Author: Ring Lardner
Date: 1913-12-31T15:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Short Fiction; American Wit and Humor; Epistolary fiction; Sports Fiction; Courtship and Marriage
Description: Ring Lardner was an American sports columnist and short story writer best known for his satirical writings about sports, marriage, and the theatre. He was a contemporary of Ernest Hemingway, Virginia Woolf and F. Scott Fitzgerald, all of whom professed strong admiration for Lardner’s writing. * * * * In 1916, Lardner published his first successful book, “You Know Me Al”, an epistolary novel written in the form of letters from “Jack Keefe”, a bush-league baseball player, to a friend back home. The letters made much use of the fictional author’s idiosyncratic vernacular, with semi-literate gramm
Publisher: MobileRead.com
Rights: Text is in the public domain in countries where copyright is “Life+80” or less.

Lardner on the Loose

A COLLECTION OF SHORT FICTION
BY RING LARDNER

BOOK 1.
LET THE GAMES BEGIN

The Jack Keefe Letters
You Know Me Al
The Busher Abroad
The Busher Called to Soldier
The Busher Over There
The Busher Back in the Game

Batter Up!

( ON THE BASEBALL DIAMOND )

In This Corner…

( IN THE BOXING RING )

Fore!

( ON THE GOLF COURSE )

Jokers Wild

( AT THE CARD TABLE )

BOOK 2.
LIFE, LOVE, WEDLOCK,
AND THE KITCHEN SINK

The Mailman Cometh

( LETTERS FROM OTHER FELLAS )

The Young Immigrunts

( A PARODY OF “THE YOUNG VISITORS” )

The Big Town

( HOW I AND THE MRS. GO TO NEW YORK … )

A La Carte

( A GAMUT OF SHORT STORIES )

In My Humble Opinion

( A SAMPLER OF COLUMNS )

BACK MATTER

About This Ebook

Index of Titles

You Know Me Al

1 … A Busher’s Letters Home
2 … The Busher Comes Back
3 … The Busher’s Honeymoon
4 … A New Busher Breaks In
5 … The Busher’s Kid
6 … The Busher Beats It Hence

• 1 •

A Busher’s Letters Home

TERRE HAUTE, INDIANA,
SEPTEMBER 6.

Friend Al:  Well, Al old pal I suppose you seen in the paper where I been sold to the White Sox. Believe me Al it comes as a supprise to me and I bet it did to all you good old pals down home. You could of knocked me over with a feather when the old man come up to me and says Jack I’ve sold you to the Chicago Americans.

I didn’t have no idea that anything like that was coming off. For five minutes I was just dum and couldn’t say a word.

He says We aren’t getting what you are worth but I want you to go up to that big league and show those birds that there is a Central League on the map. He says Go and pitch the ball you been pitching down here and there won’t be nothing to it. He says All you need is the nerve and Walsh or no one else won’t have nothing on you.

So I says I would do the best I could and I thanked him for the treatment I got in Terre Haute. They always was good to me here and though I did more than my share I always felt that my work was appresiated. We are finishing second and I done most of it. I can’t help but be proud of my first year’s record in professional baseball and you know I am not boasting when I say that Al.

Well Al it will seem funny to be up there in the big show when I never was really in a big city before. But I guess I seen enough of life not to be scared of the high buildings eh Al?

I will just give them what I got and if they don’t like it they can send me back to the old Central and I will be perfectly satisfied.

I didn’t know anybody was looking me over, but one of the boys told me that Jack Doyle the White Sox scout was down here looking at me when Grand Rapids was here. I beat them twice in that serious. You know Grand Rapids never had a chance with me when I was right. I shut them out in the first game and they got one run in the second on account of Flynn misjuging that fly ball. Anyway Doyle liked my work and he wired Comiskey to buy me. Comiskey come back with an offer and they excepted it. I don’t know how much they got but anyway I am sold to the big league and believe me Al I will make good.

Well Al I will be home in a few days and we will have some of the good old times. Regards to all the boys and tell them I am still their pal and not all swelled up over this big league business.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
DECEMBER 14.

Old Pal:  Well Al I have not got much to tell you. As you know Comiskey wrote me that if I was up in Chi this month to drop in and see him. So I got here Thursday morning and went to his office in the afternoon. His office is out to the ball park and believe me its some park and some office.

I went in and asked for Comiskey and a young fellow says He is not here now but can I do anything for you? I told him who I am and says I had an engagement to see Comiskey. He says The boss is out of town hunting and did I have to see him personally?

I says I wanted to see about signing a contract. He told me I could sign as well with him as Comiskey and he took me into another office. He says What salary did you think you ought to get? and I says I wouldn’t think of playing ball in the big league for less than three thousand dollars per annum. He laughed and says You don’t want much. You better stick round town till the boss comes back. So here I am and it is costing me a dollar a day to stay at the hotel on Cottage Grove Avenue and that don’t include my meals.

I generally eat at some of the cafes round the hotel but I had supper downtown last night and it cost me fifty-five cents. If Comiskey don’t come back soon I won’t have no more money left.

Speaking of money I won’t sign no contract unless I get the salary you and I talked of, three thousand dollars. You know what I was getting in Terre Haute, a hundred and fifty a month, and I know it’s going to cost me a lot more to live here. I made inquiries round here and find I can get board and room for eight dollars a week but I will be out of town half the time and will have to pay for my room when I am away or look up a new one when I come back. Then I will have to buy cloths to wear on the road in places like New York. When Comiskey comes back I will name him three thousand dollars as my lowest figure and I guess he will come through when he sees I am in ernest. I heard that Walsh was getting twice as much as that.

The papers says Comiskey will be back here sometime tomorrow. He has been hunting with the president of the league so he ought to feel pretty good. But I don’t care how he feels. I am going to get a contract for three thousand and if he don’t want to give it to me he can do the other thing. You know me Al.

Yours truly, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
DECEMBER 16.

Dear Friend Al:  Well I will be home in a couple of days now but I wanted to write you and let you know how I come out with Comiskey. I signed my contract yesterday afternoon. He is a great old fellow Al and no wonder everybody likes him. He says Young man will you have a drink? But I was to smart and wouldn’t take nothing. He says You was with Terre Haute? I says Yes I was. He says Doyle tells me you were pretty wild. I says Oh no I got good control. He says Well do you want to sign? I says Yes if I get my figure. He asks What is my figure and I says three thousand dollars per annum. He says Don’t you want the office furniture too? Then he says I thought you was a young ball-player and I didn’t know you wanted to buy my park.

We kidded each other back and forth like that a while and then he says You better go out and get the air and come back when you feel better. I says I feel O.K. now and I want to sign a contract because I have got to get back to Bedford. Then he calls the secretary and tells him to make out my contract. He give it to me and it calls for two hundred and fifty a month. He says You know we always have a city serious here in the fall where a fellow picks up a good bunch of money. I hadn’t thought of that so I signed up. My yearly salary will be fifteen hundred dollars besides what the city serious brings me. And that is only for the first year. I will demand three thousand or four thousand dollars next year.

I would of started home on the evening train but I ordered a suit of cloths from a tailor over on Cottage Grove and it won’t be done till tomorrow. It’s going to cost me twenty bucks but it ought to last a long time. Regards to Frank and the bunch.

Your Pal, Jack.

PASO ROBLES, CALIFORNIA,
MARCH 2.

Old Pal Al:  Well Al we been in this little berg now a couple of days and its bright and warm all the time just like June. Seems funny to have it so warm this early in March but I guess this California climate is all they said about it and then some.

It would take me a week to tell you about our trip out here. We came on a Special Train De Lukes and it was some train. Every place we stopped there was crowds down to the station to see us go through and all the people looked me over like I was a actor or something. I guess my hight and shoulders attracted their attention. Well Al we finally got to Oakland which is across part of the ocean from Frisco. We will be back there later on for practice games.

We stayed in Oakland a few hours and then took a train for here. It was another night in a sleeper and believe me I was tired of sleepers before we got here. I have road one night at a time but this was four straight nights. You know Al I am not built right for a sleeping car birth.

The hotel here is a great big place and got good eats. We got in at breakfast time and I made a B line for the dining room. Kid Gleason who is a kind of asst. manager to Callahan come in and sat down with me. He says Leave something for the rest of the boys because they will be just as hungry as you. He says Ain’t you afraid you will cut your throat with that knife. He says There ain’t no extra charge for using the forks. He says You shouldn’t ought to eat so much because you’re overweight now. I says You may think I am fat, but it’s all solid bone and muscle. He says Yes I suppose it’s all solid bone from the neck up. I guess he thought I would get sore but I will let them kid me now because they will take off their hats to me when they see me work.

Manager Callahan called us all to his room after breakfast and give us a lecture. He says there would be no work for us the first day but that we must all take a long walk over the hills. He also says we must not take the training trip as a joke. Then the colored trainer give us our suits and I went to my room and tried mine on. I ain’t a bad looking guy in the White Sox uniform Al. I will have my picture taken and send you boys some.

My roommate is Allen a lefthander from the Coast League. He don’t look nothing like a pitcher but you can’t never tell about them dam left handers. Well I didn’t go on the long walk because I was tired out. Walsh stayed at the hotel too and when he seen me he says Why didn’t you go with the bunch? I says I was too tired. He says Well when Callahan comes back you better keep out of sight or tell him you are sick. I says I don’t care nothing for Callahan. He says No but Callahan is crazy about you. He says You better obey orders and you will git along better. I guess Walsh thinks I am some rube.

When the bunch come back Callahan never said a word to me but Gleason come up and says Where was you? I told him I was too tired to go walking. He says Well I will borrow a wheelbarrow some place and push you round. He says Do you sit down when you pitch? I let him kid me because he has not saw my stuff yet.

Next morning half the bunch mostly vetrans went to the ball park which isn’t no better than the one we got at home. Most of them was vetrans as I say but I was in the bunch. That makes things look pretty good for me don’t it Al? We tossed the ball round and hit fungos and run round and then Callahan asks Scott and Russell and I to warm up easy and pitch a few to the batters. It was warm and I felt pretty good so I warmed up pretty good. Scott pitched to them first and kept laying them right over with nothing on them. I don’t believe a man gets any batting practice that way. So I went in and after I lobbed a few over I cut loose my fast one. Lord was to bat and he ducked out of the way and then throwed his bat to the bench. Callahan says What’s the matter Harry? Lord says I forgot to pay up my life insurance. He says I ain’t ready for Walter Johnson’s July stuff.

Well Al I will make them think I am Walter Johnson before I get through with them. But Callahan come out to me and says What are you trying to do kill somebody? He says Save your smoke because you’re going to need it later on. He says Go easy with the boys at first or I won’t have no batters. But he was laughing and I guess he was pleased to see the stuff I had.

There is a dance in the hotel tonight and I am up in my room writing this in my underwear while I get my suit pressed. I got it all mussed up coming out here. I don’t know what shoes to wear. I asked Gleason and he says Wear your baseball shoes and if any of the girls gets fresh with you spike them. I guess he was kidding me.

Write and tell me all the news about home.

Yours truly, Jack.

PASO ROBLES, CALIFORNIA,
MARCH 7.

Friend Al:  I showed them something out there today Al. We had a game between two teams. One team was made up of most of the regulars and the other was made up of recruts. I pitched three innings for the recruts and shut the old birds out. I held them to one hit and that was a ground ball that the recrut shortstop Johnson ought to of ate up. I struck Collins out and he is one of the best batters in the bunch. I used my fast ball most of the while but showed them a few spitters and they missed them a foot. I guess I must of got Walsh’s goat with my spitter because him and I walked back to the hotel together and he talked like he was kind of jealous. He says You will have to learn to cover up your spitter. He says I could stand a mile away and tell when you was going to throw it. He says Some of these days I will learn you how to cover it up. I guess Al I know how to cover it up all right without Walsh learning me.

I always sit at the same table in the dining room along with Gleason and Collins and Bodie and Fournier and Allen the young lefthander I told you about. I feel sorry for him because he never says a word. Tonight at supper Bodie says How did I look today Kid? Gleason says Just like you always do in the spring. You looked like a cow. Gleason seems to have the whole bunch scared of him and they let him say anything he wants to. I let him kid me to but I ain’t scared of him. Collins then says to me You got some fast ball there boy. I says I was not as fast today as I am when I am right. He says Well then I don’t want to hit against you when you are right. Then Gleason says to Collins Cut that stuff out. Then he says to me Don’t believe what he tells you boy. If the pitchers in this league weren’t no faster than you I would still be playing ball and I would be the best hitter in the country.

After supper Gleason went out on the porch with me. He says Boy you have got a little stuff but you have got a lot to learn. He says You field your position like a wash woman and you don’t hold the runners up. He says When Chase was on second base today he got such a lead on you that the little catcher couldn’t of shot him out at third with a rifle. I says They all thought I fielded my position all right in the Central League. He says Well if you think you do it all right you better go back to the Central League where you are appresiated. I says You can’t send me back there because you could not get waivers. He says Who would claim you? I says St. Louis and Boston and New York.

You know Al what Smith told me this winter. Gleason says Well if you’re not willing to learn St. Louis and Boston and New York can have you and the first time you pitch against us we will steal fifty bases. Then he quit kidding and asked me to go to the field with him early tomorrow morning and he would learn me some things. I don’t think he can learn me nothing but I promised I would go with him.

There is a little blonde kid in the hotel here who took a shine to me at the dance the other night but I am going to leave the skirts alone. She is real society and a swell dresser and she wants my picture. Regards to all the boys.

Your friend, Jack.

P.S.  The boys thought they would be smart tonight and put something over on me. A boy brought me a telegram and I opened it and it said You are sold to Jackson in the Cotton States League. For just a minute they had me going but then I happened to think that Jackson is in Michigan and there’s no Cotton States League round there.

PASO ROBLES, CALIFORNIA,
MARCH 9.

Dear Friend Al:  You have no doubt read the good news in the papers before this reaches you. I have been picked to go to Frisco with the first team. We play practice games up there about two weeks while the second club plays in Los Angeles. Poor Allen had to go with the second club. There’s two other recrut pitchers with our part of the team but my name was first on the list so it looks like I had made good. I knowed they would like my stuff when they seen it. We leave here tonight. You got the first team’s address so you will know where to send my mail. Callahan goes with us and Gleason goes with the second club. Him and I have got to be pretty good pals and I wish he was going with us even if he don’t let me eat like I want to. He told me this morning to remember all he had learned me and to keep working hard. He didn’t learn me nothing I didn’t know before but I let him think so.

The little blonde don’t like to see me leave here. She lives in Detroit and I may see her when I go there. She wants me to write but I guess I better not give her no encouragement.

Well Al I will write you a long letter from Frisco.

Yours truly, Jack.

OAKLAND, CALIFORNIA,
MARCH 19.

Dear Old Pal:  They have gave me plenty of work here all right. I have pitched four times but have not went over five innings yet. I worked against Oakland two times and against Frisco two times and only three runs have been scored off me. They should only ought to of had one but Bodie misjuged a easy fly ball in Frisco and Weaver made a wild peg in Oakland that let in a run. I am not using much but my fast ball but I have got a world of speed and they can’t foul me when I am right. I whiffed eight men in five innings in Frisco yesterday and could of did better than that if I had of cut loose.

Manager Callahan is a funny guy and I don’t understand him sometimes. I can’t figure out if he is kidding or in ernest. We road back to Oakland on the ferry together after yesterday’s game and he says Don’t you never throw a slow ball? I says I don’t need no slow ball with my spitter and my fast one. He says No of course you don’t need it but if I was you I would get one of the boys to learn it to me. He says And you better watch the way the boys fields their positions and holds up the runners. He says To see you work a man might think they had a rule in the Central League forbidding a pitcher from leaving the box or looking toward first base.

I told him the Central didn’t have no rule like that. He says And I noticed you taking your wind up when What’s His Name was on second base there today. I says Yes I got more stuff when I wind up. He says Of course you have but if you wind up like that with Cobb on base he will steal your watch and chain. I says Maybe Cobb can’t get on base when I work against him. He says That’s right and maybe San Francisco Bay is made of grapejuice. Then he walks away from me.

He give one of the youngsters a awful bawling out for something he done in the game at supper last night. If he ever talks to me like he done to him I will take a punch at him. You know me Al.

I come over to Frisco last night with some of the boys and we took in the sights. Frisco is some live town Al. We went all through China Town and the Barbers’ Coast. Seen lots of swell dames but they was all painted up. They have beer out here that they call steam beer. I had a few glasses of it and it made me logey. A glass of that Terre Haute beer would go pretty good right now.

We leave here for Los Angeles in a few days and I will write you from there. This is some country Al and I would love to play ball round here.

Your Pal, Jack.

P.S. – I got a letter from the little blonde and I suppose I got to answer it.

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA,
MARCH 26.

Friend Al:  Only four more days of sunny California and then we start back East. We got exhibition games in Yuma and El Paso, Texas, and Oklahoma City and then we stop over in St. Joe, Missouri, for three days before we go home. You know Al we open the season in Cleveland and we won’t be in Chi no more than just passing through. We don’t play there till April eighteenth and I guess I will work in that serious all right against Detroit. Then I will be glad to have you and the boys come up and watch me as you suggested in your last letter.

I got another letter from the little blonde. She has went back to Detroit but she give me her address and telephone number and believe me Al I am going to look her up when we get there the twenty-ninth of April.

She is a stenographer and was out here with her uncle and aunt.

I had a run in with Kelly last night and it looked like I would have to take a wallop at him but the other boys seperated us. He is a bush outfielder from the New England League. We was playing poker. You know the boys plays poker a good deal but this was the first time I got in. I was having pretty good luck and was about four bucks to the good and I was thinking of quitting because I was tired and sleepy. Then Kelly opened the pot for fifty cents and I stayed. I had three sevens. No one else stayed. Kelly stood pat and I drawed two cards. And I catched my fourth seven. He bet fifty cents but I felt pretty safe even if he did have a pat hand. So I called him. I took the money and told them I was through.

Lord and some of the boys laughed but Kelly got nasty and begun to pan me for quitting and for the way I played. I says Well I won the pot didn’t I? He says Yes and he called me something. I says I got a notion to take a punch at you.

He says Oh you have have you? And I come back at him. I says Yes I have have I? I would of busted his jaw if they hadn’t stopped me. You know me Al.

I worked here two times once against Los Angeles and once against Venice. I went the full nine innings both times and Venice beat me four to two. I could of beat them easy with any kind of support. I walked a couple of guys in the forth and Chase drops a throw and Collins lets a fly ball get away from him. At that I would of shut them out if I had wanted to cut loose. After the game Callahan says You didn’t look so good in there today. I says I didn’t cut loose. He says Well you been working pretty near three weeks now and you ought to be in shape to cut loose. I says Oh I am in shape all right. He says Well don’t work no harder than you have to or you might get hurt and then the league would blow up. I don’t know if he was kidding me or not but I guess he thinks pretty well of me because he works me lots oftener than Walsh or Scott or Benz.

I will try to write you from Yuma, Texas, but we don’t stay there only a day and I may not have time for a long letter.

Yours truly, Jack.

YUMA, ARIZONA,
APRIL 1.

Dear Old Al:  Just a line to let you know we are on our way back East. This place is in Arizona and it sure is sandy. They haven’t got no regular ball club here and we play a pick-up team this afternoon. Callahan told me I would have to work. He says I am using you because we want to get through early and I know you can beat them quick. That is the first time he has said anything like that and I guess he is wiseing up that I got the goods.

We was talking about the Athaletics this morning and Callahan says None of you fellows pitch right to Baker. I was talking to Lord and Scott afterward and I say to Scott How do you pitch to Baker? He says I use my fadeaway. I says How do you throw it? He says Just like you throw a fast ball to anybody else. I says Why do you call it a fadeaway then? He says Because when I throw it to Baker it fades away over the fence.

This place is full of Indians and I wish you could see them Al. They don’t look nothing like the Indians we seen in that show last summer.

Your old pal, Jack.

OKLAHOMA CITY,
APRIL 4.

Friend Al:  Coming out of Amarillo last night I and Lord and Weaver was sitting at a table in the dining car with a old lady. None of us were talking to her but she looked me over pretty careful and seemed to kind of like my looks. Finally she says Are you boys with some football club? Lord nor Weaver didn’t say nothing so I thought it was up to me and I says No mam this is the Chicago White Sox Ball Club. She says I knew you were athaletes. I says Yes I guess you could spot us for athaletes. She says Yes indeed and specially you. You certainly look healthy. I says You ought to see me stripped. I didn’t see nothing funny about that but I thought Lord and Weaver would die laughing. Lord had to get up and leave the table and he told everybody what I said.

All the boys wanted me to play poker on the way here but I told them I didn’t feel good. I know enough to quit when I am ahead Al. Callahan and I sat down to breakfast all alone this morning. He says Boy why don’t you get to work? I says What do you mean? Ain’t I working? He says You ain’t improving none. You have got the stuff to make a good pitcher but you don’t go after bunts and you don’t cover first base and you don’t watch the baserunners. He made me kind of sore talking that way and I says Oh I guess I can get along all right.

He says Well I am going to put it up to you. I am going to start you over in St. Joe day after tomorrow and I want you to show me something. I want you to cut loose with all you’ve got and I want you to get round the infield a little and show them you aren’t tied in that box. I says Oh I can field my position if I want to. He says Well you better want to or I will have to ship you back to the sticks. Then he got up and left. He didn’t scare me none Al. They won’t ship me to no sticks after the way I showed on this trip and even if they did they couldn’t get no waivers on me.

Some of the boys have begun to call me Four Sevens but it don’t bother me none.

Yours truly, Jack.

ST. JOE, MISSOURI,
APRIL 7.

Friend Al:  It rained yesterday so I worked today instead and St. Joe done well to get three hits. They couldn’t of scored if we had played all week. I give a couple of passes but I catched a guy flatfooted off of first base and I come up with a couple of bunts and throwed guys out. When the game was over Callahan says That’s the way I like to see you work. You looked better today than you looked on the whole trip. Just once you wound up with a man on but otherwise you was all O.K. So I guess my job is cinched Al and I won’t have to go to New York or St. Louis. I would rather be in Chi anyway because it is near home. I wouldn’t care though if they traded me to Detroit. I hear from Violet right along and she says she can’t hardly wait till I come to Detroit. She says she is strong for the Tigers but she will pull for me when I work against them. She is nuts over me and I guess she has saw lots of guys to.

I sent her a stickpin from Oklahoma City but I can’t spend no more dough on her till after our first payday the fifteenth of the month. I had thirty bucks on me when I left home and I only got about ten left including the five spot I won in the poker game. I have to tip the waiters about thirty cents a day and I seen about twenty picture shows on the coast besides getting my cloths pressed a couple of times.

We leave here tomorrow night and arrive in Chi the next morning. The second club joins us there and then that night we go to Cleveland to open up. I asked one of the reporters if he knowed who was going to pitch the opening game and he says it would be Scott or Walsh but I guess he don’t know much about it.

These reporters travel all round the country with the team all season and send in telegrams about the game every night. I ain’t seen no Chi papers so I don’t know what they been saying about me. But I should worry eh Al? Some of them are pretty nice fellows and some of them got the swell head. They hang round with the old fellows and play poker most of the time.

Will write you from Cleveland. You will see in the paper if I pitch the opening game.

Your old pal, Jack.

CLEVELAND, OHIO,
APRIL 10.

Old Friend Al:  Well Al we are all set to open the season this afternoon. I have just ate breakfast and I am sitting in the lobby of the hotel. I eat at a little lunch counter about a block from here and I saved seventy cents on breakfast. You see Al they give us a dollar a meal and if we don’t want to spend that much all right. Our rooms at the hotel are paid for.

The Cleveland papers says Walsh or Scott will work for us this afternoon. I asked Callahan if there was any chance of me getting into the first game and he says I hope not. I don’t know what he meant but he may supprise these reporters and let me pitch. I will beat them Al. Lajoie and Jackson is supposed to be great batters but the bigger they are the harder they fall.

The second team joined us yesterday in Chi and we practiced a little. Poor Allen was left in Chi last night with four others of the recrut pitchers. Looks pretty good for me eh Al? I only seen Gleason for a few minutes on the train last night. He says, Well you ain’t took off much weight. You’re hog fat. I says Oh I ain’t fat. I didn’t need to take off no weight. He says One good thing about it the club don’t have to engage no birth for you because you spend all your time in the dining car. We kidded along like that a while and then the trainer rubbed my arm and I went to bed. Well Al I just got time to have my suit pressed before noon.

Yours truly, Jack.

CLEVELAND, OHIO,
APRIL 11.

Friend Al:  Well Al I suppose you know by this time that I did not pitch and that we got licked. Scott was in there and he didn’t have nothing. When they had us beat four to one in the eight inning Callahan told me to go out and warm up and he put a batter in for Scott in our ninth. But Cleveland didn’t have to play their ninth so I got no chance to work. But it looks like he means to start me in one of the games here. We got three more to play. Maybe I will pitch this afternoon. I got a postcard from Violet. She says Beat them Naps. I will give them a battle Al if I get a chance.

Glad to hear you boys have fixed it up to come to Chi during the Detroit serious. I will ask Callahan when he is going to pitch me and let you know. Thanks Al for the papers.

Your friend, Jack.

ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI,
APRIL 15.

Friend Al:  Well Al I guess I showed them. I only worked one inning but I guess them Browns is glad I wasn’t in there no longer than that. They had us beat seven to one in the sixth and Callahan pulls Benz out. I honestly felt sorry for him but he didn’t have nothing, not a thing. They was hitting him so hard I thought they would score a hundred runs. A righthander name Bumgardner was pitching for them and he didn’t look to have nothing either but we ain’t got much of a batting team Al. I could hit better than some of them regulars. Anyway Callahan called Benz to the bench and sent for me. I was down in the corner warming up with Kuhn. I wasn’t warmed up good but you know I got the nerve Al and I run right out there like I meant business. There was a man on second and nobody out when I come in. I didn’t know who was up there but I found out afterward it was Shotten. He’s the center-fielder. I was cold and I walked him. Then I got warmed up good and I made Johnston look like a boob. I give him three fast balls and he let two of them go by and missed the other one. I would of handed him a spitter but Schalk kept signing for fast ones and he knows more about them batters than me. Anyway I whiffed Johnston. Then up come Williams and I tried to make him hit at a couple of bad ones. I was in the hole with two balls and nothing and come right across the heart with my fast one. I wish you could of saw the hop on it. Williams hit it right straight up and Lord was camped under it. Then up come Pratt the best hitter on their club. You know what I done to him don’t you Al? I give him one spitter and another he didn’t strike at that was a ball. Then I come back with two fast ones and Mister Pratt was a dead baby. And you notice they didn’t steal no bases neither.

In our half of the seventh inning Weaver and Schalk got on and I was going up there with a stick when Callahan calls me back and sends Easterly up. I don’t know what kind of managing you call that. I hit good on the training trip and he must of knew they had no chance to score off me in the innings they had left while they were liable to murder his other pitchers. I come back to the bench pretty hot and I says You’re making a mistake. He says If Comiskey had wanted you to manage this team he would of hired you.

Then Easterly pops out and I says Now I guess you’re sorry you didn’t let me hit. That sent him right up in the air and he bawled me awful. Honest Al I would of cracked him right in the jaw if we hadn’t been right out where everybody could of saw us. Well he sent Cicotte in to finish and they didn’t score no more and we didn’t neither.

I road down in the car with Gleason. He says Boy you shouldn’t ought to talk like that to Cal. Some day he will lose his temper and bust you one. I says He won’t never bust me. I says He didn’t have no right to talk like that to me. Gleason says I suppose you think he’s going to laugh and smile when we lost four out of the first five games. He says Wait till tonight and then go up to him and let him know you are sorry you sassed him. I says I didn’t sass him and I ain’t sorry.

So after supper I seen Callahan sitting in the lobby and I went over and sit down by him. I says When are you going to let me work? He says I wouldn’t never let you work only my pitchers are all shot to pieces. Then I told him about you boys coming up from Bedford to watch me during the Detroit serious and he says Well I will start you in the second game against Detroit. He says But I wouldn’t if I had any pitchers. He says A girl could get out there and pitch better than some of them have been doing.

So you see Al I am going to pitch on the nineteenth. I hope you guys can be up there and I will show you something. I know I can beat them Tigers and I will have to do it even if they are Violet’s team.

I notice that New York and Boston got trimmed today so I suppose they wish Comiskey would ask for waivers on me. No chance Al.

Your old pal, Jack.

P.S. – We play eleven games in Chi and then go to Detroit. So I will see the little girl on the twenty-ninth.

Oh you Violet.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
APRIL 19.

Dear Old Pal:  Well Al it’s just as well you couldn’t come. They beat me and I am writing you this so as you will know the truth about the game and not get a bum steer from what you read in the papers.

I had a sore arm when I was warming up and Callahan should never ought to of sent me in there. And Schalk kept signing for my fast ball and I kept giving it to him because I thought he ought to know something about the batters. Weaver and Lord and all of them kept kicking them round the infield and Collins and Bodie couldn’t catch nothing.

Callahan ought never to of left me in there when he seen how sore my arm was. Why, I couldn’t of threw hard enough to break a pain of glass my arm was so sore.

They sure did run wild on the bases. Cobb stole four and Bush and Crawford and Veach about two apiece. Schalk didn’t even make a peg half the time. I guess he was trying to throw me down.

The score was sixteen to two when Callahan finally took me out in the eighth and I don’t know how many more they got. I kept telling him to take me out when I seen how bad I was but he wouldn’t do it. They started bunting in the fifth and Lord and Chase just stood there and didn’t give me no help at all.

I was all O.K. till I had the first two men out in the first inning. Then Crawford come up. I wanted to give him a spitter but Schalk signs me for the fast one and I give it to him. The ball didn’t hop much and Crawford happened to catch it just right. At that Collins ought to of catched the ball. Crawford made three bases and up come Cobb. It was the first time I ever seen him. He hollered at me right off the reel. He says You better walk me you busher. I says I will walk you back to the bench. Schalk signs for a spitter and I gives it to him and Cobb misses it.

Then instead of signing for another one Schalk asks for a fast one and I shook my head no but he signed for it again and yells Put something on it. So I throwed a fast one and Cobb hits it right over second base. I don’t know what Weaver was doing but he never made a move for the ball. Crawford scored and Cobb was on first base. First thing I knowed he had stole second while I held the ball. Callahan yells Wake up out there and I says Why don’t your catcher tell me when they are going to steal. Schalk says Get in there and pitch and shut your mouth. Then I got mad and walked Veach and Moriarty but before I walked Moriarty Cobb and Veach pulled a double steal on Schalk. Gainor lifts a fly and Lord drops it and two more come in. Then Stanage walks and I whiffs their pitcher.

I come in to the bench and Callahan says Are your friends from Bedford up here? I was pretty sore and I says Why don’t you get a catcher? He says We don’t need no catcher when you’re pitching because you can’t get nothing past their bats. Then he says You better leave your uniform in here when you go out next inning or Cobb will steal it off your back. I says My arm is sore. He says Use your other one and you’ll do just as good.

Gleason says Who do you want to warm up? Callahan says Nobody. He says Cobb is going to lead the league in batting and basestealing anyway so we might as well give him a good start. I was mad enough to punch his jaw but the boys winked at me not to do nothing.

Well I got some support in the next inning and nobody got on. Between innings I says Well I guess I look better now don’t I? Callahan says Yes but you wouldn’t look so good if Collins hadn’t jumped up on the fence and catched that one off Crawford. That’s all the encouragement I got Al.

Cobb come up again to start the third and when Schalk signs me for a fast one I shakes my head. Then Schalk says All right pitch anything you want to. I pitched a spitter and Cobb bunts it right at me. I would of threw him out a block but I stubbed my toe in a rough place and fell down. This is the roughest ground I ever seen Al. Veach bunts and for a wonder Lord throws him out. Cobb goes to second and honest Al I forgot all about him being there and first thing I knowed he had stole third. Then Moriarty hits a fly ball to Bodie and Cobb scores though Bodie ought to of threw him out twenty feet.

They batted all round in the forth inning and scored four or five more. Crawford got the luckiest three-base hit I ever see. He popped one way up in the air and the wind blowed it against the fence. The wind is something fierce here Al. At that Collins ought to of got under it.

I was looking at the bench all the time expecting Callahan to call me in but he kept hollering Go on and pitch. Your friends wants to see you pitch.

Well Al I don’t know how they got the rest of their runs but they had more luck than any team I ever seen. And all the time Jennings was on the coaching line yelling like a Indian. Some day Al I’m going to punch his jaw.

After Veach had hit one in the eight Callahan calls me to the bench and says You’re through for the day. I says It’s about time you found out my arm was sore. He says I ain’t worrying about your arm but I’m afraid some of our outfielders will run their legs off and some of them poor infielders will get killed. He says The reporters just sent me a message saying they had run out of paper. Then he says I wish some of the other clubs had pitchers like you so we could hit once in a while. He says Go in the clubhouse and get your arm rubbed off. That’s the only way I can get Jennings sore he says.

Well Al that’s about all there was to it. It will take two or three stamps to send this but I want you to know the truth about it. The way my arm was I ought never to of went in there.

Yours truly, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
APRIL 25.

Friend Al:  Just a line to let you know I am still on earth. My arm feels pretty good again and I guess maybe I will work at Detroit. Violet writes that she can’t hardly wait to see me. Looks like I got a regular girl now Al. We go up there the twenty-ninth and maybe I won’t be glad to see her. I hope she will be out to the game the day I pitch. I will pitch the way I want to next time and them Tigers won’t have such a picnic.

I suppose you seen what the Chicago reporters said about that game. I will punch a couple of their jaws when I see them.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
APRIL 29.

Dear Old Al:  Well Al it’s all over. The club went to Detroit last night and I didn’t go along. Callahan told me to report to Comiskey this morning and I went up to the office at ten o’clock. He give me my pay to date and broke the news. I am sold to Frisco.

I asked him how they got waivers on me and he says Oh there was no trouble about that because they all heard how you tamed the Tigers. Then he patted me on the back and says Go out there and work hard boy and maybe you’ll get another chance some day. I was kind of choked up so I walked out of the office.

I ain’t had no fair deal Al and I ain’t going to no Frisco. I will quit the game first and take that job Charley offered me at the billiard hall.

I expect to be in Bedford in a couple of days. I have got to pack up first and settle with my landlady about my room here which I engaged for all season thinking I would be treated square. I am going to rest and lay round home a while and try to forget this rotten game. Tell the boys about it Al and tell them I never would of got let out if I hadn’t worked with a sore arm.

I feel sorry for that little girl up in Detroit Al. She expected me there today.

Your old pal, Jack.

P.S.  I suppose you seen where that lucky lefthander Allen shut out Cleveland with two hits yesterday. The lucky stiff.

• 2 •

The Busher Comes Back

SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA,
MAY 13.

Friend Al:  I suppose you and the rest of the boys in Bedford will be supprised to learn that I am out here, because I remember telling you when I was sold to San Francisco by the White Sox that not under no circumstances would I report here. I was pretty mad when Comiskey give me my release, because I didn’t think I had been given a fair show by Callahan. I don’t think so yet Al and I never will but Bill Sullivan the old White Sox catcher talked to me and told me not to pull no boner by refuseing to go where they sent me. He says You’re only hurting yourself. He says You must remember that this was your first time up in the big show and very few men no matter how much stuff they got can expect to make good right off the reel. He says All you need is experience and pitching out in the Coast League will be just the thing for you.

So I went in and asked Comiskey for my transportation and he says That’s right Boy go out there and work hard and maybe I will want you back. I told him I hoped so but I don’t hope nothing of the kind Al. I am going to see if I can’t get Detroit to buy me, because I would rather live in Detroit than anywheres else. The little girl who got stuck on me this spring lives there. I guess I told you about her Al. Her name is Violet and she is some queen. And then if I got with the Tigers I wouldn’t never have to pitch against Cobb and Crawford, though I believe I could show both of them up if I was right. They ain’t got much of a ball club here and hardly any good pitchers outside of me. But I don’t care.

I will win some games if they give me any support and I will get back in the big league and show them birds something. You know me, Al.

Your pal, Jack.

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA,
MAY 20.

Al:  Well old pal I don’t suppose you can find much news of this league in the papers at home so you may not know that I have been standing this league on their heads. I pitched against Oakland up home and shut them out with two hits. I made them look like suckers Al. They hadn’t never saw no speed like mine and they was scared to death the minute I cut loose. I could of pitched the last six innings with my foot and trimmed them they was so scared.

Well we come down here for a serious and I worked the second game. They got four hits and one run, and I just give them the one run. Their shortstop Johnson was on the training trip with the White Sox and of course I knowed him pretty well. So I eased up in the last inning and let him hit one. If I had of wanted to let myself out he couldn’t of hit me with a board. So I am going along good and Howard our manager says he is going to use me regular. He’s a pretty nice manager and not a bit sarkastic like some of them big leaguers. I am fielding my position good and watching the baserunners to. Thank goodness Al they ain’t no Cobbs in this league and a man ain’t scared of haveing his uniform stole off his back.

But listen Al I don’t want to be bought by Detroit no more. It is all off between Violet and I. She wasn’t the sort of girl I suspected. She is just like them all Al. No heart. I wrote her a letter from Chicago telling her I was sold to San Francisco and she wrote back a postcard saying something about not haveing no time to waste on bushers. What do you know about that Al? Calling me a busher. I will show them. She wasn’t no good Al and I figure I am well rid of her. Good riddance is rubbish as they say.

I will let you know how I get along and if I hear anything about being sold or drafted.

Yours truly, Jack.

SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA,
JULY 20.

Friend Al:  You will forgive me for not writeing to you oftener when you hear the news I got for you. Old pal I am engaged to be married. Her name is Hazel Carney and she is some queen, Al – a great big stropping girl that must weigh one hundred and sixty lbs. She is out to every game and she got stuck on me from watching me work.

Then she writes a note to me and makes a date and I meet her down on Market Street one night. We go to a nickel show together and have some time. Since then we been together pretty near every evening except when I was away on the road.

Night before last she asked me if I was married and I tells her No and she says a big handsome man like I ought not to have no trouble finding a wife. I tells her I ain’t never looked for one and she says Well you wouldn’t have to look very far. I asked her if she was married and she said No but she wouldn’t mind it. She likes her beer pretty well and her and I had several and I guess I was feeling pretty good. Anyway I guess I asked her if she wouldn’t marry me and she says it was O.K. I ain’t a bit sorry Al because she is some doll and will make them all sit up back home. She wanted to get married right away but I said No wait till the season is over and maybe I will have more dough. She asked me what I was getting and I told her two hundred dollars a month. She says she didn’t think I was getting enough and I don’t neither but I will get the money when I get up in the big show again.

Anyway we are going to get married this fall and then I will bring her home and show her to you. She wants to live in Chi or New York but I guess she will like Bedford O.K. when she gets acquainted.

I have made good here all right Al. Up to a week ago Sunday I had won eleven straight. I have lost a couple since then, but one day I wasn’t feeling good and the other time they kicked it away behind me.

I had a run in with Howard after Portland had beat me. He says Keep on running round with that skirt and you won’t never win another game.

He says Go to bed nights and keep in shape or I will take your money. I told him to mind his own business and then he walked away from me. I guess he was scared I was going to smash him. No manager ain’t going to bluff me Al.

So I went to bed early last night and didn’t keep my date with the kid. She was pretty sore about it but business before plesure Al. Don’t tell the boys nothing about me being engaged. I want to supprise them.

Your pal, Jack.

SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA,
AUGUST 16.

Friend Al:  Well Al I got the supprise of my life last night. Howard called me up after I got to my room and tells me I am going back to the White Sox. Come to find out, when they sold me out here they kept a option on me and yesterday they exercised it. He told me I would have to report at once. So I packed up as quick as I could and then went down to say good-by to the kid. She was all broke up and wanted to go along with me but I told her I didn’t have enough dough to get married. She said she would come anyway and we could get married in Chi but I told her she better wait. She cried all over my sleeve. She sure is gone on me Al and I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her but I promised to send for her in October and then everything will be all O.K. She asked me how much I was going to get in the big league and I told her I would get a lot more money than out here because I wouldn’t play if I didn’t. You know me Al.

I come over here to Sacramento with the club this morning and I am leaveing tonight for Chi. I will get there next Tuesday and I guess Callahan will work me right away because he must of seen his mistake in letting me go by now. I will show them Al.

I looked up the skedule and I seen where we play in Detroit the fifth and sixth of September. I hope they will let me pitch there Al. Violet goes to the games and I will make her sorry she give me that kind of treatment. And I will make them Tigers sorry they kidded me last spring. I ain’t afraid of Cobb or none of them now, Al.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
AUGUST 27.

Al:  Well old pal I guess I busted in right. Did you notice what I done to them Athaletics, the best ball club in the country? I bet Violet wishes she hadn’t called me no busher.

I got here last Tuesday and set up in the stand and watched the game that afternoon. Washington was playing here and Johnson pitched. I was anxious to watch him because I had heard so much about him. Honest Al he ain’t as fast as me. He shut them out, but they never was much of a hitting club. I went to the clubhouse after the game and shook hands with the bunch. Kid Gleason the assistant manager seemed pretty glad to see me and he says Well have you learned something? I says Yes I guess I have. He says Did you see the game this afternoon? I says I had and he asked me what I thought of Johnson. I says I don’t think so much of him. He says Well I guess you ain’t learned nothing then. He says What was the matter with Johnson’s work? I says He ain’t got nothing but a fast ball. Then he says Yes and Rockefeller ain’t got nothing but a hundred million bucks.

Well I asked Callahan if he was going to give me a chance to work and he says he was. But I sat on the bench a couple of days and he didn’t ask me to do nothing. Finally I asked him why not and he says I am saving you to work against a good club, the Athaletics. Well the Athaletics come and I guess you know by this time what I done to them. And I had to work against Bender at that but I ain’t afraid of none of them now Al.

Baker didn’t hit one hard all afternoon and I didn’t have no trouble with Collins neither. I let them down with five blows all though the papers give them seven. Them reporters here don’t no more about scoreing than some old woman. They give Barry a hit on a fly ball that Bodie ought to of eat up, only he stumbled or something and they handed Oldring a two base hit on a ball that Weaver had to duck to get out of the way from. But I don’t care nothing about reporters. I beat them Athaletics and beat them good, five to one. Gleason slapped me on the back after the game and says Well you learned something after all. Rub some arnicky on your head to keep the swelling down and you may be a real pitcher yet. I says I ain’t got no swell head. He says No. If I hated myself like you do I would be a moveing picture actor.

Well I asked Callahan would he let me pitch up to Detroit and he says Sure. He says Do you want to get revenge on them? I says, Yes I did. He says Well you have certainly got some comeing. He says I never seen no man get worse treatment than them Tigers give you last spring. I says Well they won’t do it this time because I will know how to pitch to them. He says How are you going to pitch to Cobb? I says I am going to feed him on my slow one. He says Well Cobb had ought to make a good meal off of that. Then we quit jokeing and he says You have improved a hole lot and I am going to work you right along regular and if you can stand the gaff I may be able to use you in the city serious. You know Al the White Sox plays a city serious every fall with the Cubs and the players makes quite a lot of money. The winners gets about eight hundred dollars a peace and the losers about five hundred. We will be the winners if I have anything to say about it.

I am tickled to death at the chance of working in Detroit and I can’t hardly wait till we get there. Watch my smoke Al.

Your pal, Jack.

P.S.  I am going over to Allen’s flat to play cards a while tonight. Allen is the lefthander that was on the training trip with us. He ain’t got a thing, Al, and I don’t see how he gets by. He is married and his wife’s sister is visiting them. She wants to meet me but it won’t do her much good. I seen her out to the game today and she ain’t much for looks.

DETROIT, MICH.,
SEPTEMBER 6.

Friend Al:  I got a hole lot to write but I ain’t got much time because we are going over to Cleveland on the boat at ten P.M. I made them Tigers like it Al just like I said I would. And what do you think, Al, Violet called me up after the game and wanted to see me but I will tell you about the game first.

They got one hit off of me and Cobb made it a scratch single that he beat out. If he hadn’t of been so dam fast I would of had a no hit game. At that Weaver could of threw him out if he had of started after the ball in time. Crawford didn’t get nothing like a hit and I whiffed him once. I give two walks both of them to Bush but he is such a little guy that you can’t pitch to him.

When I was warming up before the game Callahan was standing beside me and pretty soon Jennings come over. Jennings says You ain’t going to pitch that bird are you? And Callahan said Yes he was. Then Jennings says I wish you wouldn’t because my boys is all tired out and can’t run the bases. Callahan says They won’t get no chance today. No, says Jennings I suppose not. I suppose he will walk them all and they won’t have to run. Callahan says He won’t give no bases on balls, he says. But you better tell your gang that he is liable to bean them and they better stay away from the plate. Jennings says He won’t never hurt my boys by beaning them. Then I cut in. Nor you neither, I says. Callahan laughs at that so I guess I must of pulled a pretty good one. Jennings didn’t have no comeback so he walks away.

