Life, 1916-08-24 · page 28 of 42
Life — August 24, 1916 — page 28: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains three distinct satirical pieces: **"The Trials of the Sandwiches"** mocks the real Earl of Sandwich family, who suffered centuries of tedious puns and references to their ancestor's 18th-century invention. The joke is that attaching one's name to any food, invention, or product—like automobiles or cigars—dooms descendants to endless ridicule. It's a cautionary satire about unintended consequences of fame. **"Nothing Exceeds Like Daniels"** criticizes Josephus Daniels, Secretary of the Navy under President Wilson. The piece sarcastically defends him while actually attacking his leadership, claiming his obsession with sailors' morals and party politics makes him unpopular with the military—he "gets on the nation's nerves." **The illustrated cartoon** (captioned "Stop! Cyp, Stop! This Picture Is for Publication") appears to show someone photographing an indoor scene; its specific meaning is unclear without additional context. The page reflects typical early-20th-century *Life* magazine humor: witty social commentary mixed with gentle mockery of public figures.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Kinship I the song I spun of my sadness Has lightened another's pain, Then the hours that I spent in grieving Shall not have been wholly vain. If the song I spun of my gladness Has quickened another's mirth, Then the hours that I spent in laughter Shall have had their bit of worth. If cither my joy or my sorrow Has nourished another's heart, Then I in Life's clamorous workshop Shall have done my little part. Charlotte Becker. HE NEVER CARRIED ANYTHING BEFORE, BUT BEES y, K —AND REGGIE WENT TO PLATTSBURG “stop! yp, stop! THIS PICTURE IS FOR PUBLICATION.” The Trials of the Sandwiches HE eighth Earl of Sandwich is dead, after a long life of suffering caused by the thoughtless act of his ancestor, the fourth Earl of Sandwich, ,Wwho placed a piece of meat between two slices of bread one hot evening, and was thus enabled to sit on his front steps in his shirt-sleeves and eat his dinner without soiling his fingers. This form of food, which was prompt- ly named a sandwich after its distin- guished inventor, was not only des- tined to popularize the picnic, but was also destined to prove a curse to his descendants. | Whenever the fifth, sixth, seventh or cighth Earls of Sand- wich attended a function at whicir sandwiches were served, they were in- variably obliged to listen to a large number of mossy and antiquated jests on the subject of sandwiches. Per- sons, on being introduced to them, were very apt to inquire in a kittenish manner: “And is this the famous Sandwich who appears on so many menu cards?” Their political op- ponents constantly referred to them as Ham Sandwiches or Cheese Sand- wiches in their speeches, thus provok- ing loud and cacophonous outbursts of merriment. Their names were seldom mentioned in the papers without the qualifying statement that it was their ancestor who invented the sandwich. The y name of Sandwich made them so ill and weary that death usu- ally came as a welcome respite. We should be very careful about attaching our names to anything like an automo- bile, a cigar or an article of food, lest those who come after us suffer from our lack of foresight. K. LR. Nothing Exceeds Like Daniels ‘O sensible citizen will find fault with Mr. Daniels as a naval chief, because there is nothing naval about Mr. Daniels excepting his title. No sensible citizen will demand Mr. Daniels’ removal because he is mere- ly a misfit. There are many misfits more tolerable. But any sensible citi- zen will see that the chief objection to the Secretary of the Navy is that, notwithstanding his solicitude for the sailors’ morals, and his fatal devotion to party prestige, he has the misfor- tune of getting on the nation’s nerves. “\WHAT do you understand by suf- fering for righteousness’ sake?” questioned the Sunday-school teacher. “Please, miss, it means havin’ to come to Sunday school,” answered little Jack.