Life, 1923-02-01 · page 24 of 40
Life — February 1, 1923 — page 24: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This poem satirizes the modern commercialization of the *Saturday Evening Post* under the Curtis Publishing Company, contrasting it with Benjamin Franklin's original vision. **The Satire:** The poet imagines Franklin returning to see his publication transformed into an advertising-driven enterprise. Franklin's modest, wisdom-filled dispatches have been replaced by advertiser-friendly content: fake success stories about workers improving efficiency, testimonials from athletes endorsing oat cereal, and dental product ads. The point: modern publishers like Curtis have abandoned editorial integrity for revenue. **The Illustration:** Shows a ragged man (labeled "Prodigal Son") observing children and dogs playing outside a house, deciding not to return "home"—a visual metaphor for Franklin rejecting his corrupted creation. **Historical Context:** This reflects early 20th-century criticism of magazine publishing's shift toward advertising-driven models, where editorial content became secondary to commercial interests.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
LIFE To the Founder (Benjamin Franklin was the first publisher of the Saturday Evening Post.) 4 BENJAMIN, if in this age efficient, You checked your baggage through to Pennsylvania, Possessed of youthful knowledge insufficient, Would you contract the current Postomania? Would you, I wonder, send congratulations To those now called the Curtis Publications ? When Anno Domini was somewhat younger, You launched the Post upon its maiden cruising And, worried as you were by threatened hunger, Of course you did not want to see it losing In circulation, or in advertising ; Which, take it all in all, was not surprising. You wrote, by hand, its weekly news dispatches And, stick by stick, you added to the galleys. Your heavy stuff you lightened by some snatches Of wisdom; or the Life-Line sort of sallies. But nothing—which was most unenterprising— Continued over to the advertising. Ah! How could you have deemed yourself succeeding, When never in your meagre sheaves of paper Were thrilling tales of earnest youth proceeding To win the boss by some efficient caper ; By cutting down the gasoline consumption, Reducing overhead and showing gumption ? Fair maidens never smiled, when you were printing On stalwarts clad in “Styles That Suit the Snappy.” No noble athlete, kodaked at his sprinting, Proclaimed, “Unconquered Oats Have Made Me Happy.” The revenue from ads of products dental Was then, to put it broadly, elemental. To-day, I fear, you'd never move from Boston. The Post would soon convince you of the money It offered in return for time now lost on The job of making hay in weather sunny; And, after reading some of its descriptions, You'd spend your life in canvassing subscriptions. ag ee ee > ArBetNS= Prodigal Son: From de signs an’ portents I judge de present moment is not auspishus fo’ ma return to de fold. comicbooks.com