Then Cobb come over and asked if I was going to work. Callahan told him Yes. Cobb says How many innings? Callahan says All the way. Then Cobb says Be a good fellow Cal and take him out early. I am lame and can’t run. I butts in then and said Don’t worry, Cobb. You won’t have to run because we have got a catcher who can hold them third strikes. Callahan laughed again and says to me You sure did learn something out on that Coast.

Well I walked Bush right off the real and they all begun to holler on the Detroit bench There he goes again. Vitt come up and Jennings yells Leave your bat in the bag Osker. He can’t get them over. But I got them over for that bird all O.K. and he pops out trying to bunt. And then I whiffed Crawford. He starts off with a foul that had me scared for a minute because it was pretty close to the foul line and it went clear out of the park. But he missed a spitter a foot and then I supprised them Al. I give him a slow ball and I honestly had to laugh to see him lunge for it. I bet he must of strained himself. He throwed his bat way like he was mad and I guess he was. Cobb came pranceing up like he always does and yells Give me that slow one Boy. So I says All right. But I fooled him. Instead of giveing him a slow one like I said I was going I handed him a spitter. He hit it all right but it was a line drive right in Chase’s hands. He says Pretty lucky Boy but I will get you next time. I come right back at him. I says Yes you will.

Well Al I had them going like that all through. About the sixth inning Callahan yells from the bench to Jennings What do you think of him now? And Jennings didn’t say nothing. What could he of said?

Cobb makes their one hit in the eighth. He never would of made it if Schalk had of let me throw him spitters instead of fast ones. At that Weaver ought to of threw him out. Anyway they didn’t score and we made a monkey out of Dubuque, or whatever his name is.

Well Al I got back to the hotel and snuck down the street a ways and had a couple of beers before supper. So I come to the supper table late and Walsh tells me they had been several phone calls for me. I go down to the desk and they tell me to call up a certain number. So I called up and they charged me a nickel for it. A girl’s voice answers the phone and I says Was they some one there that wanted to talk to Jack Keefe? She says You bet they is. She says Don’t you know me, Jack? This is Violet. Well, you could of knocked me down with a peace of bread. I says What do you want? She says Why I want to see you. I says Well you can’t see me. She says Why what’s the matter, Jack? What have I did that you should be sore at me? I says I guess you know all right. You called me a busher. She says Why I didn’t do nothing of the kind. I says Yes you did on that postcard. She says I didn’t write you no postcard.

Then we argued along for a while and she swore up and down that she didn’t write me no postcard or call me no busher. I says Well then why didn’t you write me a letter when I was in Frisco? She says she had lost my address. Well Al I don’t know if she was telling me the truth or not but may be she didn’t write that postcard after all. She was crying over the telephone so I says Well it is too late for I and you to get together because I am engaged to be married. Then she screamed and I hang up the receiver. She must of called back two or three times because they was calling my name round the hotel but I wouldn’t go near the phone. You know me Al.

Well when I hang up and went back to finish my supper the dining room was locked. So I had to go out and buy myself a sandwich. They soaked me fifteen cents for a sandwich and a cup of coffee so with the nickel for the phone I am out twenty cents altogether for nothing. But then I would of had to tip the waiter in the hotel a dime.

Well Al I must close and catch the boat. I expect a letter from Hazel in Cleveland and maybe Violet will write to me too. She is stuck on me all right Al. I can see that. And I don’t believe she could of wrote that postcard after all.

Yours truly, Jack.

BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS,
SEPTEMBER 12.

Old Pal:  Well Al I got a letter from Hazel in Cleveland and she is comeing to Chi in October for the city serious. She asked me to send her a hundred dollars for her fare and to buy some cloths with. I sent her thirty dollars for the fare and told her she could wait till she got to Chi to buy her cloths. She said she would give me the money back as soon as she seen me but she is a little short now because one of her girl friends borrowed fifty off of her. I guess she must be pretty soft-hearted Al. I hope you and Bertha can come up for the wedding because I would like to have you stand up with me.

I all so got a letter from Violet and they was blots all over it like she had been crying. She swore she did not write that postcard and said she would die if I didn’t believe her. She wants to know who the lucky girl is who I am engaged to be married to. I believe her Al when she says she did not write that postcard but it is too late now. I will let you know the date of my wedding as soon as I find out.

I guess you seen what I done in Cleveland and here. Allen was going awful bad in Cleveland and I relieved him in the eighth when we had a lead of two runs. I put them out in one-two-three order in the eighth but had hard work in the ninth due to rotten support. I walked Johnston and Chapman and Turner sacrificed them ahead. Jackson come up then and I had two strikes on him. I could of whiffed him but Schalk makes me give him a fast one when I wanted to give him a slow one. He hit it to Berger and Johnston ought to of been threw out at the plate but Berger fumbles and then has to make the play at first base. He got Jackson all O.K. but they was only one run behind then and Chapman was on third base. Lajoie was up next and Callahan sends out word for me to walk him. I thought that was rotten manageing because Lajoie or no one else can hit me when I want to cut loose. So after I give him two bad balls I tried to slip over a strike on him but the lucky stiff hit it on a line to Weaver. Anyway the game was over and I felt pretty good. But Callahan don’t appresiate good work Al. He give me a call in the clubhouse and said if I ever disobeyed his orders again he would suspend me without no pay and lick me too. Honest Al it was all I could do to keep from wrapping his jaw but Gleason winks at me not to do nothing.

I worked the second game here and give them three hits two of which was bunts that Lord ought to of eat up. I got better support in Frisco than I been getting here Al. But I don’t care. The Boston bunch couldn’t of hit me with a shovvel and we beat them two to nothing. I worked against Wood at that. They call him Smoky Joe and they say he has got a lot of speed.

Boston is some town, Al, and I wish you and Bertha could come here sometime. I went down to the wharf this morning and seen them unload the fish. They must of been a million of them but I didn’t have time to count them. Every one of them was five or six times as big as a blue gill.

Violet asked me what would be my address in New York City so I am dropping her a postcard to let her know all though I don’t know what good it will do her. I certainly won’t start no correspondents with her now that I am engaged to be married.

Yours truly, Jack.

NEW YORK, NEW YORK,
SEPTEMBER 16.

Friend Al:  I opened the serious here and beat them easy but I know you must of saw about it in the Chi papers. At that they don’t give me no fair show in the Chi papers. One of the boys bought one here and I seen in it where I was lucky to win that game in Cleveland. If I knowed which one of them reporters wrote that I would punch his jaw.

Al I told you Boston was some town but this is the real one. I never seen nothing like it and I been going some since we got here. I walked down Broadway the Main Street last night and I run into a couple of the ball players and they took me to what they call the Garden but it ain’t like the gardens at home because this one is indoors. We sat down to a table and had several drinks. Pretty soon one of the boys asked me if I was broke and I says No, why? He says You better get some lubricateing oil and loosen up. I don’t know what he meant but pretty soon when we had had a lot of drinks the waiter brings a check and hands it to me. It was for one dollar. I says Oh I ain’t paying for all of them. The waiter says This is just for that last drink.

I thought the other boys would make a holler but they didn’t say nothing. So I give him a dollar bill and even then he didn’t act satisfied so I asked him what he was waiting for and he said Oh nothing, kind of sassy. I was going to bust him but the boys give me the sign to shut up and not to say nothing. I excused myself pretty soon because I wanted to get some air. I give my check for my hat to a boy and he brought my hat and I started going and he says Haven’t you forgot something? I guess he must of thought I was wearing a overcoat.

Then I went down the Main Street again and some man stopped me and asked me did I want to go to the show. He said he had a ticket. I asked him what show and he said the Follies. I never heard of it but I told him I would go if he had a ticket to spare. He says I will spare you this one for three dollars. I says You must take me for some boob. He says No I wouldn’t insult no boob. So I walks on but if he had of insulted me I would of busted him.

I went back to the hotel then and run into Kid Gleason. He asked me to take a walk with him so out I go again. We went to the corner and he bought me a beer. He don’t drink nothing but pop himself. The two drinks was only ten cents so I says This is the place for me. He says Where have you been? and I told him about paying one dollar for three drinks. He says I see I will have to take charge of you. Don’t go round with them ball players no more. When you want to go out and see the sights come to me and I will stear you. So tonight he is going to stear me. I will write to you from Philadelphia.

Your pal, Jack.

PHILADELPHIA, PA.,
SEPTEMBER 19.

Friend Al:  They won’t be no game here today because it is raining. We all been loafing round the hotel all day and I am glad of it because I got all tired out over in New York City. I and Kid Gleason went round together the last couple of nights over there and he wouldn’t let me spend no money. I seen a lot of girls that I would of liked to of got acquainted with but he wouldn’t even let me answer them when they spoke to me. We run in to a couple of peaches last night and they had us spotted too. One of them says I’ll bet you’re a couple of ball players. But Kid says You lose your bet. I am a bellhop and the big rube with me is nothing but a pitcher.

One of them says What are you trying to do kid somebody? He says Go home and get some soap and remove your disguise from your face. I didn’t think he ought to talk like that to them and I called him about it and said maybe they was lonesome and it wouldn’t hurt none if we treated them to a soda or something. But he says Lonesome. If I don’t get you away from here they will steal everything you got. They won’t even leave you your fast ball. So we left them and he took me to a picture show. It was some California pictures and they made me think of Hazel so when I got back to the hotel I sent her three postcards.

Gleason made me go to my room at ten o’clock both nights but I was pretty tired anyway because he had walked me all over town. I guess we must of saw twenty shows. He says I would take you to the grand opera only it would be throwing money away because we can hear Ed Walsh for nothing. Walsh has got some voice Al a loud high tenor.

Tomorrow is Sunday and we have a double header Monday on account of the rain today. I thought sure I would get another chance to beat the Athaletics and I asked Callahan if he was going to pitch me here but he said he thought he would save me to work against Johnson in Washington. So you see Al he must figure I am about the best he has got. I’ll beat him Al if they get a couple of runs behind me.

Yours truly, Jack.

P.S.  They was a letter here from Violet and it pretty near made me feel like crying. I wish they was two of me so both them girls could be happy.

WASHINGTON, D.C.,
SEPTEMBER 22.

Dear Old Al:  Well Al here I am in the capital of the old United States. We got in last night and I been walking round town all morning. But I didn’t tire myself out because I am going to pitch against Johnson this afternoon.

This is the prettiest town I ever seen but I believe they is more colored people here than they is in Evansville or Chi. I seen the White House and the Monumunt. They say that Bill Sullivan and Gabby St. once catched a baseball that was threw off of the top of the Monumunt but I bet they couldn’t catch it if I throwed it.

I was in to breakfast this morning with Gleason and Bodie and Weaver and Fournier. Gleason says I’m supprised that you ain’t sick in bed today. I says Why?

He says Most of our pitchers gets sick when Cal tells them they are going to work against Johnson. He says Here’s these other fellows all feeling pretty sick this morning and they ain’t even pitchers. All they have to do is hit against him but it looks like as if Cal would have to send substitutes in for them. Bodie is complaining of a sore arm which he must of strained drawing to two card flushes. Fournier and Weaver have strained their legs doing the tango dance. Nothing could cure them except to hear that big Walter had got throwed out of his machine and wouldn’t be able to pitch against us in this serious.

I says I feel O.K. and I ain’t afraid to pitch against Johnson and I ain’t afraid to hit against him neither. Then Weaver says Have you ever saw him work? Yes, I says, I seen him in Chi. Then Weaver says Well if you have saw him work and ain’t afraid to hit against him I’ll bet you would go down to Wall Street and holler Hurrah for Roosevelt. I says No I wouldn’t do that but I ain’t afraid of no pitcher and what is more if you get me a couple of runs I’ll beat him. Then Fournier says Oh we will get you a couple of runs all right. He says That’s just as easy as catching whales with a angleworm.

Well Al I must close and go in and get some lunch. My arm feels great and they will have to go some to beat me Johnson or no Johnson.

Your pal, Jack.

WASHINGTON, D.C.,
SEPTEMBER 22.

Friend Al:  Well I guess you know by this time that they didn’t get no two runs for me, only one, but I beat him just the same. I beat him one to nothing and Callahan was so pleased that he give me a ticket to the theater. I just got back from there and it is pretty late and I already have wrote you one letter today but I am going to sit up and tell you about it.

It was cloudy before the game started and when I was warming up I made the remark to Callahan that the dark day ought to make my speed good. He says Yes and of course it will handicap Johnson.

While Washington was takeing their practice their two coachers Schaefer and Altrock got out on the infield and cut up and I pretty near busted laughing at them. They certainly is funny Al. Callahan asked me what was I laughing at and I told him and he says That’s the first time I ever seen a pitcher laugh when he was going to work against Johnson. He says Griffith is a pretty good fellow to give us something to laugh at before he shoots that guy at us.

I warmed up good and told Schalk not to ask me for my spitter much because my fast one looked faster than I ever seen it. He says it won’t make much difference what you pitch today. I says Oh, yes, it will because Callahan thinks enough of me to work me against Johnson and I want to show him he didn’t make no mistake. Then Gleason says No he didn’t make no mistake. Wasteing Cicotte or Scotty would of been a mistake in this game.

Well, Johnson whiffs Weaver and Chase and makes Lord pop out in the first inning. I walked their first guy but I didn’t give Milan nothing to bunt and finally he flied out. And then I whiffed the next two. On the bench Callahan says That’s the way, boy. Keep that up and we got a chance.

Johnson had fanned four of us when I come up with two out in the third inning and he whiffed me to. I fouled one though that if I had ever got a good hold of I would of knocked out of the park. In the first seven innings we didn’t have a hit off of him. They had got five or six lucky ones off of me and I had walked two or three, but I cut loose with all I had when they was men on and they couldn’t do nothing with me. The only reason I walked so many was because my fast one was jumping so. Honest Al it was so fast that Evans the umpire couldn’t see it half the time and he called a lot of balls that was right over the heart.

Well I come up in the eighth with two out and the score still nothing and nothing. I had whiffed the second time as well as the first but it was account of Evans missing one on me. The eighth started with Shanks muffing a fly ball off of Bodie. It was way out by the fence so he got two bases on it and he went to third while they was throwing Berger out. Then Schalk whiffed.

Callahan says Go up and try to meet one Jack. It might as well be you as anybody else. But your old pal didn’t whiff this time Al. He gets two strikes on me with fast ones and then I passed up two bad ones. I took my healthy at the next one and slapped it over first base. I guess I could of made two bases on it but I didn’t want to tire myself out. Anyway Bodie scored and I had them beat. And my hit was the only one we got off of him so I guess he is a pretty good pitcher after all Al.

They filled up the bases on me with one out in the ninth but it was pretty dark then and I made McBride and their catcher look like suckers with my speed.

I felt so good after the game that I drunk one of them pink cocktails. I don’t know what their name is. And then I sent a postcard to poor little Violet. I don’t care nothing about her but it don’t hurt me none to try and cheer her up once in a while. We leave here Thursday night for home and they had ought to be two or three letters there for me from Hazel because I haven’t heard from her lately. She must of lost my road addresses.

Your pal, Jack.

P.S.  I forgot to tell you what Callahan said after the game. He said I was a real pitcher now and he is going to use me in the city serious. If he does Al we will beat them Cubs sure.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
SEPTEMBER 27.

Friend Al:  They wasn’t no letter here at all from Hazel and I guess she must of been sick. Or maybe she didn’t think it was worth while writeing as long as she is comeing next week.

I want to ask you to do me a favor Al and that is to see if you can find me a house down there. I will want to move in with Mrs. Keefe, don’t that sound funny Al? sometime in the week of October twelfth. Old man Cutting’s house or that yellow house across from you would be O.K. I would rather have the yellow one so as to be near you. Find out how much rent they want Al and if it is not no more than twelve dollars a month get it for me. We will buy our furniture here in Chi when Hazel comes.

We have a couple of days off now Al and then we play St. Louis two games here. Then Detroit comes to finish the season the third and fourth of October.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
OCTOBER 3.

Dear Old Al:  Thanks Al for getting the house. The one-year lease is O.K. You and Bertha and me and Hazel can have all sorts of good times together. I guess the walk needs repairs but I can fix that up when I come. We can stay at the hotel when we first get there.

I wish you could of came up for the city serious Al but anyway I want you and Bertha to be sure and come up for our wedding. I will let you know the date as soon as Hazel gets here.

The serious starts Tuesday and this town is wild over it. The Cubs finished second in their league and we was fifth in ours but that don’t scare me none. We would of finished right on top if I had of been here all season.

Callahan pitched one of the bushers against Detroit this afternoon and they beat him bad. Callahan is saveing up Scott and Allen and Russell and Cicotte and I for the big show. Walsh isn’t in no shape and neither is Benz. It looks like I would have a good deal to do because most of them others can’t work no more than once in four days and Allen ain’t no good at all.

We have a day to rest after tomorrow’s game with the Tigers and then we go at them Cubs.

Your pal, Jack.

P.S.  I have got it figured that Hazel is fixing to supprise me by dropping in on me because I haven’t heard nothing yet.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
OCTOBER 7.

Friend Al:  Well Al you know by this time that they beat me today and tied up the serious. But I have still got plenty of time Al and I will get them before it is over. My arm wasn’t feeling good Al and my fast ball didn’t hop like it had ought to. But it was the rotten support I got that beat me. That lucky stiff Zimmerman was the only guy that got a real hit off of me and he must of shut his eyes and throwed his bat because the ball he hit was a foot over his head. And if they hadn’t been makeing all them errors behind me they wouldn’t of been nobody on bases when Zimmerman got that lucky scratch. The serious now stands one and one Al and it is a cinch we will beat them even if they are a bunch of lucky stiffs. They has been great big crowds at both games and it looks like as if we should ought to get over eight hundred dollars a peace if we win and we will win sure because I will beat them three straight if necessary.

But Al I have got bigger news than that for you and I am the happyest man in the world. I told you I had not heard from Hazel for a long time. Tonight when I got back to my room they was a letter waiting for me from her.

Al she is married. Maybe you don’t know why that makes me happy but I will tell you. She is married to Kid Levy the middle weight. I guess my thirty dollars is gone because in her letter she called me a cheap skate and she inclosed one one-cent stamp and two twos and said she was paying me for the glass of beer I once bought her. I bought her more than that Al but I won’t make no holler. She all so said not for me to never come near her or her husband would bust my jaw. I ain’t afraid of him or no one else Al but they ain’t no danger of me ever bothering them. She was no good and I was sorry the minute I agreed to marry her.

But I was going to tell you why I am happy or maybe you can guess. Now I can make Violet my wife and she’s got Hazel beat forty ways. She ain’t nowheres near as big as Hazel but she’s classier Al and she will make me a good wife. She ain’t never asked me for no money.

I wrote her a letter the minute I got the good news and told her to come on over here at once at my expense. We will be married right after the serious is over and I want you and Bertha to be sure and stand up with us. I will wire you at my own expence the exact date.

It all seems like a dream now about Violet and I haveing our misunderstanding Al and I don’t see how I ever could of accused her of sending me that postcard. You and Bertha will be just as crazy about her as I am when you see her Al. Just think Al I will be married inside of a week and to the only girl I ever could of been happy with instead of the woman I never really cared for except as a passing fancy. My happyness would be complete Al if I had not of let that woman steal thirty dollars off of me.

Your happy pal, Jack.

P.S.  Hazel probibly would of insisted on us takeing a trip to Niagara falls or somewheres but I know Violet will be perfectly satisfied if I take her right down to Bedford. Oh you little yellow house.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
OCTOBER 9.

Friend Al:  Well Al we have got them beat three games to one now and will wind up the serious tomorrow sure. Callahan sent me in to save poor Allen yesterday and I stopped them dead. But I don’t care now Al. I have lost all interest in the game and I don’t care if Callahan pitches me tomorrow or not. My heart is just about broke Al and I wouldn’t be able to do myself justice feeling the way I do.

I have lost Violet Al and just when I was figureing on being the happyest man in the world. We will get the big money but it won’t do me no good. They can keep my share because I won’t have no little girl to spend it on.

Her answer to my letter was waiting for me at home tonight. She is engaged to be married to Joe Hill the big lefthander Jennings got from Providence. Honest Al I don’t see how he gets by. He ain’t got no more curve ball than a rabbit and his fast one floats up there like a big balloon. He beat us the last game of the regular season here but it was because Callahan had a lot of bushers in the game.

I wish I had knew then that he was stealing my girl and I would of made Callahan pitch me against him. And when he come up to bat I would of beaned him. But I don’t suppose you could hurt him by hitting him in the head. The big stiff. Their wedding ain’t going to come off till next summer and by that time he will be pitching in the Southwestern Texas League for about fifty dollars a month.

Violet wrote that she wished me all the luck and happyness in the world but it is too late for me to be happy Al and I don’t care what kind of luck I have now.

Al you will have to get rid of that lease for me. Fix it up the best way you can. Tell the old man I have changed my plans. I don’t know just yet what I will do but maybe I will go to Australia with Mike Donlin’s team. If I do I won’t care if the boat goes down or not. I don’t believe I will even come back to Bedford this winter. It would drive me wild to go past that little house every day and think how happy I might of been.

Maybe I will pitch tomorrow Al and if I do the serious will be over tomorrow night. I can beat them Cubs if I get any kind of decent support. But I don’t care now Al.

Yours truly, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
OCTOBER 12.

Al:  Your letter received. If the old man won’t call it off I guess I will have to try and rent the house to some one else. Do you know of any couple that wants one Al? It looks like I would have to come down there myself and fix things up someway. He is just mean enough to stick me with the house on my hands when I won’t have no use for it.

They beat us the day before yesterday as you probibly know and it rained yesterday and today. The papers says it will be all O.K. tomorrow and Callahan tells me I am going to work. The Cub pitchers was all shot to peaces and the bad weather is just nuts for them because it will give Cheney a good rest. But I will beat him Al if they don’t kick it away behind me.

I must close because I promised Allen the little lefthander that I would come over to his flat and play cards a while tonight and I must wash up and change my collar. Allen’s wife’s sister is visiting them again and I would give anything not to have to go over there. I am through with girls and don’t want nothing to do with them.

I guess it is maybe a good thing it rained today because I dreamt about Violet last night and went out and got a couple of high balls before breakfast this morning. I hadn’t never drank nothing before breakfast before and it made me kind of sick. But I am all O.K. now.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
OCTOBER 13.

Dear Old Al:  The serious is all over Al. We are the champions and I done it. I may be home the day after tomorrow or I may not come for a couple of days. I want to see Comiskey before I leave and fix up about my contract for next year. I won’t sign for no less than five thousand and if he hands me a contract for less than that I will leave the White Sox flat on their back. I have got over fourteen hundred dollars now Al with the city serious money which was $814.30 and I don’t have to worry.

Them reporters will have to give me a square deal this time Al. I had everything and the Cubs done well to score a run. I whiffed Zimmerman three times. Some of the boys say he ain’t no hitter but he is a hitter and a good one Al only he could not touch the stuff I got. The umps give them their run because in the fourth inning I had Leach flatfooted off of second base and Weaver tagged him O.K. but the umps wouldn’t call it. Then Schulte the lucky stiff happened to get a hold of one and pulled it past first base. I guess Chase must of been asleep. Anyway they scored but I don’t care because we piled up six runs on Cheney and I drove in one of them myself with one of the prettiest singles you ever see. It was a spitter and I hit it like a shot. If I had hit it square it would of went out of the park.

Comiskey ought to feel pretty good about me winning and I guess he will give me a contract for anything I want. He will have to or I will go to the Federal League.

We are all invited to a show tonight and I am going with Allen and his wife and her sister Florence. She is O.K. Al and I guess she thinks the same about me. She must because she was out to the game today and seen me hand it to them. She maybe ain’t as pretty as Violet and Hazel but as they say beauty isn’t only so deep.

Well Al tell the boys I will be with them soon. I have gave up the idea of going to Australia because I would have to buy a evening full-dress suit and they tell me they cost pretty near fifty dollars.

Yours truly, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
OCTOBER 14.

Friend Al:  Never mind about that lease. I want the house after all Al and I have got the supprise of your life for you.

When I come home to Bedford I will bring my wife with me. I and Florence fixed things all up after the show last night and we are going to be married tomorrow morning. I am a busy man today Al because I have got to get the license and look round for furniture. And I have also got to buy some new cloths but they are haveing a sale on Cottage Grove Avenue at Clark’s store and I know one of the clerks there.

I am the happyest man in the world Al. You and Bertha and I and Florence will have all kinds of good times together this winter because I know Bertha and Florence will like each other. Florence looks something like Bertha at that. I am glad I didn’t get tied up with Violet or Hazel even if they was a little bit prettier than Florence.

Florence knows a lot about baseball for a girl and you would be supprised to hear her talk. She says I am the best pitcher in the league and she has saw them all. She all so says I am the best looking ball player she ever seen but you know how girls will kid a guy Al. You will like her O.K. I fell for her the first time I seen her.

Your old pal, Jack.

P.S.  I signed up for next year. Comiskey slapped me on the back when I went in to see him and told me I would be a star next year if I took good care of myself. I guess I am a star without waiting for next year Al. My contract calls for twenty-eight hundred a year which is a thousand more than I was getting. And it is pretty near a cinch that I will be in on the World Serious money next season.

P.S.  I certainly am relieved about that lease. It would of been fierce to of had that place on my hands all winter and not getting any use out of it. Everything is all O.K. now. Oh you little yellow house.

• 3 •

The Busher’s Honeymoon

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
OCTOBER 17.

Friend Al:  Well Al it looks as if I would not be writeing so much to you now that I am a married man. Yes Al I and Florrie was married the day before yesterday just like I told you we was going to be and Al I am the happyest man in the world though I have spent $30 in the last 3 days incluseive. You was wise Al to get married in Bedford where not nothing is nearly half so dear. My expenses was as follows:

License | $ 2.00
Preist | 3.50
Haircut and shave | .35
Shine | .05
Carfair | .45
New suit | 14.50
Show tickets | 3.00
Flowers | .50
Candy | .30
Hotel | 4.50
Tobacco both kinds | .25

You see Al it costs a hole lot of money to get married here. The sum of what I have wrote down is $29.40 but as I told you I have spent $30 and I do not know what I have did with that other $0.60. My new brother-in-law Allen told me I should ought to give the preist $5 and I thought it should be about $2 the same as the license so I split the difference and give him $3.50. I never seen him before and probily won’t never see him again so why should I give him anything at all when it is his business to marry couples? But I like to do the right thing. You know me Al.

I thought we would be in Bedford by this time but Florrie wants to say here a few more days because she says she wants to be with her sister. Allen and his wife is thinking about takeing a flat for the winter instead of going down to Waco Texas where they live. I don’t see no sense in that when it costs so much to live here but it is none of my business if they want to throw their money away. But I am glad I got a wife with some sense though she kicked because I did not get no room with a bath which would cost me $2 a day instead of $1.50. I says I guess the clubhouse is still open yet and if I want a bath I can go over there and take the shower. She says Yes and I suppose I can go and jump in the lake. But she would not do that Al because the lake here is cold at this time of the year.

When I told you about my expenses I did not include in it the meals because we would be eating them if I was getting married or not getting married only I have to pay for six meals a day now instead of three and I didn’t used to eat no lunch in the playing season except once in a while when I knowed I was not going to work that afternoon. I had a meal ticket which had not quite ran out over to a resturunt on Indiana Ave and we eat there for the first day except at night when I took Allen and his wife to the show with us and then he took us to a chop suye resturunt. I guess you have not never had no chop suye Al and I am here to tell you you have not missed nothing but when Allen was going to buy the supper what could I say? I could not say nothing.

Well yesterday and today we been eating at a resturunt on Cottage Grove Ave near the hotel and at the resturunt on Indiana that I had the meal ticket at only I do not like to buy no new meal ticket when I am not going to be round here no more than a few days. Well Al I guess the meals has cost me all together about $1.50 and I have eat very little myself. Florrie always wants desert ice cream or something and that runs up into money faster than regular stuff like stake and ham and eggs.

Well Al Florrie says it is time for me to keep my promise and take her to the moveing pictures which is $0.20 more because the one she likes round here costs a dime apeace. So I must close for this time and will see you soon.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
OCTOBER 22.

Al:  Just a note Al to tell you why I have not yet came to Bedford yet where I expected I would be long before this time. Allen and his wife have took a furnished flat for the winter and Allen’s wife wants Florrie to stay here untill they get settled. Meentime it is costing me a hole lot of money at the hotel and for meals besides I am paying $10 a month rent for the house you got for me and what good am I getting out of it? But Florrie wants to help her sister and what can I say? Though I did make her promise she would not stay no longer than next Saturday at least. So I guess Al we will be home on the evening train Saturday and then may be I can save some money.

I know Al that you and Bertha will like Florrie when you get acquainted with her spesially Bertha though Florrie dresses pretty swell and spends a hole lot of time fusing with her face and her hair.

She says to me tonight Who are you writeing to and I told her Al Blanchard who I have told you about a good many times. She says I bet you are writeing to some girl and acted like as though she was kind of jealous. So I thought I would tease her a little and I says I don’t know no girls except you and Violet and Hazel. Who is Violet and Hazel? she says. I kind of laughed and says Oh I guess I better not tell you and then she says I guess you will tell me. That made me kind of mad because no girl can’t tell me what to do. She says Are you going to tell me? and I says No.

Then she says If you don’t tell me I will go over to Marie’s that is her sister Allen’s wife and stay all night. I says Go on and she went downstairs but I guess she probily went to get a soda because she has some money of her own that I give her. This was about two hours ago and she is probily down in the hotel lobby now trying to scare me by makeing me believe she has went to her sister’s. But she can’t fool me Al and I am now going out to mail this letter and get a beer. I won’t never tell her about Violet and Hazel if she is going to act like that.

Yours truly, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
OCTOBER 24.

Friend Al:  I guess I told you Al that we would be home Saturday evening. I have changed my mind. Allen and his wife has a spair bedroom and wants us to come there and stay a week or two. It won’t cost nothing except they will probily want to go out to the moveing pictures nights and we will probily have to go along with them and I am a man Al that wants to pay his share and not be cheap.

I and Florrie had our first quarrle the other night. I guess I told you the start of it but I don’t remember. I made some crack about Violet and Hazel just to tease Florrie and she wanted to know who they was and I would not tell her. So she gets sore and goes over to Marie’s to stay all night. I was just kidding Al and was willing to tell her about them two poor girls whatever she wanted to know except that I don’t like to brag about girls being stuck on me. So I goes over to Marie’s after her and tells her all about them except that I turned them down cold at the last minute to marry her because I did not want her to get all swelled up. She made me sware that I did not never care nothing about them and that was easy because it was the truth. So she come back to the hotel with me just like I knowed she would when I ordered her to.

They must not be no mistake about who is the boss in my house. Some men lets their wife run all over them but I am not that kind. You know me Al.

I must get busy and pack my suitcase if I am going to move over to Allen’s. I sent three collars and a shirt to the laundrey this morning so even if we go over there tonight I will have to take another trip back this way in a day or two. I won’t mind Al because they sell my kind of beer down to the corner and I never seen it sold nowheres else in Chi. You know the kind it is, eh Al? I wish I was lifting a few with you tonight.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
OCTOBER 28.

Dear Old Al:  Florrie and Marie has went downtown shopping because Florrie thinks she has got to have a new dress though she has got two changes of cloths now and I don’t know what she can do with another one. I hope she don’t find none to suit her though it would not hurt none if she got something for next spring at a reduckshon. I guess she must think I am Charles A. Comiskey or somebody. Allen has went to a colledge football game. One of the reporters give him a pass. I don’t see nothing in football except a lot of scrapping between little slobs that I could lick the whole bunch of them so I did not care to go. The reporter is one of the guys that travled round with our club all summer. He called up and said he hadn’t only the one pass but he was not hurting my feelings none because I would not go to no rotten football game if they payed me.

The flat across the hall from this here one is for rent furnished. They want $40 a month for it and I guess they think they must be lots of suckers running round loose. Marie was talking about it and says Why don’t you and Florrie take it and then we can be right together all winter long and have some big times? Florrie says It would be all right with me. What about it Jack? I says What do you think I am? I don’t have to live in no high price flat when I got a home in Bedford where they ain’t no people trying to hold everybody up all the time. So they did not say no more about it when they seen I was in ernest. Nobody cannot tell me where I am going to live sister-in-law or no sister-in-law. If I was to rent the rotten old flat I would be paying $50 a month rent includeing the house down in Bedford. Fine chance Al.

Well Al I am lonesome and thirsty so more later.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
NOVEMBER 2.

Friend Al:  Well Al I got some big news for you. I am not comeing to Bedford this winter after all except to make a visit which I guess will be round Xmas. I changed my mind about that flat across the hall from the Allens and decided to take it after all. The people who was in it and owns the furniture says they would let us have it till the 1 of May if we would pay $42.50 a month which is only $2.50 a month more than they would of let us have it for for a short time. So you see we got a bargain because it is all furnished and everything and we won’t have to blow no money on furniture besides the club goes to California the middle of Febuery so Florrie would not have no place to stay while I am away.

The Allens only subleased their flat from some other people till the 2 of Febuery and when I and Allen goes West Marie can come over and stay with Florrie so you see it is best all round. If we should of boughten furniture it would cost us in the neighborhood of $100 even without no piano and they is a piano in this here flat which makes it nice because Florrie plays pretty good with one hand and we can have lots of good times at home without it costing us nothing except just the bear liveing expenses. I consider myself lucky to of found out about this before it was too late and somebody else had of gotten the tip.

Now Al old pal I want to ask a great favor of you Al. I all ready have payed one month rent $10 on the house in Bedford and I want you to see the old man and see if he won’t call off that lease. Why should I be paying $10 a month rent down there and $42.50 up here when the house down there is not no good to me because I am liveing up here all winter? See Al? Tell him I will gladly give him another month rent to call off the lease but don’t tell him that if you don’t have to. I want to be fare with him.

If you will do this favor for me, Al, I won’t never forget it. Give my kindest to Bertha and tell her I am sorry I and Florrie won’t see her right away but you see how it is Al.

Yours, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
NOVEMBER 30.

Friend Al:  I have not wrote for a long time have I Al but I have been very busy. They was not enough furniture in the flat and we have been buying some more. They was enough for some people maybe but I and Florrie is the kind that won’t have nothing but the best. The furniture them people had in the liveing room was oak but they had a bookcase bilt in in the flat that was mohoggeny and Florrie would not stand for no joke combination like that so she moved the oak chairs and table in to the spair bedroom and we went downtown to buy some mohoggeny. But it costs too much Al and we was feeling pretty bad about it when we seen some Sir Cashion walnut that was prettier even than the mohoggeny and not near so expensive. It is not no real Sir Cashion walnut but it is just as good and we got it reasonable. Then we got some mission chairs for the dining room because the old ones was just straw and was no good and we got a big lether couch for $9 that somebody can sleep on if we get to much company.

I hope you and Bertha can come up for the holidays and see how comfertible we are fixed. That is all the new furniture we have boughten but Florrie set her heart on some old Rose drapes and a red table lamp that is the biggest you ever seen Al and I did not have the heart to say no. The hole thing cost me in the neighborhood of $110 which is very little for what we got and then it will always be ourn even when we move away from this flat though we will have to leave the furniture that belongs to the other people but their part of it is not no good anyway.

I guess I told you Al how much money I had when the season ended. It was $1400 all told includeing the city serious money. Well Al I got in the neighborhood of $800 left because I give $200 to Florrie to send down to Texas to her other sister who had a bad egg for a husband that managed a club in the Texas Oklahoma League and this was the money she had to pay to get the divorce. I am glad Al that I was lucky enough to marry happy and get a good girl for my wife that has got some sense and besides if I have got $800 left I should not worry as they say.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
DECEMBER 7.

Dear Old Al:  No I was in ernest Al when I says that I wanted you and Bertha to come up here for the holidays. I know I told you that I might come to Bedford for the holidays but that is all off. I have gave up the idea of comeing to Bedford for the holidays and I want you to be sure and come up here for the holidays and I will show you a good time. I would love to have Bertha come to and she can come if she wants to only Florrie don’t know if she would have a good time or not and thinks maybe she would rather stay in Bedford and you come alone. But be sure and have Bertha come if she wants to come but maybe she would not injoy it. You know best Al.

I don’t think the old man give me no square deal on that lease but if he wants to stick me all right. I am grateful to you Al for trying to fix it up but maybe you could of did better if you had of went at it in a different way. I am not finding no fault with my old pal though. Don’t think that. When I have a pal I am the man to stick to him threw thick and thin. If the old man is going to hold me to that lease I guess I will have to stand it and I guess I won’t starv to death for no $10 a month because I am going to get $2800 next year besides the city serious money and maybe we will get into the World Serious too. I know we will if Callahan will pitch me every 3d day like I wanted him to last season. But if you had of approached the old man in a different way maybe you could of fixed it up. I wish you would try it again Al if it is not no trouble.

We had Allen and his wife here for thanksgiveing dinner and the dinner cost me better than $5. I thought we had enough to eat to last a week but about six o’clock at night Florrie and Marie said they was hungry and we went downtown and had dinner all over again and I payed for it and it cost me $5 more. Allen was all ready to pay for it when Florrie said No this day’s treat is on us so I had to pay for it but I don’t see why she did not wait and let me do the talking. I was going to pay for it any way.

Be sure and come and visit us for the holidays Al and of coarse if Bertha wants to come bring her along. We will be glad to see you both. I won’t never go back on a friend and pal. You know me Al.

Your old pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
DECEMBER 20.

Friend Al:  I don’t see what can be the matter with Bertha because you know Al we would not care how she dressed and would not make no kick if she come up here in a night gown. She did not have no license to say we was to swell for her because we did not never think of nothing like that. I wish you would talk to her again Al and tell her she need not get sore on me and that both her and you is welcome at my house any time I ask you to come. See if you can’t make her change her mind Al because I feel like as if she must of took offense at something I may of wrote you. I am sorry you and her are not comeing but I suppose you know best. Only we was getting all ready for you and Florrie said only the other day that she wished the holidays was over but that was before she knowed you was not comeing. I hope you can come Al.

Well Al I guess there is not no use talking to the old man no more. You have did the best you could but I wish I could of came down there and talked to him. I will pay him his rotten old $10 a month and the next time I come to Bedford and meet him on the street I will bust his jaw. I know he is a old man Al but I don’t like to see nobody get the best of me and I am sorry I ever asked him to let me off. Some of them old skinflints has no heart Al but why should I fight with a old man over chicken feed like $10? Florrie says a star pitcher like I should not ought never to scrap about little things and I guess she is right Al so I will pay the old man his $10 a month if I have to.

Florrie says she is jealous of me writeing to you so much and she says she would like to meet this great old pal of mine. I would like to have her meet you to Al and I would like to have you change your mind and come and visit us and I am sorry you can’t come Al.

Yours truly, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
DECEMBER 27.

Old Pal:  I guess all these lefthanders is alike though I thought this Allen had some sense. I thought he was different from the most and was not no rummy but they are all alike Al and they are all lucky that somebody don’t hit them over the head with a ax and kill them but I guess at that you could not hurt no lefthanders by hitting them over the head. We was all down on State St. the day before Xmas and the girls was all tired out and ready to go home but Allen says No I guess we better stick down a while because now the crowds is out and it will be fun to watch them. So we walked up and down State St. about a hour longer and finally we come in front of a big jewlry store window and in it was a swell dimond ring that was marked $100. It was a ladies’ ring so Marie says to Allen Why don’t you buy that for me? And Allen says Do you really want it? And she says she did.

So we tells the girls to wait and we goes over to a salloon where Allen has got a friend and gets a check cashed and we come back and he bought the ring. Then Florrie looks like as though she was getting all ready to cry and I asked her what was the matter and she says I had not boughten her no ring not even when we was engaged. So I and Allen goes back to the salloon and I gets a check cashed and we come back and bought another ring but I did not think the ring Allen had boughten was worth no $100 so I gets one for $75. Now Al you know I am not makeing no kick on spending a little money for a present for my own wife but I had allready boughten her a rist watch for $15 and a rist watch was just what she had wanted. I was willing to give her the ring if she had not of wanted the rist watch more than the ring but when I give her the ring I kept the rist watch and did not tell her nothing about it.

Well I come downtown alone the day after Xmas and they would not take the rist watch back in the store where I got it. So I am going to give it to her for a New Year’s present and I guess that will make Allen feel like a dirty doose. But I guess you cannot hurt no lefthander’s feelings at that. They are all alike. But Allen has not got nothing but a dinky curve ball and a fast ball that looks like my slow one. If Comiskey was not good hearted he would of sold him long ago.

I sent you and Bertha a cut glass dish Al which was the best I could get for the money and it was pretty high pricet at that. We was glad to get the pretty pincushions from you and Bertha and Florrie says to tell you that we are well supplied with pincushions now because the ones you sent makes a even half dozen. Thanks Al for remembering us and thank Bertha too though I guess you paid for them.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
JANUERY 3.

Old Pal:  Al I been pretty sick ever since New Year’s eve. We had a table at 1 of the swell resturunts downtown and I never seen so much wine drank in my life. I would rather of had beer but they would not sell us none so I found out that they was a certain kind that you can get for $1 a bottle and it is just as good as the kind that has got all them fancy names but this lefthander starts ordering some other kind about 11 oclock and it was $5 a bottle and the girls both says they liked it better. I could not see a hole lot of difference myself and I would of gave $0.20 for a big stine of my kind of beer. You know me Al. Well Al you know they is not nobody that can drink more than your old pal and I was all O.K. at one oclock but I seen the girls was getting kind of sleepy so I says we better go home.

Then Marie says Oh, shut up and don’t be no quiter. I says You better shut up yourself and not be telling me to shut up, and she says What will you do if I don’t shut up? And I says I would bust her in the jaw. But you know Al I would not think of busting no girl. Then Florrie says You better not start nothing because you had to much to drink or you would not be talking about busting girls in the jaw. Then I says I don’t care if it is a girl I bust or a lefthander. I did not mean nothing at all Al but Marie says I had insulted Allen and he gets up and slaps my face. Well Al I am not going to stand that from nobody not even if he is my brother-in-law and a lefthander that has not got enough speed to brake a pain of glass.

So I give him a good beating and the waiters butts in and puts us all out for fighting and I and Florrie comes home in a taxi and Allen and his wife don’t get in till about 5 oclock so I guess she must of had to of took him to a doctor to get fixed up. I been in bed ever since till just this morning kind of sick to my stumach. I guess I must of eat something that did not agree with me. Allen come over after breakfast this morning and asked me was I all right so I guess he is not sore over the beating I give him or else he wants to make friends because he has saw that I am a bad guy to monkey with.

Florrie tells me a little while ago that she paid the hole bill at the resturunt with my money because Allen was broke so you see what kind of a cheap skate he is Al and some day I am going to bust his jaw. She won’t tell me how much the bill was and I won’t ask her to no more because we had a good time outside of the fight and what do I care if we spent a little money?

Yours truly, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
JANUERY 20.

Friend Al:  Allen and his wife have gave up the flat across the hall from us and come over to live with us because we got a spair bedroom and why should they not have the bennifit of it? But it is pretty hard for the girls to have to cook and do the work when they is four of us so I have a hired girl who does it all for $7 a week. It is great stuff Al because now we can go round as we please and don’t have to wait for no dishes to be washed or nothing. We generally almost always has dinner downtown in the evening so it is pretty soft for the girl too. She don’t generally have no more than one meal to get because we generally run round downtown till late and don’t get up till about noon.

That sounds funny don’t it Al, when I used to get up at 5 every morning down home. Well Al I can tell you something else that may sound funny and that is that I lost my taste for beer. I don’t seem to care for it no more and I found I can stand allmost as many drinks of other stuff as I could of beer. I guess Al they is not nobody ever lived can drink more and stand up better under it than me. I make the girls and Allen quit every night.

I only got just time to write you this short note because Florrie and Marie is giving a big party tonight and I and Allen have got to beat it out of the house and stay out of the way till they get things ready. It is Marie’s berthday and she says she is 22 but say Al if she is 22 Kid Gleason is 30. Well Al the girls says we must blow so I will run out and mail this letter.

Yours truly, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
JANUERY 31.

Al:  Allen is going to take Marie with him on the training trip to California and of course Florrie has been at me to take her along. I told her postivly that she can’t go. I can’t afford no stunt like that but still I am up against it to know what to do with her while we are on the trip because Marie won’t be here to stay with her. I don’t like to leave her here all alone but they is nothing to it Al I can’t afford to take her along. She says I don’t see why you can’t take me if Allen takes Marie. And I says That stuff is all O.K. for Allen because him and Marie has been grafting off of us all winter. And then she gets mad and tells me I should not ought to say her sister was no grafter. I did not mean nothing like that Al but you don’t never know when a woman is going to take offense.

If our furniture was down in Bedford everything would be all O.K. because I could leave her there and I would feel all O.K. because I would know that you and Bertha would see that she was getting along O.K. But they would not be no sense in sending her down to a house that has not no furniture in it. I wish I knowed somewheres where she could visit Al. I would be willing to pay her bord even.

Well Al enough for this time.

Your old pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
FEBUERY 4.

