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Life, 1914-09-10 · page 42 of 48

Life — September 10, 1914 — page 42: what you’re looking at

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Life — September 10, 1914 — page 42: Life, 1914-09-10

What you’re looking at

This page juxtaposes three competing messages about WWI-era America: **Left side:** A Budweiser advertisement using Bismarck to defend German-American beer culture against Prohibition. It frames alcohol as a "natural right" and claims German-Americans cherish personal liberty—a patriotic appeal despite growing anti-German sentiment. **Center:** An editorial questioning why America has "too many doctors," satirizing medical professionalization and suggesting Americans either ignore health rules or obsess over physicians. **Right side:** A brutal anti-war poem titled "A.D. 1914" by Frank Stephens depicting WWI's devastation—violence, death, sexual assault, and suffering. It equates war with "Hell" and mocks notions of glory and fame. The page's internal contradiction is striking: the Budweiser ad celebrates German values and liberty while the poem condemns the very war Germany was fighting. This reflects America's conflicted position in 1914—officially neutral but increasingly critical of European warfare, while managing substantial German-American populations.

📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

GEE Too Many Doctors? HAT we are having an ever greater proportion of doctors is.an evil sign. If it doesn’t actually prove that doctors are conspiring to make themselves increasingly necessary, it certainly proves at least that they haven't succeeded in making them- selves unnecessary, which is the summum bonum of joyous existence. Is it that we really know less and less all the time about the rules of life; or is it that, knowing the rules of life, we prefer to disregard them and take whatever penalty calling in the doctor entails; or is it that we have gone mad on the subject of doctors and feel that we want a great lot of them about without having any very clear notion as to what good they are? None of these possibilities is such as to fill us to the brim with self-conceit. 4 NERO SERIES HOA Bismarck—the Greatest ofthe Germans ISMARCK like all Germans, prized Personal Liberty as the breath of life—a NATURAL RIGHT tobe guarded and defended at any cost. Among our millions of law-abiding German/American citizens there is not a man who does not consider it insolent tyranny of the most odious kind for any legislation to issue this command: aay “Thou shalt NOTeat this—thou shalt NOTdrink that” Germans know that there is no evil in the light wines and beers of their fathers. EVIL ONLY IS IN THE MAN WHO MISUSES THEM. Fifty-seven years ago ANHEUSER-BUSCH founded ried ne institution upon the tenets of the Constitution of the United States. During these fifty-seven years they have honestly brewed an honest beer—the kind that has added to the temperance of nations. Their great brand—BUDWEISER— is demanded throughout the world. Its sales exceed any other beer by millions of bottles, proving it to be in a dass by itself. ANHEUSER-BUSCH ST.LOUIS 100% lubrication will cut your acquaintance with the repair man and add long life to the car. Pure flake graphite, found only in DIXON’S Graphite Lubricants gives 100% lubrication. It is the only graphite known that won't ball up or pack. Friction never has a chance when Dixon Lubri- cants guard the bearings. Equally good for motor boats. Write for the Dixon Lubricating Chart THE JOSEPH DIXON CRUCIBLE CO, " JERSEY CITY, N. J. A. D. 1914 The searchlight’s sword thrust, blinding bright, Stabs thro’ the starry summer night. Shrapnel and shell tear shrieking by Where late the white doves circled high ; Gone from the once-fair village street The lovers’ laugh, the childish feet, Where smiled Peace, Life and Hope be- fore Red Madness raves. —And this is War. Crushed lies that on the sodden earth To which some woman's pangs gave birth. Wasted the love, the toil, the care, The father-pride, the mother-prayer, The baby’s hug, the young wife's kiss. Now but a nameless, shapeless this That from its rotting foulness gory Stinks to the flies, —And this is Glory. Where red flames streak the cannon’s pall, Beside her dead home's smouldering wall, She crouches in the ashen dust, Twin victim of the conqueror’s lust. Her butchered husband has been shown Mercy, beside what she has known— Black terror, outrage, burning shame That moans for death, —And this is Fame. Wasted upon the barren plain The dead Christ's blood drips fresh again. A people conquering crown the wrong With brutal boast and drunken song. A people conquered curse their fate, Outraged and ravished, mad with hate, Some later murder count to tell— And this is war, —And war is Hell. —Frank Stephens, in Phila, Record.