Baltimore Evening Sun (18 March 1913): 6.
Title page of the magnun opus of the Hon. Barratt O’Hara, Lieutenant-Governor of Illinois, and captain-general of the new vice crusade:
From Figg to Johnson
complete history of the heavyweight championship containing dates and ac- curate descriptions of every contest for the world’s boxing title from the time of the first champion down to the present day
by BARRATT O’HARA
published by THE BLOSSOM BOOK SOURCE chicago, ill.
Copies of this masterly work are now rare, but I shall be glad to lend mine to any local vice crusader who desires to read it. It is dedicated to the Hon. James Coffroth, of San Francisco, manager of the historic bout between the Hon. James J. Corbett and the Hon. James J. Jeffries for the championship of the world. It is adorned with portraits of the Hon. MM. James Figg, George Taylor, John Broughton and John Slack, the first, second, third and fourth champions of the world. It is written in the electric, eloquent style characteristic of the distinguished author’s later prodigies in the field of moral endeavor. It is, in brief, an excellent and fascinating book, and I especially recommend it to the suffragettes.
Down with the kaif and up with the blind pig! Down with the schooner and up with the jug! Down with katzenjammer and up with jimjams!
Again, consider the case of those antis who maintain that the suffrage would make women froward and immodest—and enforce the proof by sending their own photographs to the newspapers.
The Right Hon. the super-Mahon to the banqueting Gaels:
No better test of what the people think of you can be had than by putting your name on the ballot.
Particularly if the test be supplemented by bagging the ballots before they can be recounted.
Rabbi Charles A. Rubenstein at Har Sinai Temple Saturday:
What right have social reformers to translate low wages into terms of immorality? The self-respecting woman or girl worker protests against it. It is a monstrous wrong to infer from the poor pay a woman receives that her virtue is on the market, like her work.
The trouble with Dr. Rubenstein, of course, is that he refuses to see the light. He clings to the ancient and abominable doctrine that a girl who loses her virtue is particeps criminis. He is blind to the affecting discoveries, the impressive “evidence” of the New Morality. He clings to old-fashioned facts, to the outworn logic of Aristotle, to an archaic and now immoral common sense. He would rather be right than wear a zinc halo. He doesn’t believe in economic perunas. He has no faith in self-consecrated archangels. A hunkerous, intransigeant man, more to be pitied than censured. An unyielding foe to that pousse cafe of panaceas which would convert humanity into a race of seraphim over night.
The Hon. Ed. Hirsch celebrated St. Patrick’s Day by sending a twig of poison ivy to the Hon. William H. Anderson.
In the current issue of the Christian Science Sentinel my old friend the Hon. W. C. Williams, advertising agent of Christian Science, reprints a letter he sent to The Evening Sun three or four months ago—a letter in which he essayed to hamstring and flabbergast me. But with lamentable carelessness he does not reprint my reply thereto, nor does he even hint that I made a reply. I therefore call the hon. gent’s attention to the omission and await its speedy rectification. His letters to The Evening Sun are always printed promptly and in full. Not a word is ever changed. He is given valuable advertising space entirely free of charge. He is permitted to argue as he listeth. Certainly, as a fair man, he is not going to deny me that square deal which he himself finds so agreeable and which always prevails in the controversies of gentlemen.
No; I have faith in the Hon. Mr. Williams—as I have begun to lose faith in Dr. Guy L. Hunner. Three or four weeks ago Dr. Hunner accused me publicly of hounding college presidents—a gratuitous and intolerable libel, entirely without merit. I protested at once, defied the doctor to produce any evidence, and called upon him to apologize. But not a word has come from him. Meanwhile, I have suffered the odium, opprobrium and obloquy of this scandalous charge. It has cost me the respect of my family, the affection of a rich widow and the regard of Dr. Woodrow Wilson. My mail is full of threatening letters. I am reviled in the Towson Union and News; the very bartenders of the town refuse to speak to me. And all because Dr. Hunner allowed his moral heat and eloquence to run away with his scientific regard for facts!
The vice crusade now current throughout the United States has reached its inevitable climax in Ohio, where a bill prohibiting bare shoulders, translucent stockings and peek-a-boo waists is now before a moral Legislature. Its exact title is “An act to prescribe the fashions to be worn by women in the State of Ohio.” Every sane American, I daresay, will hope and pray for its prompt passage. Nothing could better reduce to puerility and absurdity that saturnalia of Puritanism which now constitutes a shame and a public menace in every American community. To the fine old moral doctrine that all actresses are prostitutes, the vice crusaders lately added the doctrine that all shop girls have their price. Now comes the grander and sweeter doctrine that no woman whatever can be trusted.
The Hon. the super-Mahon to the astounded Hibernians:
I don’t get much adulation.
What! Can it be that the Towel is not giving satisfaction? Can it be that the Hon. Aristides Sophocles Goldsborough’s divine frenzy falls short of the ideal? More grease, my men! Up with the second line of blubber-guns! Let him have twice as much, three times as much! Make it an oleomaniacal Lulue Burgas, an unguentary Adrianople!