Friend Al:  You are a real old pal Al and I certainly am greatful to you for the invatation. I have not told Florrie about it yet but I am sure she will be tickled to death and it is certainly kind of you old pal. I did not never dream of nothing like that. I note what you say Al about not excepting no bord but I think it would be better and I would feel better if you would take something say about $2 a week.

I know Bertha will like Florrie and that they will get along O.K. together because Florrie can learn her how to make her cloths look good and fix her hair and fix up her face. I feel like as if you had took a big load off of me Al and I won’t never forget it.

If you don’t think I should pay no bord for Florrie all right. Suit yourself about that old pal.

We are leaveing here the 20 of Febuery and if you don’t mind I will bring Florrie down to you about the 18. I would like to see the old bunch again and spesially you and Bertha.

P.S.  We will only be away till April 14 and that is just a nice visit. I wish we did not have no flat on our hands.

Yours, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
FEBUERY 9.

Old Pal:  I want to thank you for asking Florrie to come down there and visit you Al but I find she can’t get away. I did not know she had no engagements but she says she may go down to her folks in Texas and she don’t want to say that she will come to visit you when it is so indefanate. So thank you just the same Al and thank Bertha too.

Florrie is still at me to take her along to California but honest Al I can’t do it. I am right down to my last $50 and I have not payed no rent for this month. I owe the hired girl 2 weeks’ salery and both I and Florrie needs some new cloths.

Florrie has just came in since I started writeing this letter and we have been talking some more about California and she says maybe if I would ask Comiskey he would take her along as the club’s guest. I had not never thought of that Al and maybe he would because he is a pretty good scout and I guess I will go and see him about it. The league has its skedule meeting here tomorrow and may be I can see him down to the hotel where they meet at. I am so worried Al that I can’t write no more but I will tell you how I come out with Comiskey.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
FEBUERY 11.

Friend Al:  I am up against it right Al and I don’t know where I am going to head in at. I went down to the hotel where the league was holding its skedule meeting at and I seen Comiskey and got some money off of the club but I owe all the money I got off of them and I am still wondering what to do about Florrie.

Comiskey was busy in the meeting when I went down there and they was not no chance to see him for a while so I and Allen and some of the boys hung round and had a few drinks and fanned. This here Joe Hill the busher that Detroit has got that Violet is hooked up to was round the hotel. I don’t know what for but I felt like busting his jaw only the boys told me I had better not do nothing because I might kill him and any way he probily won’t be in the league much longer. Well finally Comiskey got threw the meeting and I seen him and he says Hello young man what can I do for you? And I says I would like to get $100 advance money. He says Have you been takeing care of yourself down in Bedford? And I told him I had been liveing here all winter and it did not seem to make no hit with him though I don’t see what business it is of hisn where I live.

So I says I had been takeing good care of myself. And I have Al. You know that. So he says I should come to the ball park the next day which is today and he would have the secretary take care of me but I says I could not wait and so he give me $100 out of his pocket and says he would have it charged against my salery. I was just going to brace him about the California trip when he got away and went back to the meeting.

Well Al I hung round with the bunch waiting for him to get threw again and we had some more drinks and finally Comiskey was threw again and I braced him in the lobby and asked him if it was all right to take my wife along to California. He says Sure they would be glad to have her along. And then I says Would the club pay her fair? He says I guess you must of spent that $100 buying some nerve. He says Have you not got no sisters that would like to go along to? He says Does your wife insist on the drawing room or will she take a lower birth? He says Is my special train good enough for her?

Then he turns away from me and I guess some of the boys must of heard the stuff he pulled because they was laughing when he went away but I did not see nothing to laugh at. But I guess he ment that I would have to pay her fair if she goes along and that is out of the question Al. I am up against it and I don’t know where I am going to head in at.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
FEBUERY 12.

Dear Old Al:  I guess everything will be all O.K. now at least I am hopeing it will. When I told Florrie about how I come out with Comiskey she bawled her head off and I thought for a while I was going to have to call a doctor or something but pretty soon she cut it out and we sat there a while without saying nothing. Then she says If you could get your salery razed a couple of hundred dollars a year would you borrow the money ahead somewheres and take me along to California? I says Yes I would if I could get a couple hundred dollars more salery but how could I do that when I had signed a contract for $2800 last fall allready? She says Don’t you think you are worth more than $2800? And I says Yes of coarse I was worth more than $2800. She says Well if you will go and talk the right way to Comiskey I believe he will give you $3000 but you must be sure you go at it the right way and don’t go and ball it all up.

Well we argude about it a while because I don’t want to hold nobody up Al but finally I says I would. It would not be holding nobody up anyway because I am worth $3000 to the club if I am worth a nichol. The papers is all saying that the club has got a good chance to win the pennant this year and talking about the pitching staff and I guess they would not be no pitching staff much if it was not for I and one or two others – about one other I guess.

So it looks like as if everything will be all O.K. now Al. I am going to the office over to the park to see him the first thing in the morning and I am pretty sure that I will get what I am after because if I do not he will see that I am going to quit and then he will see what he is up against and not let me get away.

I will let you know how I come out.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
FEBUERY 14.

Friend Al:  Al old pal I have got a big supprise for you. I am going to the Federal League. I had a run in with Comiskey yesterday and I guess I told him a thing or 2. I guess he would of been glad to sign me at my own figure before I got threw but I was so mad I would not give him no chance to offer me another contract.

I got out to the park at 9 oclock yesterday morning and it was a hour before he showed up and then he kept me waiting another hour so I was pretty sore when I finally went in to see him. He says Well young man what can I do for you? I says I come to see about my contract. He says Do you want to sign up for next year all ready? I says No I am talking about this year. He says I thought I and you talked business last fall. And I says Yes but now I think I am worth more money and I want to sign a contract for $3000. He says If you behave yourself and work good this year I will see that you are took care of. But I says That won’t do because I have got to be sure I am going to get $3000.

Then he says I am not sure you are going to get anything. I says What do you mean? And he says I have gave you a very fare contract and if you don’t want to live up to it that is your own business. So I give him a awful call Al and told him I would jump to the Federal League. He says Oh, I would not do that if I was you. They are haveing a hard enough time as it is. So I says something back to him and he did not say nothing to me and I beat it out of the office.

I have not told Florrie about the Federal League business yet as I am going to give her a big supprise. I bet they will take her along with me on the training trip and pay her fair but even if they don’t I should not worry because I will make them give me a contract for $4000 a year and then I can afford to take her with me on all the trips.

I will go down and see Tinker tomorrow morning and I will write you tomorrow night Al how much salery they are going to give me. But I won’t sign for no less than $4000. You know me Al.

Yours, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
FEBUERY 15.

Old Pal:  It is pretty near midnight Al but I been to bed a couple of times and I can’t get no sleep. I am worried to death Al and I don’t know where I am going to head in at. Maybe I will go out and buy a gun Al and end it all and I guess it would be better for everybody. But I cannot do that Al because I have not got the money to buy a gun with.

I went down to see Tinker about signing up with the Federal League and he was busy in the office when I come in. Pretty soon Buck Perry the pitcher that was with Boston last year come out and seen me and as Tinker was still busy we went out and had a drink together. Buck shows me a contract for $5000 a year and Tinker had allso gave him a $500 bonus. So pretty soon I went up to the office and pretty soon Tinker seen me and called me into his private office and asked what did I want. I says I was ready to jump for $4000 and a bonus. He says I thought you was signed up with the White Sox. I says Yes I was but I was not satisfied. He says That does not make no difference to me if you are satisfied or not. You ought to of came to me before you signed a contract. I says I did not know enough but I know better now. He says Well it is to late now. We cannot have nothing to do with you because you have went and signed a contract with the White Sox. I argude with him a while and asked him to come out and have a drink so we could talk it over but he said he was busy so they was nothing for me to do but blow.

So I am not going to the Federal League Al and I will not go with the White Sox because I have got a raw deal. Comiskey will be sorry for what he done when his team starts the season and is up against it for good pitchers and then he will probily be willing to give me anything I ask for but that don’t do me no good now Al. I am way in debt and no chance to get no money from nobody. I wish I had of stayed with Terre Haute Al and never saw this league.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
FEBUERY 17.

Friend Al:  Al don’t never let nobody tell you that these here lefthanders is right. This Allen my own brother-in-law who married sisters has been grafting and spongeing on me all winter Al. Look what he done to me now Al. You know how hard I been up against it for money and I know he has got plenty of it because I seen it on him. Well Al I was scared to tell Florrie I was cleaned out and so I went to Allen yesterday and says I had to have $100 right away because I owed the rent and owed the hired girl’s salery and could not even pay no grocery bill. And he says No he could not let me have none because he has got to save all his money to take his wife on the trip to California. And here he has been liveing on me all winter and maybe I could of took my wife to California if I had not of spent all my money takeing care of this no good lefthander and his wife. And Al honest he has not got a thing and ought not to be in the league. He gets by with a dinky curve ball and has not got no more smoke than a rabbit or something.

Well Al I felt like busting him in the jaw but then I thought No I might kill him and then I would have Marie and Florrie both to take care of and God knows one of them is enough besides paying his funeral expenses. So I walked away from him without takeing a crack at him and went into the other room where Florrie and Marie was at. I says to Marie I says Marie I wish you would go in the other room a minute because I want to talk to Florrie. So Marie beats it into the other room and then I tells Florrie all about what Comiskey and the Federal League done to me. She bawled something awful and then she says I was no good and she wished she had not never married me. I says I wisht it too and then she says Do you mean that and starts to cry.

I told her I was sorry I says that because they is not no use fusing with girls Al specially when they is your wife. She says No California trip for me and then she says What are you going to do? And I says I did not know. She says Well if I was a man I would do something. So then I got mad and I says I will do something. So I went down to the corner salloon and started in to get good and drunk but I could not do it Al because I did not have the money.

Well old pal I am going to ask you a big favor and it is this I want you to send me $100 Al for just a few days till I can get on my feet. I do not know when I can pay it back Al but I guess you know the money is good and I know you have got it. Who would not have it when they live in Bedford? And besides I let you take $20 in June 4 years ago Al and you give it back but I would not have said nothing to you if you had of kept it. Let me hear from you right away old pal.

Yours truly, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
FEBUERY 19.

Al:  I am certainly greatful to you Al for the $100 which come just a little while ago. I will pay the rent with it and part of the grocery bill and I guess the hired girl will have to wait a while for hern but she is sure to get it because I don’t never forget my debts. I have changed my mind about the White Sox and I am going to go on the trip and take Florrie along because I don’t think it would not be right to leave her here alone in Chi when her sister and all of us is going.

I am going over to the ball park and up in the office pretty soon to see about it. I will tell Comiskey I changed my mind and he will be glad to get me back because the club has not got no chance to finish nowheres without me. But I won’t go on no trip or give the club my services without them giveing me some more advance money so as I can take Florrie along with me because Al I would not go without her.

Maybe Comiskey will make my salery $3000 like I wanted him to when he sees I am willing to be a good fellow and go along with him and when he knows that the Federal League would of gladly gave me $4000 if I had not of signed no contract with the White Sox.

I think I will ask him for $200 advance money Al and if I get it may be I can send part of your $100 back to you but I know you cannot be in no hurry Al though you says you wanted it back as soon as possible. You could not be very hard up Al because it don’t cost near so much to live in Bedford as it does up here.

Anyway I will let you know how I come out with Comiskey and I will write you as soon as I get out to Paso Robles if I don’t get no time to write you before I leave.

Your pal, Jack.

P.S.  I have took good care of myself all winter Al and I guess I ought to have a great season.

P.S.  Florrie is tickled to death about going along and her and I will have some time together out there on the Coast if I can get some money somewheres.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
FEBUERY 21.

Friend Al:  I have not got the heart to write this letter to you Al. I am up here in my $42.50 a month flat and the club has went to California and Florrie has went too. I am flat broke Al and all I am asking you is to send me enough money to pay my fair to Bedford and they and all their leagues can go to hell Al.

I was out to the ball park early yesterday morning and some of the boys was there all ready fanning and kidding each other. They tried to kid me to when I come in but I guess I give them as good as they give me. I was not in no mind for kidding Al because I was there on business and I wanted to see Comiskey and get it done with.

Well the secretary come in finally and I went up to him and says I wanted to see Comiskey right away. He says The boss was busy and what did I want to see him about and I says I wanted to get some advance money because I was going to take my wife on the trip. He says This would be a fine time to be telling us about it even if you was going on the trip.

And I says What do you mean? And he says You are not going on no trip with us because we have got wavers on you and you are sold to Milwaukee.

Honest Al I thought he was kidding at first and I was waiting for him to laugh but he did not laugh and finally I says What do you mean? And he says Cannot you understand no English? You are sold to Milwaukee. Then I says I want to see the boss. He says It won’t do you no good to see the boss and he is to busy to see you. I says I want to get some money. And he says You cannot get no money from this club and all you get is your fair to Milwaukee. I says I am not going to no Milwaukee anyway and he says I should not worry about that. Suit yourself.

Well Al I told some of the boys about it and they was pretty sore and says I ought to bust the secretary in the jaw and I was going to do it when I thought No I better not because he is a little guy and I might kill him.

I looked all over for Kid Gleason but he was not nowheres round and they told me he would not get into town till late in the afternoon. If I could of saw him Al he would of fixed me all up. I asked 3 or 4 of the boys for some money but they says they was all broke.

But I have not told you the worst of it yet Al. When I come back to the flat Allen and Marie and Florrie was busy packing up and they asked me how I come out. I told them and Allen just stood there stareing like a big rummy but Marie and Florrie both begin to cry and I almost felt like as if I would like to cry to only I am not no baby Al.

Well Al I told Florrie she might just is well quit packing and make up her mind that she was not going nowheres till I got money enough to go to Bedford where I belong. She kept right on crying and it got so I could not stand it no more so I went out to get a drink because I still had just about a dollar left yet.

It was about 2 oclock when I left the flat and pretty near 5 when I come back because I had ran in to some fans that knowed who I was and would not let me get away and besides I did not want to see no more of Allen and Marie till they was out of the house and on their way.

But when I come in Al they was nobody there. They was not nothing there except the furniture and a few of my things scattered round. I sit down for a few minutes because I guess I must of had to much to drink but finally I seen a note on the table addressed to me and I seen it was Florrie’s writeing.

I do not remember just what was there in the note Al because I tore it up the minute I read it but it was something about I could not support no wife and Allen had gave her enough money to go back to Texas and she was going on the 6 oclock train and it would not do me no good to try and stop her.

Well Al they was not no danger of me trying to stop her. She was not no good Al and I wisht I had not of never saw either she or her sister or my brother-in-law.

For a minute I thought I would follow Allen and his wife down to the deepo where the special train was to pull out of and wait till I see him and punch his jaw but I seen that would not get me nothing.

So here I am all alone Al and I will have to stay here till you send me the money to come home. You better send me $25 because I have got a few little debts I should ought to pay before I leave town. I am not going to Milwaukee Al because I did not get no decent deal and nobody cannot make no sucker out of me.

Please hurry up with the $25 Al old friend because I am sick and tired of Chi and want to get back there with my old pal.

Yours, Jack.

P.S.  Al I wish I had of took poor little Violet when she was so stuck on me.

• 4 •

A New Busher Breaks In

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
MARCH 2.

Friend Al:  Al that peace in the paper was all O.K. and the right dope just like you said. I seen president Johnson the president of the league today and he told me the peace in the papers was the right dope and Comiskey did not have no right to sell me to Milwaukee because the Detroit Club had never gave no wavers on me. He says the Detroit Club was late in fileing their claim and Comiskey must of tooken it for granted that they was going to wave but president Johnson was pretty sore about it at that and says Comiskey did not have no right to sell me till he was positive that they was not no team that wanted me.

It will probily cost Comiskey some money for acting like he done and not paying no attention to the rules and I would not be supprised if president Johnson had him throwed out of the league.

Well I asked president Johnson should I report at once to the Detroit Club down south and he says No you better wait till you hear from Comiskey and I says What has Comiskey got to do with it now? And he says Comiskey will own you till he sells you to Detroit or somewheres else. So I will have to go out to the ball park tomorrow and see is they any mail for me there because I probily will get a letter from Comiskey telling me I am sold to Detroit.

If I had of thought at the time I would of knew that Detroit never would give no wavers on me after the way I showed Cobb and Crawford up last fall and I might of knew too that Detroit is in the market for good pitchers because they got a rotten pitching staff but they won’t have no rotten staff when I get with them.

If necessary I will pitch every other day for Jennings and if I do we will win the pennant sure because Detroit has got a club that can get 2 or 3 runs every day and all as I need to win most of my games is 1 run. I can’t hardly wait till Jennings works me against the White Sox and what I will do to them will be a plenty. It don’t take no pitching to beat them anyway and when they get up against a pitcher like I they might as well leave their bats in the bag for all the good their bats will do them.

I guess Cobb and Crawford will be glad to have me on the Detroit Club because then they won’t never have to hit against me except in practice and I won’t pitch my best in practice because they will be teammates of mine and I don’t never like to show none of my teammates up. At that though I don’t suppose Jennings will let me do much pitching in practice because when he gets a hold of a good pitcher he won’t want me to take no chances of throwing my arm away in practice.

Al just think how funny it will be to have me pitching for the Tigers in the same town where Violet lives and pitching on the same club with her husband. It will not be so funny for Violet and her husband though because when she has a chance to see me work regular she will find out what a mistake she made takeing that lefthander instead of a man that has got some future and soon will be makeing 5 or $6000 a year because I won’t sign with Detroit for no less than $5000 at most. Of coarse I could of had her if I had of wanted to but still and all it will make her feel pretty sick to see me winning games for Detroit while her husband is batting fungos and getting splinters in his unie from slideing up and down the bench.

As for her husband the first time he opens his clam to me I will haul off and bust him one in the jaw but I guess he will know more than to start trouble with a man of my size and who is going to be one of their stars while he is just holding down a job because they feel sorry for him. I wish he could of got the girl I married instead of the one he got and I bet she would of drove him crazy. But I guess you can’t drive a lefthander crazyer than he is to begin with.

I have not heard nothing from Florrie Al and I don’t want to hear nothing. I and her is better apart and I wish she would sew me for a bill of divorce so she could not go round claiming she is my wife and disgraceing my name. If she would consent to sew me for a bill of divorce I would gladly pay all the expenses and settle with her for any sum of money she wants say about $75.00 or $100.00 and they is no reason I should give her a nichol after the way her and her sister Marie and her brother-in-law Allen grafted off of me. Probily I could sew her for a bill of divorce but they tell me it costs money to sew and if you just lay low and let the other side do the sewing it don’t cost you a nichol.

It is pretty late Al and I have got to get up early tomorrow and go to the ball park and see is they any mail for me. I will let you know what I hear old pal.

Your old pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
MARCH 4.

Al:  I am up against it again. I went out to the ball park office yesterday and they was nobody there except John somebody who is asst secretary and all the rest of them is out on the Coast with the team. Maybe this here John was trying to kid me but this is what he told me. First I says Is they a letter here for me? And he says No. And I says I was expecting word from Comiskey that I should join the Detroit Club and he says What makes you think you are going to Detroit? I says Comiskey asked wavers on me and Detroit did not give no wavers. He says Well that is not no sign that you are going to Detroit. If Comiskey can’t get you out of the league he will probily keep you himself and it is a cinch he is not going to give no pitcher to Detroit no matter how rotten he is.

I says What do you mean? And he says You just stick round town till you hear from Comiskey and I guess you will hear pretty soon because he is comeing back from the Coast next Saturday. I says Well the only thing he can tell me is to report to Detroit because I won’t never pitch again for the White Sox. Then John gets fresh and says I suppose you will quit the game and live on your saveings and then I blowed out of the office because I was scared I would loose my temper and break something.

So you see Al what I am up against. I won’t never pitch for the White Sox again and I want to get with the Detroit Club but how can I if Comiskey won’t let me go? All I can do is stick round till next Saturday and then I will see Comiskey and I guess when I tell him what I think of him he will be glad to let me go to Detroit or anywheres else. I will have something on him this time because I know that he did not pay no attention to the rules when he told me I was sold to Milwaukee and if he tries to slip something over on me I will tell president Johnson of the league all about it and then you will see where Comiskey heads in at.

Al old pal that $25.00 you give me at the station the other day is all shot to peaces and I must ask you to let me have $25.00 more which will make $75.00 all together includeing the $25.00 you sent me before I come home. I hate to ask you this favor old pal but I know you have got the money. If I am sold to Detroit I will get some advance money and pay up all my dedts incluseive.

If he don’t let me go to Detroit I will make him come across with part of my salery for this year even if I don’t pitch for him because I signed a contract and was ready to do my end of it and would of if he had not of been nasty and tried to slip something over on me. If he refuses to come across I will hire a attorney at law and he will get it all. So Al you see you have got a cinch on getting back what you lone me but I guess you know that Al without all this talk because you have been my old pal for a good many years and I have allways treated you square and tried to make you feel that I and you was equals and that my success was not going to make me forget my old friends.

Wherever I pitch this year I will insist on a salery of 5 or $6000 a year. So you see on my first pay day I will have enough to pay you up and settle the rest of my dedts but I am not going to pay no more rent for this rotten flat because they tell me if a man don’t pay no rent for a while they will put him out. Let them put me out. I should not worry but will go and rent my old room that I had before I met Florrie and got into all this trouble.

The sooner you can send me that $35.00 the better and then I will owe you $85.00 incluseive and I will write and let you know how I come out with Comiskey.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
MARCH 12.

Friend Al:  I got another big supprise for you and this is it I am going to pitch for the White Sox after all. If Comiskey was not a old man I guess I would of lost my temper and beat him up but I am glad now that I kept my temper and did not loose it because I forced him to make a lot of consessions and now it looks like as though I would have a big year both pitching and money.

He got back to town yesterday morning and showed up to his office in the afternoon and I was there waiting for him. He would not see me for a while but finally I acted like as though I was getting tired of waiting and I guess the secretary got scared that I would beat it out of the office and leave them all in the lerch. Anyway he went in and spoke to Comiskey and then come out and says the boss was ready to see me. When I went into the office where he was at he says Well young man what can I do for you? And I says I want you to give me my release so as I can join the Detroit Club down South and get in shape. Then he says What makes you think you are going to join the Detroit Club? Because we need you here. I says Then why did you try to sell me to Milwaukee? But you could not because you could not get no wavers.

Then he says I thought I was doing you a favor by sending you to Milwaukee because they make a lot of beer up there. I says What do you mean? He says You been keeping in shape all this winter by trying to drink this town dry and besides that you tried to hold me up for more money when you allready had signed a contract allready and so I was going to send you to Milwaukee and learn you something and besides you tried to go with the Federal League but they would not take you because they was scared to.

I don’t know where he found out all that stuff at Al and besides he was wrong when he says I was drinking to much because they is not nobody that can drink more than me and not be effected. But I did not say nothing because I was scared I would forget myself and call him some name and he is a old man. Yes I did say something. I says Well I guess you found out that you could not get me out of the league and then he says Don’t never think I could not get you out of the league. If you think I can’t send you to Milwaukee I will prove it to you that I can. I says You can’t because Detroit won’t give no wavers on me. He says Detroit will give wavers on you quick enough if I ask them.

Then he says Now you can take your choice you can stay here and pitch for me at the salery you signed up for and you can cut out the monkey business and drink water when you are thirsty or else you can go up to Milwaukee and drownd yourself in one of them brewrys. Which shall it be? I says How can you keep me or send me to Milwaukee when Detroit has allready claimed my services? He says Detroit has claimed a lot of things and they have even claimed the pennant but that is not no sign they will win it. He says And besides you would not want to pitch for Detroit because then you would not never have no chance to pitch against Cobb and show him up.

Well Al when he says that I knowed he appresiated what a pitcher I am even if he did try to sell me to Milwaukee or he would not of made that remark about the way I can show Cobb and Crawford up. So I says Well if you need me that bad I will pitch for you but I must have a new contract. He says Oh I guess we can fix that up O.K. and he steps out in the next room a while and then he comes back with a new contract. And what do you think it was Al? It was a contract for 3 years so you see I am sure of my job here for 3 years and everything is all O.K.

The contract calls for the same salery a year for 3 years that I was going to get before for only 1 year which is $2800.00 a year and then I will get in on the city serious money too and the Detroit Club don’t have no city serious and have no chance to get into the World’s Serious with the rotten pitching staff they got. So you see Al he fixed me up good and that shows that he must think a hole lot of me or he would of sent me to Detroit or maybe to Milwaukee but I don’t see how he could of did that without no wavers.

Well Al I allmost forgot to tell you that he has gave me a ticket to Los Angeles where the 2d team are practicing at now but where the 1st team will be at in about a week. I am leaveing tonight and I guess before I go I will go down to president Johnson and tell him that I am fixed up all O.K. and have not got no kick comeing so that president Johnson will not fine Comiskey for not paying no attention to the rules or get him fired out of the league because I guess Comiskey must be all O.K. and good hearted after all.

I won’t pay no attention to what he says about me drinking this town dry because he is all wrong in regards to that. He must of been jokeing I guess because nobody but some boob would think he could drink this town dry but at that I guess I can hold more than anybody and not be effected. But I guess I will cut it out for a while at that because I don’t want to get them sore at me after the contract they give me.

I will write to you from Los Angeles Al and let you know what the boys says when they see me and I will bet that they will be tickled to death. The rent man was round today but I seen him comeing and he did not find me. I am going to leave the furniture that belongs in the flat in the flat and allso the furniture I bought which don’t amount to much because it was not no real Sir Cashion walnut and besides I don’t want nothing round me to remind me of Florrie because the sooner her and I forget each other the better.

Tell the boys about my good luck Al but it is not no luck neither because it was comeing to me.

Yours truly, Jack.

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA,
MARCH 16.

Al:  Here I am back with the White Sox again and it seems to good to be true because just like I told you they are all tickled to death to see me. Kid Gleason is here in charge of the 2d team and when he seen me come into the hotel he jumped up and hit me in the stumach but he acts like that whenever he feels good so I could not get sore at him though he had no right to hit me in the stumach. If he had of did it in ernest I would of walloped him in the jaw.

He says Well if here ain’t the old lady killer. He ment Al that I am strong with the girls but I am all threw with them now but he don’t know nothing about the troubles I had. He says Are you in shape? And I told him Yes I am. He says Yes you look in shape like a barrel. I says They is not no fat on me and if I am a little bit bigger than last year it is because my mussels is bigger. He says Yes your stumach mussels is emense and you must of gave them plenty of exercise. Wait till Bodie sees you and he will want to stick round you all the time because you make him look like a broom straw or something. I let him kid me along because what is the use of getting mad at him? And besides he is all O.K. even if he is a little rough.

I says to him A little work will fix me up all O.K. and he says You bet you are going to get some work because I am going to see to it myself. I says You will have to hurry because you will be going up to Frisco in a few days and I am going to stay here and join the 1st club. Then he says You are not going to do no such a thing. You are going right along with me. I knowed he was kidding me then because Callahan would not never leave me with the 2d team no more after what I done for him last year and besides most of the stars generally allways goes with the 1st team on the training trip.

Well I seen all the rest of the boys that is here with the 2d team and they all acted like as if they was glad to see me and why should not they be when they know that me being here with the White Sox and not with Detroit means that Callahan won’t have to do no worrying about his pitching staff? But they is four or 5 young recrut pitchers with the team here and I bet they is not so glad to see me because what chance have they got?

If I was Comiskey and Callahan I would not spend no money on new pitchers because with me and 1 or 2 of the other boys we got the best pitching staff in the league. And instead of spending the money for new pitching recruts I would put it all in a lump and buy Ty Cobb or Sam Crawford off of Detroit or somebody else who can hit and Cobb and Crawford is both real hitters Al even if I did make them look like suckers. Who wouldn’t?

Well Al tomorrow A.M. I am going out and work a little and in the P.M. I will watch the game between we and the Venice Club but I won’t pitch none because Gleason would not dare take no chances of me hurting my arm. I will write to you in a few days from here because no matter what Gleason says I am going to stick here with the 1st team because I know Callahan will want me along with him for a attraction.

Your pal, Jack.

SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA,
MARCH 20.

Friend Al:  Well Al here I am back in old Frisco with the 2d team but I will tell you how it happened Al. Yesterday Gleason told me to pack up and get ready to leave Los Angeles with him and I says No I am going to stick here and wait for the 1st team and then he says I guess I must of overlooked something in the papers because I did not see nothing about you being appointed manager of the club. I says No I am not manager but Callahan is manager and he will want to keep me with him. He says I got a wire from Callahan telling me to keep you with my club but of coarse if you know what Callahan wants better than he knows it himself why then go ahead and stay here or go jump in the Pacific Ocean.

Then he says I know why you don’t want to go with me and I says Why? And he says Because you know I will make you work and won’t let you eat everything on the bill of fair includeing the name of the hotel at which we are stopping at. That made me sore and I was just going to call him when he says Did not you marry Mrs. Allen’s sister? And I says Yes but that is not none of your business. Then he says Well I don’t want to butt into your business but I heard you and your wife had some kind of a argument and she beat it. I says Yes she give me a rotten deal. He says Well then I don’t see where it is going to be very pleasant for you traveling round with the 1st club because Allen and his wife is both with that club and what do you want to be mixed up with them for? I says I am not scared of Allen or his wife or no other old hen.

So here I am Al with the 2d team but it is only for a while till Callahan gets sick of some of them pitchers he has got and sends for me so as he can see some real pitching. And besides I am glad to be here in Frisco where I made so many friends when I was pitching here for a short time till Callahan heard about my work and called me back to the big show where I belong at and nowheres else.

Yours truly, Jack.

SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA,
MARCH 25.

Old Pal:  Al I got a supprise for you. Who do you think I seen last night? Nobody but Hazel. Her name now is Hazel Levy because you know Al she married Kid Levy the middle-weight and I wish he was champion of the world Al because then it would not take me more than about a minute to be champion of the world myself. I have not got nothing against him though because he married her and if he had not of I probily would of married her myself but at that she could not of treated me no worse than Florrie. Well they was setting at a table in the cafe where her and I use to go pretty near every night. She spotted me when I first come in and sends a waiter over to ask me to come and have a drink with them. I went over because they was no use being nasty and let bygones be bygones.

She interduced me to her husband and he asked me what was I drinking. Then she butts in and says Oh you must let Mr. Keefe buy the drinks because it hurts his feelings to have somebody else buy the drinks. Then Levy says Oh he is one of these here spendrifts is he? and she says Yes he don’t care no more about a nichol than his right eye does. I says I guess you have got no holler comeing on the way I spend my money. I don’t steal no money anyway. She says What do you mean? and I says I guess you know what I mean. How about that $30.00 that you borrowed off of me and never give it back? Then her husband cuts in and says You cut that line of talk out or I will bust you. I says Yes you will. And he says Yes I will.

Well Al what was the use of me starting trouble with him when he has got enough trouble right to home and besides as I say I have not got nothing against him. So I got up and blowed away from the table and I bet he was relieved when he seen I was not going to start nothing. I beat it out of there a while afterward because I was not drinking nothing and I don’t have no fun setting round a place and lapping up ginger ail or something. And besides the music was rotten.

Al I am certainly glad I throwed Hazel over because she has grew to be as big as a horse and is all painted up. I don’t care nothing about them big dolls no more or about no other kind neither. I am off of them all. They can all of them die and I should not worry.

Well Al I done my first pitching of the year this P.M. and I guess I showed them that I was in just as good a shape as some of them birds that has been working a month. I worked 4 innings against my old team the San Francisco Club and I give them nothing but fast ones but they sure was fast ones and you could hear them zip. Charlie O’Leary was trying to get out of the way of one of them and it hit his bat and went over first base for a base hit but at that Fournier would of eat it up if it had of been Chase playing first base instead of Fournier.

That was the only hit they got off of me and they ought to of been ashamed to of tooken that one. But Gleason don’t appresiate my work and him and I allmost come to blows at supper. I was pretty hungry and I ordered some stake and some eggs and some pie and some ice cream and some coffee and a glass of milk but Gleason would not let me have the pie or the milk and would not let me eat more than 1/2 the stake. And it is a wonder I did not bust him and tell him to mind his own business. I says What right have you got to tell me what to eat? And he says You don’t need nobody to tell you what to eat you need somebody to keep you from floundering yourself. I says Why can’t I eat what I want to when I have worked good?

He says Who told you you worked good and I says I did not need nobody to tell me. I know I worked good because they could not do nothing with me. He says Well it is a good thing for you that they did not start bunting because if you had of went to stoop over and pick up the ball you would of busted wide open. I says Why? and he says because you are hog fat and if you don’t let up on the stable and fancy groceries we will have to pay 2 fairs to get you back to Chi. I don’t remember now what I says to him but I says something you can bet on that. You know me Al.

I wish Al that Callahan would hurry up and order me to join the 1st team. If he don’t Al I believe Gleason will starve me to death. A little slob like him don’t realize that a big man like I needs good food and plenty of it.

Your pal, Jack.

SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH,
APRIL 1.

Al:  Well Al we are on our way East and I am still with the 2d team and I don’t understand why Callahan don’t order me to join the 1st team but maybe it is because he knows that I am all right and have got the stuff and he wants to keep them other guys round where he can see if they have got anything.

The recrut pitchers that is along with our club have not got nothing and the scout that reckommended them must of been full of hops or something. It is not no common thing for a club to pick up a man that has got the stuff to make him a star up here and the White Sox was pretty lucky to land me but I don’t understand why they throw their money away on new pitchers when none of them is no good and besides who would want a better pitching staff than we got right now without no raw recruts and bushers.

I worked in Oakland the day before yesterday but he only let me go the 1st 4 innings. I bet them Oakland birds was glad when he took me out. When I was in that league I use to just throw my glove in the box and them Oakland birds was licked and honest Al some of them turned white when they seen I was going to pitch the other day.

I felt kind of sorry for them and I did not give them all I had so they got 5 or 6 hits and scored a couple of runs. I was not feeling very good at that and besides we got some awful excuses for a ball player on this club and the support they give me was the rottenest I ever seen gave anybody. But some of them won’t be in this league more than about 10 minutes more so I should not fret as they say.

We play here this afternoon and I don’t believe I will work because the team they got here is not worth wasteing nobody on. They must be a lot of boobs in this town Al because they tell me that some of them has got 1/2 a dozen wives or so. And what a man wants with 1 wife is a misery to me let alone a 1/2 dozen.

I will probily work against Denver because they got a good club and was champions of the Western League last year. I will make them think they are champions of the Epworth League or something.

Yours truly, Jack.

DES MOINES, IOWA,
APRIL 10.

Friend Al:  We got here this A.M. and this is our last stop and we will be in old Chi tomorrow to open the season. The 1st team gets home today and I would be there with them if Callahan was a real manager who knowed something about manageing because if I am going to open the season I should ought to have 1 day of rest at home so I would have all my strenth to open the season. The Cleveland Club will be there to open against us and Callahan must know that I have got them licked any time I start against them.

As soon as my name is announced to pitch the Cleveland Club is licked or any other club when I am right and they don’t kick the game away behind me.

Gleason told me on the train last night that I was going to pitch here today but I bet by this time he has got orders from Callahan to let me rest and to not give me no more work because suppose even if I did not start the game tomorrow I probily will have to finish it.

Gleason has been sticking round me like as if I had a million bucks or something. I can’t even sit down and smoke a cigar but what he is there to knock the ashes off of it. He is O.K. and good-hearted if he is a little rough and keeps hitting me in the stumach but I wish he would leave me alone sometimes espesially at meals. He was in to breakfast with me this A.M. and after I got threw I snuck off down the street and got something to eat. That is not right because it costs me money when I have to go away from the hotel and eat and what right has he got to try and help me order my meals? Because he don’t know what I want and what my stumach wants.

My stumach don’t want to have him punching it all the time but he keeps on doing it. So that shows he don’t know what is good for me. But is a old man Al otherwise I would not stand for the stuff he pulls. The 1st thing I am going to do when we get to Chi is I am going to a resturunt somewheres and get a good meal where Gleason or no one else can’t get at me. I know allready what I am going to eat and that is a big stake and a apple pie and that is not all.

Well Al watch the papers and you will see what I done to that Cleveland Club and I hope Lajoie and Jackson is both in good shape because I don’t want to pick on no cripples.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
APRIL 16.

Old Pal:  Yesterday was the 1st pay day old pal and I know I promised to pay you what I owe you and it is $75.00 because when I asked you for $35.00 before I went West you only sent me $25.00 which makes the hole sum $75.00. Well Al I can’t pay you now because the pay we drawed was only for 4 days and did not amount to nothing and I had to buy a meal ticket and fix up about my room rent.

And then they is another thing Al which I will tell you about. I come into the clubhouse the day the season opened and the 1st guy I seen was Allen. I was going up to bust him but he come up and held his hand out and what was they for me to do but shake hands with him if he is going to be yellow like that? He says Well Jack I am glad they did not send you to Milwaukee and I bet you will have a big year. I says Yes I will have a big year O.K. if you don’t sick another 1 of your sister-in-laws on to me. He says Oh don’t let they be no hard feelings about that. You know it was not no fault of mine and I bet if you was to write to Florrie everything could be fixed up O.K.

I says I don’t want to write to no Florrie but I will get a attorney at law to write to her. He says You don’t even know where she is at and I says I don’t care where she is at. Where is she? He says She is down to her home in Waco, Texas, and if I was you I would write to her myself and not let no attorney at law write to her because that would get her mad and besides what do you want a attorney at law to write to her about? I says I am going to sew her for a bill of divorce.

Then he says On what grounds? and I says Dessertion. He says You better not do no such thing or she will sew you for a bill of divorce for none support and then you will look like a cheap guy. I says I don’t care what I look like. So you see Al I had to send Florrie $10.00 or maybe she would be mean enough to sew me for a bill of divorce on the ground of none support and that would make me look bad.

Well Al, Allen told me his wife wanted to talk to me and try and fix things up between I and Florrie but I give him to understand that I would not stand for no meeting with his wife and he says Well suit yourself about that but they is no reason you and I should quarrel.

You see Al he don’t want no mix-up with me because he knows he could not get nothing but the worst of it. I will be friends with him but I won’t have nothing to do with Marie because if it had not of been for she and Florrie I would have money in the bank besides not being in no danger of getting sewed for none support.

I guess you must of read about Joe Benz getting married and I guess he must of got a good wife and 1 that don’t bother him all the time because he pitched the opening game and shut Cleveland out with 2 hits. He was pretty good Al, better than I ever seen him and they was a couple of times when his fast ball was pretty near as fast as mine.

I have not worked yet Al and I asked Callahan today what was the matter and he says I was waiting for you to get in shape. I says I am in shape now and I notice that when I was pitching in practice this A.M. they did not hit nothing out of the infield. He says That was because you are so spread out that they could not get nothing past you. He says The way you are now you cover more ground than the grand stand. I says Is that so? And he walked away.

We go out on a trip to Cleveland and Detroit and St. Louis in a few days and maybe I will take my regular turn then because the other pitchers has been getting away lucky because most of the hitters has not got their batting eye as yet but wait till they begin hitting and then it will take a man like I to stop them.

The 1st of May is our next pay day Al and then I will have enough money so as I can send you the $75.00.

Your pal, Jack.

DETROIT, MICHIGAN,
APRIL 28.

Friend Al:  What do you think of a rotten manager that bawls me out and fines me $50.00 for loosing a 1 to 0 game in 10 innings when it was my 1st start this season? And no wonder I was a little wild in the 10th when I had not had no chance to work and get control. I got a good notion to quit this rotten club and jump to the Federals where a man gets some kind of treatment. Callahan says I throwed the game away on purpose but I did not do no such a thing Al because when I throwed that ball at Joe Hill’s head I forgot that the bases was full and besides if Gleason had not of starved me to death the ball that hit him in the head would of killed him.

And how could a man go to 1st base and the winning run be forced in if he was dead which he should ought to of been the lucky left handed stiff if I had of had my full strenth to put on my fast one instead of being 1/2 starved to death and weak. But I guess I better tell you how it come off. The papers will get it all wrong like they generally allways does.

Callahan asked me this A.M. if I thought I was hard enough to work and I was tickled to death, because I seen he was going to give me a chance. I told him Sure I was in good shape and if them Tigers scored a run off me he could keep me setting on the bench the rest of the summer. So he says All right I am going to start you and if you go good maybe Gleason will let you eat some supper.

Well Al when I begin warming up I happened to look up in the grand stand and who do you think I seen? Nobody but Violet. She smiled when she seen me but I bet she felt more like crying. Well I smiled back at her because she probily would of broke down and made a seen or something if I had not of. They was not nobody warming up for Detroit when I begin warming up but pretty soon I looked over to their bench and Joe Hill Violet’s husband was warming up. I says to myself Well here is where I show that bird up if they got nerve enough to start him against me but probily Jennings don’t want to waste no real pitcher on this game which he knows we got cinched and we would of had it cinched Al if they had of got a couple of runs or even 1 run for me.

Well, Jennings come passed our bench just like he allways does and tried to pull some of his funny stuff. He says Hello are you still in the league? I says Yes but I come pretty near not being. I came pretty near being with Detroit. I wish you could of heard Gleason and Callahan laugh when I pulled that one on him. He says something back but it was not no hot comeback like mine.

Well Al if I had of had any work and my regular control I guess I would of pitched a 0 hit game because the only time they could touch me was when I had to ease up to get them over. Cobb was out of the game and they told me he was sick but I guess the truth is that he knowed I was going to pitch. Crawford got a couple of lucky scratch hits off of me because I got in the hole to him and had to let up. But the way that lucky left handed Hill got by was something awful and if I was as lucky as him I would quit pitching and shoot craps or something.

Our club can’t hit nothing anyway. But batting against this bird was just like hitting fungos. His curve ball broke about 1/2 a inch and you could of wrote your name and address on his fast one while it was comeing up there. He had good control but who would not when they put nothing on the ball?

Well Al we could not get started against the lucky stiff and they could not do nothing with me even if my suport was rotten and I give a couple or 3 or 4 bases on balls but when they was men waiting to score I zipped them threw there so as they could not see them let alone hit them. Every time I come to the bench between innings I looked up to where Violet was setting and give her a smile and she smiled back and once I seen her clapping her hands at me after I had made Moriarty pop up in the pinch.

Well we come along to the 10th inning, 0 and 0, and all of a sudden we got after him. Bodie hits one and Schalk gets 2 strikes and 2 balls and then singles. Callahan tells Alcock to bunt and he does it but Hill sprawls all over himself like the big boob he is and the bases is full with nobody down. Well Gleason and Callahan argude about should they send somebody up for me or let me go up there and I says Let me go up there because I can murder this bird and Callahan says Well they is nobody out so go up and take a wallop.

Honest Al if this guy had of had anything at all I would of hit 1 out of the park, but he did not have even a glove. And how can a man hit pitching which is not no pitching at all but just slopping them up? When I went up there I hollered to him and says Stick 1 over here now you yellow stiff. And he says Yes I can stick them over allright and that is where I got something on you.

Well Al I hit a foul off of him that would of been a fare ball and broke up the game if the wind had not of been against it. Then I swung and missed a curve that I don’t see how I missed it. The next 1 was a yard outside and this Evans calls it a strike. He has had it in for me ever since last year when he tried to get funny with me and I says something back to him that stung him. So he calls this 3d strike on me and I felt like murdering him. But what is the use?

I throwed down my bat and come back to the bench and I was glad Callahan and Gleason was out on the coaching line or they probily would of said something to me and I would of cut loose and beat them up. Well Al Weaver and Blackburne looked like a couple of rums up there and we don’t score where we ought to of had 3 or 4 runs with any kind of hitting.

I would of been all O.K. in spite of that peace of rotten luck if this big Hill had of walked to the bench and not said nothing like a real pitcher. But what does he do but wait out there till I start for the box and I says Get on to the bench you lucky stiff or do you want me to hand you something? He says I don’t want nothing more of yourn. I allready got your girl and your goat.

Well Al what do you think of a man that would say a thing like that? And nobody but a left hander could of. If I had of had a gun I would of killed him deader than a doornail or something. He starts for the bench and I hollered at him Wait till you get up to that plate and then I am going to bean you.

Honest Al I was so mad I could not see the plate or nothing. I don’t even know who it was come up to bat 1st but whoever it was I hit him in the arm and he walks to first base. The next guy bunts and Chase tries to pull off 1 of them plays of hisn instead of playing safe and he don’t get nobody. Well I kept getting madder and madder and I walks Stanage who if I had of been myself would not foul me.

Callahan has Scotty warming up and Gleason runs out from the bench and tells me I am threw but Callahan says Wait a minute he is going to let Hill hit and this big stiff ought to be able to get him out of the way and that will give Scotty a chance to get warm. Gleason says You better not take a chance because the big busher is hogwild, and they kept argueing till I got sick of listening to them and I went back to the box and got ready to pitch. But when I seen this Hill up there I forgot all about the ball game and I cut loose at his bean.

Well Al my control was all O.K. this time and I catched him square on the fourhead and he dropped like as if he had been shot. But pretty soon he gets up and gives me the laugh and runs to first base. I did not know the game was over till Weaver come up and pulled me off the field. But if I had not of been 1/2 starved to death and weak so as I could not put all my stuff on the ball you can bet that Hill never would of ran to first base and Violet would of been a widow and probily a lot better off than she is now. At that I never should ought to of tried to kill a lefthander by hitting him in the head.

