Life, 1913-12-04 · page 71 of 112
Life — December 4, 1913 — page 71: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
**Top cartoon ("A Christmas Elopement"):** A photograph showing a romantic scene of a couple embracing near a fireplace, likely depicting an elopement or secret romance. **Bottom cartoon ("Perplexed Bachelor"):** A sketch of a well-dressed man at a dock asking another gentleman about gift-giving strategy. The humor lies in the absurd specificity: he's supposedly the uncle of eleven children whose ages and sexes are unknown to him, asking what presents he'd buy. This satirizes wealthy men's detachment from family obligations and the challenge of Christmas shopping. **"A Heart to Heart Talk by Santa Claus":** A satirical piece where Santa complains about his damaged reputation. Adults blame him for the "tipping system, bill collectors," unwanted relatives' visits, and shopping strain—essentially holding him responsible for modern commercial and social annoyances rather than celebrating his traditional role. Santa's bitterness about no longer being respected or prayed to, and his admission he "only" visits the wealthy, critiques both commercialized Christmas and class inequality. The piece mocks how industrial-age society has corrupted Christmas traditions.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
tris ff LIFE fein? — A CHRISTMAS ELOPEMENT 1011 Perplexed Bachelor: €R—SUPPOSING THAT YOU WERE THE UNCLE OF ELEVEN CHILDREN AS TO WHOSE AGE AND SEX YOU WERE QUITE UNCERTAIN, WHAT KIND OF PRESENTS WOULD YoU BUY THEM? A Heart to Heart Talk By Santa Claus D ‘AR Little Boys and Girls: It does my heart good to be with you once more; especially after all the cruel and unjust things that have been said about me. You and I are always on the best of terms, are we not? And if I cannot always comply with every one of your requests, or if I discriminate against some of you, just because your parents don’t move in good society, you never seem to hold it up against me. That is one of the reasons why I am so fond of you. You are so charitable. And yet, in one sense, I am sad to think that there are many among you who secretly no longer believe in me. Isn't this too bad? Isn't it discouraging to be so mis- understood? Especially when I have to work so hard. Then, consider the wicked things that are said about me. I am responsible for the tipping system, for bill collectors, and indirectly for all of the indigestible din- ners that are given, for the visits of relatives, and for the terrible shopping strain that is put upon everybody. If it weren't for me, they say, we should all be happy at Christ- mas-time. Some people seem to think that the only use I have in the world is to clean chimneys once a year. Think of what I used to be! How people respected me and looked up to me, and even prayed to me. Think of the letters I used to get! Now only some poor little slum child with whom I am not on speaking terms, writes me occasionally. But there is one thing certain, my dear young friends, you are not responsible for this injustice. It is due to those horrible grown-ups. They have no respect for tradition, no fancy, no imaginations. With them every- thing is sordid and commercial. That is why I am paying you this little personal vi I want you to see me, to talk with me, and to realize that in spite of everything to the contrary, I am one of the best friends you have—even if I am so pressed for time that I call, as a rule, only on the well-to-do. And so if you hear any grown-ups whispering about me in their cynical way or trying to imitate me and fool you, don't you mind. Go on tolerating them and letting them be- lieve that you have lost your faith in me. When Christmas comes, dear children, be careful when you get up early not to wake up the old people, Let them sleep their dreamless and unimaginative slumbers—coarse and unimpressionable souls that they are. And do you steal downstairs in the perfect confidence that as long as there is a reindeer in the Arctic regions, and as long as there is no eight hour law in the workshop of the fairies, and as long as love reigns over the destiny of human beings, and as jong as your parents own their own home, you can always count on me.