc to Hon. Press Agt. who was also making experiments, “I have dishcovered it!” “What you dishcovered?” require Hon. Agt., tele- phoning to Associated Press. “I dishcovered,” say Doc, “that turtles is slower than race-horses. Therefore they can never get galloping consumption. By deducing my brain backwards,” he say so, “I can easily see how folks full of turtles can seldom catch tubercles which are very swift.” “You shall give this dishcovery to the world?” Hon. Press Agt. ask out. “O surely yes!” collapse Hon. Freidmann. “I shall be a Philanthropist, for are not my medicine a form of life insurance? All I require is 1,250,000$ cash advance and sifficient consumptives strong enough to take my turtle-juice without dying dead before my Company is formed.” “ Nothing are umpossible in this Age of Aggrevated Advancement,” corrode Hon. Press Agent, while Hon. Doc manufacture mock-turtle serum “So Hon. Doc go work curing consumptions?” I ask to know. “With wildy enthusiasm,” report J. Haro. ith “He attend to all important work first. He sent his photo to the 2 Williams—Wm of Germany and Wm R. Hearst; he surround himself with tipewriters, reporters, music and other come-quick noises; he go see Hon. Wm Jenny Bryan wearing wreaths of roses; he accept 125,000$ cash- advance on Philanthropy; then he sharpen his hypode- moniacal needle and say he never shall go back Germany as long as America continues to need him “Did he cure some consumptions in the meanwhiles?” I require. “T are not sure,” say J. Haro baffably. “All news- prints was so busy watching Doc Freidmann they had no rooming space to mention consumptives.” Mr Editor, I shall remove my Rev. Derby Hat to some medicine gentleman what shall find cure for consumptions, because I should be Christi:1 Science if I do not. Maybe that dishcovery happen to-morrow. Maybe Hon. Doc Freidmann find it sometime when he not too busy to do so. But wh..< that cure are still shyly hiding behind the mike- robes, would it not be nice medicine for some Harvard professor to find a cure for Doc Freidmann? Dishcoverers, Mr. Editor, should be careful how they bragg before they can show photos of it. Hon. Orv Wright did not write “How It Feels to Be Killed in an Airship” until he went up & found out. Hon. Chris Columbus, important Italian boatman, did not require immigrant commissions from North German Lloyd before he axually dishcovered America and got photos of the Bronx. Yet the world are now much more intellectual in its brain that he was 603 years previous to our ancestors. Yet the world are now much more intellectual in its brain that he was 603 years previous to our ancestors. Maybe there are a New Thought in all branches of in- vention. Maybe Hon. Edison, famous electric light, might have invented Hon. Phonograph by making noise like one, if he had been sifficiently thoughtful. But I are old-fashion jayseed in my brain-thoughts. With stubborn mulefulness I am determnied to believe that Press Agent cannot scare mikerobes. If Hon. Doc Freidmann should learn this wise wisdom I say, next time he can talk with U. S. Doc. Blue without feeling similar color. I, Anazuma, Japanese joke-talker, tell me following anecdote for your tittering department : “Why should Doctors not associate with Turtles?” he ask out. “TI am regardless to tell,” I collapse. “Because Turtles is app to teach folks shell-game: report with J. K, Bangs expressior of thumbs. Such conversation leave me slightly pulverized, Hoping you are the same, Yours truly, Hasnimura Toco. (Per Wallace Irwin.) he comicbooks.com