Well Al they jumped all over me in the clubhouse and I had to hold myself back or I would of gave somebody the beating of their life. Callahan tells me I am fined $50.00 and suspended without no pay. I asked him What for and he says They would not be no use in telling you because you have not got no brains. I says Yes I have to got some brains and he says Yes but they is in your stumach. And then he says I wish we had of sent you to Milwaukee and I come back at him. I says I wish you had of.

Well Al I guess they is no chance of getting square treatment on this club and you won’t be supprised if you hear of me jumping to the Federals where a man is treated like a man and not like no white slave.

Yours truly, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
MAY 2.

Al:  I have got to disappoint you again Al. When I got up to get my pay yesterday they held out $150.00 on me. $50.00 of it is what I was fined for loosing a 1 to 0 10-inning game in Detroit when I was so weak that I should ought never to of been sent in there and the $100.00 is the advance money that I drawed last winter and which I had forgot all about and the club would of forgot about it to if they was not so tight fisted.

So you see all I get for 2 weeks’ pay is about $80.00 and I sent $25.00 to Florrie so she can’t come no none support business on me.

I am still suspended Al and not drawing no pay now and I got a notion to hire a attorney at law and force them to pay my salery or else jump to the Federals where a man gets good treatment.

Allen is still after me to come over to his flat some night and see his wife and let her talk to me about Florrie but what do I want to talk about Florrie for or talk about nothing to a nut left hander’s wife?

The Detroit Club is here and Cobb is playing because he knows I am suspended but I wish Callahan would call it off and let me work against them and I would certainly love to work against this Joe Hill again and I bet they would be a different story this time because I been getting something to eat since we been home and I got back most of my strenth.

Your old pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
MAY 5.

Friend Al:  Well Al if you been reading the papers you will know before this letter is received what I done. Before the Detroit Club come here Joe Hill had win 4 strate but he has not win no 5 strate or won’t neither Al because I put a crimp in his winning streek just like I knowed I would do if I got a chance when I was feeling good and had all my strenth. Callahan asked me yesterday A.M. if I thought I had enough rest and I says Sure because I did not need no rest in the 1st place. Well, he says, I thought maybe if I layed you off a few days you would do some thinking and if you done some thinking once in a while you would be a better pitcher.

Well anyway I worked and I wish you could of saw them Tigers trying to hit me Cobb and Crawford incluseive. The 1st time Cobb come up Weaver catched a lucky line drive off of him and the next time I eased up a little and Collins run back and took a fly ball off of the fence. But the other times he come up he looked like a sucker except when he come up in the 8th and then he beat out a bunt but allmost anybody is liable to do that once in a while.

Crawford got a scratch hit between Chase and Blackburne in the 2d inning and in the 4th he was gave a three-base hit by this Evans who should ought to be writeing for the papers instead of trying to umpire. The ball was 2 feet foul and I bet Crawford will tell you the same thing if you ask him. But what I done to this Hill was awful. I give him my curve twice when he was up there in the 3d and he missed it a foot. Then I come with my fast ball right past his nose and I bet if he had not of ducked it would of drove that big horn of hisn clear up in the press box where them rotten reporters sits and smokes their hops. Then when he was looking for another fast one I slopped up my slow one and he is still swinging at it yet.

But the best of it was that I practally won my own game. Bodie and Schalk was on when I come up in the 5th and Hill hollers to me and says I guess this is where I shoot one of them bean balls. I says Go ahead and shoot and if you hit me in the head and I ever find it out I will write and tell your wife what happened to you. You see what I was getting at Al. I was insinuateing that if he beaned me with his fast one I would not never know nothing about it if somebody did not tell me because his fast one is not fast enough to hurt nobody even if it should hit them in the head. So I says to him Go ahead and shoot and if you hit me in the head and I ever find it out I will write and tell your wife what happened to you. See, Al?

Of coarse you could not hire me to write to Violet but I did not mean that part of it in ernest. Well sure enough he shot at my bean and I ducked out of the way though if it had of hit me it could not of did no more than tickle. He takes 2 more shots and misses me and then Jennings hollers from the bench What are you doing pitching or trying to win a cigar? So then Hill sees what a monkey he is makeing out of himself and tries to get one over, but I have him 3 balls and nothing and what I done to that groover was a plenty. She went over Bush’s head like a bullet and got between Cobb and Veach and goes clear to the fence. Bodie and Schalk scores and I would of scored to if anybody else besides Cobb had of been chaseing the ball. I got 2 bases and Weaver scores me with another wallop.

Say, I wish I could of heard what they said to that baby on the bench. Callahan was tickled to death and he says Maybe I will give you back that $50.00 if you keep that stuff up. I guess I will get that $50.00 back next pay day and if I do Al I will pay you the hole $75.00.

Well Al I beat them 5 to 4 and with good support I would of held them to 1 run but what do I care as long as I beat them? I wish though that Violet could of been there and saw it.

Yours truly, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
MAY 29.

Old Pal:  Well Al I have not wrote to you for a long while but it is not because I have forgot you and to show I have not forgot you I am incloseing the $75.00 which I owe you. It is a money order Al and you can get it cashed by takeing it to Joe Higgins at the P.O.

Since I wrote to you Al I been East with the club and I guess you know what I done in the East. The Athaletics did not have no right to win that 1 game off of me and I will get them when they come here the week after next. I beat Boston and just as good as beat New York twice because I beat them 1 game all alone and then saved the other for Eddie Cicotte in the 9th inning and shut out the Washington Club and would of did the same thing if Johnson had of been working against me instead of this left handed stiff Boehling.

Speaking of left handers Allen has been going rotten and I would not be supprised if they sent him to Milwaukee or Frisco or somewheres.

But I got bigger news than that for you Al. Florrie is back and we are liveing together in the spair room at Allen’s flat so I hope they don’t send him to Milwaukee or nowheres else because it is not costing us nothing for room rent and this is no more than right after the way the Allens grafted off of us all last winter.

I bet you will be supprised to know that I and Florrie has made it up and they is a secret about it Al which I can’t tell you now but maybe next month I will tell you and then you will be more supprised than ever. It is about I and Florrie and somebody else. But that is all I can tell you now.

We got in this A.M. Al and when I got to my room they was a slip of paper there telling me to call up a phone number so I called it up and it was Allen’s flat and Marie answered the phone. And when I reckonized her voice I was going to hang up the phone but she says Wait a minute somebody wants to talk with you. And then Florrie come to the phone and I was going to hang up the phone again when she pulled this secret on me that I was telling you about.

So it is all fixed up between us Al and I wish I could tell you the secret but that will come later. I have tooken my baggage over to Allen’s and I am there now writeing to you while Florrie is asleep. And after a while I am going out and mail this letter and get a glass of beer because I think I have got 1 comeing now on account of this secret. Florrie says she is sorry for the way she treated me and she cried when she seen me. So what is the use of me being nasty Al? And let bygones be bygones.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
JUNE 16.

Friend Al:  Al I beat the Athaletics 2 to 1 today but I am writeing to you to give you the supprise of your life. Old pal I got a baby and he is a boy and we are going to name him Allen which Florrie thinks is after his uncle and aunt Allen but which is after you old pal. And she can call him Allen but I will call him Al because I don’t never go back on my old pals. The baby was born over to the hospital and it is going to cost me a bunch of money but I should not worry. This is the secret I was going to tell you Al and I am the happyest man in the world and I bet you are most as tickled to death to hear about it as I am.

The baby was born just about the time I was makeing McInnis look like a sucker in the pinch but they did not tell me nothing about it till after the game and then they give me a phone messige in the clubhouse. I went right over there and everything was all O.K. Little Al is a homely little skate but I guess all babys is homely and don’t have no looks till they get older and maybe he will look like Florrie or I then I won’t have no kick comeing.

Be sure and tell Bertha the good news and tell her everything has came out all right except that the rent man is still after me about that flat I had last winter. And I am still paying the old man $10.00 a month for that house you got for me and which has not never done me no good. But I should not worry about money when I got a real family. Do you get that Al, a real family?

Well Al I am to happy to do no more writeing tonight but I wanted you to be the 1st to get the news and I would of sent you a telegram only I did not want to scare you.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
JULY 2.

Old Pal:  Well old pal I just come back from St. Louis this A.M. and found things in pretty fare shape. Florrie and the baby is out to Allen’s and we will stay there till I can find another place. The Dr. was out to look at the baby this A.M. and the baby was waveing his arm round in the air. And Florrie asked was they something the matter with him that he kept waveing his arm. And the Dr. says No he was just getting his exercise.

Well Al I noticed that he never waved his right arm but kept waveing his left arm and I asked the Dr. why was that. Then the Dr. says I guess he must be left handed. That made me sore and I says I guess you doctors don’t know it all. And then I turned round and beat it out of the room.

Well Al it would be just my luck to have him left handed and Florrie should ought to of knew better than to name him after Allen. I am going to hire another Dr. and see what he has to say because they must be some way of fixing babys so as they won’t be left handed. And if nessary I will cut his left arm off of him. Of coarse I would not do that Al. But how would I feel if a boy of mine turned out like Allen and Joe Hill and some of them other nuts?

We have a game with St. Louis tomorrow and a double header on the 4th of July. I guess probily Callahan will work me in one of the 4th of July games on account of the holiday crowd.

Your pal, Jack.

P.S.  Maybe I should ought to leave the kid left handed so as he can have some of their luck. The lucky stiffs.

• 5 •

The Busher’s Kid

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
JULY 31.

Friend Al:  Well Al what do you think of little Al now? But I guess I better tell you first what he done. Maybe you won’t believe what I am telling you but did you ever catch me telling you a lie? I guess you know you did not Al. Well we got back from the East this A.M. and I don’t have to tell you we had a rotten trip and if it had not of been for me beating Boston once and the Athaletics two times we would of been ashamed to come home.

I guess these here other pitchers thought we was haveing a vacation and when they go up in the office tomorrow to get there checks they should ought to be arrested if they take them. I would not go nowheres near Comiskey if I had not of did better than them others but I can go and get my pay and feel all O.K. about it because I done something to ern it.

Me loseing that game in Washington was a crime and Callahan says so himself. This here Weaver throwed it away for me and I would not be supprised if he done it from spitework because him and Scott is pals and probily he did not want to see me winning all them games when Scott was getting knocked out of the box. And no wonder when he has not got no stuff. I wish I knowed for sure that Weaver was throwing me down and if I knowed for sure I would put him in a hospital or somewheres.

But I was going to tell you what the kid done Al. So here goes. We are still liveing at Allen’s and his wife. So I and him come home together from the train. Well Florrie and Marie was both up and the baby was up too – that is he was not up but he was woke up. I beat it right into the room where he was at and Florrie come in with me. I says Hello Al and what do you suppose he done. Well Al he did not say Hello pa or nothing like that because he is not only one month old. But he smiled at me just like as if he was glad to see me and I guess maybe he was at that.

I was tickled to death and I says to Florrie Did you see that. And she says See what. I says The baby smiled at me. Then she says They is something the matter with his stumach. I says I suppose because a baby smiles that is a sign they is something the matter with his stumach and if he had the toothacke he would laugh. She says You think your smart but I am telling you that he was not smileing at all but he was makeing a face because they is something the matter with his stumach. I says I guess I know the difference if somebody is smileing or makeing a face. And she says I guess you don’t know nothing about babys because you never had none before. I says How many have you had. And then she got sore and beat it out of the room.

I did not care because I wanted to be in there alone with him and see would he smile at me again. And sure enough Al he did. Then I called Allen in and when the baby seen him he begin to cry. So you see I was right and Florrie was wrong. It don’t take a man no time at all to get wise to these babys and it don’t take them long to know if a man is there father or there uncle.

When he begin to cry I chased Allen out of the room and called Florrie because she should ought to know by this time how to make him stop crying. But she was still sore and she says Let him cry or if you know so much about babys make him stop yourself. I says Maybe he is sick. And she says I was just telling you that he had a pane in his stumach or he would not of made that face that you said was smileing at you.

I says Do you think we should ought to call the doctor but she says No if you call the doctor every time he has the stumach acke you might just as well tell him he should bring his trunk along and stay here. She says All babys have collect and they is not no use fusing about it but come and get your breakfast.

Well Al I did not injoy my breakfast because the baby was crying all the time and I knowed he probily wanted I should come in and visit with him. So I just eat the prunes and drunk a little coffee and did not wait for the rest of it and sure enough when I went back in our room and started talking to him he started smileing again and pretty soon he went to sleep so you see Al he was smileing and not makeing no face and that was a hole lot of bunk about him haveing the collect. But I don’t suppose I should ought to find fault with Florrie for not knowing no better because she has not never had no babys before but still and all I should think she should ought to of learned something about them by this time or ask somebody.

Well Al little Al is woke up again and is crying and I just about got time to fix him up and get him asleep again and then I will have to go to the ball park because we got a poseponed game to play with Detroit and Callahan will probily want me to work though I pitched the next to the last game in New York and would of gave them a good beating except for Schalk dropping that ball at the plate but I got it on these Detroit babys and when my name is announced to pitch they feel like forfiting the game. I won’t try for no strike out record because I want them to hit the first ball and get the game over with quick so as I can get back here and take care of little Al.

Your pal, Jack.

P.S.  Babys is great stuff Al and if I was you I would not wait no longer but would hurry up and adopt 1 somewheres.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
AUGUST 15.

Old Pal:  What do you think Al. Kid Gleason is comeing over to the flat and look at the baby the day after tomorrow when we don’t have no game skeduled but we have to practice in the A.M. because we been going so rotten. I had a hard time makeing him promise to come but he is comeing and I bet he will be glad he come when he has came. I says to him in the clubhouse Do you want to see a real baby? And he says You’re real enough for me Boy.

I says No I am talking about babys. He says Oh I thought you was talking about ice cream soda or something. I says No I want you to come over to the flat tomorrow and take a look at my kid and tell me what you think of him. He says I can tell you what I think of him without takeing no look at him. I think he is out of luck. I says What do you mean out of luck. But he just laughed and would not say no more.

I asked him again would he come over to the flat and look at the baby and he says he had troubles enough without that and kidded along for a while but finally he seen I was in ernest and then he says he would come if I would keep the missus out of the room while he was there because he says if she seen him she would probily be sorry she married me.

He was just jokeing and I did not take no excepshun to his remarks because Florrie could not never fall for him after seeing me because he is not no big stropping man like I am but a little runt and look at how old he is. But I am glad he is comeing because he will think more of me when he sees what a fine baby I got though he thinks a hole lot of me now because look what I done for the club and where would they be at if I had jumped to the Federal like I once thought I would. I will tell you what he says about little Al and I bet he will say he never seen no prettyer baby but even if he don’t say nothing at all I will know he is kidding.

The Boston Club comes here tomorrow and plays 4 days includeing the day after tomorrow when they is not no game. So on account of the off day maybe I will work twice against them and if I do they will wish the grounds had of burned down.

Yours truly, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
AUGUST 17.

Al:  Well old pal what did I tell you about what I would do to that Boston Club? And now Al I have beat every club in the league this year because yesterday was the first time I beat the Boston Club this year but now I have beat all of them and most of them severel times.

This should ought to of gave me a record of 16 wins and 0 defeats because the only games I lost was throwed away behind me but instead of that my record is 10 games win and 6 defeats and that don’t include the games I finished up and helped the other boys win which is about 6 more alltogether but what do I care about my record Al? because I am not the kind of man that is allways thinking about there record and playing for there record while I am satisfied if I give the club the best I got and if I win all O.K. And if I lose who’s fault is it. Not mine Al.

I asked Callahan would he let me work against the Boston Club again before they go away and he says I guess I will have to because you are going better than anybody else on the club. So you see Al he is beginning to appresiate my work and from now on I will pitch in my regular turn and a hole lot offtener then that and probily Comiskey will see the stuff I am made from and will raise my salery next year even if he has got me signed for 3 years and for the same salery I am getting now.

But all that is not what I was going to tell you Al and what I was going to tell you was about Gleason comeing to see the baby and what he thought about him. I sent Florrie and Marie downtown and says I would take care of little Al and they was glad to go because Florrie says she should ought to buy some new shoes though I don’t see what she wants of no new shoes when she is going to be tied up in the flat for a long time yet on account of the baby and nobody cares if she wears shoes in the flat or goes round in her bear feet. But I was glad to get rid of the both of them for a while because little Al acts better when they is not no women round and you can’t blame him.

The baby was woke up when Gleason come in and I and him went right in the room where he was laying. Gleason takes a look at him and says Well that is a mighty fine baby and you must of boughten him. I says What do you mean? And he says I don’t believe he is your own baby because he looks humaner than most babys. And I says Why should not he look human. And he says Why should he.

Then he goes to work and picks the baby right up and I was a-scared he would drop him because even I have not never picked him up though I am his father and would be a-scared of hurting him. I says Here, don’t pick him up and he says Why not? He says Are you going to leave him on that there bed the rest of his life? I says No but you don’t know how to handle him. He says I have handled a hole lot bigger babys than him or else Callahan would not keep me.

Then he starts patting the baby’s head and I says Here, don’t do that because he has got a soft spot in his head and you might hit it. He says I thought he was your baby and I says Well he is my baby and he says Well then they can’t be no soft spot in his head. Then he lays little Al down because he seen I was in ernest and as soon as he lays him down the baby begins to cry. Then Gleason says See he don’t want me to lay him down and I says Maybe he has got a pane in his stumach and he says I would not be supprised because he just took a good look at his father.

But little Al did not act like as if he had a pane in his stumach and he kept sticking his finger in his mouth and crying. And Gleason says He acts like as if he had a toothacke. I says How could he have a toothacke when he has not got no teeth? He says That is easy. I have saw a lot of pitchers complane that there arm was sore when they did not have no arm.

Then he asked me what was the baby’s name and I told him Allen but that he was not named after my brother-in-law Allen. And Gleason says I should hope not. I should hope you would have better sense then to name him after a left hander. So you see Al he don’t like them no better then I do even if he does jolly Allen and Russell along and make them think they can pitch.

Pretty soon he says What are you going to make out of him, a ball player? I says Yes I am going to make a hitter out of him so as he can join the White Sox and then maybe they will get a couple of runs once in a while. He says If I was you I would let him pitch and then you won’t have to give him no educasion. Besides, he says, he looks now like he would divellop into a grate spitter.

Well I happened to look out of the window and seen Florrie and Marie comeing acrost Indiana Avenue and I told Gleason about it. And you ought to of seen him run. I asked him what was his hurry and he says it was in his contract that he was not to talk to no women but I knowed he was kidding because I allready seen him talking to severel of the players’ wifes when they was on trips with us and they acted like as if they thought he was a regular comeedion though they really is not nothing funny about what he says only it is easy to make women laugh when they have not got no grouch on about something.

Well Al I am glad Gleason has saw the baby and maybe he will fix it with Callahan so as I won’t have to go to morning practice every A.M. because I should ought to be home takeing care of little Al when Florrie is washing the dishs or helping Marie round the house. And besides why should I wear myself all out in practice because I don’t need to practice pitching and I could hit as well as the rest of the men on our club if I never seen no practice.

After we get threw with Boston, Washington comes here and then we go to St. Louis and Cleveland and then come home and then go East again. And after that we are pretty near threw except the city serious. Callahan is not going to work me no more after I beat Boston again till it is this here Johnson’s turn to pitch for Washington. And I hope it is not his turn to work the 1st game of the serious because then I would not have no rest between the last game against Boston and the 1st game against Washington.

But rest or no rest I will work against this here Johnson and show him up for giveing me that trimming in Washington, the lucky stiff. I wish I had a team like the Athaletics behind me and I would loose about 1 game every 6 years and then they would have to get all the best of it from these rotten umpires.

Your pal, Jack.

NEW YORK, NEW YORK,
SEPTEMBER 16.

Friend Al:  Al it is not no fun running round the country no more and I wish this dam trip was over so as I could go home and see how little Al is getting along because Florrie has not wrote since we was in Philly which was the first stop on this trip. I am a-scared they is something the matter with the little fellow or else she would of wrote but then if they was something the matter with him she would of sent me a telegram or something and let me know.

So I guess they can’t be nothing the matter with him. Still and all I don’t see why she has not wrote when she knows or should ought to know that I would be worrying about the baby. If I don’t get no letter tomorrow I am going to send her a telegram and ask her what is the matter with him because I am positive she would of wrote if they was not something the matter with him.

The boys has been trying to get me to go out nights and see a show or something but I have not got no heart to go to shows. And besides Callahan has not gave us no pass to no show on this trip. I guess probily he is sore on account of the rotten way the club has been going but still he should ought not to be sore on me because I have win 3 out of my last 4 games and would of win the other if he had not of started me against them with only 1 day’s rest and the Athaletics at that, who a man should ought not to pitch against if he don’t feel good.

I asked Allen if he had heard from Marie and he says Yes he did but she did not say nothing about little Al except that he was keeping her awake nights balling. So maybe Al if little Al is balling they is something wrong with him. I am going to send Florrie a telegram tomorrow – that is if I don’t get no letter.

If they is something the matter with him I will ask Callahan to send me home and he won’t want to do it neither because who else has he got that is a regular winner. But if little Al is sick and Callahan won’t let me go home I will go home anyway. You know me Al.

Yours truly, Jack.

BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS,
SEPTEMBER 24.

Al:  I bet if Florrie was a man she would be a left hander. What do you think she done now Al? I sent her a telegram from New York when I did not get no letter from her and she did not pay no atension to the telegram. Then when we got up here I sent her another telegram and it was not more then five minutes after I sent the 2d telegram till I got a letter from her. And it said the baby was all O.K. but she had been so busy takeing care of him that she had not had no time to write.

Well when I got the letter I chased out to see if I could catch the boy who had took my telegram but he had went allready so I was spending $.60 for nothing. Then what does Florrie do but send me a telegram after she got my second telegram and tell me that little Al is all O.K., which I knowed all about then because I had just got her letter. And she sent her telegram c. o. d. and I had to pay for it at this end because she had not paid for it and that was $.60 more but I bet if I had of knew what was in the telegram before I read it I would of told the boy to keep it and would not of gave him no $.60 but how did I know if little Al might not of tooken sick after Florrie had wrote the letter?

I am going to write and ask her if she is trying to send us both to the Poor House or somewheres with her telegrams. I don’t care nothing about the $.60 but I like to see a woman use a little judgement though I guess that is impossable.

It is my turn to work today and tonight we start West but we have got to stop off at Cleveland on the way. I have got a nosion to ask Callahan to let me go right on threw to Chi if I win today and not stop off at no Cleveland but I guess they would not be no use because I have got that Cleveland Club licked the minute I put on my glove. So probily Callahan will want me with him though it don’t make no difference if we win or lose now because we have not got no chance for the pennant. One man can’t win no pennant Al I don’t care who he is.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
OCTOBER 2.

Friend Al:  Well old pal I am all threw till the city serious and it is all fixed up that I am going to open the serious and pitch 3 of the games if nessary. The club has went to Detroit to wind up the season and Callahan did not take me along but left me here with a couple other pitchers and Billy Sullivan and told me all as I would have to do was go over to the park the next 3 days and warm up a little so as to keep in shape. But I don’t need to be in no shape to beat them Cubs Al. But it is a good thing Al that Allen was tooken on the trip to Detroit or I guess I would of killed him. He has not been going good and he has been acting and talking nasty to everybody because he can’t win no games.

Well the 1st night we was home after the trip little Al was haveing a bad night and was balling pretty hard and they could not nobody in the flat get no sleep. Florrie says he was haveing the collect and I says Why should he have the collect all the time when he did not drink nothing but milk? She says she guessed the milk did not agree with him and upsetted his stumach. I says Well he must take after his mother if his stumach gets upsetted every time he takes a drink because if he took after his father he could drink a hole lot and not never be effected. She says You should ought to remember he has only got a little stumach and not a great big resservoire. I says Well if the milk don’t agree with him why don’t you give him something else? She says Yes I suppose I should ought to give him weeny worst or something.

Allen must of heard us talking because he hollered something and I did not hear what it was so I told him to say it over and he says Give the little X-eyed brat poison and we would all be better off. I says You better take poison yourself because maybe a rotten pitcher like you could get by in the league where you’re going when you die. Then I says Besides I would rather my baby was X-eyed then to have him left handed. He says It is better for him that he is X-eyed or else he might get a good look at you and then he would shoot himself. I says Is that so? and he shut up. Little Al is not no more X-eyed than you or I are Al and that was what made me sore because what right did Allen have to talk like that when he knowed he was lying?

Well the next morning Allen nor I did not speak to each other and I seen he was sorry for the way he had talked and I was willing to fix things up because what is the use of staying sore at a man that don’t know no better.

But all of a sudden he says When are you going to pay me what you owe me? I says What do you mean? And he says You been liveing here all summer and I been paying all the bills. I says Did not you and Marie ask us to come here and stay with you and it would not cost us nothing. He says Yes but we did not mean it was a life sentence. You are getting more money than me and you don’t never spend a nichol. All I have to do is pay the rent and buy your food and it would take a millionare or something to feed you.

Then he says I would not make no holler about you grafting off of me if that brat would shut up nights and give somebody a chance to sleep. I says You should ought to get all the sleep you need on the bench. Besides, I says, who done the grafting all last winter and without no invatation? If he had of said another word I was going to bust him but just then Marie come in and he shut up.

The more I thought about what he said and him a rotten left hander that should ought to be hussling freiht the more madder I got and if he had of opened his head to me the last day or 2 before he went to Detroit I guess I would of finished him. But Marie stuck pretty close to the both of us when we was together and I guess she knowed they was something in the air and did not want to see her husband get the worst of it though if he was my husband and I was a woman I would push him under a st. car.

But Al I won’t even stand for him saying that I am grafting off of him and I and Florrie will get away from here and get a flat of our own as soon as the city serious is over. I would like to bring her and the kid down to Bedford for the winter but she wont listen to that.

I allmost forgot Al to tell you to be sure and thank Bertha for the little dress she made for little Al. I don’t know if it will fit him or not because Florrie has not yet tried it on him yet and she says she is going to use it for a dishrag but I guess she is just kidding.

I suppose you seen where Callahan took me out of that game down to Cleveland but it was not because I was not going good Al but it was because Callahan seen he was makeing a mistake wasteing me on that bunch who allmost any pitcher could beat. They beat us that game at that but only by one run and it was not no fault of mine because I was tooken out before they got the run that give them the game.

Your old pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
OCTOBER 4.

Friend Al:  Well Al the club winds up the season at Detroit tomorrow and the serious starts the day after tomorrow and I will be in there giveing them a battle. I wish I did not have nobody but the Cubs to pitch against all season and you bet I would have a record that would make Johnson and Mathewson and some of them other swell heads look like a dirty doose.

I and Florrie and Marie has been haveing a argument about how could Florrie go and see the city serious games when they is not nobody here that can take care of the baby because Marie wants to go and see the games to even though they is not no more chance of Callahan starting Allen than a rabbit or something.

Florrie and Marie says I should ought to hire a nurse to take care of little Al and Florrie got pretty sore when I told her nothing doing because in the first place I can’t afford to pay no nurse a salery and in the second place I would not trust no nurse to take care of the baby because how do I know the nurse is not nothing but a grafter or a dope fiend maybe and should ought not to be left with the baby?

Of coarse Florrie wants to see me pitch and a man can’t blame her for that but I won’t leave my baby with no nurse Al and Florrie will have to stay home and I will tell her what I done when I get there. I might of gave my consent to haveing a nurse at that if it had not of been for the baby getting so sick last night when I was takeing care of him while Florrie and Marie and Allen was out to a show and if I had not of been home they is no telling what would of happened. It is a cinch that none of them bonehead nurses would of knew what to do.

Allen must of been out of his head because right after supper he says he would take the 2 girls to a show. I says All right go on and I will take care of the baby. Then Florrie says Do you think you can take care of him all O.K.? And I says Have not I tooken care of him before allready? Well, she says, I will leave him with you only don’t run in to him every time he cries. I says Why not? And she says Because it is good for him to cry. I says You have not got no heart or you would not talk that way.

They all give me the laugh but I let them get away with it because I am not picking no fights with girls and why should I bust this Allen when he don’t know no better and has not got no baby himself. And I did not want to do nothing that would stop him takeing the girls to a show because it is time he spent a peace of money on somebody.

Well they all went out and I went in on the bed and played with the baby. I wish you could of saw him Al because he is old enough now to do stunts and he smiled up at me and waved his arms and legs round and made a noise like as if he was trying to say Pa. I did not think Florrie had gave him enough covers so I rapped him up in some more and took a blanket off of the big bed and stuck it round him so as he could not kick his feet out and catch cold.

I thought once or twice he was going off to sleep but all of a sudden he begin to cry and I seen they was something wrong with him. I gave him some hot water but that made him cry again and I thought maybe he was to cold yet so I took another blanket off of Allen’s bed and wrapped that round him but he kept on crying and trying to kick inside the blankets. And I seen then that he must have collect or something.

So pretty soon I went to the phone and called up our regular Dr. and it took him pretty near a hour to get there and the baby balling all the time. And when he come he says they was nothing the matter except that the baby was to hot and told me to take all them blankets off of him and then soaked me 2 dollars. I had a nosion to bust his jaw. Well pretty soon he beat it and then little Al begin crying again and kept getting worse and worse so finally I got a-scared and run down to the corner where another Dr. is at and I brung him up to see what was the matter but he said he could not see nothing the matter but he did not charge me a cent so I thought he was not no robber like our regular doctor even if he was just as much of a boob.

The baby did not cry none while he was there but the minute he had went he started crying and balling again and I seen they was not no use of fooling no longer so I looked around the house and found the medicine the doctor left for Allen when he had a stumach acke once and I give the baby a little of it in a spoon but I guess he did not like the taste because he hollered like a Indian and finally I could not stand it no longer so I called that second Dr. back again and this time he seen that the baby was sick and asked me what I had gave it and I told him some stumach medicine and he says I was a fool and should ought not to of gave the baby nothing. But while he was talking the baby stopped crying and went off to sleep so you see what I done for him was the right thing to do and them doctors was both off of there nut.

This second Dr. soaked me 2 dollars the 2d time though he had not did no more than when he was there the 1st time and charged me nothing but they is all a bunch of robbers Al and I would just as leave trust a policeman.

Right after the baby went to sleep Florrie and Marie and Allen come home and I told Florrie what had came off but instead of giveing me credit she says If you want to kill him why don’t you take a ax? Then Allen butts in and says Why don’t you take a ball and throw it at him? Then I got sore and I says Well if I did hit him with a ball I would kill him while if you was to throw that fast ball of yours at him and hit him in the head he would think the musketoes was biteing him and brush them off. But at that, I says, you could not hit him with a ball except you was aiming at something else.

I guess they was no comeback to that so him and Marie went to there room. Allen should ought to know better than to try and get the best of me by this time and I would shut up anyway if I was him after getting sent home from Detroit with some of the rest of them when he only worked 3 innings up there and they had to take him out or play the rest of the game by electrick lights.

I wish you could be here for the serious Al but you would have to stay at a hotel because we have not got no spair room and it would cost you a hole lot of money. But you can watch the papers and you will see what I done.

Yours truly, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
OCTOBER 6.

Dear Old Pal:  Probily before you get this letter you will of saw by the paper that we was licked in the first game and that I was tooken out but the papers don’t know what really come off so I am going to tell you and you can see for yourself if it was my fault.

I did not never have no more stuff in my life then when I was warming up and I seen the Cubs looking over to our bench and shakeing there heads like they knowed they did not have no chance. O’Day was going to start Cheney who is there best bet and had him warming up but when he seen the smoke I had when I and Schalk was warming up he changed his mind because what was the use of useing his best pitcher when I had all that stuff and it was a cinch that no club in the world could score a run off of me when I had all that stuff?

So he told a couple others to warm up to and when my name was announced to pitch Cheney went and set on the bench and this here lefthander Pierce was announced for them.

Well Al you will see by the paper where I sent there 1st 3 batters back to the bench to get a drink of water and all 3 of them good hitters Leach and Good and this here Saier that hits a hole lot of home runs but would not never hit one off of me if I was O.K. Well we scored a couple in our half and the boys on the bench all says Now you got enough to win easy because they won’t never score none off of you.

And they was right to because what chance did they have if this thing that I am going to tell you about had not of happened? We goes along seven innings and only 2 of there men had got to 1st base one of them on a bad peg of Weaver’s and the other one I walked because this blind Evans don’t know a ball from a strike. We had not did no more scoreing off of Pierce not because he had no stuff but because our club could not take a ball in there hands and hit it out of the infield.

Well Al I did not tell you that before I come out to the park I kissed little Al and Florrie good by and Marie says she was going to stay home to and keep Florrie Co. and they was not no reason for Marie to come to the game anyway because they was not a chance in the world for Allen to do nothing but hit fungos. Well while I was doing all this here swell pitching and makeing them Cubs look like a lot of rummys I was thinking about little Al and Florrie and how glad they would be when I come home and told them what I done though of coarse little Al is not only a little over 3 months of age and how could he appresiate what I done? But Florrie would.

Well Al when I come in to the bench after there 1/2 of the 7th I happened to look up to the press box to see if the reporters had gave Schulte a hit on that one Weaver throwed away and who do you think I seen in a box right alongside of the press box? It was Florrie and Marie and both of them claping there hands and hollering with the rest of the bugs.

Well old pal I was never so supprised in my life and it just took all the heart out of me. What was they doing there and what had they did with the baby? How did I know that little Al was not sick or maybe dead and balling his head off and nobody round to hear him?

I tried to catch Florrie’s eyes but she would not look at me. I hollered her name and the bugs looked at me like as if I was crazy and I was to Al. Well I seen they was not no use of standing out there in front of the stand so I come into the bench and Allen was setting there and I says Did you know your wife and Florrie was up there in the stand? He says No and I says What are they doing here? And he says What would they be doing here – mending there stockings? I felt like busting him and I guess he seen I was mad because he got up off of the bench and beat it down to the corner of the field where some of the others was getting warmed up though why should they have anybody warming up when I was going so good?

Well Al I made up my mind that ball game or no ball game I was not going to have little Al left alone no longer and I seen they was not no use of sending word to Florrie to go home because they was a big crowd and it would take maybe 15 or 20 minutes for somebody to get up to where she was at. So I says to Callahan You have got to take me out. He says What is the matter? Is your arm gone? I says No my arm is not gone but my baby is sick and home all alone. He says Where is your wife? And I says She is setting up there in the stand.

Then he says How do you know your baby is sick? And I says I don’t know if he is sick or not but he is left home all alone. He says Why don’t you send your wife home? And I says I could not get word to her in time. He says Well you have only got two innings to go and the way your going the game will be over in 10 minutes. I says Yes and before 10 minutes is up my baby might die and are you going to take me out or not? He says Get in there and pitch you yellow dog and if you don’t I will take your share of the serious money away from you.

By this time our part of the inning was over and I had to go out there and pitch some more because he would not take me out and he has not got no heart Al. Well Al how could I pitch when I kept thinking maybe the baby was dying right now and maybe if I was home I could do something? And instead of paying attension to what I was doing I was thinking about little Al and looking up there to where Florrie and Marie was setting and before I knowed what come off they had the bases full and Callahan took me out.

Well Al I run to the clubhouse and changed my cloths and beat it for home and I did not even hear what Callahan and Gleason says to me when I went by them but I found out after the game that Scott went in and finished up and they batted him pretty hard and we was licked 3 and 2.

When I got home the baby was crying but he was not all alone after all Al because they was a little girl about 14 years of age there watching him and Florrie had hired her to take care of him so as her and Marie could go and see the game. But just think Al of leaveing little Al with a girl 14 years of age that did not never have no babys of her own! And what did she know about takeing care of him? Nothing Al.

You should ought to of heard me ball Florrie out when she got home and I bet she cried pretty near enough to flood the basemunt. We had it hot and heavy and the Allens butted in but I soon showed them where they was at and made them shut there mouth.

I had a good nosion to go out and get a hole lot of drinks and was just going to put on my hat when the doorbell rung and there was Kid Gleason. I thought he would be sore and probily try to ball me out and I was not going to stand for nothing but instead of balling me out he come and shook hands with me and interduced himself to Florrie and asked how was little Al.

Well we all set down and Gleason says the club was depending on me to win the serious because I was in the best shape of all the pitchers. And besides the Cubs could not never hit me when I was right and he was telling the truth to.

So he asked me if I would stand for the club hireing a train nurse to stay with the baby the rest of the serious so as Florrie could go and see her husband win the serious but I says No I would not stand for that and Florrie’s place was with the baby.

So Gleason and Florrie goes out in the other room and talks a while and I guess he was persuadeing her to stay home because pretty soon they come back in the room and says it was all fixed up and I would not have to worry about little Al the rest of the serious but could give the club the best I got. Gleason just left here a little while ago and I won’t work tomorrow Al but I will work the day after and you will see what I can do when I don’t have nothing to worry me.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
OCTOBER 8.

Old Pal:  Well old pal we got them 2 games to one now and the serious is sure to be over in three more days because I can pitch 2 games in that time if nessary. I shut them out today and they should ought not to of had four hits but should ought to of had only 2 but Bodie don’t cover no ground and 2 fly balls that he should ought to of eat up fell safe.

But I beat them anyway and Benz beat them yesterday but why should he not beat them when the club made 6 runs for him? All they made for me was three but all I needed was one because they could not hit me with a shuvvel. When I come to the bench after the 5th inning they was a note there for me from the boy that answers the phone at the ball park and it says that somebody just called up from the flat and says the baby was asleep and getting along fine. So I felt good Al and I was better then ever in the 6th.

When I got home Florrie and Marie was both there and asked me how did the game come out because I beat Allen home and I told them all about what I done and I bet Florrie was proud of me but I supose Marie is a little jellus because how could she help it when Callahan is depending on me to win the serious and her husband is wearing out the wood on the bench? But why should she be sore when it is me that is winning the serious for them? And if it was not for me Allen and all the rest of them would get about $500.00 apeace instead of the winners’ share which is about $750.00 apeace.

Cicotte is going to work tomorrow and if he is lucky maybe he can get away with the game and that will leave me to finish up the day after tomorrow but if nessary I can go in tomorrow when they get to hitting Cicotte and stop them and then come back the following day and beat them again. Where would this club be at Al if I had of jumped to the Federal?

Yours truly, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
OCTOBER 11.

Friend Al:  We done it again Al and I guess the Cubs won’t never want to play us again not so long as I am with the club. Before you get this letter you will know what we done and who done it but probily you could of guessed that Al without seeing no paper.

I got 2 more of them phone messiges about the baby dureing the game and I guess that was what made me so good because I knowed then that Florrie was takeing care of him but I could not help feeling sorry for Florrie because she is a bug herself and it must of been pretty hard for her to stay away from the game espesially when she knowed I was going to pitch and she has been pretty good to sacrifice her own plesure for little Al.

Cicotte was knocked out of the box the day before yesterday and then they give this here Faber a good beating but I wish you could of saw what they done to Allen when Callahan sent him in after the game was gone allready. Honest Al if he had not of been my brother in law I would of felt like laughing at him because it looked like as if they would have to call the fire department to put the side out. They had Bodie and Collins hollering for help and with there tongue hanging out from running back to the fence.

Anyway the serious is all over and I won’t have nothing to do but stay home and play with little Al but I don’t know yet where my home is going to be at because it is a cinch I won’t stay with Allen no longer. He has not came home since the game and I suppose he is out somewheres lapping up some beer and spending some of the winner’s share of the money which he would not of had no chance to get in on if it had not of been for me.

I will write and let you know my plans for the winter and I wish Florrie would agree to come to Bedford but nothing doing Al and after her staying home and takeing care of the baby instead of watching me pitch I can’t be too hard on her but must leave her have her own way about something.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
OCTOBER 13.

Al:  I am all threw with Florrie Al and I bet when you hear about it you won’t say it was not no fault of mine but no man liveing who is any kind of a man would act different from how I am acting if he had of been decieved like I been.

Al Florrie and Marie was out to all them games and was not home takeing care of the baby at all and it is not her fault that little Al is not dead and that he was not killed by the nurse they hired to take care of him while they went to the games when I thought they was home takeing care of the baby. And all them phone messiges was just fakes and maybe the baby was sick all the time I was winning them games and balling his head off instead of being asleep like they said he was.

Allen did not never come home at all the night before last and when he come in yesterday he was a sight and I says to him Where have you been? And he says I have been down to the Y.M.C.A. but that is not none of your business. I says Yes you look like as if you had been to the Y.M.C.A. and I know where you have been and you have been out lushing beer. And he says Suppose I have and what are you going to do about it? And I says Nothing but you should ought to be ashamed of yourself and leaveing Marie here while you was out lapping up beer.

Then he says Did you not leave Florrie home while you was getting away with them games, you lucky stiff? And I says Yes but Florrie had to stay home and take care of the baby but Marie don’t never have to stay home because where is your baby? You have not got no baby. He says I would not want no X-eyed baby like yourn. Then he says So you think Florrie stayed to home and took care of the baby do you? And I says What do you mean? And he says You better ask her.

So when Florrie come in and heard us talking she busted out crying and then I found out what they put over on me. It is a wonder Al that I did not take some of that cheap furniture them Allens got and bust it over there heads, Allen and Florrie. This is what they done Al. The club give Florrie $50.00 to stay home and take care of the baby and she said she would and she was to call up every so often and tell me the baby was all O.K. But this here Marie told her she was a sucker so she hired a nurse for part of the $50.00 and then her and Marie went to the games and beat it out quick after the games was over and come home in a taxicab and chased the nurse out before I got home.

Well Al when I found out what they done I grabbed my hat and goes out and got some drinks and I was so mad I did not know where I was at or what come off and I did not get home till this A.M. And they was all asleep and I been asleep all day and when I woke up Marie and Allen was out but Florrie and I have not spoke to each other and I won’t never speak to her again.

But I know now what I am going to do Al and I am going to take little Al and beat it out of here and she can sew me for a bill of divorce and I should not worry because I will have little Al and I will see that he is tooken care of because I guess I can hire a nurse as well as they can and I will pick out a train nurse that knows something. Maybe I and him and the nurse will come to Bedford Al but I don’t know yet and I will write and tell you as soon as I make up my mind. Did you ever hear of a man getting a rottener deal Al? And after what I done in the serious too.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
OCTOBER 17.

Old Pal:  I and Florrie has made it up Al but we are threw with Marie and Allen and I and Florrie and the baby is staying at a hotel here on Cottage Grove Avenue the same hotel we was at when we got married only of coarse they was only the 2 of us then.

And now Al I want to ask you a favor and that is for you to go and see old man Cutting and tell him I want to ree-new the lease on that house for another year because I and Florrie has decided to spend the winter in Bedford and she will want to stay there and take care of little Al while I am away on trips next summer and not stay in no high-price flat up here. And may be you and Bertha can help her round the house when I am not there.

I will tell you how we come to fix things up Al and you will see that I made her apollojize to me and after this she will do what I tell her to and won’t never try to put nothing over. We was eating breakfast – I and Florrie and Marie. Allen was still asleep yet because I guess he must of had a bad night and he was snoreing so as you could hear him in the next st. I was not saying nothing to nobody but pretty soon Florrie says to Marie I don’t think you and Allen should ought to kick on the baby crying when Allen’s snoreing makes more noise than a hole wagonlode of babys. And Marie got sore and says I guess a man has got a right to snore in his own house and you and Jack has been grafting off of us long enough.

Then Florrie says What did Allen do to help win the serious and get that $750.00? Nothing but set on the bench except when they was makeing him look like a sucker the 1 inning he pitched. The trouble with you and Allen is you are jellous of what Jack has did and you know he will be a star up here in the big league when Allen is tending bar which is what he should ought to be doing because then he could get stewed for nothing.

Marie says Take your brat and get out of the house. And Florrie says Don’t you worry because we would not stay here no longer if you hired us. So Florrie went in her room and I followed her in and she says Let’s pack up and get out.

Then I says Yes but we won’t go nowheres together after what you done to me but you can go where you dam please and I and little Al will go to Bedford. Then she says You can’t take the baby because he is mine and if you was to take him I would have you arrested for kidnaping. Besides, she says, what would you feed him and who would take care of him?

I says I would find somebody to take care of him and I would get him food from a resturunt. She says He can’t eat nothing but milk and I says Well he has the collect all the time when he is eating milk and he would not be no worse off if he was eating watermelon. Well, she says, if you take him I will have you arrested and sew you for a bill of divorce for dessertion.

Then she says Jack you should not ought to find no fault with me for going to them games because when a woman has a husband that can pitch like you can do you think she wants to stay home and not see her husband pitch when a lot of other women is cheering him and makeing her feel proud because she is his wife?

Well Al as I said right along it was pretty hard on Florrie to have to stay home and I could not hardly blame her for wanting to be out there where she could see what I done so what was the use of argueing?

So I told her I would think it over and then I went out and I went and seen a attorney at law and asked him could I take little Al away and he says No I did not have no right to take him away from his mother and besides it would probily kill him to be tooken away from her and then he soaked me $10.00 the robber.

