Life, 1917-11-22 · page 12 of 44
Life — November 22, 1917 — page 12: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This satirical piece critiques **Hearst** (likely William Randolph Hearst, the powerful newspaper magnate), depicted as a pied piper leading a group of men away—presumably his editorial staff or journalists. The caption indicates these are "Good Fellowes" corrupted by his influence. The accompanying play script mocks Hearst's control over his employees and sensationalist journalism. References to "yellow-hued Hearsteria," "fake news reportorial," and his staff's blind loyalty suggest the satirist viewed Hearst's media empire as manipulative and corrosive to truth. The final section shifts to attacking American patriotism as commercialized hypocrisy—suggesting Hearst weaponized patriotic rhetoric while actually serving commercial interests rather than the nation's welfare.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Scene: A corner in Hearsteria, 1 group of Good Fellows around an of- fice fire. Chorus: Hearst, Hearst, Hearst— We work for Hearst, we do. Although we sell Our souls to hell We are an able crew He pays us well Our souls to sell. We are his henchmen true. Our able stuff Is not all bluff, Though yellow in its hue. We work, work, work For Hearst, Hearst, Hearst, Nor shirk, shirk, shirk The worst, worst, worst. The door opens, and a figure enters. It proves to be the justly celebrated Attendants follow him, drawing his salary continuously. arthur Hisblame, Hisblame: A brilliant man am I, And I place my main reliance On truths well worn, Nor do I scorn The obvious in science. THE PIED PIPER OF PRONIBITION The Hearstites Advice I freely give; With smart ideas I burst; But now I fear Our end is near— Alas! we work for Hearst. Chorus: The yellow bubble’s about to burst, And all because we work for Hearst. The snake music now begins; the room darkens; a Mexican fandango is heard in the distance; all crouch, as a tall figure advances to the front, recog- nisable as the great W. R. 1, His eye shifts over his henchmen, and then he speaks in a low, vapid (Slow music.) WR. ‘The American public is changing. They will no longer tolerate any evasion. A man must show what he is—must put his cards on the table. No matter how smart you are, or how ingenious in your evasion of the truth, now every- body must show what is in him. Pure commercialism, the hypocritical pre- tense that you are patriotic when in reality you are striking at the heart of the nation—all this will no longer be I shall tolerated. My day is over. soon pass, with other ephemeral mys- teries of American history. Boys, I thank you for your loyal service. Fee ken, Song O'er yellow-hued Hearsteri For long I've held my sw My art may be inferior— \ coarse and crude display! My bromides editorial Were read with main and might. My fake news reportorial Was swallowed day and night. With motives sinisterial I hid my secret xoal, And trailed my yellow serial Across my country’s soul. With snare and drum hysterical A patriot I posed. Alas! My reign’s chimerical! And now I am deposed. The Spirit of American Patriotism now enters, while all remain awed and silent. Beckoning to IW. R. HL, she bids him follow her out of the door, while all the henchmen prepare to de- part to 4 culations can be distinctly heard pass- ing away. t other jobs, and outside cir- Spirit of American Patriotism: No more we'll go From bad to Hearst; But, weal or woe, Our country first!