Life, 1915-12-30 · page 17 of 41
Life — December 30, 1915 — page 17: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains two separate pieces of satirical content: **The Top Cartoon:** Shows a well-dressed man (representing Wall Street/wealthy financiers) receiving money bags from working-class men depicted as laborers or "sure-thing" gamblers. The caption mocks the futility of average people betting on stock tips: "If we were to get back the money we put on sure tips in Wall Street" — satirizing how ordinary citizens lose their savings following Wall Street advice. **The Bottom Story:** A narrative about a burglar who steals from a wealthy man named Richman. The satire appears in the final section titled "His Ideal," where a Black character (rendered in period dialect) rejects the notion of being "the noblest work of God" as an honest man, saying he'd settle for simply making a living. This critiques the era's romantic idealization of honest labor while acknowledging economic desperation. Both pieces reflect early-1900s concerns about wealth inequality, financial exploitation, and class struggle.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
IF WE WERE TO GET BACK THE MONEY WE PUT ON SURE TIPS IN WALL STREET be late, so sent you the key. matter with our friend?” Our prisoner had come to, gasping, “You Richman?" “Yes.” “T'm Burns, Headquarters. Damn you, I'll pinch you too—” He raved on. Richman lifted ‘phone. Found it out of order. he would. “ Police Station two blocks south,” he informed me. “Go and notify them. T'll take care of this noisy person.” “Damn fool! He's a crook!” bawled the helpless one. “ He thinks you're as bad as himself,” laughed Richman. “How did you learn of my danger?” I inquired. What's the the I knew “T borrowed a basement key from the servants. On entering I heard voices up here; crept up-stairs, peeped through the curtains, saw your predicament, and nailed the fellow.” “I'm eternally grateful,” I said warmly. “Don't mention it. Now, go for the police, like a good. fellow.” “Surely, Take care of yourself,” I said. Entering the hall, I lifted a heavy fur coat as the thud of footsteps ap- proached the front steps. I opened the door quickly and faced the newcomer, closing it behind me. “Pardon! Is Mr. inquired. “Are you Jones?” “Yes.” “Richman is waiting tor you. Richman in?" he I asked. Pardon Let yourself in. You have a My bag was very heavy, being full of Richman’s silver and a few thousand dollars’ worth of jewelry, but I made good time through the snow. I remembered Richman saying the Police Station was two blocks south— which, of course, explains why I went north, His Ideal “T OOK here, Sam; don’t you believe that an honest man is the noblest work of God?” “Well, sah, I'se done giben up de idea ob bein’ de noblest work ob God; all I asks is to make a livin’.” comicbooks.com