Then I went back and told Florrie I would give her another chance and then her and I packed up and took little Al in a taxicab over to this hotel. We are threw with the Allens Al and let me know right away if I can get that lease for another year because Florrie has gave up and will go to Bedford or anywheres else with me now.

Yours truly, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS,
OCTOBER 20.

Friend Al:  Old pal I won’t never forget your kindnus and this is to tell you that I and Florrie except your kind invatation to come and stay with you till we can find a house and I guess you won’t regret it none because Florrie will livun things up for Bertha and Bertha will be crazy about the baby because you should ought to see how cute he is now Al and not yet four months old. But I bet he will be talking before we know it.

We are comeing on the train that leaves here at noon Saturday Al and the train leaves here about 12 o’clock and I don’t know what time it gets to Bedford but it leaves here at noon so we shall be there probily in time for supper.

I wish you would ask Ben Smith will he have a hack down to the deepo to meet us but I won’t pay no more than $.25 and I should think he should ought to be glad to take us from the deepo to your house for nothing.

Your pal, Jack.

P.S.  The train we are comeing on leaves here at noon Al and will probily get us there in time for a late supper and I wonder if Bertha would have spair ribs and crout for supper. You know me Al.

• 6 •

The Busher Beats It Hence

CHICAGO, ILL.,
OCT. 18.

Friend Al:  I guess may be you will begin to think I dont never do what I am going to do and that I change my mind a hole lot because I wrote and told you that I and Florrie and little Al would be in Bedford today and here we are in Chi yet on the day when I told you we would get to Bedford and I bet Bertha and you and the rest of the boys will be dissapointed but Al I dont feel like as if I should ought to leave the White Sox in a hole and that is why I am here yet and I will tell you how it come off but in the 1st place I want to tell you that it wont make a diffrence of more then 5 or 6 or may be 7 days at least and we will be down there and see you and Bertha and the rest of the boys just as soon as the N.Y. giants and the White Sox leaves here and starts a round the world. All so I remember I told you to fix it up so as a hack would be down to the deepo to meet us tonight and you wont get this letter in time to tell them not to send no hack so I supose the hack will be there but may be they will be some body else that gets off of the train that will want the hack and then every thing will be all O.K. but if they is not nobody else that wants the hack I will pay them 1/2 of what they was going to charge me if I had of came and road in the hack though I dont have to pay them nothing because I am not going to ride in the hack but I want to do the right thing and besides I will want a hack at the deepo when I do come so they will get a peace of money out of me any way so I dont see where they got no kick comeing even if I dont give them a nichol now.

I will tell you why I am still here and you will see where I am trying to do the right thing. You knowed of coarse that the White Sox and the N. Y. giants was going to make a trip a round the world and they been after me for a long time to go a long with them but I says No I would not leave Florrie and the kid because that would not be fare and besides I would be paying rent and grocerys for them some wheres and me not getting nothing out of it and besides I would probily be spending a hole lot of money on the trip because though the clubs pays all of our regular expences they would be a hole lot of times when I felt like blowing my self and buying some thing to send home to the Mrs and to good old friends of mine like you and Bertha so I turned them down and Callahan acted like he was sore at me but I dont care nothing for that because I got other people to think a bout and not Callahan and besides if I was to go a long the fans in the towns where we play at would want to see me work and I would have to do a hole lot of pitching which I would not be getting nothing for it and it would not count in no standing because the games is to be just for fun and what good would it do me and besides Florrie says I was not under no circumstance to go and of coarse I would go if I wanted to go no matter what ever she says but all and all I turned them down and says I would stay here all winter or rather I would not stay here but in Bedford. Then Callahan says All right but you know before we start on the trip the giants and us is going to play a game right here in Chi next Sunday and after what you done in the city serious the fans would be sore if they did not get no more chance to look at you so will you stay and pitch part of the game here and I says I would think it over and I come home to the hotel where we are staying at and asked Florrie did she care if we did not go to Bedford for an other week and she says No she did not care if we dont go for 6 years so I called Callahan up and says I would stay and he says Thats the boy and now the fans will have an other treat so you see Al he appresiates what I done and wants to give the fans fare treatment because this town is nuts over me after what I done to them Cubs but I could do it just the same to the Athaletics or any body else if it would of been them in stead of the Cubs. May be we will leave here the A.M. after the game that is Monday and I will let you know so as you can order an other hack and tell Bertha I hope she did not go to no extra trouble a bout getting ready for us and did not order no spair ribs and crout but you can eat them up if she all ready got them and may be she can order some more for us when we come but tell her it dont make no diffrence and not to go to no trouble because most anything she has is O.K. for I and Florrie accept of coarse we would not want to make no meal off of sardeens or something.

Well Al I bet them N.Y. giants will wish I would of went home before they come for this here exibishun game because my arm feels grate and I will show them where they would be at if they had to play ball in our league all the time though I supose they is some pitchers in our league that they would hit good against them if they can hit at all but not me. You will see in the papers how I come out and I will write and tell you a bout it.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO, ILL.,
OCT. 25.

Old Pal:  I have not only got a little time but I have got some news for you and I knowed you would want to hear all a bout it so I am writeing this letter and then I am going to catch the train. I would be saying good by to little Al instead of writeing this letter only Florrie wont let me wake him up and he is a sleep but may be by the time I get this letter wrote he will be a wake again and I can say good by to him. I am going with the White Sox and giants as far as San Francisco or may be Van Coover where they take the boat at but I am not going a round the world with them but only just out to the coast to help them out because they is a couple of men going to join them out there and untill them men join them they will be short of men and they got a hole lot of exibishun games to play before they get out there so I am going to help them out. It all come off in the club house after the game today and I will tell you how it come off but 1st I want to tell you a bout the game and honest Al them giants is the luckyest team in the world and it is not no wonder they keep wining the penant in that league because a club that has got there luck could win ball games with out sending no team on the field at all but staying down to the hotel.

They was a big crowd out to the park so Callahan says to me I did not know if I was going to pitch you or not but the crowd is out here to see you so I will have to let you work so I warmed up but I knowed the minute I throwed the 1st ball warming up that I was not right and I says to Callahan I did not feel good but he says You wont need to feel good to beat this bunch because they heard a hole lot a bout you and you would have them beat if you just throwed your glove out there in the box. So I went in and tried to pitch but my arm was so lame it pretty near killed me every ball I throwed and I bet if I was some other pitchers they would not never of tried to work with my arm so sore but I am not like some of them yellow dogs and quit because I would not dissapoint the crowd or throw Callahan down when he wanted me to pitch and was depending on me. You know me Al. So I went in there but I did not have nothing and if them giants could of hit at all in stead of like a lot of girls they would of knock down the fence because I was not my self. At that they should not ought to of had only the 1 run off of me if Weaver and them had not of begin kicking the ball a round like it was a foot ball or something. Well Al what with dropping fly balls and booting them a round and this in that the giants was gave 5 runs in the 1st 3 innings and they should ought to of had just the 1 run or may be not that and that ball Merkle hit in to the seats I was trying to waist it and a man that is a good hitter would not never of hit at it and if I was right this here Merkle could not foul me in 9 years. When I was comeing into the bench after the 3th inning this here smart alex Mcgraw come passed me from the 3 base coaching line and he says Are you going on the trip and I says No I am not going on no trip and he says That is to bad because if you was going we would win a hole lot of games and I give him a hot come back and he did not say nothing so I went in to the bench and Callahan says Them giants is not such rotten hitters is they and I says No they hit pretty good when a man has got a sore arm against them and he says Why did not you tell me your arm was sore and I says I did not want to dissapoint no crowd that come out here to see me and he says Well I guess you need not pitch no more because if I left you in there the crowd might begin to get tired of watching you a bout 10 oclock tonight and I says What do you mean and he did not say nothing more so I set there a while and then went to the club house. Well Al after the game Callahan come in to the club house and I was still in there yet talking to the trainer and getting my arm rubbed and Callahan says Are you getting your arm in shape for next year and I says No but it give me so much pane I could not stand it and he says I bet if you was feeling good you could make them giants look like a sucker and I says You know I could make them look like a sucker and he says Well why dont you come a long with us and you will get an other chance at them when you feel good and I says I would like to get an other crack at them but I could not go a way on no trip and leave the Mrs and the baby and then he says he would not ask me to make the hole trip a round the world but he wisht I would go out to the coast with them because they was hard up for pitchers and he says Mathewson of the giants was not only going as far as the coast so if the giants had there star pitcher that far the White Sox should ought to have theren and then some of the other boys coaxed me would I go so finely I says I would think it over and I went home and seen Florrie and she says How long would it be for and I says a bout 3 or 4 weeks and she says If you dont go will we start for Bedford right a way and I says Yes and then she says All right go a head and go but if they was any thing should happen to the baby while I was gone what would they do if I was not a round to tell them what to do and I says Call a Dr. in but dont call no Dr. if you dont have to and besides you should ought to know by this time what to do for the baby when he got sick and she says Of coarse I know a little but not as much as you do because you know it all. Then I says No I dont know it all but I will tell you some things before I go and you should not ought to have no trouble so we fixed it up and her and little Al is to stay here in the hotel untill I come back which will be a bout the 20 of Nov. and then we will come down home and tell Bertha not to get to in patient and we will get there some time. It is going to cost me $6.00 a week at the hotel for a room for she and the baby besides there meals but the babys meals dont cost nothing yet and Florrie should not ought to be very hungry because we been liveing good and besides she will get all she can eat when we come to Bedford and it wont cost me nothing for meals on the trip out to the coast because Comiskey and Mcgraw pays for that.

I have not even had no time to look up where we play at but we stop off at a hole lot of places on the way and I will get a chance to make them giants look like a sucker before I get threw and Mcgraw wont be so sorry I am not going to make the hole trip. You will see by the papers what I done to them before we get threw and I will write as soon as we stop some wheres long enough so as I can write and now I am going to say good by to little Al if he is a wake or not a wake and wake him up and say good by to him because even if he is not only 5 months old he is old enough to think a hole lot of me and why not. I all so got to say good by to Florrie and fix it up with the hotel clerk a bout she and the baby staying here a while and catch the train. You will hear from me soon old pal.

Your pal, Jack.

ST. JOE, MISS.,
OCT. 29.

Friend Al:  Well Al we are on our way to the coast and they is quite a party of us though it is not no real White Sox and giants at all but some players from off of both clubs and then some others that is from other clubs a round the 2 leagues to fill up. We got Speaker from the Boston club and Crawford from the Detroit club and if we had them with us all the time Al I would not never loose a game because one or the other of them 2 is good for a couple of runs every game and that is all I need to win my games is a couple of runs or only 1 run and I would win all my games and would not never loose a game.

I did not pitch today and I guess the giants was glad of it because no matter what Mcgraw says he must of saw from watching me Sunday that I was a real pitcher though my arm was so sore I could not hardly raze it over my sholder so no wonder I did not have no stuff but at that I could of beat his gang with out no stuff if I had of had some kind of decent suport. I will pitch against them may be tomorrow or may be some day soon and my arm is all O.K. again now so I will show them up and make them wish Callahan had of left me to home. Some of the men has brung there wife a long and besides that there is some other men and there wife that is not no ball players but are going a long for the trip and some more will join the party out the coast before they get a bord the boat but of coarse I and Mathewson will drop out of the party then because why should I or him go a round the world and throw our arms out pitching games that dont count in no standing and that we dont get no money for pitching them out side of just our bare expences. The people in the towns we played at so far has all wanted to shake hands with Mathewson and I so I guess they know who is the real pitchers on these here 2 clubs no matter what them reporters says and the stars is all ways the men that the people wants to shake there hands with and make friends with them but Al this here Mathewson pitched today and honest Al I dont see how he gets by and either the batters in the National league dont know nothing a bout hitting or else he is such a old man that they feel sorry for him and may be when he was a bout 10 years younger then he is may be then he had some thing and was a pretty fare pitcher but all as he does now is stick the 1st ball right over with 0 on it and pray that they dont hit it out of the park. If a pitcher like he can get by in the National league and fool them batters they is not nothing I would like better then to pitch in the National league and I bet I would not get scored on in 2 to 3 years. I heard a hole lot a bout this here fade a way that he is suposed to pitch and it is a ball that is throwed out between 2 fingers and falls in at a right hand batter and they is not no body cant hit it but if he throwed 1 of them things today he done it while I was a sleep and they was not no time when I was not wide a wake and looking right at him and after the game was over I says to him Where is that there fade a way I heard so much a bout and he says O I did not have to use none of my regular stuff against your club and I says Well you would have to use all you got if I was working against you and he says Yes if you worked like you done Sunday I would have to do some pitching or they would not never finish the game. Then I says a bout me haveing a sore arm Sunday and he says I wisht I had a sore arm like yourn and a little sence with it and was your age and I would not never loose a game so you see Al he has heard a bout me and is jellus because he has not got my stuff but they cant every body expect to have the stuff that I got or 1/2 as much stuff. This smart alex Mcgraw was trying to kid me today and says Why did not I make friends with Mathewson and let him learn me some thing a bout pitching and I says Mathewson could not learn me nothing and he says I guess thats right and I guess they is not nobody could learn you nothing a bout nothing and if you was to stay in the league 20 years probily you would not be no better then you are now so you see he had to add mit that I am good Al even if he has not saw me work when my arm was O.K.

Mcgraw says to me tonight he says I wisht you was going all the way and I says Yes you do. I says Your club would look like a sucker after I had worked against them a few times and he says May be thats right to because they would not know how to hit against a regular pitcher after that. Then he says But I dont care nothing a bout that but I wisht you was going to make the hole trip so as we could have a good time. He says We got Steve Evans and Dutch Schaefer going a long and they is both of them funny but I like to be a round with boys that is funny and dont know nothing a bout it. I says Well I would go a long only for my wife and baby and he says Yes it would be pretty tough on your wife to have you a way that long but still and all think how glad she would be to see you when you come back again and besides them dolls acrost the ocean will be pretty sore at I and Callahan if we tell them we left you to home. I says Do you supose the people over there has heard a bout me and he says Sure because they have wrote a lot of letters asking me to be sure and bring you and Mathewson a long. Then he says I guess Mathewson is not going so if you was to go and him left here to home they would not be nothing to it. You could have things all your own way and probily could marry the Queen of europe if you was not all ready married. He was giveing me the strate dope this time Al because he did not crack a smile and I wisht I could go a long but it would not be fare to Florrie but still and all did not she leave me and beat it for Texas last winter and why should not I do the same thing to her only I am not that kind of a man. You know me Al.

We play in Kansas city tomorrow and may be I will work there because it is a big town and I have got to close now and write to Florrie.

Your old pal, Jack.

ABILENE, TEXAS,
NOV. 4.

Al:  Well Al I guess you know by this time that I have worked against them 2 times since I wrote to you last time and I beat them both times and Mcgraw knows now what kind of a pitcher I am and I will tell you how I know because after the game yesterday he road down to the place we dressed at a long with me and all the way in the automobile he was after me to say I would go all the way a round the world and finely it come out that he wants I should go a long and pitch for his club and not pitch for the White Sox. He says his club is up against it for pitchers because Mathewson is not going and all they got left is a man named Hern that is a young man and not got no experiense and Wiltse that is a left hander. So he says I have talked it over with Callahan and he says if I could get you to go a long it was all O.K. with him and you could pitch for us only I must not work you to hard because he is depending on you to win the penant for him next year. I says Did not none of the other White Sox make no holler because may be they might have to bat against me and he says Yes Crawford and Speaker says they would not make the trip if you was a long and pitching against them but Callahan showed them where it would be good for them next year because if they hit against you all winter the pitchers they hit against next year will look easy to them. He was crazy to have me go a long on the hole trip but of coarse Al they is not no chance of me going on acct. of Florrie and little Al but you see Mcgraw has cut out his trying to kid me and is treating me now like a man should ought to be treated that has did what I done.

They was not no game here today on acct. of it raining and the people here was sore because they did not see no game but they all come a round to look at us and says they must have some speechs from the most prommerent men in the party so I and Comiskey and Mcgraw and Callahan and Mathewson and Ted Sullivan that I guess is putting up the money for the trip made speechs and they clapped there hands harder when I was makeing my speech then when any 1 of the others was makeing there speech. You did not know I was a speech maker did you Al and I did not know it neither untill today but I guess they is not nothing I can do if I make up my mind and 1 of the boys says that I done just as well as Dummy Taylor could of.

I have not heard nothing from Florrie but I guess may be she is to busy takeing care of little Al to write no letters and I am not worring none because she give me her word she would let me know was they some thing the matter.

Yours truly, Jack.

SAN DAGO, CAL.,
NOV. 9.

Friend Al:  Al some times I wisht I was not married at all and if it was not for Florrie and little Al I would go a round the world on this here trip and I guess the boys in Bedford would not be jellus if I was to go a round the world and see every thing they is to be saw and some of the boys down home has not never been no futher a way then Terre Haute and I dont mean you Al but some of the other boys. But of coarse Al when a man has got a wife and a baby they is not no chance for him to go a way on 1 of these here trips and leave them a lone so they is not no use I should even think a bout it but I cant help thinking a bout it because the boys keeps after me all the time to go. Callahan was talking a bout it to me today and he says he knowed that if I was to pitch for the giants on the trip his club would not have no chance of wining the most of the games on the trip but still and all he wisht I would go a long because he was a scared the people over in Rome and Paris and Africa and them other countrys would be awful sore if the 2 clubs come over there with out bringing none of there star pitchers along. He says We got Speaker and Crawford and Doyle and Thorp and some of them other real stars in all the positions accept pitcher and it will make us look bad if you and Mathewson dont neither 1 of you come a long. I says What is the matter with Scott and Benz and this here left hander Wiltse and he says They is not nothing the matter with none of them accept they is not no real stars like you and Mathewson and if we cant show them forreners 1 of you 2 we will feel like as if we was cheating them. I says You would not want me to pitch my best against your club would you and he says O no I would not want you to pitch your best or get your self all wore out for next year but I would want you to let up enough so as we could make a run oncet in a while so the games would not be to 1 sided. I says Well they is not no use talking a bout it because I could not leave my wife and baby and he says Why dont you write and ask your wife and tell her how it is and can you go. I says No because she would make a big holler and besides of coarse I would go any way if I wanted to go with out no I yes or no from her only I am not the kind of a man that runs off and leaves his family and besides they is not nobody to leave her with because her and her sister Allens wife has had a quarrle. Then Callahan says Where is Allen at now is he still in Chi. I says I dont know where is he at and I dont care where he is at because I am threw with him. Then Callahan says I asked him would he go on the trip before the season was over but he says he could not and if I knowed where was he I would wire a telegram to him and ask him again. I says What would you want him a long for and he says Because Mcgraw is shy of pitchers and I says I would try and help him find 1. I says Well you should ought not to have no trouble finding a man like Allen to go along because his wife probily would be glad to get rid of him. Then Callahan says Well I wisht you would get a hold of where Allen is at and let me know so as I can wire him a telegram. Well Al I know where Allen is at all O.K. but I am not going to give his adress to Callahan because Mcgraw has treated me all O.K. and why should I wish a man like Allen on to him and besides I am not going to give Allen no chance to go a round the world or no wheres else after the way he acted a bout I and Florrie haveing a room in his flat and asking me to pay for it when he give me a invatation to come there and stay. Well Al it is to late now to cry in the sour milk but I wisht I had not never saw Florrie untill next year and then I and her could get married just like we done last year only I dont know would I do it again or not but I guess I would on acct. of little Al.

Your pal, Jack.

SAN FRANCISCO, CAL.,
NOV. 14.

Old Pal:  Well old pal what do you know a bout me being back here in San Francisco where I give the fans such a treat 2 years ago and then I was not nothing but a busher and now I am with a team that is going a round the world and are crazy to have me go a long only I cant because of my wife and baby. Callahan wired a telegram to the reporters here from Los Angeles telling them I would pitch here and I guess they is going to be 20 or 25000 out to the park and I will give them the best I got.

But what do you think Florrie has did Al. Her and the Allens has made it up there quarrle and is friends again and Marie told Florrie to write and tell me she was sorry we had that there argument and let by gones be by gones. Well Al it is all O.K. with me because I cant help not feeling sorry for Allen because I dont beleive he will be in the league next year and I feel sorry for Marie to because it must be pretty tough on her to see how well her sister done and what a misstake she made when she went and fell for a left hander that could not fool a blind man with his curve ball and if he was to hit a man in the head with his fast ball they would think there nose iched. In Florries letter she says she thinks us and the Allens could find an other flat like the 1 we had last winter and all live in it to gether in stead of going to Bedford but I have wrote to her before I started writeing this letter all ready and told her that her and I is going to Bedford and the Allens can go where they feel like and they can go and stay on a boat on Michigan lake all winter if they want to but I and Florrie is comeing to Bedford. Down to the bottom of her letter she says Allen wants to know if Callahan or Mcgraw is shy of pitchers and may be he would change his mind and go a long on the trip. Well Al I did not ask either Callahan nor Mcgraw nothing a bout it because I knowed they was looking for a star and not for no left hander that could not brake a pane of glass with his fast 1 so I wrote and told Florrie to tell Allen they was all filled up and would not have no room for no more men.

It is pretty near time to go out to the ball park and I wisht you could be here Al and hear them San Francisco fans go crazy when they hear my name anounced to pitch. I bet they wish they had of had me here this last year.

Yours truly, Jack.

MEDFORD, ORGAN,
NOV. 16.

Friend Al:  Well Al you know by this time that I did not pitch the hole game in San Francisco but I was not tooken out because they was hitting me Al but because my arm went back on me all of a sudden and it was the change in the clime it that done it to me and they could not hire me to try and pitch another game in San Francisco. They was the biggest crowd there that I ever seen in San Francisco and I guess they must of been 40000 people there and I wisht you could of heard them yell when my name was anounced to pitch. But Al I would not never of went in there but for the crowd. My arm felt like a wet rag or some thing and I knowed I would not have nothing and besides the people was packed in a round the field and they had to have ground rules so when a man hit a pop fly it went in to the crowd some wheres and was a 2 bagger and all them giants could do against me was pop my fast ball up in the air and then the wind took a hold of it and dropped it in to the crowd the lucky stiffs. Doyle hit 3 of them pop ups in to the crowd so when you see them 3 2 base hits oposit his name in the score you will know they was not no real 2 base hits and the infielders would of catched them had it not of been for the wind. This here Doyle takes a awful wallop at a ball but if I was right and he swang at a ball the way he done in San Francisco the catcher would all ready be throwing me back the ball a bout the time this here Doyle was swinging at it. I can make him look like a sucker and I done it both in Kansas city and Bonham and if he will get up there and bat against me when I feel good and when they is not no wind blowing I will bet him a $25.00 suit of cloths that he cant foul 1 off of me. Well when Callahan seen how bad my arm was he says I guess I should ought to take you out and not run no chance of you getting killed in there and so I quit and Faber went in to finnish it up because it dont make no diffrence if he hurts his arm or dont. But I guess Mcgraw knowed my arm was sore to because he did not try and kid me like he done that day in Chi because he has saw enough of me since then to know I can make his club look rotten when I am O.K. and my arm is good. On the train that night he come up and says to me Well Jack we catched you off your strid today or you would of gave us a beating and then he says What your arm needs is more work and you should ought to make the hole trip with us and then you would be in fine shape for next year but I says You cant get me to make no trip so you might is well not do no more talking a bout it and then he says Well I am sorry and the girls over to Paris will be sorry to but I guess he was just jokeing a bout the last part of it.

Well Al we go to 1 more town in Organ and then to Washington but of coarse it is not the same Washington we play at in the summer but this is the state Washington and have not got no big league club and the boys gets there boat in 4 more days and I will quit them and then I will come strate back to Chi and from there to Bedford.

Your pal, Jack.

PORTLAND, ORGAN,
NOV. 17.

Friend Al:  I have just wrote a long letter to Florrie but I feel like as if I should ought to write to you because I wont have no more chance for a long while that is I wont have no more chance to male a letter because I will be on the pacific Ocean and un less we should run passed a boat that was comeing the other way they would not be no chance of getting no letter maled. Old pal I am going to make the hole trip clear a round the world and back and so I wont see you this winter after all but when I do see you Al I will have a lot to tell you a bout my trip and besides I will write you a letter a bout it from every place we head in at.

I guess you will be supprised a bout me changeing my mind and makeing the hole trip but they was not no way for me to get out of it and I will tell you how it all come off. While we was still in that there Medford yesterday Mcgraw and Callahan come up to me and says was they not no chance of me changeing my mind a bout makeing the hole trip. I says No they was not. Then Callahan says Well I dont know what we are going to do then and I says Why and he says Comiskey just got a letter from president Wilson the President of the united states and in the letter president Wilson says he had got an other letter from the king of Japan who says that they would not stand for the White Sox and giants comeing to Japan un less they brought all there stars a long and president Wilson says they would have to take there stars a long because he was a scared if they did not take there stars a long Japan would get mad at the united states and start a war and then where would we be at. So Comiskey wired a telegram to president Wilson and says Mathewson could not make the trip because he was so old but would everything be all O.K. if I was to go a long and president Wilson wired a telegram back and says Yes he had been talking to the priest from Japan and he says Yes it would be all O.K. I asked them would they show me the letter from president Wilson because I thought may be they might be kiding me and they says they could not show me no letter because when Comiskey got the letter he got so mad that he tore it up. Well Al I finely says I did not want to brake up there trip but I knowed Florrie would not stand for letting me go so Callahan says All right I will wire a telegram to a friend of mine in Chi and have him get a hold of Allen and send him out here and we will take him a long and I says It is to late for Allen to get here in time and Mcgraw says No they was a train that only took 2 days from Chi to where ever it was the boat is going to sale from because the train come a round threw canada and it was down hill all the way. Then I says Well if you will wire a telegram to my wife and fix things up with her I will go a long with you but if she is going to make a holler it is all off. So we all 3 went to the telegram office to gether and we wired Florrie a telegram that must of cost $2.00 but Callahan and Mcgraw payed for it out of there own pocket and then we waited a round a long time and the anser come back and the anser was longer than the telegram we wired and it says it would not make no diffrence to her but she did not know if the baby would make a holler but he was hollering most of the time any way so that would not make no diffrence but if she let me go it was on condishon that her and the Allens could get a flat to gether and stay in Chi all winter and not go to no Bedford and hire a nurse to take care of the baby and if I would send her a check for the money I had in the bank so as she could put it in her name and draw it out when she need it. Well I says at 1st I would not stand for nothing like that but Callahan and Mcgraw showed me where I was makeing a mistake not going when I could see all them diffrent countrys and tell Florrie all a bout the trip when I come back and then in a year or 2 when the baby was a little older I could make an other trip and take little Al and Florrie a long so I finely says O.K. I would go and we wires still an other telegram to Florrie and told her O.K. and then I set down and wrote her a check for 1/2 the money I got in the bank and I got $500.00 all together there so I wrote the check for 1/2 of that or $250.00 and maled it to her and if she cant get a long on that she would be a awfull spendrift because I am not only going to be a way untill March. You should ought to of heard the boys cheer when Callahan tells them I am going to make the hole trip but when he tells them I am going to pitch for the giants and not for the White Sox I bet Crawford and Speaker and them wisht I was going to stay to home but it is just like Callahan says if they bat against me all winter the pitchers they bat against next season will look easy to them and you wont be supprised Al if Crawford and Speaker hits a bout 500 next year and if they hit good you will know why it is. Steve Evans asked me was I all fixed up with cloths and I says No but I was going out and buy some cloths includeing a full dress suit of evening cloths and he says You dont need no full dress suit of evening cloths because you look funny enough with out them. This Evans is a great kidder Al and no body never gets sore at the stuff he pulls some thing like Kid Gleason. I wisht Kid Gleason was going on the trip Al but I will tell him all a bout it when I come back.

Well Al old pal I wisht you was going a long to and I bet we could have the time of our life but I will write to you right a long Al and I will send Bertha some post cards from the diffrent places we head in at. I will try and write you a letter on the boat and male it as soon as we get to the 1st station which is either Japan or Yokohama I forgot which. Good by Al and say good by to Bertha for me and tell her how sorry I and Florrie is that we cant come to Bedford this winter but we will spend all the rest of the winters there and her and Florrie will have a plenty of time to get acquainted. Good by old pal.

Your pal, Jack.

SEATTLE, WASH.,
NOV. 18.

Al:  Well Al it is all off and I am not going on no trip a round the world and back and I been looking for Callahan or Mcgraw for the last 1/2 hour to tell them I have changed my mind and am not going to make no trip because it would not be fare to Florrie and besides that I think I should ought to stay home and take care of little Al and not leave him to be tooken care of by no train nurse because how do I know what would she do to him and I am not going to tell Florrie nothing a bout it but I am going to take the train tomorrow night right back to Chi and supprise her when I get there and I bet both her and little Al will be tickled to death to see me. I supose Mcgraw and Callahan will be sore at me for a while but when I tell them I want to do the right thing and not give my famly no raw deal I guess they will see where I am right.

We was to play 2 games here and was to play 1 of them in Tacoma and the other here but it rained and so we did not play neither 1 and the people was pretty mad a bout it because I was announced to pitch and they figured probily this would be there only chance to see me in axion and they made a awful holler but Comiskey says No they would not be no game because the field neither here or in Tacoma was in no shape for a game and he would not take no chance of me pitching and may be slipping in the mud and straneing myself and then where would the White Sox be at next season. So we been laying a round all the P.M. and I and Dutch Schaefer had a long talk to gether while some of the rest of the boys was out buying some cloths to take on the trip and Al I bought a full dress suit of evening cloths at Portland yesterday and now I owe Callahan the money for them and am not going on no trip so probily I wont never get to ware them and it is just $45.00 throwed a way but I would rather throw $45.00 a way then go on a trip a round the world and leave my famly all winter.

Well Al I and Schaefer was talking to gether and he says Well may be this is the last time we will ever see the good old US and I says What do you mean and he says People that gos acrost the pacific Ocean most generally all ways has there ship recked and then they is not no more never heard from them. Then he asked me was I a good swimmer and I says Yes I had swam a good deal in the river and he says Yes you have swam in the river but that is not nothing like swimming in the pacific Ocean because when you swim in the pacific Ocean you cant move your feet because if you move your feet the sharks comes up to the top of the water and bites at them and even if they did not bite your feet clean off there bite is poison and gives you the hiderofobeya and when you get that you start barking like a dog and the water runs in to your mouth and chokes you to death. Then he says Of coarse if you can swim with out useing your feet you are all O.K. but they is very few can do that and especially in the pacific Ocean because they got to keep useing there hands all the time to scare the sord fish a way so when you dont dare use your feet and your hands is busy you got nothing left to swim with but your stumach mussles. Then he says You should ought to get a long all O.K. because your stumach mussles should ought to be strong from the exercise they get so I guess they is not no danger from a man like you but men like Wiltse and Mike Donlin that is not hog fat like you has not got no chance. Then he says Of coarse they have been times when the boats got acrost all O.K. and only a few lives lost but it dont offten happen and the time the old Minneapolis club made the trip the boat went down and the only thing that was saved was the catchers protector that was full of air and could not do nothing else but flote. Then he says May be you would flote to if you did not say nothing for a few days.

I asked him how far would a man got to swim if some thing went wrong with the boat and he says O not far because they is a hole lot of ilands a long the way that a man could swim to but it would not do a man no good to swim to these here ilands because they dont have nothing to eat on them and a man would probily starve to death un less he happened to swim to the sandwich ilands. Then he says But by the time you been out on the pacific Ocean a few months you wont care if you get any thing to eat or not. I says Why not and he says the pacific Ocean is so ruff that not nothing can set still not even the stuff you eat. I asked him how long did it take to make the trip acrost if they was not no ship reck and he says they should ought to get acrost a long in febuery if the weather was good. I says Well if we dont get there until febuery we wont have no time to train for next season and he says You wont need to do no training because this trip will take all the weight off of you and every thing else you got. Then he says But you should not ought to be scared of getting sea sick because they is 1 way you can get a way from it and that is to not eat nothing at all while you are on the boat and they tell me you dont eat hardly nothing any way so you wont miss it. Then he says Of coarse if we should have good luck and not get in to no ship reck and not get shot by 1 of them war ships we will have a grate time when we get acrost because all the girls in europe and them places is nuts over ball players and especially stars. I asked what did he mean saying we might get shot by 1 of them war ships and he says we would have to pass by Swittserland and the Swittserland war ships was all the time shooting all over the ocean and of coarse they was not trying to hit no body but they was as wild as most of them left handers and how could you tell what was they going to do next.

Well Al after I got threw talking to Schaefer I run in to Jack Sheridan the umpire and I says I did not think I would go on no trip and I told him some of the things Schaefer was telling me and Sheridan says Schaefer was kidding me and they was not no danger at all and of coarse Al I did not believe 1/2 of what Schaefer was telling me and that has not got nothing to do with me changeing my mind but I don’t think it is not hardly fare for me to go a way on a trip like that and leave Florrie and the baby and suppose some of them things really did happen like Schaefer said though of coarse he was kidding me but if 1 of them was to happen they would not be no body left to take care of Florrie and little Al and I got a $1000.00 insurence policy but how do I know after I am dead if the insurence co. comes acrost and gives my famly the money.

Well Al I will male this letter and then try again and find Mcgraw and Callahan and then I will look up a time table and see what train can I get to Chi. I dont know yet when I will be in Bedford and may be Florrie has hired a flat all ready but the Allens can live in it by them self and if Allen says any thing a bout I paying for 1/2 of the rent I will bust his jaw.

Your pal, Jack.

VICTORIA, CAN.,
NOV. 19.

Dear Old Al:  Well old pal the boat gos tonight I am going a long and I would not be takeing no time to write this letter only I wrote to you yesterday and says I was not going and you probily would be expecting to see me blow in to Bedford in a few days and besides Al I got a hole lot of things to ask you to do for me if any thing happens and I want to tell you how it come a bout that I changed my mind and am going on the trip. I am glad now that I did not write Florrie no letter yesterday and tell her I was not going because now I would have to write her an other letter and tell her I was going and she would be expecting to see me the day after she got the 1st letter and in stead of seeing me she would get this 2nd. letter and not me at all. I have all ready wrote her a good by letter today though and while I was writeing it Al I all most broke down and cried and espesially when I thought a bout leaveing little Al so long and may be when I see him again he wont be no baby no more or may be some thing will of happened to him or that train nurse did some thing to him or may be I wont never see him again no more because it is pretty near a cinch that some thing will either happen to I or him. I would give all most any thing I got Al to be back in Chi with little Al and Florrie and I wisht she had not of never wired that telegram telling me I could make the trip and if some thing happens to me think how she will feel when ever she thinks a bout wireing me that telegram and she will feel all most like as if she was a murder.

Well Al after I had wrote you that letter yesterday I found Callahan and Mcgraw and I tell them I have changed my mind and am not going on no trip. Callahan says Whats the matter and I says I dont think it would be fare to my wife and baby and Callahan says Your wife says it would be all O.K. because I seen the telegram my self. I says Yes but she dont know how dangerus the trip is and he says Whos been kiding you and I says They has not no body been kiding me. I says Dutch Schaefer told me a hole lot of stuff but I did not believe none of it and that has not got nothing to do with it. I says I am not a scared of nothing but supose some thing should happen and then where would my wife and my baby be at. Then Callahan says Schaefer has been giveing you a lot of hot air and they is not no more danger on this trip then they is in bed. You been in a hole lot more danger when you was pitching some of them days when you had a sore arm and you would be takeing more chances of getting killed in Chi by 1 of them taxi cabs or the dog catcher then on the Ocean. This here boat we are going on is the Umpires of Japan and it has went acrost the Ocean a million times with out nothing happening and they could not nothing happen to a boat that the N.Y. giants was rideing on because they is to lucky. Then I says Well I have made up my mind to not go on no trip and he says All right then I guess we might is well call the trip off and I says Why and he says You know what president Wilson says a bout Japan and they wont stand for us comeing over there with out you a long and then Mcgraw says Yes it looks like as if the trip was off because we dont want to take no chance of starting no war between Japan and the united states. Then Callahan says You will be in fine with Comiskey if he has to call the trip off because you are a scared of getting hit by a fish. Well Al we talked and argude for a hour or a hour and 1/2 and some of the rest of the boys come a round and took Callahan and Mcgraw side and finely Callahan says it looked like as if they would have to posepone the trip a few days un till he could get a hold of Allen or some body and get them to take my place so finely I says I would go because I would not want to brake up no trip after they had made all there plans and some of the players wifes was all ready to go and would be dissapointed if they was not no trip. So Mcgraw and Callahan says Thats the way to talk and so I am going Al and we are leaveing tonight and may be this is the last letter you will ever get from me but if they does not nothing happen Al I will write to you a lot of letters and tell you all a bout the trip but you must not be looking for no more letters for a while untill we get to Japan where I can male a letter and may be its likely as not we wont never get to Japan.

Here is the things I want to ask you to try and do Al and I am not asking you to do nothing if we get threw the trip all right but if some thing happens and I should be drowned here is what I am asking you to do for me and that is to see that the insurence co. dont skin Florrie out of that $1000.00 policy and see that she all so gets that other $250.00 out of the bank and find her some place down in Bedford to live if she is willing to live down there because she can live there a hole lot cheaper then she can live in Chi and besides I know Bertha would treat her right and help her out all she could. All so Al I want you and Bertha to help take care of little Al untill he grows up big enough to take care of him self and if he looks like as if he was going to be left handed dont let him Al but make him use his right hand for every thing. Well Al they is 1 good thing and that is if I get drowned Florrie wont have to buy no lot in no cemetary and hire no herse.

Well Al old pal you all ways been a good friend of mine and I all ways tried to be a good friend of yourn and if they was ever any thing I done to you that was not O.K. remember by gones is by gones. I want you to all ways think of me as your best old pal. Good by old pal.

Your pal, Jack.

P.S.  Al if they should not nothing happen and if we was to get acrost the Ocean all O.K. I am going to ask Mcgraw to let me work the 1st game against the White Sox in Japan because I should certainly ought to be right after giveing my arm a rest and not doing nothing at all on the trip acrost and I bet if Mcgraw lets me work Crawford and Speaker will wisht the boat had of sank. You know me Al.

The Busher Abroad

1 … Ship bord, pacific Ocean, Yokohama

2 … Tokio, Kobe, Naggasak, Schang High, Honk Honk, Vanila

6 … Cairne, Barroom Falls, Brizz Bay, Sidney, Melbourne, the Grate Australian Bite

4 … Indian Ocean, Salome, Bargain Day on the Streets of Cairo

5 … The Busher’s Welcome Home

• 1 •

On the Ship bord,
pacific Ocean, Yokohama

ON THE SHIP BORD.
NOV. 22.

Friend Al:  Well old pal I bet you did not never think you would be geting a letter from me from the middle of the pacific Ocean and of coarse you are not realy geting it from the middle of the Ocean because I will not male it til we get to japan or Yokohama or 1 of them places but you will be geting it from more then the middle of the Ocean because before you get this letter this letter will of been acrost the Ocean onct and then back acrost the Ocean the way wear going opisite to. and Im not going to male this letter in 1 letter but I will try and write some thing evry day wear on the Ship bord and then male you a hole lot of letters to gather when I male them when we land and it will be just like as if you was a long when you read the letters. I thot at 1st I would write a letter evry day to Florrie and I all ready started writeing to her before I beggun this letter to you but then I remmembered a bout she saying onct that she would rather get a post card from me then a letter because when she got a letter from me she all ways expected to see a check drop out of it and was dissapointed but she knowed I wouldent be recklest enough to send no check in a post card and I guess Al you know I got more sence then that to. So when I get acrost to Japan I will buy a hole bunch of post cards the prettest pitchers I can get a hold of and send her enough so as she can fill up a alban up with them if she likes.

I says I would write some thing to you evry day Al but I ment evry day from now on because we all ready been out on the Ship bord over 2 days and I did not write nothing them 2 days on acct. of not feeling good. I must of ett some thing there in Seattle that did not aggree with my stumick because I been in bed ever since we left the Victoria B. C. and was not able to obtane no food on my stumick and I was in awfull bad shape Al and I called for the Dr thats on the Ship bord and had him come in to my birth and see me and he says whats the trouble and I says my stumick was all set up and he says I had Maul the mare or some thing and he says pretty near evry body on the boat was sick so I thot for a minut that we must of all of us got posoned at 1 of them banquits but I found out after words that the rest of the people that was sick was sea sick on acct of the Ocean water being ruff so I guess the banquits was all O.K. and it must of been some thing I ett a lone at 1 of them restrunts in Seattle.

The Dr says they was 0 he could do for me but I was just to lay still and Id get over it but when he told me to just lay still he might is well of told me to cut my hare with the pianno stool because they was not no chance to lay still on acct of the boat typing back and 4th but this A. M. the Ocean water was not ruff no more that is not as ruff as it had of been and I got up and drest a bout 11 a clock and I thot I would in joy my dinner but when I got in the dinning room I felt kind of set up again and all as I could get a way with was a little soup and I never seen so much to eat in my life Al and me being in there where they was so much to eat and in able to eat nothing a tall was just like as if a man would go up to hit against 1 of them rotten Pitchers like Allen and find out he had left his bat in the club house.

well pretty near evry body that was sea sick was all O.K. again and the boys was all most of them laughing at each Other for geting sea sick and I says to them you fellows must have a stumick like a baby or some thing geting sea sick when you only been on the Ocean 2 days and dutch Schaefer was standing there and he says where you been your self the last 2 days and I says I ett some thing in Seattle that posoned me and he says that was the trouble with me to I ett some rat poson thinking it was tooth paste and I did not say nothing back but I seen he was not telling the truth and just trying to make them beleive he was not sea sick because rat posen dont look no more like tooth paste then 2 peas and it comes in a tin tub that you squeze it out on to your tooth brush.

Well Al I feel like as if I could eat some thing for supper and pretty soon I got to beggin changeing my cloths because all the boys has got to ware there evening cloths at supper and it seems kind a silly changeing my cloths when I aint only had these cloths on me since 11 a clock this A. M. and I aint played ball or done nothing to dirty them up but may be after evry bodys saw us in our dress cloths onct they will be satisfide and we can ware our reglar cloths to supper after tonight and if not I will put on my evening dress sute pants and shirt and so 4th when I get up in the A. M. and ware a swetter over them til it comes time for supper and then I wont half to waist 1/2 my time changeing cloths.

Well old pal I wont write no more today because I want to go out on the porch and get some fresh air before I beggin dresing and I was out there a wile this A. M. and its mighty funny Al looking a round all over and all as you can see is water and not no land no wheres tho theys nothing in the way and I guess a man with good eye site can see pretty near a mile in evry direcshon. I wisht I could of hit that 1 I hit off of Walter Johnson that day out here on the Ocean where they aint no fence or club house to stop it and I bet them outfielders would not never of found the ball because it was hit like a shot and was still going up when it bumptin to the club house. Well Al remmember me to Bertha and Im all O.K. and haveing a grate time only Id kind a like to see Florrie and little Al for a minut even if they was cross the both of them. I will try and write some more tommorow and Im going to leave this letter lay a long with the rest of them I write and send the hole lot of them to gather all at onct.

Your pal, Jack.

ON THE SHIP BORD.
NOV. 23.

Old Pal:  well Al I had an other bad night on acct of eating to much for supper last night but you cant hardily blame a man for eating a little some thing when his stummicks been vacant for over 2 hole days on acct of me geting posoned in Seattle. the Ocean was awfull ruff again last night and I just found out that we come pretty near geting recked on acct of it being so ruff and the way I found out steve Evans thats 1 of the players from the Nat. league took me up to the capt of the Ships ofice this A. M. and the capt left us look at his dairy and it says in it that the water tight doors worked and Evans says if it had not of been that we was in danger of geting recked the capt would not of tride the doors to see weather they worked or not and the water tight doors is some thing like the storm doors that you got on your house to keep from geting cold in the winter only they stick them a round the out side of the porch so as when the waters so deep that the porch is under the water it cant get in threw the doors and on to the porch and drowned us and it all so says in the dairy that they was 200 and 65 knots and Evans says that means that the capt counted that many in the doors and if some of them ever busted out and left knot holes it would be all off with us.

Well Al this P. M. we been playing shovvle bord and its a game where you slide some round iron things a long the floor and see how clost you can get them to a certun line and it counts so much and you can curve them like a base ball only of coarse you can only curve them out and in and cant get no sharp brake down like I got on my curve ball only when my fast 1 is hoping threw there you might all most say I dont need no curve ball. I made the rest of them look like a sucker in this here game we was playing and I had not never tride it before and it just shows that all games is a pipe for a man thats a naturel athalete and I guess its a good thing for some of them would be star foot ball players that I dident never but in to that game.

