Life, 1916-06-22 · page 15 of 48
Life — June 22, 1916 — page 15: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
The main illustration shows a street scene with multiple figures gathered around what appears to be a street performer or organ grinder with a monkey. The caption identifies this as "Miss Maine Walkers, whose fines for speeding have run up into the thousands"—satirizing a wealthy woman's reckless driving and ability to pay traffic fines without consequence. The page contains three separate pieces: the illustration above, a poem titled "Complacency" about a performing monkey, and an article titled "A Good Piece" praising Francis Hackett's journalism. Below is "Letter of a Dying Humorist," a satirical farewell letter requesting kindness toward newspaper boys. The overall theme mocks privilege, vanity, and social hypocrisy common to early 20th-century American satirical commentary.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
GREAT AMERICANS MISS MAIME WALKERS, WHOSE FINES FOR SPEEDING HAVE RUN UP INTO THE THOUSANDS, Letter of a Dying Humorist Y DARLING WIFE: Tam nearly gone. I know the doc- tor is not joking when he says I will not survive the night. And your train will not reach here until nearly noon to- morrow. Accordingly I want to write you these last few words of good-bye and make one last request. Be kind to the newspaper boys. It is a hard life. Tell them what they want to know. Let them say all the nice things about me that they wish, but please please do not let them quote samples of my humor. with a fair reputation and T ccited enough to think I have got off some pretty good bits now and then, but I never got off anything that would look well in an obituary, No humorist ever got off anything that looked well in an obituary. I have read hundreds of them. Please don’t let them do it. Good—good —bye. Your—lov—ing hu— 1167 Complacency M the smart little monkey who dances for money; Pietro, the master, is kind— I'm taken out only on days that are sunny, And eat when I fect so inclined, The organ is always entrancingly play- ing, The crowd is I'm clever myself With wholesome regard for the stick. mazed at each trick— 's not simply obeying I've a coat of red plush and a hat with a feather— They laugh when I climb the tall pole! I've plenty of room in the length of my tether, And don't feel the need of a soul! Mabel Rice Bigler. A Good Piece HANKS to Mr. Francis Hackett for his excellent article (The Sacred Cow) in the New Republic for June 3rd, on our Mayor's row with certain par- tisans of sundry misconducted charitable institutions. Mr. Hackett tells the whole story tells it straight and fair, and as con as it could be done and HE idea of eternity will awe anybody but the born bore, who regards it as a paradise of self-v “TO TURN AND WIND A FIERY PEGASUS” —Shakespeare, comicbooks.com