I got to change my cloths again for supper pretty soon and I dont mind it now Al on acct of the way the evening dress sute sits on me and steve Evans says it fits me like the cloths Bert Wms. wares on the stage fits him and hes a acter. the pants and vest and cote is plane black with a seem runing up and down the out side and in side of the pants legs and the cote dont quite button to gather on me yet but dutch Schaefer says I could button it O.K. if I could get my stumick posoned a couple more times like I done in Seattle and not eat nothing for a wk. and he is all ways puling stuff like that. Comical stuff. But I dont care if it ever buttons to gather or not because I would keep it opened up any way so as to leave the vest and shirt show threw because thats the way they look pretty only I wisht Florrie was here to fix the shirt up for me because they made a miss take and put button holes on the both sides of the boozem insted of buttons on 1 side and button holes to button the buttons on to on the other side and I half to keep the shirt buttoned up with them little black wooden tax that you get from the landry. I got a nice black 4 in hand ty to go with the sute and Callahan seen me comeing out of my birth room last night with my yellow shoes on and told me they dident go good with the rest of it and to go back and put on my slipers so I had to open up my uneform role and get them out. I was a pitcher Al when I was all fixed up and I dont mean no braging but a mans got to be put up right to look good in 1 of these here evening dress sutes and not no little scrimp or sod off or no big long string like this here weilman that pitchs for St Louis and he should ought to be driveing a hack the lucky left handed stiff.

I got the cloths roled up in my uneform role that is the pants and vest and cote on acct of Mcgraw teling me to not leave them hanging up in my birth room or 1 of the waiters might come in and see them and think they was hisn. And all so he says they might may be skrink if they was left out where the damp air could hit them and the next time I got them on I might may be half to leather my self up and shave them off of me with a razor. Hes a grate joker Al and all O.K. when you know him and he is tickeled to deth a bout me going to pitch for his club on this trip insted of the White Sox but I guess the fellows thats got to hit against me aint what you could call them tickeled hey Al. Its may be a good thing Callahans got a picked up team with sam Crawford and Speaker and Evans and some of them outsiders. on it because I would feel like a murder pitching against the reglar White Sox bunch because if they was in base ball on acct of there hitting they would be driveing a dray or some thing.

Your old pal, Jack.

ON THE SHIP BORD.
NOV. 26.

Friend Al:  Well Al I promused I would write some thing to you evry day and here I have not wrote nothing yest. or the day before and it was because my stumick went back on me again Al and evry little wile I think its going to be all O.K. and then it gos back on me again. But I ett a big supper tonight and still got it with me so I guess Im all O.K. again but I wisht I could find out what was it that posoned me in Seattle and where I got it at and I bet I would sew the mare of the town for liable on acct of the dammige to my stumick and a place like that should not ought to be aloud to run.

the Ocean waters been ruff again and dutch Schaefer was teling me that the Ocean was named the Pacific ocean on acct of it being peace full and not ruff because thats what pacific means peace full and not ruff and Schaefer says the man that named it must of been sarcasticle and not ment what he said when he named it pacific and if the man that named it pacific was nameing the White Sox he would name them the deman slugers and if he was nameing N. Y. city he would call it the sumitery and if he was nameing the St Louis browns he would name them the worlds champions and then Schaefer says If that man was nameing me insted of calling me herman Schaefer he would be sarcasticle and name me rotten hitter and then I says what do you suppose would he call me and Schaefer says he would half to call you a ball player. so you see Al he knows I can field my position and hit that old pill besides how I can pitch.

Well Al Im going to tell you some thing now and I bet you wont beleive it Al but its true and I just found out a bout it wile I was writeing this letter and wile I was writeing it some body raped on the door of my birth room and I says come in and Steve Evans come in and says what are you doing writeing a letter and I says yes and he says o I thot you was laying bricks and I says what would I be laying bricks out here in the middle of the Ocean and he says who you writeing to your wife and I told him no I was writeing to a pal of mine and he says do you mind showing me the way you got your letter date it and I says no and he looked at the top of this letter and seen where I had it date it Nov. 26 and he says your wrong and I says why and he says because this is the 27 and I says wasent yest. the 25 and he says yes but todays the 27 because we run acrost the line in the Ocean today at 520 a clock tonight where they drop out a hole day and I thot at 1st he was kiding but he was in ernest all right and thats what I was going to tell you a bout Al. You see they aint no Nov. 26 where wear at because they drop the hole day out and this is the 27 where wear at and the 26 in Chi and Bedford and the reason they drop it out here is on acct of us crossing acrost the line in the Ocean that they call the date line see Al. So Evans says you better change the date on your letter or you will get all mixed up and I says no because if I changed it I would get worst mixed up then if I dident change it and Evans says all right sute yourself but some day next summer you will be in there pitching against the Detroit club and it will be Russells turn to pitch the next day and Cobb will be a hole day a head of you and he will think its Russell pitching insted of you pitching and probily hit 1 out of the park. I says Cobb or no body else cant hit 1 out of the park off of me when Im right and Evans says no I don’t supose they can but this is 1 time you wont be right because youll be wrong if you dont take my add vise and change the date so then he went out and I was going to change the date but then I hapened to think I better not because if I changed the date and Florrie kept on useing the regular dates I might say I was comeing home on the 10 of March and it would be the 9 or 11 of march on her calendar and she might be out some wheres and not in when I come home and out to the nichol show or some wheres and besides we would all ways be argueing a bout when was little Als berth day and so 4th and we got enough to quarl about with out no more to quarl a bout. So Im going to keep on with the reglar dates like as if I dident know nothing a bout what I been teling you but theys still an other thing yet that Evans says and that is that Florrie will get lone summer for me then Ill get for her because on acct of us looseing a day and her not looseing a day I wont be a way from her as long is shes a way from me and an other thing he says was that my dress shirt and coller that I ware a long with my dress sute should ought to be glad to have the day droped out so as they could have a hollow day. Evans and Schaefers all ways puling funny stuff Al and you cant hardily help from laughing all the wile there talking to you.

Well Al tommorows thanks giveing weather its the 27 or the 28 and wear going to have a big time on the ship bord and the capt of the ships going to give a banquit and our hole partys invited and wear going to pull off some grate stuff. Schaefers been lerning us to sing a song he got up and its a dutch song and some of the boys is going to make speechs and sing solos by them self and what do you think Im going to do Al and I bet youll be supprised when I tell you. Schaefer come up to me and says I got you down for a stunt on the program for the banquit and I says what can I do and Schaefer says Well we was all trying to think and they wasent no body could think of nothing you could do and they was going to leave you off of the program but I says they must be some thing you could do or else the lord wouldent let you live and it must be some thing that dont take no thinking. So I says well what do you want I should do and Schaefer says well you can write some poultry and speak it. And I says what a bout and he says a bout the trip a round the world that wear makeing so I says I would try and now I will quit writeing this letter and try and fix up some poultry and I will half to get up and speak it in front of the hole crowd includeing the wommen because theys a bout 14 of the party got there wife a long. some stunt hey Al but if I did not have all the nerve in the world I would not be where Im at. I got to quit for now and fix up some peace to spring on them.

Your pal, Jack.

ON THE SHIP BORD.
NOV. 27.

Old Pal:  Well Al we was up so late on acct of the banquit that I wasent going to write you no letter tonight and I got my cloths off and went to bed but I got up again and Im writeing this letter with a swetter on over the out side of my night gown and I dont know why is it but latly I cant sleep good and besides that as soon is I get to bed Im trouble with insomia. we had some time at the banquit Al and several of the boys told storys and sung songs and Schaefer and the boys sung the song that Schaefer got up and the name of its the garden house and its mostily in dutch and Callahan told some irish storys and Evans told some storys and then they finely called on me and Schaefer interduced me and he says I take plesure in interduceing the long fellow of the party and he ment me tho I aint quiet as tall is jim Thorp the indian thats a long with us but Im build pretter then he. And Schaefer says I would resite a reginald peace of poultry that Id wrote my self so evry body claped there hand and I had to get up and I was a little nervus on acct of the wommen in the party but I seen they was all waiting I should beggin so I cut lose and I will copy down the peace I wrote Al so as you can see what I sprang on them:

It was in the year 1913
when the boys says good by to there girl

And got on the bord of the Umpires of japan

For to make the trip a round the world.

The Chicago White Sox and the N.Y. giants
was the teams makeing the trip.

and the White Sox did not have there own team

But some boys from other clubs that can hit.

and the N.Y. giants nether one

Had there own team a long on the trip

But some boys from
out side who can hit.

And the Ocean water was ruff
the 1st few days on the trip

And some of the boys was to sick

To in joy the trip.

but finely the Ocean water got less ruffer
and then evry body shout hurrah
and they come out on the porch of the Umpires ofJapan

To talk with Comiskey and Callahan and Mcgraw.

And now there giveing us a banquit

To the boys a long on the trip

And I will resite this little peace
that I wrote a bout the trip.

so heres to Comiskey and Callahan and Mcgraw

Who are takeing us a long on the trip
they May win the penant next summer

And fight for the worlds championship.

Im going to pitch for the N.Y. giants
because Mcgraw was short.

But when the season opens next April

I will be in there wareing the White Sox

And giving Callahan the best I got.

Well you should ought to heard them cheer when I got threw and set down and I wisht Florrie could of been here and herd it and I will keep a coppy of the peace and say it for her when I get home or may be by that time I will have it lerned by heart with out no coppy. But Schaefer says I got to write an other peace for the next banquit they have and it looks like I would be busy now they know I can tare off them pones and I dident know it my self till I tride it just like I never knowed I could throw a slow ball till I tride it on Cobb and he looked like a sucker. Well old pal I must try and get some sleep and last night I just layed there all night wondring how is Florrie and little Al geting a long and it kind a chokes me up Al thinking a bout not seen them til a long in march some time and if it wasent for the good time Im haveing I would wish I had of stayed home.

Your old pal, Jack

ON THE SHIP BORD.
DEC. 1.

Friend Al:  Well old pal when I tell you whats come off you wont make no holler a bout me not writeing to you for 3 or 4 days and they was severel times when we was all pretty near finnished and I thot we was gone and Florrie and little Al would be a widdow and you wouldent have no old pal to write and tell you what come off and I did not know the hole story til today and all as I knowed was that we was with in a ace of geting recked and besides that the poson I got in Seattle come back on me but I dident know a bout us geting atacked til today.

the Day after thanks giveing the Ocean water got ruff again and they was a snow storm and evry kind of an other storm and the water was so deep that the front and back porchs was both of them under the water and the capt him self thot it was all off with us and hung up the water tight doors all over the porch but they must of had some knot holes in them this time because the water come right threw them and the wind was blowing between 11 and 12 and Evans says it dont hardily never blow after 1/2 past 10 and we had to go faster on acct the back end of the ship was falling Aft in the trought of the Ocean water so you can see we was in awfull shape and I only come out of my birth room onct in 3 days and could not eat nothing and besides what was the use of filing your self up full of food when it looked like we was going to get sank and the heaver a man is he will sink that much sooner. But finely the storm let up and we was all O.K. and I got to feeling all O.K. and I got my cloths on yest. and come out and then was when I herd a bout us geting atacked. if it hadent of been for steve Evans Al it would of been all off and worst then if we had of just got drownded and I dont know where he lemed all he knows a bout fish and how to scare them but its a good thing he knowed what to do when this come off because even the capt of the Ship was scarred and did not know what to do. I guess you know the pacific Oceans full of grate big fish and sharks and 1 shark a lone is biger then all the blue gills or bass in the world put to gather and 1 shark by there self cant do nothing to you unlest your swiming in the water and they get after you but they cant do nothing to you when your on the Ship bord unlest theys whole lot of them to gather and the night before last night he capt of the Ship seen a School of Sharks comeing at the boat and when theys a lot of them to gather they dont get scarred but there vissus and mean and come right at a Ship and run in to it and knock it over and they couldent do it if the Ocean water wasent ruff but when the Ships all ready tiping on acct of the storm it aint no trick to push it over. Well the capt seen them comeing and he called all the crews and says what should they do about it and 1 of the crews says he had a pistle in his grip and would shoot at them so he went and got his pistle and shot all the bullits they was in it at the School of Sharks and they did not pay no a tension and kept comeing and the capt beggin to holler and some of the ball players herd him and come runing out and they dident know what to do and finely dutch Schaefer says steve Evans would probily know what to do so some body went and called Evans out of bed and he come out there and seen what was comeing off and says to the capt have you got a bell on the Ship and the capt says yes sertunly because they ring a bell to tell the time instead of clock so Evans told him to go get the bell and the capt. did not know what for but he got the bell and Evans held it over the side of the Ship where the sharks was comeing and beggin ringing it and sure enough the sharks quit comeing at the boat and turned around and went back whereever they came from.  [missing text]  and I says to him when he got threw telling the story Where did you lern that trick and he says that he knowed it ever since he was a kid that it was the way to get rid of a School of Sharks but you couldnt get rid of 1 shark that way but only a School of Sharks so I says why and he says the minut a School of Sharks hears the bell they think recess is over. So you see Al how lucky we are that Steve com along and even the capt of the Ship didnt know the trick.

so when you see what we been going threw I guess you wont find no falt a bout me not writeing for a few days. This was a pretty fare day and some of the boys was out on the porch skiping the rope and exerciseing but I was not feeling good and did not do nothing but set a round and wear do in Yokohama in less then a wk. now and I will be tickeled to deth when we get there and no more danger only Larry Doyle the capt of the N. Y. giants says we wont never be safe as long is Klem the umpire is a long and I says why not and he says because Klem will say wear out weather wear safe or not so you see Al the Nat. league umpires is just as bad is our league. There all rotten.

Your old pal, Jack.

ON THE SHIP BORD.
DEC. 2.

Friend Al:  well old pal may be I wont be on this trip much longer and may be I will see you yet before the winters over and it all deppends on if I get a letter or not in Yokohama or that is if theys a letter waiting there for me when we get there or not but even if I was to give up the trip and come on home I probily wouldent see you because the reason Im may be comeing home is because ether Florrie or little Als sick and I would half to stay in Chicago and take care of them and could not drop down to Bedford unlest they got all O.K. again and I could bring them a long with me.

I and dutch Schaefer had breakfast to gather this a m and he was reading some thing and I ast him what was he reading and he says he just got a telegram from Chicago where he lives at in the winter and the telegram was from some of the boys just to tell him that evry thing was O.K. and I says I wisht Id get a telegram from my famly and find out how was they geting a long and Schaefer says did I mean to tell him I had not herd nothing since I left the US and I says thats right I had not herd nothing and he says why all the rest of the boys on the Ship bords had telegrams and letters from there wife or there friends and then he says I should think you be worred a bout them not hearing nothing and I says Well I havent herd nothing and I am worred and I says how could I get a letter from them out here in the middle of the Ocean and Schaefer says No of coarse you could not get no letter unlest your wife maled it special the Livery and she probily dont know nothing a bout that but I should think she would of wired you a telegram. I says I bet ether her or the kid is sick and I wisht I could go home and Schaefer says why dont you wire them a telegram and find out how there geting a long and I thot for a minut I would Al and I ast Schaefer how much would a telegram cost from here where wear at and he said only a bout $24.00 dollars. Hows that for robbers Al but I woulddent stop at no amt. of money if I thot I could find out if Florrie and little Al are geting a long only it would cost so much to send them a telegram and wear so clost to japan now that I can male them a postcard and besides Schaefer says theres sure to be some male waiting for us at japan or Yokohama and I says I guess I would wait till we get there. Then Schaefer says Yes but if you dont get no male  [missing text]  us and go home and I says I would  [missing text]  straight back acrost the Ocean and go threw  [missing text]  right a way with out no rest and he says  [missing text]  the other way a round by the R. R. and I didnt know that they was an other way get back accept the way we come but Schaefer says Sure theys the over the land rout to go back on and it dont only take a little over a week to go that way. And you go threw russia and Jeruslum and Cuba and Pru and a round threw canada and catch the N. Y. central at Niagera falls and theys extra excurson fair now on acct of the elks convension and thats what Im going to do Al come home by the R. R. if they aint no letter for me at Yokohama and Comiskey and Callahan will see how it is and wont be sore at me but supose they should get sore whats the diffrunts: and Im not going to fool a round on no world trip when little Al and Florrie needs me and how would I feel if I was fooling a round here and some thing happened and they must be some thing wrong or I would of got a telegram but I will wait and see is they any male for me at Yokohama.

So I says to Schaefer I would probily leave the trip at Yokohama and he says I would to if I was you only you better wait til wear in china because thats where the landrys are at and you can give that dress sute shirt of yours a treat and I says may be there might be a landry in Yokohama and he says Yes may be they might be 1 but just 1 wouldent do that shirt no good. But Im not going to miss no train for no shirt Al and if I can start home the same day we get to Yokohama I wont wait a round for no landry and besides a man dont half to put on no full dress sute evry time you eat supper on the train. Well Al if I dont get no male from home you can figure Im comeing home and I will write to you from Chicago or may be if Florrie and little Al aint to sick you can come up and pay us a vissit.

They been takeing moveing pitchers of the whole party out on the porch today and its been a grate day and I was in all the pitchers and its grate weather and evry thing would be fine if it wasent for Florrie and little Al being sick or they would of wired me a telegram.

Your pal, Jack.

ON THE SHIP BORD,
DEC. 4.

Al:  Well Al we will be safe in Yokohama the day after tommorow and theys only a bout 35 hrs. more we got to stay on the Ship and I cant hardily wait til we get to Yokohama and see weather theys any male for me from Florrie and little Al and if Im comeing strate home or stay on the trip.

I have not told ether Callahan or Comiskey yet a bout me probily going home from Yokohama but I will half to spring it on them as soon is we land on acct I got to get some money off of them to pay for my fair on the train and Schaefer says he hasent got no idear how much will it be but the reglar fair is a bout $32.00 and probily on acct of the rates it will be some wheres between $16.00 and $48.00. what ever it is I guess they will give it to me and if they dont I can borry it off of Mcgraw but I guess Comiskey and Callahan will give it to me because they wouldent dast not give it to me or I would jump to the federal.

Well Al I had the old uneform on for a wile today and tride my arm out a little only of coarse I dident cut lose because why should I ware my arm out geting in shape in Dec. when Im probily going to quit the trip. joe Benz and bunny Hern and geo. Wiltse put on there sutes to and besides we pitchers they was dutch Schaefer and Speaker and sam Crawford and Buck Weaver and all as we did was toss the ball around a little and when steve Evans seen me come out in my uneform he says Why dont you ware that to supper and I says Why and he says because it looks like it was prest onct. I and Schaefer throwed back and 4th to each other for a wile and he says why dont you cut lose and I says you know why because may be Im not going to do no pitching on this trip and besides I says if I cut lose at you and you with out nothing but a finger glove I would burn your hand right off of you. He says I bet you wouldent and I says I bet I would and he says I bet you can throw a ball at me just as hard is you can throw it and it wont hurt my hand and I says What will you bet and he says $1.00 so I says all right your on and he says all right so I wound up and give him my fast 1 and he ducked out of the way of it and the ball went clear over the bord in to the Ocean and then he says pay me and I says I will not and he says why not it dident hurt my hand did it and I says No because you wasent game and ducked out of the way and what do you think of him Al trying to beat me out of $1.00 and if he is to cheap to pay his bet he can keep the money and well come but I win it fare and sqare and he knowed the ball would hurt his hand or he would not of ducked.

But that was the only time I cut lose on acct of I did not want to throw my arm out because whats the use and after a wile I went back in my birth room and got drest for dinner or lunch they call it on the Ship bord and I went in and had my dinner and then come out doors again and Steve Evans was standing there yet and I says why dont you go in and have your dinner and he says he was waiting to find out what have they got on the bill a fair and see if theys any thing I like and I says how can you tell if you dont go in and he says I was waiting for you to come out so as I could look at your vest. Hes a funny fellow Al and bringing stuff like that all the wile.

Well Al I will write you 1 more letter on the Ship tommorow and then we will be in Yokohama the next day and if I find out Im going to stay on the trip I will male you all the letters Ive wrote at onct.

Your old pal, Jack.

ON THE SHIP BORD.
DEC. 5.

Friend Al:  Well Al just a note because wear all busy geting ready to land tommorow and packing up our stuff and its all excitemunt and evry bodys tickeled to deth bout us being pretty near threw this part of the trip and may be they wont be no more trip for me accept the trip home on the R. R. because Im postive Florrie and Little Als sick the both of them or I would of had a telegram or sevrel telegrams like the rest of the boys been geting from there famly.

Steve Evans come in to my rm. wile I was packing up and ast me if I had fixed up the employs of the Ship and I says what do you mean and he says you got to give evry body on the Ship bord a tip before you get off. What do you think of that for a robers game Al. I says I will give a tip to he waiter that waited on the table where I ett at but he aint got a hole lot comeing to him because look how many times I did not eat nothing on acct of geting posoned at Seattle. But Evans says That dont make no diffrunts you got to give him a big tip and evry body else a tip and you got to give a tip to Stewart and the capt and the H. waiter and the valley that prest your dress sute so good evry day and I says dont half to give the valley a nichol because he did not never come a round to press my sute and Evans says how did you keep it looking so nice then and I says it was on acct of it being a bran new sute and Evans says I thot it was ether that or else you slept in it, but any way you got to give the valley and all them other men a tip and I seen he ment it so I ast him how much and he says a bout a 1/4 a peace for the valley and the H. waiter and my reglar waiter and Stewart thats the name of 1 of the head oficers and a dime for the capt. So its going to cost me a $1.10 for tips a lone an no wonder the crews on these here Ships wares such swell uneforms when they got a graft like that and you can see how it will amt. up if all the rest of our party comes acrost with $1.10 only of coarse theys some cheap stiffs m the party that will probily give them all a dime a peace and a nichol or may be 0 for the capt. Well if I got to do it I got to do it and I bet I do my traveling on trains after this where you dont half to give tips to the conductor and the brake man and the men that feels of the wheels to see is they a hot box.

But Steve Evans knows whats the right dope and I just found out hes been on a hole lot of trips in the Ocean and all over and one winter he saled clear up to the N. pole on a yat with a Dr. name Cook and thats where he lerned a bout scarring Sharks. and today he was teling me how to talk Japan so as I could talk with the japans When we get there only of coarse he only told me a few words just so as I can talk to them because they will probily want to know how my arm feels and how I made the cubs look like a sucker. Heres some of the words he lerned me Al and you can practice them up and spring them on Bertha and you will have her wondring where did you lern to talk japan. I cant spell them very good but you can figure them out O.K. When you want to say you feel fine you say seem lick and when you want to say fast ball you say Zipp and when you want to say curve ball you say Hookem and when you want to pay them a complimunt and say how are all the japans you say Meeno likee Jap in knees. And thats all I can remmember Al and I will just stall a long with them but steve Evans can talk it just as good is I and you can talk plane englich.

And now I got to finnish up packing and try and get some sleep because we get to the Doc at Yokohama the 1st thing in the morning.

Your old pal, Jack.

YOKOHAMA,
DEC. 6.

Friend Al:  Well old pal Im not comeing strate home from here like I thot I was and I will write you this letter and then rap all the letters up that Ive wrote and send them to you in 1 packige and it will probily cost me a peace of money for the stamps but you can have a hole lot of fun reading them to the boys and Bertha and it will be like as if they was all a long on the trip to hear me tell a bout it. I ready spent a good deel of money today on acct of giveing all the crews on the Ship a tip but it was worth the money to see them smile when I give it to them and they was all tickeled to deth and the capt was so tickeled when I give him the dime that he says he would all ways hold on to it to remmember me by so I thot I might as well make it a good 1 and I give him an extra dime 1 to spend and 1 to hold on to to remmember me by. Well Al I didn’t get no word from Florrie and little Al but I know theys nothing the matter with them because Callahan found out a bout it for me and thats why Im going to make the rest of the trip and besides Mcgraw says he will leave me go against them White Sox again in a day or so and I will give them the showing up of there life the lucky stiffs and if it had of been the reglar White Sox club I worked against and not no ringers from the other clubs I would of shut them out probily with out 1 hit. And an other thing that I spent some money on was post cards for Florrie and I sent her a 1/2 dollars worth of them only they dont call it no 1/2 dollar over here but a yen and I get all my money changed in to japan money and now I got 5 yens and a 100 sens in my pockit.

Well Al we come in to the harber at 7 a clock this A. M. and we seen what Evans says was the secret Mt. of japan and the name of it is pajamas and we stalled a round a wile in the harber and then some japan Drs. clumb up on the Ship bord and says we all had to be exammoned and Evans says it was because they wouldent leave us play against none of the japan clubs unlest we was all in grand shape so when the Dr. come up to me I says Well Dr. I guess you can see Im in grand shape just looking at me and I seen he dident under stand what I was talking a bout so I says seem lick to him in japan and he smiled and says some thing back in japan and Evans told me what was it he says and it was Your a fine looking goof and goof means athalete. Well all the boys past by the examon nation and I started to take my bagige off of the Ship and Callahan seen me with it and says Dont take your bagige because wear going to live on this Ship an other week yet and all as you want is your uneform role and then I had to tell him a bout may be I was going home on the train and he says What train and I says the train that runs on the over the land rout and he says who was giveing you that dope and I told him Schaefer was teling me a bout it and he says Well Schaefer dont know nothing because they quit runing them trains a mo. a go on acct of the atlanta Ocean geting flood it. He says If you want to go home you will half to go back the same way you come and your libel to run in to worst storms then you seen comeing this way. Well I says If I cant go on the train I aint crazy a bout going but train or no train I got to get home on acct of my wife and baby is sick and he says Who says they was and I says I have not herd nothing from them since I left and he says How could you hear from them and I says a telegram and Callahan says it would not of been possable for me to get no telegram on the Ship bord because they was no wires running out in the Ocean so then I says Well if theys no male here for me I will know there sick and he says How could they be male for you when your wife dident know you was going til you come and if she had of maled a letter that same night it couldent of got here til a wk. after we got here so I says well Im sure there both sick and if I cant find out nothing a bout it Im going home and find out a bout it and then Callahan says he was going to call up Chicago and he would find out for me so what could I do Al but leave my bagige on the Ship bord and then we got on the Doc and road up to the grand Hotel and then I went out and got the post cards to send to Florrie and then we all went up to the Councils place and hes a american and evry body shook hands with him and then we ett our dinner and went out to the Tokio collige ball park and they was a big crowd of japans to see us play and I wisht you could of herd them cheer when I went in to pitch. But if the game had of counted I wouldent never of went in there because I could tell the minut I beggin warming up that they was some thing the matter wit the old souper and you see I hadent warmed up or done nothing with it on the ship all them days and I wasent in no shape to work. At that if it had of been the reglar White Sox I was pitching against them I would of made them look like a sucker but Speaker and Crawford and Evans and them ringers was on the club and I could not fool them with my arm in the shape like it was and besides I hadent never worked with the N. Y. giants before and they wasent use to the sines I give when Im in there pitching so they dident move a round and cover the ground where I wanted them to and sevrel balls went for base hits that would of been ett up if the boys had played right for them. The White Sox beat us 9 to 4 or some thing and the score should ought to of been a bout 3 to 1 or 4 to l in our favor if they hadent of had all the luck in the world.

Well Al some of the boys wanted me to stick a round in Tokio with them after the game but my arm was so sore I couldent hardily stand it so I come back to the hotel here and now Im writeing this letter and when I get threw with it I guess I better call a Dr. in to look at my arm.

I come back from the ball grounds with Mcgraw and Callahan and Callahan says to Mcgraw Well may be youll have better luck with your own pitchers and Mcgraw says O no the boy here was all right today only we dident do nothing to help him so you see Al hes a real mgr and not no joke so no wonder he wins all them penant and if he had a man like I to deppend on he could do some thing in the world serious to. Well Callahan says You pretty near lost Jack this A. M. and Mcgraw ast how that was and Callahan told him a bout me worrin a bout my famly and how I would of tooken the R. R. home if they hadent of stopped runing the trains and Mcgraw says Well Im glad we dident loose him because he will make you fellows look like a rummy when he gos in there feeling right. So Callahan says Thats what Im afrade of and I got a nosion to not find out a bout his famly when I call up Chicago because he says he wont stay on the trip unlest he finds out his famly is O.K. So Mcgraw says Well if you dont find out I will. So Callahan promused again that he would find out and hes going to call up Chicago right after sugper and then I will find out and I would talk to Florrie my self only Callahan aint going to call up my house but is going to call up the girl at Centrel and get her to call up a bout evry bodys famly; that aint a long on the trip and then tell him whats the news.

And theys going to be a banquit here tonight and Schaefer says I got to get up an other of them pones of mine and speak it so you see Al I better get busy and fix up some thing and tomorrow we go on the Umpires of japan to Kobe and may be Mcgraw will leave me in there again tommorow because my arm feels O.K. now. Well Al I got to get busy and fix up that pone and I guess this is some letter Im sending you and when you open it and see it I bet youll think I sent you the Bibble for xmas or some thing. best to your self and Bertha and all my old pals.

Your old pal, Jack.

P.S.  Some body must of been kiding dutch Schaefer a bout them telegrams be cause how could he or any body else get a telegram in the middle of the Ocean where they aint no wire and where would they get poles long enough to reach from the top of th e Ocean to the bottom and I suppose probily theyd half to hire a fish to dig the holes for the poles hey Al.

P.S.  Callahan just got threw telephoning and come up to tell me a bout it. The girl at at Centrel called up the flat where Allen and Marie and Florrie and little Al is stoping at and Florries feeling fine and little Als O.K. and Florrie says dont hurry home and wile Florrie was talking with the girl at Centrel she told little Al it was a messige from daddy and little Al  [missing text]  right out. Hows that Al

• 2 •

Tokio, Kobe, Naggasak, Schang High, Honk Honk, and Vanila

ON THE SHIP BORD.
DEC. 8.

Friend Al:  Well old pal wear threw with japan and now wear on our way to china and we just left kobe a bout 2 hrs. a go and I been laying down takeing a rest for a bout 1 hr. and 1/2 because I dident get no sleep last night. the 2 ball clubs and the reporters thats a long with us stuck in Yokohama and tokio yest. and played a couple games out to the collige wile the rest of the party come over to Kobe on the Ship bord and I wisht Mcgraw and Callahan had of left me come with the rest of the party and then I would of got a nights rest but insted of that I had to stick a round with the ball players tho I just pitched only the day before yest. and all as I did yest. was watch them play and hit a few fungos and then we had to take the train from tokio to Kobe last night and thats why I dident get no rest because the births on this here japan train wasent never build for no big stropping man like I but was build for little scrimps like Bush of the Detroit club or may be some dorf out of a Muzeem. They was a bout 5 ft. in lenth and may be 1 ft. in breath and I tride to lay in 1 of them and got all cramped up and steve Evans come a long by my birth and says what was the matter and I says I guess Id half to cut my legs off a bout the knees to lay in this here birth and he says You better cut off some thing you dont use. Cut off your head. I guess he ment how could I stand in the box and pitch or run a round the bases when I got a hold of 1 if I dident have no legs. well I give up trying to sleep and got up and set up all night and onct in a wile I took a little nap seting up but a man dont get no real rest when you set up. And all as it took us to get from tokio to Kobe was 14 hrs. and its a bout as far like it is from Chicago to Detroit. Well Al Im glad we dont have these here japan R.R. in the american League or we would be 1/2 the season going from Boston to st. Louis.

well we finely got to Kobe but 1st. I want to tell you a bout the banquit the night before last night and a bout the games yest. The banquit was gave by americans that live in Yokohama the poor suckers and evry body made speeches and finely I was ast to get up and resite my pone only Id wrote it in such a hurry that they wasent no lenth to it but pretty good at that and I will coppy it off:

The White Sox and the N. Y. giants

Are going a round the world.

play games in the diffrunt countrys

All a round the world.

We played a game this P. M.

And I pitched for the N. Y. team
but the luck of the base ball game

Broke against me it seems.

I went in there with a sore arm .

And couldent raze it a bove my head.

But Mcgraw ast I should pitch.

what more could be said.

Next time I face against the White Sox

I hope I will be in form

Amt then we will see what hapens

When theys 0 the matter with my arm.

But now we all want to say

Your well come to us is grate
and we will tell the boys how kind you were

In the United States.

Well Al it brot down the Hotel where the banquit was at and it looked for a minut like Id half to get up and say it over but they seen I was all tired out from working 9 inn. with my arm in such shape like that so they left me set down. we got to bed late and it certunly felt fine sleeping in a bed on the dry ground and not no Ocean water under you and sharks atacking the Ship. I over slept my self and wasent up yest. A. M. when the rest of the party left on the Ship bord for Kobe and I had to hussle to get drest in time to go out to the collige and in the A. M. Callahan and Mcgraw picked a team out from all the ball players and played against the japan collige team and they played ball just a bout like all the collige teams I ever seen and I was glad I wasent in there pitching against them or I would of felt like a murder. our club beat them 16 to 3 and it could of been 100 and then we ett our lunch at the collige and in the P. M. the White Sox give the giants an other triming and the score was 12 to 9 and if I couldent win a game with 9 runs behind me I would quite pitching and shin shoes or some thing. But some of these here pitchers havent got nothing but there name and a dress and Hern that pitched for the N. Y. giants says he had a sore arm but where would he get a sore arm when he hadent did nothing for 2 wks. accept sale acrost the Ocean. I guess probily a fish bit his arm hey Al. Some of these here would be a pitchers all ways have a alley buy when they loose a ball game and when they loose a ball game it aint never there falt but its some body else falt or they got a sore arm or a pane in there stumick or some thing.

but I wisht you could of been out there and seen the way the peopl act it and they wasent no seats for them in the bleachers but they set down on mats with there legs under them like a taylor or some thing and they dident holler like a reglar crowd and I guess may be they was dissapointed on account of me not pitching and the peopl that wasent out there the day before when I pitched was sore but at that I shouldent never ought to of went in there the way my arm was. Well after the game we road a round and seen the sites and had supper and then we catched the train for Kobe like I told you a bout only we could of let the train get 50 miles from the town and then ran after it and catched it.

We got in Kobe at 9 a clock A. M. this morning and most of the boys made a monkey of them self buying Kumonnas to take home to there wife and other junk but Florries all ready got 2 Kumonnas that must be O.K. because she wares them all the wile so I dident buy nothin and I was glad of 1t after words because just before we was leaveing this P. M. all the ladys in the party was gave a baskit of flowers and I got 1 to and I will ship it to Florrie from china and I guess thats better then Kumonnas.

The rest of the party got to Kobe a bout noon and we joined them on the Ship bord and now wear all to gather again bound tords china. we will still be on the Ship bord yet for 2 more days and I will write you an other letter tommorow and male the both of them this 1 and the 1 I write tommorow to gather.

Your pal, Jack,

ON THE SHIP BORD.
DEC. 10.

Old Pal:  Well old pal I dident write you no letter yest. on acct of us landing and I dident know we was going to land any wheres but we land it at a place name Naggasak or some thing in the P. M. and fooled a round til a bout 2 a clock this A. M. and I got in to my birth a bout 3 and now its pretty near noon and I just got threw with my breakfast.

we stoped at this here Naggasak to buy some cole for the Ship because wear libel to run in to some cold weather at china and they say this here place we stoped at it is the fastest coleing station in the world and we stood on the porch a long wile watching them put cole on the Ship bord and they must of been a 1000000 japans men wommen and childern passing cole up the side of the Ship bord and the wommen was the mens wife and there childern and what do you think of a man that would make his wife and childern work a long with him and it would be just like as if I was to make Florrie and little Al help me only of coarse I dont need no help when Im pitching.

Then they was a bunch of pedlers come on the Ship bord and tride to sell us some more junk and some of the boys fell for it but Im going to hold on to my money til theys some thing worth spending for it and not no Turtles shells like the boys was buying today and when you get them what can you do with them and they aint no more use then if I was to throw a spit ball when my fast 1 and my curve is working good. And some of the boys took a ride a round the town but I stuck here on the Ship bord and rest it. dutch Schaefer come in to my birth room last night and we laughed and joked and I rosted him a bout he not knowing that the R. R. was not runing no more from japan to the US and he took my kiding O.K. because I dident make it to raw. And he seen the baskit of flowers in my birth room and ast me what was I going to do with them and I says what do you supose Im going to do with them eat them and he says No I thot may be you was going leave them go to seed and then plow your shirt boozem up and start a garden and I says No Im not going to start no garden but Im going to male them home partial post to my wife from china and Schaefer says she will be glad to get them but you better write a note on the out side of the packige and tell the male carier to water them evry day or 2 on the way over so Schaefer raped up the flowers for me in a packige and left a hole in it so as theys a place to sqirt water on them and wrote on the out side for the male man to water them only of coarse it will be a hole lot of diffrunt male men that handles them before they get to Chicago and Schaefer wrote the note in china japan and englich so as they would all under stand it and may be they wont have time to put no water on them but if they dont Florrie wont care when she gets them because she will see Im thinking a bout her water or no water.

Well Al it looks like I would starve wile wear in china because I wont be able to eat none of there meat because Schaefer says all as they have is chop suye and over here in china they put rats in it and I says Well you wont get me to eat no chop suye with rats in it and Schaefer says Well then you will starve to deth because thats all you will get in the line of meat and did you ever taste rats and I says No and I wont never taste them nether and Schaefer says you dont know what your mising because when 2 rats been plucked and the rat poson tooken out of there cistern they aint no sweeter meat you can get a hold of accept may be mole stake. But I dont care weather its sweet or saur you wont catch me eating no rat meat and may be seting up my stumick again.

Schaefer and Evans has been lerning me a few words in china and there harder to lern then the japan words and I only lerned a few just enough to get a long with if I hapened to be a lone by my self a way from the rest of the party. When you want to say Wheres the Hotel you say Lie Hung Schang only of coarse that aint the fellow that catchs for the Athaletics and if a man pitched right to him he wouldent hit 1 out of the infield. And when you want to say how do do to 1 of them you say Chink Chink china man and if they ast me what position do I play I say Me velly bushy and that means Im a pitcher and if they ast me what club am I with I say Chi White sockee Tong. And when you want to say good by to 1 of them you say Go helly. Aint them crazy words Al and a man that lerns the hole languige must be a wonder only of coarse some of them dont never lern nothing else but beggins to talk china when there still babys yet but Im glad little Al wont half to lern to talk by talking china because it must be hard enough for a baby to lern plane englich when your nothing but a baby.

Well Al may be I can eat a little some thing now and Im going to eat all as I can hold before we get to china where I wont be able to eat no meat and for all as I know they put some thing in there potatos to may be gravey made out of parish green or some thing.

Tommorow we will be in Schang High and I will write you what comes off and I will male this here letter Im writeing now a long with the other 1 I all ready wrote from Schang High and the flowers for Florrie.

Your pal, Jack

ON THE SHIP BORD.
DEC. 12.

Al:  Well Al wear all threw with Schang High and now wear on our way to Honk Honk and we left Schang High last night and was only there 1 day and we get to Honk Honk the next day after tommorow and we stay there 1 day and then wear threw with china for good and I will be glad of it on acct of you cant eat nothing in china with out your takeing a chanct of geting posoned and Im glad we can have the most of our meals on the Ship bord because I wont eat none of that china dope and the rest of them can be suckers if they have a mind.

Well we got in to Wooze Hung yest. A. M. and then we got off of the Umpires of japan and got a bord of the tender boat and road to Schang High and we got there a bout 1/2 past 10 in the A. M. and they was a comitty to meet us down to the Doc and they was members of the china amature B. B. league and Evans says to me Well you should ought to feel at home a round here and I says Why and he says because theys so many amature ball players and they took us up to the aster House Hotel and we ett lunch there and then we was geting ready for the game but Mcgraw made the miss take and told Callahan that I was going to pitch and Callahan ast me how did my arm feel and I says it felt grate. It beggin to sprinkle a few drops and Callahan called the game off and I guess you know why Al because if I had of went in there feeling good I would of made them look like a rummy and Callahan portended like he was sorry a bout the rain but if it hadent of rained I bet he would of hired the fire dept. to go out and wet the grounds up so as we couldent play. It shows you Al that Callahan knows how lucky the White Sox was to beat me in tokio and I bet by now Callahans sore he ever lended me to Mcgraw for this trip.

Well when the game was called off we went a round the town site seen and that shows you how much it was raining and if the sun had of been shineing Callahan would of said it was to hot to play or some thing but they wont be excusses for him all the wile and may be tommorow I will be able to get in there and give them a showing up and Im glad that the White Sox is not the reglar White Sox but some out siders a long with them because I would not feel like pitching my best against my own club.

Yest. P. M. we seen the sites as I say and after words they ast us to have some lunch in the Hotel only they call it tifin and thats because there a shamed to call it lunch on acct of the stuff they give you and I was hungery as a bare but I wouldent of ett nothing if I had of been starved to deth and they dident have no meat just sand witchs and cake and that stuff and I thot may be it might be all O.K. but Schaefer says the sand witchs was made from out of poson ivey only it aint as posen is the kind at home and dont have no affect on some peopl but it pretty near kills other people and Schaefer says he had tride it before and it dident hurt him but it might may be hurt me a little only he did not think it would hurt me much but I wasent going to take no chance. And the cakes was frost it with leather from the china landry soap Schaefer told me. But he says it wasent nothing like the soap at home and why dident I try some and I says No thanks I dont care for no soap and he says I thot so. Then he says Why dont you talk china to some of these peopl and I says a few words to them in china and they just set there and did not say nothing with there mouth open like a fish or some thing. So when we was leaveing I says Go helly and Callahan says you better be care full or some body will stick a knife in to you talking like that way and then I told him what it ment and he had to laugh at him self because he thot I was insulting them or some thing.

Well Al when we get to Honk Honk we will be threw with the Umpires of japan thats the Ship we been rideing on ever since we left the US and the capt of the Ships going to give us a fair well banquit tommorow night and he should ought to do some thing after us giveing him them tips when we got off of the boat at Yokohama and Evans says wear suposed to give the capt and the rest of the crews some more tips when we say good by to the Ship at Honk Honk but I cant do that on acct of all the money I got is japan money and if the Ship is going back to the US after it leaves us what would the crews do with yen and sen but insted of giveing them some more tips Im going to write an other of my pones to speak at the banquit and before I get threw Al I guess I will be able to write poultry as good is I pitch. Only this time insted of a pone a bout our party or the trip I will pay a complimunt to the capt and the crews of the Ship.

So long old pal for this time.

your Pal, Jack.

ON THE SHIP BORD.
DEC. 16.

Friend Al:  Well Al I guess its a bout time I was writeing you a letter again and I promused I would write 1 evry day but the day after I wrote you the last time we was busy packing up our stuff to get off of the Umpires of Japan and then that night they was the banquit and the next day we was in Honk Honk and we all had to get our self vaxinated and that night we got a bord of this boat the St. Allbums and now wear on our way to Vanila and the Philip Bean ilands and I would of wrote you yest. only I got lonesom thinking a bout Florrie and little Al and just think Al I havent herd nothing from them since we was in Yokohama and then it was 2d. hand it you might say. Some of the boys got some male in Honk Honk but letters has got to be a drest in china hand writeing when you get them there and Florrie dont know nothing a bout that so probily she wrote me a letter there and I dident get it but I will may be get 1 in Vanila. Or they may be dead for all as I know. But any way I sent them some post cards from Honk Honk.

Well Al I will tell you whats been going on since the last time I wrote to you and 1st. comes the banquit that the capt of the Umpires of japan give us and they was the usul speechs and storys and Schaefer and the boys sung a song and then I got u’p and pulled what Id wrote a bout the capt and the crews and I will coppy it down.

Boys its time to say good by

To the capt and the crews
of the Umpires ofjapan

Evry 1 of them a man.

They give us grand treatmunt

Wile we was on the bord of there Ship

And add to the plessure

Of the grate B. B. trip.

Wear sorry to leave you boys

You done the best you could

And if any miss takes was made.

You was doing the best you could.

A man cant do evry thing.

Thats not to be expected.

And as long as you was trying
what more could be expected.

So by gones is by gones boys

And now that we must part.

We wish you all the luck in the world

Is the wish from the bottom of my heart.

Well Al I thot they wouldent never stop yeling when I got threw and the capt got up out of his seat and thanked me and says he appresiated my pone more then the tip I give him when we got off of the Ship at Yokohama and he was all choked up when he was talking and I guess some of the wommen in the party broke down and cride because I could hear them snuffeling and the banquit broke up after that and we all went to bed to get some sleep and the next morning when we woke up we was at Honk Honk and geting ready to land when some brittich oficers clumb on the bord of the Ship and says we all got to be vaxinated just like we was all kids or some thing and Mcgraw and Callahan made a kick but the oficers says they was small Pox in Honk Honk and did we want to get a hold of it so we all had to get vaxinated and I says I did not feel like pitching the game that P. M. so I thot I would stay on the bord of the Ship but come to find out we couldent stay on the Ship on acct of it leaveing us there so I had to get off and I feel O.K. so far Al and I guess I dident catch no small Pox or nothing because here its been 2 days since we was in Honk Honk and not no marks on me accept the spot where I was vaxinated at.

Well we went to the Hotel and the boys ett there lunch and I did not eat nothing and Callahan says Why not and says You must think Im a rummy or some thing and its bad enough to eat them rats and things when they aint got small Pox on them and he says I wisht you was as care full a bout your pitching as you are a bout evry thing else and I says You will see weather I can pitch or not pitch this P. M. and he shut up. But Mcgraw wouldent leave me pitch the game on acct of them not chargeing no money to get in to the park and besides most of the people out to the game was brittich solders from england and Mcgraw says he would not waist me on people that did not under stand the game and besides that did not pay to get in so I set on the bench and the giants beat the White Sox 7 to 4 and thats the 1st game the giants has win on the trip since we left the US and they was lucky to win this 1 and shouldent never ought to of scored only Scott pitched against them and dident have nothing but his glove.

Well after the game we got on the tender boat and went out and got on this boat the St. Allbums and started for Vanila and when I come to put on my evening dress cloths for supper I found out I dident have no dress shirt and I looked all over the place for it and finely Callahan loned me 1 of his and hes got 2 of them but Id like to know whot be come of mine and if some body run off with it and steve Evans say Dident you make a miss take and leave it in 1 of them landrys at Honk Honk and I says No I did not and he says may be 1 of them brittich oficers seen it and sent it to the pest house thinking it had small pox on acct of the white spots on it but he was just jokeing and ether some cheap stiff copped on to it or else it was stole. I guess I was swareing and cusing a little a bout it and Evans says do you feel bad a bout it and I says Yes why not and he says Well you want to remember that the man that got it feels a hole lot worst. He ment he was probily a shamed of him self. Callahans shirt is O.K. accept its like mine and hasent got no buttons in the boozem nothing but button holes and the man or who ever was it that took my shirt took a long then little black tax that you get from the landry and I buttoned my own shirt with them and I have not got none of them left to stick in Callahans shirt but my neck ty covers the boozem all most up.

Well Al I certunly put some thing over on the rest of the bunch Al and I bet theyll be sore when they find it out. All the rest of them got there japan money changed to US money at Honk Honk because US money is the reglar money in the Philip Bean ilands and now come to find out the japan money is worth 4 times its reglar price in the Philip Bean ilands and they will give me $10.00 dollars for what I got and in japan and china it isent only worth $2 and 1/2. Evans was teling me a bout it tonight and he wanted I should sell him my 5 yens for $8.00 and I told him to go and take a jump in to the Ocean only it aint no Ocean but the china Sea wear rideing threw now. I guess Im a rummy or something hey Al.

Well we get to Vanila tommorow and theys a hole lot of americans there and Mcgraws promused Im going to pitch and my arm feels grate. I cant hardily wait til we get to Vanila not on acct of me going to pitch but I bet may be theyll surely be a letter for me.

Your old pal, Jack.

ON THE SHIP BORD.
DEC. 17.

Al:  What time do you think it is Al and here I am writeing you a letter at 1/2 past 6 in the morning and we will be in Vanila in 2 hrs. Well Al weve had some exitemunt on the bord and I been up since 5 and now its to late to go back to bed again so Im writeing you this letter to tell you what come off.

steve Evans come to my room about 5 and awoke me up and says let me in so I got up and let him in and he come in and slamed the door and locked it and I says Whats the matter is they bergers on the boat and he says No theys some thing worst then bergers and he was so scarred he couldent say nothing for a while. And then he told me what it was and heres what it was Al. 1 of the night watch men was going by dutch Schaefers birth room a bout 1/2 past 4 and he herd some thing in there and he tride the door and the door come open and he went in and Schaefer was sqeeking like a rat and nawing on the door and when the watch man come in Schaefer sqeeked at him and tride to bite him and the watch come runin out and for got to shut the door and Schaefer come out after him and chassed him and the watch men got a way and then Schaefer run to Evans room and done some more sqeeking out side of the door and Evans got up and come out and seen who was it and Schaefer made a grab at him like he was going to bite him and Evans got back in his room and locked the door and then hollered threw the key hole and ast Schaefer what was the matter. And Schaefer says they wasent nothing the matter but he must have some cheese. So then Evans come and give me warning and says I should keep my door locked because it was me Schaefer was after and I dident believe it at 1st. but pretty soon sure enough we herd a noise out side of the door and sqeeking like a rat and Evans says he would open the door and see if he could catch Schaefer and lock him up and Evans started for the door to unlock it open and I grabbed him and throwed him on to the bed and set on him and pretty soon some body hollered in from out side of the door and says evry thing was O.K. and the Dr. had got a hold of Schaefer and tooken him to his room. So I got off of Evans and opened the door and Joe Farrell come in and says the danger was all over and we ast him what was the matter and he told us what the Dr. says and the Dr. says Schaefer must of got some rat poson from that meat he was eating in Honk Honk but the Dr. give him some anicdotes and he was all O.K. now but if he had went a little longer before the Dr. got a hold of him he would of had a bad atack of what they call rat hiderofobeya and he might of bit some body else and they would of got it and pretty soon every body on the bord of the Ship would of been contajus. You see Al what suckers them fellows was that ett that china dope and may be it was the poson ivey in them sand witchs only of coarse it must of been the chop suy or he wouldent of sqeeked like a rat and nawed at them bords. We made up our mind that we wouldent say nothing a bout it to the wommen in the party because what would be the use scarring them now its all over and wommens libel to have histerks when they get scarred and there scarred easy no matter how many big stropping men like I they got on the Ship bord to see that nothing dont hapen to them. And wear not going to say nothing to Schaefer a bout it on acct of the Dr. teling us that he probily never knowed what come off but thot he was in bed all the wile and Evans wanted I should go in and help Schaefer pack his things up but I told him a bout me haveing to write you this letter and besides Schaefer probily got packed up before he went to bed. But it shows you what suckers they was Al eating that chop suy and I wisht I was to your house in Bedford to get my breakfast this A. M. and in joying some of Berthas Pan cakes that they aint no poson ivey or rats in it. Only just sour milk and suggar and butter and what ever else they is in it. We must be geting pretty clost to Vanila and I will half to get my things to gather.

Your pal, Jack.

ON THE SHIP BORD.
DEC. 19.

Old Pal:  Well wear on the Ocean again after being a round Vanila for 2 days and so much come off that 1t will take me a long wile to tell you all a bout 1t but 1st. and 4 most I want to tell you a bout the ball game and probily you will see it in the papers because we got 2 reporters a long with us but they will give me the worst of it like usul and I want you should know the truth. This here Mcgraw dont know no more a bout manageing a ball club than a rabbit or some thing and he must of had a hole lot of luck to win all them penants only the day before yest. he dident have none of the luck because the White Sox had all of it. You see Al the air in the Philip Bean ilands is all ways muggy and it gets the ball wet and damp and heavy and a man cant brake his curve good and your fast 1 wont hop for you. So Mcgraw should ought to of picked Faber or Wiltse or this here Hern to pitch because they havent none of them got nothing any way so what diffrunts does it make if the airs muggy but take a man like I and the balls got to feel light in your hands or I cant get no hop on it or brake my curve sharp. I had a nosion to tell Mcgraw a bout it before the game ever started but I seen what a bunch of americans they was out to the park and I says to my self rather then dissapoint the crowd I will go in there and stall threw the game but I knowed all the wile that I wouldent be no good and not have nothing. But I went in there and I seen right a way that my speed and hook wasent no good on acct of the air so I just slopped them up there slow 1 after slow 1 and of coarse when you give them a slow 1 all the time theyll finely crack 1 on you unlest you mix them up with your curve and fast 1 and I couldent do that on acct of the air and honest Al the ball felt like 1 of these here shots that them collige willy boys put in there athaletic meats. But at that they had to have a horse shoe to score off of me and it wasent none of Callahans own men that done nothing but the guys he got off of the other clubs to make the trip and if it had of been the real White Sox I could of shut them out even if the ball had of been heavy is Ping Bodie.

Well Al we went a long neck in neck for 5 inings and then Benz give Larry Doyle a fast 1 right over the middle and Larry busted it inside of 1st base and then Daly has a boot and Slight gets a past ball and we score and I supose evry body thot I would win easy with 1 run because they dident know nothing a bout me not being able to use my fast 1 or hook so in the 7th. Doyle and Merkle booted a couple behind me and put 2 on and they was 2 out and Crawford come up and I looked over to the bench and sined to Mcgraw should I walk him and Mcgraw shook his head no so what could I do but stick them over there with out no more on them then little Al when hes takeing a bath only of coarse he dont take no bath but some body gives them to him. So Crawford gets a hold of 1 and busts it to right field and it should ought to of been a single and only 1 run scored but this here Indian Thorp thot he had to kick it all over the park to show the Philip Beans what a foot ball player he is and before the ball come back Crawford was on 3d. base and the other 2 had scored and we was a run behind and thats how it wound up but we could of tide it up in the 9th. when Doolan was on 3d. base and 2 down and my turn to hit and Mcgraw takes me out and sends up this here left hander Wiltse and he popped up and the game was over and honest Al if I couldent hit what Benz was throwing up there and brake down the fencel would take my uneform off and sell it to a old cloths man or charitty. I been reading a bout this here Mcgraw and what a grate mgr. and all that ever since I was a ft. high and come to find out he dont know no more a bout manageing then 1 of these here waiters and if you dont give them a $.25 cent tip they get sore and next time you come in to there place there libel to stick parish green in your soup bold.

Then they was an other game yest. besides the 1 the day before yest. and the White Sox win the game yest. to and they played it in the rain because Callahan knowed I had pitched the day before so they wasent no chanct of me pitching again but if theyd been a chanct of me pitching you can bet he would of called the game off on acct of the rain.

Well Al we come in to Vanila the day before yest. in the A. M. and I guess I told you a bout Schaefer haveing that atack and he was all O.K. again when we got off of the Ship bord and I kept a way from him for fear I would may be for get my self and say some thing a bout he being sick. They was a band on the Doc to meet us and when we got off they played the stars and strips and Hale to Columbus and all them tunes and it made a man feel kind a home sick hearing them tunes way over here in a farm country and then we was road all over Vanila from 9 to pretty near Noon and Evans showed me where they bottle up the vanila and its on acct of them makeing so much of it here that this is the reason they named the town Vanila. And he showed me the street where Ad. Dooley won the navey fight from the Philip Beans when america was fighting them the war and the US should ought to of been a shamed to pick on these people Al because there about as big like Bush of the Detroit club and all colered peopl the most of them and cant fight out side of Jack Johnson and this here langferd. Then we had our lunch down to the Vanila hotel and it was so hot that the most of us ran a round with out no coats on and just think of that Al in the middle of Dec. and you and Bertha probily 1/2 froze there in Bedford. But we wont be to hot very long because the day after tomorrow wear going to go acrost the Equater and Evans says wear libel to run in to 50 bellow Zero and he took me in to a store so as I could get some heaver cloths for when we go acrost the Equater and when we get up to australia. He says I better get some overshoes and big thick mittons and a blankit and wile I was looking over some of the stuff Evans says he had to go to the Hotel and write a letter so I stuck in the store a lone and I had a blankit and some mittons all picked out and they come to a bout $7.00 dollars but I wanted to get my moneys worth on acct. of haveing that japan money that Evans told The was worth 4 times as much in Vanila is it is In japan and china. But when I come to pay the man and give him my 5 yens he told me it would be a bout $5.00 more and come to find out Evans was wrong a bout the japan money being worth more and it may be use to be but not no more so all as I got was the mittons and they come to $2.00 dollars and that left me with 1 of them yens and I traded it to the man for a 1/2 dollar. It looks like I would half to borry some money on of Callahan or Comiskey before we get off of the boat at australia.

Well Al we went out to the ball pk. in the P. M. and the band went a long and some clubs from the Vanila league was out there in uneform and Schaefer says the diffrunt clubs are all named after some flavor like you get in a soda water founliln on acct of the league is the Vanila league and the teams is called chockaluts and straw burys and cherrys and grape jews. They practiced a round with us a wile and I couldent help from feeling sorry for them and then we was interduced to the Mare of Vanila and the Gens. of the army and navey and then come the game that I all ready told you a bout it and whats a man going to do when you cant make your curve ball brake and your fast 1 is as strate is a string on acct of the air.

That night they was a Grand ball on the Roof garden at the hotel and the gardens up on the lop of the Hotel and I bet I took off 10 lbs tripeing 1 the life fantatic and some of the girls we danced with them was pretty swell lookers only I would of traded any 2 of them for Florrie and Violet the girl that was stuck on me in Detroit and she must of went in the sane to marry that left hander Hill and his fast balls so slow they wont let it on the blvd. 1 of the girls ast me what position did I play on the team and I told her a bout me being a pitcher and she says she thot I was the short stop on acct of the way I danced and I guess she ment how smoothe I moved a round. Then we had some stuff to eat and drink and the party broke up and I went to bed and the next morning thats yest. A. M. we was ast out to Billy Bids prisson and the mgr. of it showed us all threw and his names Stewart but not no relation to the Stewart that was a oficer on the Umpires of japan and theys an other Stewart thats a oficer on the Ship bord wear on now the St. Allbums. Then they was a big lunch for us with all the swell peopl of Vanila and then they was the ball game and I dident even half to dress on acct of me pitching the day before and then we was drove back to the Hotel and down to the St. Allbums and the band played them same tunes like they played when we come and we left Vanila at 6 a clock last night.

Thats a bout all that come off at Vanila Al accept I guess I dident tell you a bout me not geting no male and I told Callahan a bout it and he says to never mind because he is going to call up Chicago again from australia and will try and find out how my famlys geting a long and they must be some thing wrong or I would of herd from Florrie but I got some post cards in Vanila and if I find out in australia that her and little Al is all O.K. I will send her the post cards from there and if there sick or dead or some thing I might just is well tare the post cards up and there diffrunt views of the Hotel where we stoped at but of coarse if theys some thing the matter at home I will go strate home from australia and will be to worred to think a bout post cards.

Your pal, Jack.

ON THE SHIP BORD.
DEC. 21.

Friend Al:  Well Al wear safe acrost the Eqater and it wasent 1/2 as bad is I expected and insted of being cold it was hot and I bet I took off 10 or 15 lbs. prespireing. Evans says its usuly way bellow Zero but it was hot tonight on acct of Mcgraw talking a bout Klem the umpire at the supper table. He was just jokeing and after words he told me it was probily hot because they was so many stars out.

Id been laying a round on the porch all day and they wasent much doing accept in the morning we seen some vol Canos and they was some site Al and I found out that theys peopl liveing right clost up to some of them and I says to Evans you wouldent never catch me liveing near 1 of them and he says it wasent no worse then playing right field in St Louis.

Well when we come to the supper table most of the boys wasent wareing there evening cloths but most of them had on these here sutes like the dudes wares in N. Y. city in the summer and come to find out theyd got them in Vanila on acct of expecting to run in to hot weather but Evans says they will wisht they had boughten blankits and fur coats when we get up to australia. Well a little wile after supper the capt says we was geting near the Eqater and Evans told me I better go in and rap up so I come in my room and put on my base ball swetter and over coat and took 1 of the blankits off of my birth and come out on the porch and all the boys was out there waiting for the Eqater and finely we got right clost up to it and dutch Schaefer hollers for evry body to hang on to the rale of the porch and we hung on and all most before you knowed any thing a bout it we was acrost and on the other side and they wasent hardily no jar just a bout like when a train beggins to slow up for the station. But as I say I was pretty near rosted to deth with them cloths on and I come right back in here and got evry thing off and now Im writeing in my night gown. Well Al Im glad we got acrost O.K. and Schaefer says sometimes the jars worst then other times and a friend of hisn went acrost onct when it was bad and his Stumick was drove up in his throte and got stuck there and the Dr. on the Ship bord had to drive it down again with a fungo Stick because he dident have no instermunts a long. But wear acrost now Al and all safe and I will male you this letter a long with the 1 I wrote the day before yest. and I will write a couple more and male them all to gather when we get up to Australia.

your old pal, Jack.

ON THE SHIP BORD.
DEC. 24.

Al:  Just a note Al to go in with them other 2 letters and I will male them 3 to gather because I couldent get no more then these 3 in 1 envellop and I will write you an other tomorrow night and tell you what kind of a xmas did we have and I never thot nothing a bout tomorrow being xmas til the boys beggin to talk a bout it and there going to fix up a xmas tree for Callahans kids thats a long on the trip and evry bodys going to stick some thing on the tree for them and I guess I will give them 1 of the post cards of the hotel where we stoped at in Vanila and I can buy an other to send Florrie when we get to australia. And what do you think Al the boys are going to give me a xmas present on acct of the pomes I wrote for them banquits and all so I guess I made a big hit with the boys on this trip because I treat evry body just the same weather there stars or fellows that should ought to be driveing a dray instead of playing ball and may be you know who I reffer to But any way there going to give me a little xmas supprise and Im going to supprise them to Al. Im going to write 1 of them pomes of mine and spring it on them when they call me up to get my present and guess what ever they give me the pome more than pay for it unlest of coarse it should be a dimond ring or a dimond brooch or some thing like that and I havent got no idear what is it there going to give me. But it shows they think a hole lot of me even if it aint no more then a small watch or a pare of dimond cuff buttons.

We aint got up far enough yet to run in to the cold weather and I guess I could of waited till we get to australia before I bought them mittons.

Your pal, Jack.

ON THE SHIP BORD.
DEC. 25.

Friend Al:  what do you think of a bunch of cheap screws Al and smart alex like the cheap screws thats makeing this trip and if they was where they bellong theyd be runing 1 of these here hawk shops the cheap stiffs. We dont get to australia for 3 or 4 days yet and I only wisht we was going to be there tommorow so as I could get on a boat or a train or what ever is it that would take me home and the sooner I get off of this trip I will be tickeled to deth.

Well Al I bet you wont beleive it when I tell you what they pulled off on me after all Id did for them and I wouldent of never came a long on the trip only for Mcgraw and Callahan begging me and sayin they wouldent be no trip unlest I come a long.

Well Al we stayed up late last night fixxing up the xmas tree for Callahans kids and the boys finely chassed me to bed and says I musent be there when they hung my present up on the tree and this A. M. we was all up early and I was going to try and be out on the porch 1st and see if may be I couldent see what kind of a packige mine was did up in but when I got up pretty near evry body else was up all ready and we all got a round the tree and all the diffrunt presents was gave to the 2 kids and both of them beleives in sandy Claus Al because there nothing but young kids. So when all there presents was gave to them dutch Schaefer says Now we will see what has sandy Claus brought for Jack Keefe and they wasent only 1 packige left hanging on the tree and I might of knew from looking at the packige that they was pulling some thing off because the packige was to big for a watch or a ring or some thing a man would expect for a xmas present. So Schaefer took the packige down off of the tree and started to give it to me and I started to take it and then Schaefer seen the peace of paper in my hand where I had my pome wrote on it and he says I would half to read the pome before I got the present so I read the pome and I bet I wouldent of read no pome or nothing else if Id knew then what they was giveing me. But the pome was O.K. Al and I will coppy it down and you can see what I read to them.

Boys I want to tell you

How I apresiate this supprise
and the xmas present your giveing me

Comes like a big supprise.

Ive tride to be fare with evry 1

Ami done the best I can

To make this trip a grand big success
for Comiskey and Callahan.

Wear makeing this trip a round the world

And seen all the sites

But boys theys no country in the world

Like the grand old stars and Strips.

So thanks for this xmas present boys

I apresiate it 1 and all

And all that I can say to you

Is Mary xmas to 1 and all.

and then they give a big cheer Al and I says I would take the packige to my birth room and open it up but they says no I would half to open it up there in front of them and it was all did up in ribons and tissu paper and I finely got it opened up Al and it was the shirt that I thot had been stole off of me and it hadent even been landryd and was just like it was the last time Id wore it and what do you think of a bunch Al that would pull a thing like that and give you a xmas present that was yours all ready and theyd stole it off of you and hid it some wheres.

Well Al I was so sore for a minut that its lucky I dident cut lose and bust some body or throw them off the Ship bord only that would not be doing right by the fish to throw a bunch of cheap bums like them in to the Ocean water and poson the Ocean water but its a wonder I dident hall off and bust some body and all as kept me from it was on acct of the ladys in the party so I just told them a few things a bout what they was and then I beat it in to my room and I been here ever since and you can bet your last $1.00 that this here trip will be over as far is Im conserned the minut we get to australia. steve Evans come in to my room a wile a go and he says him self that it was a dirty trick only he dident have nothing to do with it Al and he says it was probily some of them would be pitchers thats jellus because they couldent catch a st. car with there fast 1 and thats who it probily was.

Well Al they can do all the pitching thats did on the trip after this and we will see if Mcgraw and Callahan likes there kind of pitching because I wont be on the trip no more after we get to australia and may be I will be back in Chicago by the time you get this letter and I wisht now I had of went back on the boat from Honk Honk to the US and may be I would of been in Chicago now with Florrie and little Al.

Instead of that here I am in the middle of the Ocean some wheres and broke and got to borry money to get home and makeing a trip a round the world with a bunch thats so cheap that if it costed a nichol to get in to heaven they would go to the other place provide it Satin would leave them in on a pass. Only I wont be on no trip after we get to australia.

But look at me Al spending xmas with these bums here where ever it is wear at and I might of been home spending xmas right with Florrie and little Al and they can take there base ball and keep it for all of me and I will go in to some business where a mans treated right. A fine Mary xmas this is hey Al.

Your pal, Jack.

• 3 •

Cairne, Barroom Falls, Brizz Bay, Sidney, Melbourne, and the Grate Australian Bite

ON THE SHIP BOARD.
DEC. 27.

Friend Al:  Well Al the boys is playing shovvel bord and I hope there in joying themself and steve Evans was just in my room a little wile a go and wanted I should be his pardner in the game and I says Do you think Im going to hang a round and play games with a bunch of cheap stiffs like them that give a man his own shirt for a xmas present. I says All as I want is for us to hurry up and get to australia and the sooner as we get there I will quit the trip and start home.

Then Evans says Well you know I did not have nothing to do with giveing you your shirt and I want you should play pardners with me and may be we can give some of them cheap stiffs a good triming and show them up and I says no not under no condision I will play shovvel bord or nothing else with a bunch like them cheap stiffs and he says Well you will half to play base ball with them next summer and then I told him a bout me having made my mind up to quit base ball and go in to some busness where a man gets treated sqare and he says What busness was you going in to and I says I haven’t deside it and then Evans give me a pretty good idear Al and may be I will take it up but I got all winter to think about what do I want to do.

But Evans says I should ought to get a job on 1 of the news papers and write some of my pones for them and may be they would send me out to the ball pk. and have me write some of my pones a bout the ball game and then I could get back at some of these no good bums by rosting them in the paper.

Evans says of coarse the paper what ever 1 give me the job probily would not pay me more then twict what Comiskey pays me the 1st yr. but after that when the paper seen I was O.K. they would probily raze me clear up and give me as much is the reporters gets. And besides that if I was working on a news paper I would not never half to be worring a bout how long my arm was going to last but all as I would half to think a bout would be how long is my brains going to last and Evans says they should ought to last a life time if I did not work them no harder then when I was pitching and he ment I dont need nothing but my fast ball when I am working right.

But I dont know yet what Im going to do and may be I will open up a billard rm. in Chicago and I guess it would be a gold mind on acct. of how poplar I am with the fans and why not after the showing up I give the cubs. but any way Im going to quit the trip when we get up to australia and go home to Florrie and little Al where I bellong and a mans a sucker to ever leave your home when you got a wife and baby let a lone the bills Florries probily ran up on me wile I been a way.

Well Al we stoped off at thursday ilands yest. and was there 3 hrs. and I and Evans palled a round to gather and I would not have nothing to do with no body but him on acct. of he being the only 1 that wasent in on that dirty trick of giveing me my own shirt for a present and Evans him self says it was a dirty trick because they couldent be no other kind of a trick played with that shirt.

Wear a hole day behind time Evans says because we come to thursday ilands Friday and the reason they call it thursday ilands is on acct. of the boats being do there thursday but he says wear libel to make up time before we get to australia because its down grade the rest of the way.

They wasent much to see a round the ilands but we found out that this is the place where they catch all the perls like wommen wares on there rings and stick pins and I never knowed before that you fish for perls like you do blue gills but I all ways thot they come from out of a mind like a gold mind or dimond mind but Evans says there little fish like a scrimp and after there catched they scrivle up and get hard and of coarse they all ready been dead a long wile before they sell them in the jewlry store. But we was here at the wrong time of yr. and the perls dont bite only in may and Aug.

Well old pal they can take there perls and all the rest of there trip and jump in the Ocean with them as far is Im conserned and base ball to. Im threw with them Al or that is I will be as soon is we get to australia provide it I can borry enough money off of Comiskey or Callahan so as I can get home. This is a fine trip Al where you cant get no male from your own famly and you can pitch your head off and they dont even say thanks and the stuff you get to eat in the diffrunt countrys posons you and your to sick wile your on the Ship bord to in joy your meals only of coarse thats just the peopl that the ruff Ocean water makes them sick and it dont bother me no more then walking up and down state St. And a bunch of no good stiffs traveling a round with you. Next time they get me on 1 of these trips it will be wile Im a sleep and not even then. Just because I was a sucker onct but I wont be 1 again. Live and let lern as they say.

I cant hardly wait til we get up to australia and the 1st train leaveing out of there that will be the 1 Im on if I half to higher a taxi cab from the Doc to where ever the trains leaves at. And may be I will probily get to Chicago by the time as soon is this letter gets to you and the other 1 I havent maled it yet because we been on the Ocean all the wile.

Your old pal, Jack.

ON THE SHIP BORD.
DEC. 30.

Friend Al:  Well Al Im going to stay on the trip after all but thats in the condishon that Mcgraw does what he promused and heres what he promused. How I come to be talking to him Steve Evans called me to 1 side wile I was out on the porch yest. and says he just found out that Mcgraw wasent in on that dirty trick a bout giveing me my own shirt and Mcgraw was sore at the men that done it and he wanted to talk to me so I says all right I will talk to him if your sure he wasent 1 of them cheap stiffs Evans says No he was sure. So he called Mcgraw to where we was standing and Evans left I and him to gather and went a way and left us a lone and Mcgraw says What do you want and I says I just found out you wasent 1 of them peopl that give me the shirt and he says No of coarse not and I wouldent do no dirty trick like that. I says Well Im going to quit the trip and go home from australia and he says what for and I told him on acct of them cheap stiffs giveing me that shirt.

Then Mcgraw says Your not giveing me no sqare deal if you quit the trip because Im the 1 youll be hurting against and I havent did nothing to you.

Then I says Well I dont want to be on no trip where I half to assosiate with the cheap bums thats on this trip and Mcgraw says Well you dont half to have nothing to do with them but I want you to stick on the trip because I cant get a long with out you and I was figureing on useing you in the game at Brizz Bay. Thats the 1st place we stop at when we get to Australia Al and we get there the next day after tommorow. Mcgraw says They will be a lot of englich lords and this in that out to the game and I want to win the game in the front of them so I was counting on you to pitch.

I says Well I would like to win for you but I got no chanct to win when your club keeps kicking the ball a round in back of me.

Then Mcgraw says Well I will tell you what Ill do with you and if you win the game for me I will give you a real present and not no dirty shirt and if you stick on the trip all the way threw I will give you a diffrunt present evry time you win a game for me.

So you see Al Mcgraws O.K. and on the sqare and he is giveing me a sqare deal and when a man treats you right Im going to treat him right to. I wisht they was some way I could get a way from the White Sox and pitch for Mcgraw all the wile and if he give me a present for evry game I won for him in the reglar season I would have enough so as I wouldent half to throw a way no money on xmas presents for my friends only of coarse Im all ways glad to do the right thing by my friends if nessary. But of coarse theys no chanct for me to get a way from the White Sox because even if Comiskey and Callahan was willing to leave go of me they would half to get wavers and the minut they ast for wavers the other clubs would clame me when you said Jack Robison.

So it looks like as if I would stick on the trip Al and I can pall a round with Steve Evans and Mcgraw and not have nothing to do with the rest of them and have a good time and I guess Ill stick on the trip only I wont know til I pitch that game at Brizz Bay and see how I come out and is Mcgraw going to keep his promus.

I will beat them Al if the luck brakes even and if they dont kick the game a way in back of me.

We was on land most all day the day before yest. at a place name Cairns and we went site seen out to Barroom falls and seen a lot of bannanna and pin apple orchids where pin apples and bannannas grows right on the trees and thats better then buying them when you dont know when you buy them weather there O.K. or rotten til you get them home.

Of coarse you dont half to eat them when they aint good and some times you dont half to throw a hole bannanna a way but you can eat a round the bad spots only a man dont like to pay for a 1/2 doz. bannannas and come to find out the white part of them would only make a bout 3 hole bannannas if you put them all to gather.

Well Al I will male you all the letters I all ready got ready for you as soon is we get to Brizz Bay and I will write an other letter and tell you how I come out and I will chase them out of the ball pk. if my arm feels good.

Your pal, Jack,

ON THE SHIP BORD.
JAN. 2.

Al:  Well old pal wear threw with Brizz Bay and now wear on the way to Sidney some thing I dont know what the rest of the name is. But Im feeling so good Al that I dont care weather its Sidney this or that or what is it.

Well Al it was just like I told you and I told you that if I went in there when my arm was feeling O.K. I would make them White Sox think they was in a earth quack or some thing. We beat them 2 to 1 and we beat there best pitcher Jim Scott and made him look like a sucker but that aint all that come off Al and Id of rather had them beat us then to not have the rest of it come off and heres what come off Al. We got in to Brizz Bay the night before last night and it was to late to go any wheres but yest. A. M. we was tooken up to the hotel and a man give Mcgraw a pile of letters and post cards as big is the bat bag and a bunch of news papers to and when I herd Mcgraw calling the names off of the peopl for who the male was for I couldent hardily stand still but I was a scarred all the wile that of coarse they would not be nothing for me but finely all of a sudden he says Jack Keefe and give me a letter and it was from Florrie.

Well Al I set there feeling of it for a long wile before I opened it up because I kept thinking supose little Als dead or some thing the matter with him and thats why she wrote the letter to tell me a bout it but finely I opened the letter up and read it and they wasent nothing like that in it but there all O.K. Florrie and little Al and the Allens to tho the Allens could have a bad cold or some thing with out me getting worred sick over them. But the letter opened up dear Jack and then she went on and says I dont supose youll speak to I and your baby when you get home on acct of you going all the way a round the world and back wile I and the baby aint nothing but roobs that stays home all the wile but I thot may be you would like to hear how the babys geting a long tho I guess you dont care nothing a bout none of us when you run off and leave us all winterwith $250.00 dollars and expect us to pay rent and buy cloths and stuff to eat.

And then she says she was writeing to ask me to give her a check for the other $250.00 dollars I got in the bank because they was a story a round town that the bank where I got the money in it is in bad shape and libel to blow up any minut after the 1 of Feb. so if I got the check to her by the 1 of Feb. she could get the money out of the bank before it blowed up.

Then she says I should write her the check as soon is I wasent to busy holding hands and spooning with the qeens and princes in the diffrunt countrys so you see Al shes a little bit jellus and then she says little Al was just fine and all O.K. and got 4 teeth but theys a hole lot of things he should ought to have besides teeth and she cant buy them til she gets some more money and the Allens sends there regards but they can keep a hold of them.

Well Al I bet I must of read the letter over 1 doz. times and theys a little black spot in 1 cor. of it where may be little Al got a hold of it and then after I got threw reading it I set down and wrote her back a long letter and dident say nothing a bout the qeens and princes because it wont do her no harm to think Im haveing a good time tho I aint saw nothing yet that looks like qeens and princes but most of them looks like a wash womman or some thing. I all so sent her a check for the other $250.00 dollars I got in the bank and now I aint got nothing in the bank but she will get the check before the 1 of Feb. and its better to have her spend the money then the pres. of the bank go south with it and besides by the time we get back home it will be pretty near time to open the season.

Well Al I felt a 100 per % better after I got Florries letter and seen that her and the baby was all O.K. and I wouldent of cared if the White Sox had been lucky enough to beat me but they wasent Al and I beat them and Mcgraw come acrost with a present just like he promused and what do you think he give me Al. He give me a bran new shirt to ware with my evening dress sute and it aint no stiff boozem that you half to work 1/2 a day getting the buttons fixed in it but this 1 is as soft like silk and got a million rinkles in it and he give me some white buttons a long with it that works on a wire and the buttons matchs the shirt and the shirts white to.

And I dont half to send this shirt to the landry evry time theys some thing drops on it but I can wash it my self on acct it dont half to be irrened because a landry would probily irren all the rinkles out of it and there what makes the shirt so pretty.

Well Al Im feeling 100 per % better and base ball would be O.K. if all mgrs. was like Mcgraw and I wisht I could pitch for his club all the year a round because now there getting on to how I pitch and give me some kind of decent suport and the White Sox dident never have a chanct with us yest. we road a round all the A. M. in automobiles and seen what they was to be seen and then was tooken out to the pk. before noon and played the game and Mcgraw says to me You will half to make this a qick 1 because if you dont get the game over in 1 hr. and 1/2 we wont get nothing to eat before we half to get back on the boat so I says All right I wont try to strike no body out but I will try and make them hit the 1st. 1 and they wont get a good hold of it because my arm feels good and I will zip them threw there like they was shot out of a cannon and Mcgraw says dont waist your breth teling me a bout it but get out there and show me some thing.

Well Al I guess I showed him all right and if I hadent been in no hurry I bet I could of struck a bout 20 of them out but I kept sticking the 1st. 1 over with a good jump on it and all as they could do was pop them up in the air and they only hit 3 out of the in field all day and they wouldent of got there 1 run only I got carelest when I was pitching to Speaker in the 8 and he hit 1 down the foul line and made 3 bases on it and come in on a fly ball and he would of been out 20 ft. if this here Maggie had of throwed the ball to the plate insted of trying for a record and see how far could he throw it.

But there 1 run dident do them no good and they couldent of scored again if the game had of went 50 inings and we got both our runs in the 3d. and Weaver and Egan kicked a couple and Doyle got a hold of 1 and Scott was lucky we dident get a doz. runs insted of 2.

Well Al Im feeling better then I felt on the hole trip and I cant hardly wait til Mcgraw leaves me get in there again and he will half to come acrost with an other present and it wont be no shirt next time because hes all ready gave me a shirt and I wonder what will he give me.

Your pal, Jack.

P.S.  I forgot to tell you what I done to dutch Schaefer when he come up in the 5st. ining and they was a man on 2d. and 3d. He come up grining like usul and he hollers hello shirt at me and I says I will shirt you and I shot my fast 1 right clost in to him and he fell over scarred to deth and then I give him 2 more fast balls and he fouled them and then I waisted a fast 1 and then I come with my slow 1 and I wisht you could of saw him Al and I thot for a minut he would brake his spinul collins going after it. all the way in to the bench I kept hollering at him. I says You will shirt me will you and he was so sore he couldent say nothing back. what could he of said.

SIDNEY.
JAN. 4.

Old Pal:  well old pal I guess I forgot to wish you a happy New yr. in my last letter but better late then ever as they say so happy New yr. Al for you and Bertha the both of you and I dont wish you nothing but luck. This is Sun. and some of the boys is out over looking the harber and they wanted I should go a long because they say its the gratest harber in the world but what if it is Al Ive saw enough water with out going out and looking at a harber and besides Im not buying no harbers no matter how good they are hey Al.

Theys no ball game today because this is like N. Y. and Philly and Washington and them places and you cant play no ball on Sun. so Im seting in the australia Hotel and writeing this letter but they was a game yest. and the White Sox win it 15 to 4 and I ast Mcgraw before the game to leave me go in there and pitch and he says No he dident want to kill me with work but I guess after the game started he was afrade Hern and this here Faber that pitched for the giants would get killed by some thing else besides work I mean batted balls and Donlin and Maggie and this here indian Thorp run back and 4th. a round the out field so much shaging 3 base hits that there tung was hanging out.

They played the game out to the crickit pk. and some of the australia crickit players was out there practiceing when we come to the pk. and I stood and watched them a wile and honest Al if I played that game they wouldent never get me out and tommorow Im going to try it and heres how it come off that Im going to try it.

1 of the crickit players come up to where I was standing and says what do you think of the game and I says its a grate game for a baby or some thing and the man says Yes I supose it looks easy when you never tride it and I says weather I tride it or not and he says Why dont you get up there and try it onct because we will give you a bat and see if you can hit it and I was going to only the crickit players had to get off of the grounds then because the ball game was going to start.

So I and the man fixed it up and Im going out early tommorow and try it and we got a bet up on it and Mcgraw says he will lone me the money if I loose the bet but I wont loose it Al because all as I got to do is make 5 runs before they get me out.

And I says to the man how much will you bet and he says O a bout 2 lbs. and I says 2 lbs. of what and come to find out they call there money lbs. insted of dollars so wear betting 2 lbs. a peace and thats a bout $10.00 a peace and Al its just like stealing the money because I will tell you how the games played and a man that couldent make 5 runs easy should ought to be clening the sts. or some thing.

They dont throw the ball but role it a long on the ground like when your boleing only the balls little like a base ball and you stand up there with a bat as big is a bord in front of 3 sticks stuck in to the ground and you got to keep them sticks from geting hit and you dont half to take a swing at the ball if you dont want to but you can stand up there all day til you get 1 you like and if you dont hit it far you dont half to run if you dont feel like it but wait til you hit 1 far enough so as you can run and theys 3 more sticks a bout 50 ft. a way and you half to run back and 4th. bet. the sticks and evry trip you make before the ball gets back thats 1 run.

And of coarse they cant curve the ball or put no stuff on it or nothing because it comes a long on the ground so how can a man miss it Al and if they leave me up there long enough I will get a 1000 runs only I dont want to ware myself all out because probily Im going to pitch tommorow. That $10.00 bucks will come in handy Al and I wont half to throw none of it a way on acct of not knowing what to do with it. Well Al I guess I will go out and walk a round a wile before dinner, and male this letter.

Your pal, Jack.

SIDNEY.
JAN. 5.

Friend Al:  I only got a couple minuts to write to you Al because wear going to catch the train for Melbourne but I just want to tell you what kind of robbers they got a round here and the sooner we get out of this town we cant get away to soon to sute me. I dident pitch today because Mcgraw is saveing me to pitch over to Melbourne where the gov. of australia lives at.

They was a game bet. the giants and a australia club and of coarse Mcgraw wouldent leave me pitch that game because I would of felt like a murder and he wouldent leave no real pitcher pitch but he pitched him self and this here Wiltse pitched for the australias and the giants beat them and then the White Sox beat Mcgraws club 10 to 5 and its lucky for the White Sox that Mcgraw was saveing me so as the gov. can see me in axion.

But what I was going to tell you a bout is the robbers game they pulled off on me and they should ought to call this here game hold up insted of crickit and for all as I know crickit means hold up in the australia languige. Well Al I and Mcgraw and Steve Evans went out to the pk. early and the man I had the bet with was there all ready laying for us and no wonder after what he had frammed up on me and they was a hole lot of other men with him drest up in there crickit sutes and there catcher wore big shinn gards like as if he was afrade he was going to get his shinns hurt and all as they do is role the ball to him and they ast me did I want to practice a wile before the bet was on and I says no I dident need no practice in no baby game so Mcgraw put up 2 lbs. for me and the man who I was beting with put up 2 lbs. in steve Evanss hands and I picked out 1 of there crazy bats.

And the man says now you under stand do you that your out if them little sticks on top of the big sticks is knocked off of the top of the big sticks and I says all right and they says I wouldent need no pardner but could run back and 4th. a lone so the man that does the boleing got up back of the sticks that was the other sticks from the sticks I was standing in front of them and he wound up and come over hand with the ball and it come bounceing a long the ground and I could see right a way that the grounds was no good because the ball bounced crook it.

I left the 1st 1 go by and layed for the next 1 and it come just right and I took a toe hold and started to cut in to it and I bet Al if I had ever of got a hold of it I would of lost the ball for them but wile I was swinging my bat back to take my wallop I knocked the sticks down with my bat and got my bat tangled up with the sticks and of coarse the ball come along and hit the sticks to because I couldent get my bat lose to hit it and the man who I was beting with says well you dident last long and I says what do you mean I knocked the sticks down with my bat dident I and he says Yes and your out and I says Im not no such a thing and he says all right I will give you an other chanct.

Then Mcgraw cuts in and says No you lost Jack and you got to pay and so Evans give the man the money and I was so sore I dident know what to say and finely I says this is a fine robbers game and why dont you buy your self a gun and go a round sticking peopl up and the man says I will give you a chanct to get even and I says no you wont give me no chanct to get even and steal some more of my money and then he was going to give my money back only Mcgraw wouldent let him.

Mcgraw says we better get a way before they take another 2 lbs. off me and I says yes we better before they take my uneform.

And then I says to the man I thot you was a gentle man and he says Well I couldent make no such a miss take as that a bout you and I says no I guess you couldent and he dident have no come back so we come a way and left him and now I owe Mcgraw $10.00 and I was going to have the man arest it only Mcgraw wouldent let me and Mcgraw says he seen right a way it was a robbers game and give me the wink to not have nothing to do with it but I dident see him give me the wink.

Well Al I will know enough after this to not monky with no crickit game and monky with a game where they make there rules to sute them self and if any body says crickit to me I will hall off and bust them in the jaw. Steve Evans says Well I thing your in better shape then before you played crickit and I says why and he says because they took 2 lbs. off of you but I wasent up there long enough to loose no wait and besides you couldent take off no wait in baby game like that. Well Al a mans never old enough to lern as they say but I bet they wont play that same trick twict on me. You know me old pal.

Your friend, Jack.

MELBOURNE.
JAN. 7.

Friend Al:  Well Al we been haveing a big time here and I guess even Callahan and Comiskeys glad I come a long even if I give them an other beating this P. M. and we beat them 12 to 8 and I could of shut them out just as easy is roleing on a log only I let up when we was 10 or 11 runs a head but its not on the field where I come in handy to them but entertaneing there friends and the peopl they meet and so 4th.

Well Al dutch Schaefer come up to me yest. A. M. after we got here and says they was going to be a party last night at the Melbourne saviges club and would I write a pone for the saviges and I hadent spoke to Schaefer since them cheap stiffs give me my shirt back and so I says no I wont write no pone for you or have nothing to do with you and he says why not and I says I guess you know why not and he says I supose your still thinking a bout that shirt yet and I says Yes and then Schaefer says he dident have nothing to do with it and I says You were the 1 that give it to me and he says Yes but when I give it to you I thot it was some thing else or I wouldent of gave it to you and I says what did you think it was and he says the boys had boughten a new shirt for me at Vanila and thats what they thot they was giveing me but they had gave it to Stewart the oficer on the ship Bord to rap it up and he had stole it for him self and stuck the old 1 in the packige and they was all sore at him but what could they do because if they had of balled him out a bout it he probily would of got mad back at them and ran the boat right up passed australia and may be clear up to the north pole and froze us to deth and the boys dident care nothing a bout them self but they was a frade to take the chanct on acct of the wommen on the bord of the Ship bord.

So you see Al the boys was trying to treat me O.K. only this here Stewart was a crook and I wisht I had of knew a bout it before we got to Sidney and left the boat and you can bet I wouldent of gave him no 1/4 for a tip. So when Schaefer showed me where it wasent the boys falt a bout the shirt I and him shook hands and I says sure I would write them a pone and I wrote a dandy Al but 1st. I want to tell you a bout what come off yest. P. M. We got here a bout 11 a clock and was drove to the orental Hotel and then we was drove to the city Hall and the mare and council give us a lunch and then they told us that we was invitted up to have tea with Mr and Mrs Dennis the gov. and I says I dident want no tea but Callahan says I had to go a long so we all went a long up to where the gov. lives at and sure enough there was the gov. and Mrs Dennis and we was interduced to them and they was tickeled to deth.

Mr Dennis says to me You certunly look like a athalete and I let him feel of my arm and my caff and he says he wisht he was musseled up like me and I says you would half to be if you was a big league pitcher but I dont supose you fool a round much out doors and he says no he dident have no time and I says Well then whats the diffrunts weather your a big strong man or a little scrimp only if you had my build peopl turns a round to look at you on the st. and the girls would pester you to deth and he says Well I guess I better not interduce you to lady Dennis and I says No Ill get a long better if I dont never meet no more wommen ladys or what ever they are.

But after words I got interduced to the Mrs and she says the same thing her old man says a bout me being big and strong and Mr Dennis come up to us wile we was talking and says this young man is pestered by wommen and she says O my I beg your pardon and she laughed and walked a way from me and I dident get no chanct to see her and tell her diffrunt because of coarse I would just as leave talk to her and what I ment was a bout the girls writeing notes to me or calling me up at the hotel in the diffrunt towns we stop at in the summer.

Well Al we finely come a way from the Dennisis and then I went back to the hotel and fixed up my pone and I dident have much time but I frammed up some thing pretty good and read it to them down to the saviges club last night and heres what I give them:

Wear makeing a trip a round the world

To show the Nat. game
to the peopl of the diffrunt countrys

Is why we came.

Wear glad to be here in Melbourne

For boys youve got a grate town

And boys I want to tell you

Of your town you should be proud.

Mcgraw says Im going to pitch tommorow.

And I hope you will all come out

And your presents and your cheers

Will surly help me out.

I will show you boys my fast 1
and onct in a wile my curve

But when my fast 1 is zipping threw there

You might say I dont need no curve.

So heres to the saviges club

Youve showed us a roil good time
old Glorys the best country in the world

But Melbournes not so far behind.

Well Al I was the hit of the entertanemunt and they was pretty near all of them out there to the pk. today and I guess I all ready told you a bout me beating the White Sox 12 to 8 and it could of been 12 to 0 as well is not and now Mcgraw owes me an other present and he says he will get it for me when we get it to Adeline and we leave for there tommorow night and I havent no idear what is it hes going to get.

Your pal, Jack,

ON THE SHIP BORD.
JAN. 9.

Friend Al:  Well Al I guess theys a million peopl wishs they was a pitcher like me and what do you think Im wishing now Al Im wishing I wasent no pitcher at all but a catcher and if I had of been a catcher and not no pitcher I wouldent be in no danger like Im in now. May be Al you wont know me the next time you see me and may be my face will be diffrunt and it will ether be me or some body else a long on the trip thats got to suffer and its just my luck to be the 1. I bet if I had of knew what we was runing in to I wouldent never of got on the boat at Adeline but they wasent no body told me a bout the danger and here I am takeing a chanct with the rest of them that is all accept the catchers the lucky stiffs and they aint in no danger like the rest of us.

Well Al we got on to the boat at Adeline this P. M. and we hadent been on the boat more then a couple hrs. when I found out a bout what wear going to run in to and I found out wile I and dutch Schaefer was talking to 1 of the crews on the boat. Schaefer says some thing a bout the Ocean water being smoothe and the crew says yes its all O.K. today but tommorow we will be in the grate australian Bite and then theys libel to be trouble and when Schaefer herd him I thot Schaefer was going to fant and I drug him over to a chair and pretty soon he come to again and then I ast him what was libel to come off.

Then Schaefer says You herd what that man said dident you and I say Yes and Schaefer says Well you know what it means dont you and I says no I dident and he says Well it means wear going to run right threw the grate australian Bite insted of going a round it and I says Well what a bout it and he says Well you know what a Bite is dont you and I says Yes I know what a flee bite or a muskeeto bite is and Schaefer says Well this is a million times worst then them and if you dont know what it is youll find out tommorrow when you see it.

Well Al I had to cox him a long wile before he would tell me the truth on acct he says it made him sick to talk a bout it but finely he told me.

You see Al they call this place the grate australian Bite on acct of a grate big bug that flys a round over the water and the bugs called a Bite bug on acct of how he bites and hes a bout as big like a egle only hes got a reglar mouth and fangs like a woof and he flys a round all the time waiting til he sees a boat and then he atacks the boat and bites 1 man and then hes satisfide and flys a way and waits for the next boat and some times he missus 1 boat but not very offten and he flys so qick that they aint no body cant get out of his way when he comes after you not even Cobb. And he aint never satisfide unlest he bites off 1 of your feechers your nose or ear or some thing. He bites is way right threw the window and scream or threw wood and the only thing thats got him stopped is irren and steal and thats why the catchers is O.K. because they can ware there mast over there faces.

Well Al Id of been all right if Schaefer had only of told me that sooner a bout the catchers masts keeping the bug out but he dident tell me that at 1st. or I could of got 1 of the catchers to leave me take there mast and wore it on my face tommorow and they couldent of got it a way from me with a shot gun but when he finely told me it was to late and when I seen I. V. Wingow and ast him to leave me look at his mast he all ready was wise and he says no he should say not and did I think he was a sucker. So you see Al him and jack Bliss and Slight wont be in no danger because they can ware there masts all day accept when there eating or they dont even half to take them off wile there eating if they want to eat salery or some thing like that that they can stick threw there mast and eat it.

Theys only 3 masts on the trip because I ast Callahan and he says thats all they was and he says What do you want of a mast have you deside it you cant pitch and I says I guess you know I can pitch and he says guess again so you see Al they aint no guessing a bout it but as I say I wisht I was a catcher now insted of a pitcher and if I ever get back to Chicago or some wheres where they sell masts Im going to buy 1 and carry it a round on trips with me after this and not take no chances.

Well Al they aint no danger of none of us geting killed because theys a Dr. on the Ship bord and he can rap up the place where the bug gets his fangs in to you so you wont blead to deth but Id pretty near as leave be dead is not have no nose or no ear and think how a man would look like Al and I wouldent never dast go home to Florrie.

Well Al it wasent long before evry body on the Ship bord knowed a bout what we was runing in to and we had a meeting a wile a go trying to figure up some thing to fight the bug with and steve Evans says that Crawford or Speaker or 1 of the good hitters should ought to stand out on the porch with a bat and take a wallop at the bug when he showed up because if you hit him in a certun spot on his head he will drop dead only it takes a man with a good eye to crack him just right.

Well Crawford and Speaker says they wouldent take no risk like that and then Schaefer says to me You think your a hitter dont you and I says no I dont think nothing of the kind and I aint no sucker nether. Then some body says we should all ought to try and proteck the wommen on the boat but Schaefer says the crews told him that the Bite dont never go after wommen because there ears is all ways to small to get a good bite at them and most of there nose is. So you see Al the wommen and the catchers is the only peopl that aint takeing no chanct and I wouldent be nervus if all the rest of us had a even chanct and the bug was as libel to bite 1 is the other but Schaefer says the bug aint as lightly to bite a homily man is a good looking man and I got a right to be nervus hey Al.

Well Al we cant do nothing but wait and see what happens and if you dont hear no more from me youll know what come off because I wont have the nerve to write and tell you if worst come worst. I wisht we hadent never left Adeline but still in all why should I be the 1 to get evry thing thats comeing and it seems like as if I should ought to have the luck onct in a wile and I dont never have none out there pitching.

Schaefer says the catchers has all got there masts locked up in there trunks and there rooms locked up and the key in there pockit the cheap stiffs.

Well Al it dont look like I would get much sleep tonight. This is a fine bum of a trip hey Al.

Your pal, Jack,

P.S.  I pretty near for got to tell you a bout what Mcgraw give me in Adeline for a present for wining that game for him in Melbourne and what he give me is a razer and its a dandy Al. But if Im going to get my face bit up by this here bug what will I care if theys a few whiskers on my face because a man couldent expect to look any ways decent with part of your face gone but Im libel to use the razer to cut my throte if Im the 1 this here bug bites.

FREMANTLE.
JAN. 13.

Al:  well Al the last 3 days has been like a night mare or a bad dream or some thing but now its all over and here we are in Fremantle and some of the boys has drove over to perth but Im so wore out they couldent higher me to go no wheres. Well Al that there bug dident bite no body on the Ship bord and now wear all safe and out of the place where he flys a round and wear not in no more danger with him but now wear going to be up against some thing else and I will tell you a bout it only 1st. I want to tell you a bout how we come to get a way from this here bug only I cant tell you for sure why was it because evry body says some thing diffrunt.

I dident never see the bug at all because I stayed in my birth room all the wile and dident even go in the dinning room for meals but the meals was broughten to me in my birth room only I dident eat many meals in the last 3 da on acct of me not feeling good but sevrel of the boys seen the bug and some of the crews seen him to and the crews cant figure out why he dident light on to this boat and that they must be some body on the trip thats got a hole lot of luck because this is the 1st. boat the bugs missed in 2 yrs.

So the boys has been trying to figure out who is the lucky 1 on the trip and Callahan says its the N. Y. giants because the was lucky to win all them penants but Evans says you cant call the glants lucky because evry time they win the penant look at who they had to play against in the world serious and Mcgraw says it must be the White Sox because there lucky to stay in the league with out droping out of the bottun and Schaefer says it must be on acct of us haveing so many left handers on the trip Wiltse Speaker donlin Crawford Leverenz and Evans the lucky left handed stiffs only Evans aint no stiff but O.K. and comical when you get to know him.

Then Speaker says I was the lucky 1 and I says what do you mean lucky and did you ever see the time where I had any luck out there pitching and he says Your lucky the dog catcher dident get a hold of you and I says Yes and you are to and he dident say nothing back.

Well Al who ever it was we was lucky all right and Im tickeled to deth wear threw with that part of the trip and Im glad I dident see the bug because the boys that seen him says he was a awfull thing to look at him and he come right up clost to the boat sevrel times and all the catchers was standing out on the porch with there masts on and they all had bats and was going to try and hit him but they says he was like Ed Rulebacks fast ball and he dident never come near enough for them to hit.

larry Doyle the capt of the giants says the Bite probily come just clost enough to the boat so as he could reckonize some of the ball players and then made up his mind they was enough bugs on the boat all ready wit out him comeing on to the boat but of coarse they couldent be nothing to that because how could a man clear over here on the other side of the world tell 1 ball player from the other let a lone a inseck and Doyle was just jokeing or he dont know nothing but it seems like as if a man thats been a round N. Y. city as long is Doyle would know better then to mean it in ernest that a inseck could tell the players a part and hes suposed to be 1 of the smartest men Mcgraws got and if hes the smartest Id hate to run in to the guys that dont know nothing but may be he was just jokeing.

Well Al as I say wear all threw with the Bite and no more danger from geting bit by the Bite but now wear going to run in to some thing else pretty near as bad only this time they aint no danger of looseing 1 of your feechers but just geting sores all over your head and if they was any way to get home from here with out going a long on the trip you bet I would tell them to take this here trip and or my share from it and feed it to the fishs but I got to go a long because they aint no over the land rout because australia is a iland and shroud it by water.

I will tell you what wear going to run up against now Al and its comeing pretty soon as soon is the boys gets back from perth and the boat starts out again. the next Ocean we go threw is the indian Ocean and wear going to be in it for 9 days and of coarse we was lucky to get threw the place where the Bite was at with out no body geting hurt but we was only in there 3 days and now wear going to be in the indian Ocean 3 times longer so it looks like as if they wouldent no lucky left handers nor nothing else save us this time but as I say they aint no danger of geting killed only sore spots on your head.

When Schaefer 1st. told me a bout us comeing in to the indian Ocean and how bad it would be I thot of coarse they was probily a lot of wild indians liveing on the ilands and they would may be shoot at us or some thing but Schaefer says no it aint the indians we got to be afrade of because the indians is to busy drinking the water out of the Ocean because its fire water and they live on it.

But what we got to be looking out for is the Thomas Hawks thats some thing like a reglar hawk only they dont go after chickens because of coarse they aint no chickens out in the middle of the Ocean but insted of chickens they go after humen beans and they sale a round over the boat in flocks and all of a sudden they snoop down on to the boat and peck at a mans head and there peck aint poson but there bills is sharp and they cut right in to your head and make a sore and when they find a mans head thats soft they make a noise to the rest of the flock and then they all of them pick on to 1 man and cut his head all to peace is.

Thomas Hawks dont never pester you when your in doors because they cant get in but only when your out on the porch.

And steve Evans says they aint no danger for some of the rest of them because the Thomas Hawks couldent peck threw there heads with a ax and before the hawks would try and peck in to some of there heads they would try and peck a hole in the side of the boat and he says to me You wont be in no danger your self and you can walk all over the porch wile some of us has to stay crooped up in our room and I guess he ment because Im not afrade of nothing but I dont see why a man should take a chanct Al and probily get by all right but still theys a chanct I might get my head all sord up and whats the use of a man being a sucker.

Well Al I guess you know I wouldent of never started on this trip if Id knowed all as we was going to bump in to and if Callahan and Comiskey had of been right they would of told me before the boat ever left the US but of coarse you see why they dident tell me because they knowed if they told me I wouldent of never came on the trip and with out ether I or Mathewson a long on the trip the peopl in the diffrunt countrys would of been sore and says the trip was a fake and of coarse Mcgraw dident tell me nothing because where would his club of been at but for I going in there and wining for him evry time I start accept when they kick the games a way in back of me.

But Comiskey and Callahan and Mcgraw all of them could of went to the devvil and I wouldent never of made the trip if Id knowed what was comeing off and no sooner wear out of 1 danger and heros an other and if it isent 1 thing it isent the next.

And the trips all ready costed me pretty near $100.00 bucks includeing the money I borryed off of Callahan for my cloths and the cloths I got in Vanila and the $10.00 them crickit players robbed me out of and I dont get nothing for pitching and you cant even get out and see the sites because a mans all ways afrade of 1 of these here bugs or birds biteing you.

Fine trip hey Al and I told them in the 1st. place to get some body else and leave me stay home with little Al and Florrie where I bellong.

Well Al I can hear the boys comeing back from perth and pretty soon we will be starting in to the indian Ocean and before we get out of it my head will probily look like a scream door. Fine trip hey Al.

Your old pal, Jack.

• 4 •

The Indian Ocean, Salome, and Bargain Day on the Streets of Cairo

ON THE SHIP BORD.
JAN. 16.

Friend Al:  Well Al here it is pretty near 3 days since I been out on the porch and its so hot in my birth room and the dinning room that it feels like 1 of these here turkeys baths but a mans got his choise weather you want to get smuthered to deth or go out on the porch and get your head all pecked up by these here Thomas Hawks and just think Al we wont be threw with the indian Ocean where they fly a round at for pretty near a wk. more and may be by that time I will be rosted to deth like a Pnut or some thing but of coarse if it gets to hot I will half to go out on the porch and take a chanct of geting my head pecked up.

Well Al I found out today where wear on our way to and wear going to africa Al and wear do there a bout the last of the mo. but the languige they talk there is harder to lern then japan or china ether 1 because a hole lot of the words is pretty near like englich only they say them diffrunt and its geting on to how do they say them thats what makes it hard to lern so steve Evans has beggan all ready to lern me how to talk the languige so as I can get a long all right by my self if I hapened to get lost a way from the rest of the party. When you want to say I meaning your self you say Ah and supose you got lost and wanted to say I cant find my way back to the hotel youd say Ah caint fine mah way back to dat ole hotel and if you want to say your lost you say Ahm done lost it and if you want to tell them your hungery you say Boss Ah sho am ravvenashus only of coarse I dont know weather thats how you spell it or not. A mans got to keep saying it over to your self all the wile or your libel to forget what you lerned all ready and when I and Evans is to gather we keep talking it back and 4th. bet. us so as I will have it lerned pretty good and not forget it before we get to africa.

I guess Florrie will think Im a collige school teecher or some thing when I get home and spring all the diffrunt languige on her japan and china and africa and the rest of them that I lern before I get home. But whats the use of makeing a trip like this here if you dont lern some thing and a mans a sucker to go a round the world with your eyes and ears shut like a deef and dum moot. As long is we dont get no money for playing ball on the trip we better try and get some thing and I will try and lern evry thing I can and I bet some of these here collige willy boys that spends there old mans money at yale and Harlem dont lern 1/2 as much is a man that makes a trip a round the world if you keep your eyes oppen.

Well Al I wisht we was threw with the indian Ocean and out of the way of these here Thomas Hawks so as a man could get some fresh air but wishing wont do no good and a man cant get nothing by wishing and I supose Scott and Benz and them wishs they had my fast 1 but them wishing it wont fool no batters. Wishs is fishs as they say. Well old pal Im going to get my cloths off and lay on the bed and thats a bout the only way you can keep your self from smuthering to deth.

Your old pal, Jack.

ON THE SHIP BORD.
JAN. 19.

Al:  Well old pal- what do you supose wear up against now and wear going to cross acrost the eqater again tommorow and they say its a hole lot worse crosing acrost the way we got to cross it this time then the way we went acrost the other time because we was going south last time and now wear going north and when your going south your going down and the bump is easyer but when you cross acrost it going north you cross it up and its like you was driveing a horse & buggy over a R. R. track and the bump when you hit the rales is harder then when your acrost the track and slide off of the rales on to the ground and crosing the eqater going north is just like going up a step insted of comeing down and the crews of the boat all has to pull on a rope and lift the front end of the boat up so as to raze it up for the step. But some times they dont get the boat razed up at the right time and then theys a awfull bump and peopls libel to get hurt.

If your in your birth room your libel to get throwed against the sealing and get your head smashed or brake a arm and I guess theys a lot of ball players in the league that would be tickeled to deth if I got my old super broke but I aint going to take no chanct to please them and Evans says I better be out on the porch when the bump comes off and hold on to the fence and not crooped up in no birth room where theys a sealing and walls to bump against. So Im going out on the porch Al and take a chanct with them Thomas Hawks because a man better get his head peeked up a little then brake your arm when you got to pitch for a liveing.

Dutch Schaefer says if I broke my left arm it wouldent do no harm and if I broke my right arm I could lern to pitch with my left arm and be just as good but I aint going to make no left hander out of my self because all as they deppend on is there luck and if I dident have nothing but luck I would quite pitching and drive a dray or write for the news papers.

So I am going to take a chanct with them Hawks Al and if I get my head all sored up I guess the only thing I can do is lay a round til its all O.K. again and any way I cant stay crooped up much longer or Ill be rosted like a chicken or some thing and I havent dast set near a oppen window even on acct of these here Hawks might catch site of me and come in threw the window. Well Al may be Ill need some of these left handers luck before Im threw but Id rather have my fast ball then all there luck hey Al.

Your old pal, Jack.

ON THE SHIP BORD.
JAN. 21.

Friend Al:  Well Al here we are safe in sound and the old supers just as good is ever and my head aint no more sored up then a bran new base ball and theys a lot of pitchers that cant brake there curve with a new ball but it dont make no diffrunts to me Al if the balls just out of the rapper or all dirted up the old hook will brake just the same and make Cobb and the rest of them look like a sucker. Only when my arms good you might say I dont need nothing but my fast 1.

Well Al I and all the rest of the boys has been crooped up all this wile for nothing and they wasent no danger at all from them Thomas Hawks only we dident know no better til Mcgraw found it out and what do you think of this here indian Thorp for not telling us when he knowed all the wile only he says he dident know why we was all staying in doors off of the porch but thot we was sea sick or some thing.

Well Al the hole gang of us come out on the porch last night so as we would be O.K. when we crosed acrost the eqater and I wore my base ball cap on under my hat so as my head wouldent be so easy to get at and Bliss and Wingo and Slight and them wore there masts over there head but Evans says that wouldent of did them no good because these here Hawks has got big long bills and can reach clear down threw a catchers mast but it was a light night and pretty near like day light and we looked all over and couldent see no birds over the boat or no wheres else and evry body was wondring where could they of hid them self and finely Mcgraw hapened to say some thing to Thorp a bout it and come to find out Thorp was out on the porch the 1st. day we come in to the indian Ocean and they was a hole flock of these here birds waiting for some body to show up on the porch so they could peck there heads but when they seen Thorp they flide a way from the boat and they hasent been none of them near the boat ever since and Schaefer says its on acct of Thorp being a indian and knows how to handle Thomas Hawks.

Well Al I thot we would laugh our self to deth when we seen what suckers we was and no body thot a bout Thorp being on the Ship bord and of coarse we was O.K. wile he was on the bord and what a rummy we all was Al staying crooped up in doors when we might of been in joying the air.

Evans says Mcgraw should ought to find Thorp a $100.00 dollars fer him not telling us but Mcgraw says Thorp dident never know we was afrade of geting scalloped or he would of told us and the only thing we can do is take it like a joke and to not leave our friends at home lern a bout it or they would laugh them self sick but Im telling you Al because its to good to keep and I aint the man that wont never add mit when you been a sucker.

Well Al we was still laughing and jokeing a bout the Thomas Hawks when larry Doyle seen the capt of the boat and found out we was pretty near the eqater and the capt ast Doyle to get some of the strongist men in the crowd and help pull on the rope up to the front of the boat and lift it up over the eqater so I and Thorp and sam Crawford and Honest Lobert got a hold of the rope a long with some of the crews and dutch Schaefer and the capt of the boat stood up in the front of us and told us when to jerk and when they give us the word we give a pull and the rope must of bust it because I fell over on the porch and the boys all laughed but I guess they knowed it was my strenth that done most of the puling and Al we come up on that eqater just like they was nothing there and not no jar at all and the capt of the boat says it was the smothist hed ever went acrost the eqater and he wisht he could have a bunch of big stropping men like we evry time he has to cross acrost it. Of coarse Lobert aint no giant like I and Thorp and Crawford and Crawford and Thorps both of them smaller then me and I guess I done the puling that counted but as long is the capt thinks the rest of them done it to why let him think so.

Well Al I got to write an other of them pones of mine tonight and spring it tommorow and Schaefer told me a bout it this P. M. and all so a bout us going to land tommorow and be on the land all day only it aint africa where wear going to be but the Salome iland and we been invitted to eat our lunch with sir Thomas Lipton the sailer only he aint no reglar sailer like the crews on the boat but hes a boat racer and of coarse that aint his busness but he runs a tea and coffee store in this here town where wear going to stop at on the iland and the towns Columbus only of coarse it aint the same Columbus thats in the american Assn.

I dident know what to write a bout in my pone but Schaefer says to stick some thing in a bout the tea and coffee store and may be he will come acrost and give us some to take a long with us and all so kid him a bout his boat races and Schaefer says he dont never win none of the races but he is O.K. and good naturd and likes to get kid it only of coarse I wont make it to raw.

Well Al I guess your wondring how we got a invatation out here on the Ship bord where they aint no P. O. and I will tell you how we got it Al we got it by a wirelest telegram and they have them on all the boats and they can wire telegrams all over the world and its some thing new and the man that owns it must be makeing a bbl. of money because they soke you good in plenty to wire the telegrams so I guess they aint no danger of me wireing no telegrams to Florrie on 1 of them because it would cost over $50.00 and of coarse I wouldent stop at no $50.00 if I was sick or killed or some thing but I aint a sucker enough to pay no $50.00 and tell her Im feeling grate and how is evry thing and so 4th.

Sir Thomas Liptons place aint far from where wear at and of coarse it dont cost no $50.00 for him to wire us a telegram from Columbus here but it costed him plenty or probily he sent it C. O. D. colleck on Comiskey.

Well Al I guess I better get busy on my little peace of poultry and see can I fix up some thing good but I guess they aint no dought a bout that if I sit my mind on it hey Al. May be they will be a place at Columbus where I can male you the letters I all ready wrote.

Your old pal, Jack.

ON THE SHIP BORD.
JAN. 24.

Old Pal:  Well old pal now wear all threw with the Salome iland and the town where we stopped at Columbus and now wear on the Ray Bean Ocean and wear do in africa in 1 wk. Well Al I dident speak my pone for sir Thomas Lipton on acct of dutch Schaefer forgeting to call on me to speak it wile we was haveing dinner but I had a coppy of it wrote down and I give it to him when he says good by to us on the boat the night before last night and I will coppy it down here so as you can see what I give him.

The White Sox and N. Y. giants

Is makeing a trip a round the world.

Takeing in all the sites
all a round the world.

Wear glad to be in Columbus

For boys your town is a pippun
where they got the big tea and coffee store

Ran by sir Thomas Lipton.

If we had some of his coffee

We could our friends a bout it tell

And tell them how good we liked it
and help him it to sell.

So may be he will give us some
we will half to wait and see

But I hope he will give us coffee

And not no willy boy tea.

If he come acrost with some coffee
we would run his boat a race

With the boat on witch wear rideing on

And leave him win the race.

I read the pone to Schaefer right after Id wrote it and he run a way with it and showed it to Callahan and they both of them says it was grate and then Schaefer forgets his self and dont call on me to talk it off at the dinner and of coarse theys no harm done because I give sir Thomas Lipton a coppy of it but that aint like talking it off and it would of live end up the dinner.

Well Al sir Thomas Liptons a grate old scout and O.K. only he give us some tea and not no coffee to take a long with us and I got 5 lbs. in my sute case and I dont know what to do with it because I dont never drink it or nothing but coffee and may be a glass of beer onct in a grate wile but I never felt better in my life and no fat on me so I guess Callahan cant raze no holler if I want my beer but I guess he knows better then say nothing to me a bout it. Come to think you and Bertha likes tea dont you Al and may be I could send it to you from some wheres and give me what ever do you think its worth or else I would give it to you grant us because I was going to bring you and Bertha a present and as long is you like tea why not give you that and not nothing else.

Well Al Columbus is some town and its just like a side show or some thing and evry bodys trying to get a mans money a way from you with fakes and snake chalmers and so 4th. and some of the boys fell for it and spend a hole lot of there money and dident get nothing for it and I aint no cheap skate Al but will spend my money with the rest of them only I want to know what am I geting for it and not throw it a way like it was dirt and growed on trees and a mans a sucker to fall for all them gratis. A fool with your money and soon loose part of it as they say.

I thot Mcgraw would want I should pitch the ball game on acct of sir Thomas Lipton being there but it was a rotten day and raining and I guess probily Callahan wouldent leave Mcgraw use me on acct of may be I would catch cold or something but Mcgraw says he wouldent pitch me because they dident charge nothing to get in and he couldent a ford to be buying me presents for wining for him when they wasent nothing tooken in at the gait but any way they played the game and the giants got beat 4 to 1 and this here Leverenz worked for the White Sox and what chanct was they to beat him the left hand it horse shoes stiff. After the game we ett dinner and come back on the boat and sir Thomas Lipton come on the boat and set with us til it was time for the boat to leave and now wear bounding for africa and theys a bout a wk. for me to practice up on the languige before we get there and by that time I should ought to be able to talk it as good is the natives that was born there.

Your old pal, Jack.

ON THE SHIP BORD.
JAN. 28.

Friend Al:  Well Al dutch Schaefer must think Im a rummy and what do you think he was trying to tell me. The Ocean wear on now is name the red Sea and he was trying to tell me it was the place you read a bout in the bibble where moses and them wade it acrost it but they couldent no body wade acrost this Ocean Al because its way over your head and you cant see no bottun and if any body walked threw it they would half to be a bout twict as tall is this here Falkenberg and how he gets by with the stuff hes got is a misery to me. But of coarse if they was twict as tall is him they would be in a sircus or muzzeem or some thing and not fooling a round stumping each other to wade acrost the Ocean. So when Schaefer pulled it on me I says You must think Im 1/2 whitted and he says No I dont never flatter no body and I says you better not try and flatter me. If hed of says some thing more to me I would of flattered him out with a punch on the jaw. You know me Al.

But he seen I was in ernest and shut up. That is he quite talking a bout flattering some body and kind a laughed and says I can see your to smart for me to put any thing over on you but I bet you cant tell me why is it they call it the red Sea when it aint no wheres near as red as your neck and I says I dident know and dident care a dam why do they call it the red Sea and they could call it the brown Sea if they had a mind and Schaefer says Yes but they wouldent be no sence in calling it the brown Sea but its all right to call it the red Sea because its the 1 evry bodys read a bout in the bibble and I says Tell that to the fish or some thing and he walked a way from me.

Well Al evry bodys packing there trunk and sute case and geting things to gather because wear pretty near do in africa and this P. M. we come passed mocha where they make the coffee at and I wisht we could of stopped there insted of the Salome iland and may be got some coffee gave to us insted of willy boy tea.

Your pal, Jack.

ON THE SHIP BORD.
JAN.31.

Al:  Just a note Al so as I can male it in africa and wear going to land there in a little wile and wear all packed up and ready and its lucky wear going to be in africa this time of yr. and not july or 1 of them mos. because Evans says the wild bests has most of them went south for the winter now and we wont be in much danger tho we got to keep our eyes oppen because some of the cold wether anamals like Polo bares and lepers is libel to be a round and if you get clost to 1 of them lepers they dont bite you or nothing but you catch a hold of the disease they got and get all spoted up and you bet I will be on the out look and keep a way from them.

Well Al it come like a supprise a bout us going to land today and we wasent figureing on geting off of the Ship bord til tommorow when we got to port Sad but the capt of the boat says insted of that we would get off of the boat today only they call it disunbark in africa and the place where wear going to land at is Sue S. and that sounds like as if it was a girls name only of coarse its a town and I would of wrote you a long letter only I thot we was going to be on the Ship bord an other day yet so this is just a note.

Yours in Haze,
Jack.

CAIRO. AFRICA.
FEB. 1.

Friend Al : Well Al Im seting up late to write this letter and I all ready a dressed a bout a 1/2 doz. post cards to Florrie and little Al and of coarse little Al cant read them or wont know what the pitchers is on them but I thot may be it would make Florrie laugh to see a post card come a dressed to little Al like he was a man or some thing.

Well Al this was some day and I dont know where to beggin at to tell you a bout it but I guess I better beggin at the begginning as they say. Well we come in to Cairo from Sue S. on the R. R. and then got on the bord of the st. car and road to the Hellopolis Hotel and its some Hotel Al and the dinning rooms so far from the kichen, that Doyle says the waiters rides back and 4th. on campbells only of coarse they dont ride the campbells in to the dinning room but tie them out the side.

Well we ett our breakfast and it certunly felt good haveing your breakfast on dry land and not no ruff Ocean water under the Hotel or afrade to go out on the porch on acct of bugs and Thomas Hawks. And I dident see nothing of no Polo bares or lepers and I guess they dont dast hang a round a big town like Cairo. Well Al after we was threw our breakfast some automobiles come for us and took us out to the Pyrmids of Geezer and we seen the Pyrmids and Spinix and there a grate site Al and I wisht you could see them.

The Pyrmids is grate big 3 coroner tumes where peopl was burred in them 4 thousend yrs. a go and Evans says if you could oppen 1 of them up you could get enough skulls to start a hole new league and its a wonder the scouts for the big league clubs dont bust in to these here tumes when there looking for bone insted of a round threw the bush leagues. He was just jokeing because of coarse the dead skelton of a corps couldent play ball but what he ment was that some of these here bush ball players thats picked up dont know no more then a dead corps or some thing and should ought to be driveing a dray the lucky stiffs.

The Spinix is a grate big homily mans head build from concreet and Mcgraw says the only diffrunts bet. the Spinix and some ball players he knowed was that the Spinix dident spring no alley bys and dident have no arm to throw the ball to the wrong place with it. The Spinix is a bout 4 thousend yrs. old to like the Pyrmids and Evans says they aint no reason why I shouldent last 4 thousend yrs. on acct of me being made out of the same matteral and he ment Im hard like a rock and musseled up strong but of coarse I wont live no 4 thousend yrs. or even 10 times that long but will die a round 70 or 80 like evry body else but Im not worring a bout that yet and wont never leave it bother me thinking it a bout it but eat drink and be mary til I die as they say.

Well Al we fooled a round the Pyrmids all A. M. and some of the men and wommen road on them campbells and the boys wanted I should ride on 1 of them but not me Al and I dont believe in crulity to anamals and them big stiffs should ought to be a shamed of them self bareing there wait on a campbell thats all ready got them humps to carry extra and so skinny that you dont see how can they carry them self led a lone there humps. So I stade off of them and I aint like some of these fellows that pulls a cats tale to hear them holler or picks on some dum best that cant do nothing to you back.

Well after a wile we come back to the Hellopolis Hotel and ett our lunch and then they was the ball game and it was a joke Al. I and Benz done the pitching but they made us play on grounds that was sand up to your neck and evry little wile a Gus of wind would blow the sand in your eyes and 1/2 the time I dident know was I pitching to the plate or peging to 1st base and the place we pitched from wore down from us standing in it and the last 1/2 of the game it was like standing in the bottun of a system and trying to pitch and how could a man get any thing on your fast ball. The game come out tie 3 and 3 and Benz was lucky we dident get a doz. runs because you would of had to take a magna fine glass to see the brake in his curve ball and they aint no more brake to his spiter then a 2d base man throwing to 1st base.

He couldent fool little Al with his stuff Al but as I say the grounds was so rotten that they wasent nothing to the game only luck and when its a ? of luck I dont never get nothing but the worst of it. Its just like Mcgraw says after the game he says Jack if you had some of these birds luck you wouldent never have a game tide up on you led a lone loose 1. I says Yes but where can I get a hold of some luck and he says it will come to you if you keep going and then they wont no body beat you. I wisht I could pitch for him all the wile Al insted of Callahan that dont appresiate all I done for him.

I wouldent of been ast to pitch on them rotten grounds only K. Dive the king of africa and all the rest of the roil tease was out to the game and Comiskey and Mcgraw thot they might may be not like it if we held out on them so I went in and done the best I could and of coarse they could pretty near tell from my motion that I aint 1 of these here 4 flushs that should ought to be driveing a landry waggon but I wisht the grounds had of been O.K. and no sand blowing in your eyes and Id of showed them some thing.

Well Al after the game we was interduced to some of the roil tease and Evans says I should ought to try some of my africa languige on them so I says to 1 of them How you all like dat ole game and he says he liked it fine only he says it in plane englich but it shows I got there talk down pretty good when they can under stand it with out no trouble. But when I seen he could talk englich as good is I and you they wasent no use me bothring a bout talking to him in africa so we talked back and 4th in englich and I pulled that gag on him a bout where would a man go to if you broke your nee and the anser is you would go to africa where the nees grow and we joked back and 4th a wile and then we come back to the Hotel and drest for supper and now most of the boys is out site seen and probily throwing there money a way on nothing and I will hold on to mine and when I see some thing worth buying I will buy it and some of them suckers must think dollars grows on trees only it aint dollars and scents over here but plasters.

Well Al I wisht I could of win that 1 today and Mcgraw would half to come threw with an other present and he should ought to give me some thing at that for pitching for him on them rotten grounds and I would of win hands down on a decent grounds but how is a man going to put any thing on the ball when your feets sliping out in under you all the wile and sand in your eyes.

Your pal, Jack.

CAIRO. AFRICA.
FEB. 2.

Friend Al:  Well Al they played an other joke game today and of coarse the giants had all the luck this time on acct of me not pitching and the White Sox got beat 6 to 3 and if the giants had of woke up and got me 6 runs yest. I would of win just as easy is Wiltse did today only of coarse I couldent have no left hand it luck like him. I dident even put a sute on but set and watched the game with some of the africa peopl and I sprung the languige on them and they under stood evry thing I says to them and 1 of them ast me if I come from the south part of the US probily on acct of me haveing black hare and moveing a round slow only I guess theyd see I can get a round fast enough if they seen me bunt 1 and beat it out like I done at Melbourne.

Well old pal may be you will get a chanct to see for your self some of the stunts we been puling off over here because this A. M. we was out on the dessert and a big bldg. called the musk thats owned by L. A. Baster 1 of the roil tease and we was doing stunts for the moveing pitchers all the A. M. Our pitchers was tooken crosing acrost the dessert on campbells and mules and I road on a mule because there strong enough to carry a big stropping man like I with out geting hurt and no extra humps to lug a round with them. They took pitchers of the wommen to rideing on campbells and its bad enough for the men to be rideing on them but a wommans suposed to be soft hart it and they should ought to be a shamed of them self and I bet you wouldent never catch Florrie puling off stuff like that or I would tell her some thing but some wifes has got there husband Buffalo and dont dare say a word.

Well Al this here musk is a kind of church only they dont have no mass and dont pray to the Sts. or nothing but its a kind of sex like Dowwie in Chicago only the mans name is Mohammed Alley and he rents the musk from L. A. Baster. Evans says the musk costed 2 or 3 million dollars or a bout a hundred 1000 porus plasters in africa money.

The man thats runing the moveing pitchers made us all go in the musk and before they would leave us in they says we would ether half to take our shoes off or ware covvers over them and Schaefer says to me You better take your shoes off because if you put an other layyer on them ft. of yours they wont be no room for no body in the musk a long with you. I says the best thing you can do is shut your mouth or Ill put an other layyer on you and lay you out and he shut up.

Evans says the peopl that bellongs to the sex has to take a bath in the fountun out the side of the musk before they go in so they all do there worse shipping Sat. nights and its a grate site but we wont be here over Sat.

Well Al we went in the musk and we all had covvers on over our shoes and they rent the covvers to you to go in and then when we got in the side Callahan says that it was customary for 3 peopl in evry party to pay there respecks to Mohammed Alley and who would be the 3 because if you dont do it the sex gets sore at you. So Schaefer and Evans says they would be 2 of the 3 and they picked me out for the other 1 and I and Schaefer and Evans had to lay down on our stumick and wave our arms and kick our legs like we was swiming tho they wasent no more water in the musk then a rabbit or some thing but the sex pertends like they was. Hows that for bugs hey Al. Swiming on a stone floor. Callahan says the sex would probily all of them slide head 1st. if they was ball players on acct of them cralling on there stumick so much in the musk but he was jokeing.

Evans found out from 1 of the giuds that the place is usuly full of musk rats only they dont dast come out of there holes when theys strangers a round and there some thing like a mush rat only vissus. How would you like to be 1 of the sex Al and go in there and lay on your stumick and have them musk rats biteing at your bear ft. because the sex all ways takes there shoes and sox off and dont ware no covvers. It would make a man say your prairs all right hey Al.

Well Al we come out of the musk a bout noon and the sun was shinning and Schaefer ast me could I see my shaddow and I says yes of coarse and he says that means wear going to have 6 more wks. of winter because this is the 2 of Feb. and Evans says what do you mean Jack here aint no ground hog and then I seen what Schaefer was geting at so I says Your a hog your self you bum and I might of tooken a crack at him only on acct of the wommen in the party and when he seen he was going to far he shut his mouth. Some of these would be smart alex aint as smart is they think hey Al.

So we come back in the town and they was some time to kill yet before the ball game and I and some of the boys went a round to the diffrunt shops and stores and buzzards and Speaker bought me a cap like the peopl wares a round here and most of the boys in the party is wareing them and they call them a fezz and Speaker says he knowed I wouldent never buy 1 for my self tho I look good with it on and he ment I dont care a bout my looks and aint swelled up like a poison pup like some of these would be lady kilers and if I was most of them I wouldent never look in no looking glass on acct of the glass might brake and some of them blowed there money on sweet perfum and I got a lot of it throwed on me and I smell like Martins green house or some thing and if I had to keep primping my self up and soked in perfum to make a hit with the girls Id lay down and die some wheres, but I guess I wouldent have no trouble makeing the girls look at me if they wasent no such a thing like sweet perfum to douse on you.

Well old pal I might may be write you 1 more letter from here tommorrow but I dont know because theys going to be a party up to the america Council 8 and I got to write 1 of them pones of mine to spring at the party but they wont be no ball game tommorrow but wear libel to be pretty busy because we leave africa the day after tommorrow and I thot of coarse we was going to stay here a wile longer or go to egypt and them other places but no so I will write if I can and if I dont write you will know wear busy. A little more then a mo. now Al and we will be home and I guess Florrie and little Al will hate to see the old boy come in that door. Hey Al.

Your pal, Jack

CAIRO. AFRICA.
FEB. 3.

Al:  Well Al here I am writeing you an other letter today and I dident know weather I would have time or not and I realy aint got much time but I got some good news and I cant wait til tommorow on the Ship bord but will write to you a bout it now and male the letter before we leave.

Well old pal it looks like my bad lucks over and I wont have no more bad luck but good luck from now on and thats what Im going to tell you a bout it.

When we was comeing a way from the party this P. M. I and steve Evans was to gather and he says well what have you boughten here in Cairo to take home to the family and I says I havent boughten nothing because I havent saw nothing that was worth a plaster and he says well if you aint boughten nothing for your family what did you buy for your self and I says I dident buy nothing and he says Your a sucker to not buy nothing here where evry things a bargun and you cant make no miss take what ever you buy. So I says Well I dont want none of there barguns because they dont sell nothing that I want or got no use for it.

Then he dident say nothing for a wile and finely he says I wonder if I could find him now and I says what are you talking a bout and he says O I dident know I says any thing out loud but I was just thinking so I says What was you thinking a bout and he says he dident like to tell me because he might may be not be able to find the man and then I would be dissapointed. So I says What man was you looking for and he says Well I will tell you a bout it but if we cant get a hold of him again you musent get dissapointed and I says no I wouldent and then he sprung it on me.

Well Al it seems that the 1st. day we was in Cairo he was walking down the st. a lone and he run in to a africa man standing on the coroner and the man called him to 1 side and ast him did he want the biggist bargun that a man ever got and Evans says what was it and the man says he had a scarab from Cops tume and Cops was the chief of police here in Cairo 4 thousend yrs. a go. A scarab Al is a bug thats turned to stone and use to be a live like any bug but most bugs when they die mole a way til they aint nothing left of them but a scarab gets hard and the longer they been dead the harder they get.

Well Al theys only a bout a 1/2 a doz. scarabs in the world and they averige $50.00 dollars a peace is what it costs to get them and of coarse they wouldent no body be a sucker enough to pay $50.00 for a dead bug but scarabs is some thing more then plane bugs. There luck peaces Al and the man that owns 1 cant never have no real bad luck but nothing but good luck all the wile. This scarab that the africa man had was the only 1 in the world from Cops tume and Evans says Cops was the luckest man in africa because he dide 4 thousend yrs. a go.

So Evans says to the man Leave me see your scarab and the man showed it to him but made him stand a way from him far enough so as Evans couldent knock him down and take it a way from him but Evans seen in a min. that it was a real scarab and not no fake so he ast the man what would he take for it and the man says 15 a porus plaster or a bout $10.00 and Evans ast him why was he selling it so cheap and the man says he picked it up in the st. and it dident bellong to him and he was hard up and out of work and he couldent find the man or womman that losted it and so he would half to sell it and get what he could for it.

So at 1st. Evans was going to buy it off of him and then he thot to him self that he dident need no luck peace because hed been playing right clost to the right field seats in St Louis and nothing never hapened to him and he says thats the most dangerus place in the world to play and besides hes left hand it and what more could a man ask and besides he couldent a ford to spend no more money on the trip so he told the man no he couldent buy the scarab and the man says your makeing a big miss take and Evans says Could I buy it and give it to 1 of my friends or sell it and the man says No because if you done that it would contract the charm. Well Evans told him he was sorry but he couldent buy it and the man says all right and Evans come a way and left him.

So he was telling me a bout it when we come a way from the party and he says It just hit me all at onct that you was the man that should ought to have it because if you had a little bit of luck a long with the stuff you got they couldent no body beat you but I dont know weather I can find the man or not or if hes may be sold it all ready. So I says Where was he standing at and Evans says he was down to the coroner of 4th and Olive st. and I says I dident know where that was so Evans says he would take me there but he kept warrening me all the way that the man had probily sold the scarab or we couldent find him but any way we husseled down there and sure enough the man was still standing there yet and I could see that Evans was telling me the truth because when he spoke to the man the man ansered back and he certunly looked hard up Al and like he need it money.

So Evans ast him right off if he still had that scarab yet and the man says witch 1 and Evans says the 1 from Cops tume that you was showing me and says you would sell for $4; a porus plaster and besides you havent only got 1. So the man says yes and dugged down in his pocket and come up with it and its the funnest looking thing you ever see Al and it looks some thing like a bug only hard and no wings or nothing on it and Evans says to the man It was gray when you showed it to me the other day and the man says yes and now its green because its older then it was and the older they get they turn green. So Evans ast me did I want to buy it and I says I dident know and he says whats the matter dont you beleive what I been telling you and I says yes and he says well then whats the matter so I had to come out and tell him that I dident have no money a long with me.

Well Evans says he dident have no money nether or he would lone me some and it looked like we would half to pass it up but finely Evans ast the man if he would be there at 7 a clock and the man says yes he would and Evans ast me if I knowed where I could borry the money and I says yes I could get some off of Callahan or Comiskey or Mcgraw so we fixed it up that we was to go back to the hotel and get the money and meet the man at 7 a clock so I and Evans went back to the Hotel as fast is we could and Callahan was the 1st. 1 I run in to so Evans left me and I went up and ast Callahan could I have 1/2 a porus plaster and he says Get a hole 1 and cary it to the club whats the matter have you got a cold so I seen he over herd me and I says No I dont want no medisin what I want is $10.00 so he says Thats diffrunt and he give it to me. Well Al I was a scared the man would of ducked and may be sold the scarab before we got back but no he was there and I pertended like I thot the price was pretty steap and ast him couldent he come down a little and sure enough Al he come down to $7.50 and I thot Evans would fall over. So I took the scarab and stuck it in my pockit and kept my hand on it all the way back to the hotel and we wasent no sooner a way from where the man was that sold it to me and then Evans says Well your lucks started all ready when you can get a bargun like that and it was a grate bargun at $10.00 dollars and you got it for $7.50 and you should ought to buy the ciggars so we stoped in at a place on the way back to the Hotel and I bought him a ciggar but I been smokeing to much latily so I dident get none for my self.

Well old pal I cant hardily wait til we get to where ever it is wear going next and play an other ball game and I will get Mcgraw to leave me pitch it and I will show these birds what I can do when I got some luck a long with me and I wisht I could pitch a city serious game against the cubs before I loose the scarab but of coarse I aint going to loose it Al and I would like to see some body try and get it a way from me and Evans says I better not tell no body a bout haveing it or they might some body steal it off of me.

Well if they do Al they will have a fight on there hands. But Evans promussed to not tell no body and of coarse thats the best plan to keep it to our self and leave them wonder what I done with the jinks thats been chaseing me ever since I bust it in to the big league and I wisht Id of had this here scarab all the wile I been pitching ball and Id of made Mathewson or any body else record look sick.

So when we got back to the Hotel I run in to larrg Doyle and Donlin and told them a bout the big bargun I got and they both promussed to not say nothing so some body will get a big supprise the next time I get a chanct to pitch and Callahan will wisht more then ever that he hadent never loned me to the giants for the trip.

Of coarse Al this aint nothing like a 4 leave clover or a horse shoe or 1 of them things that peopl thinks is lucky but I dont beleive theys any thing in them things but this here scarabs a diffrunt thing and they aint no ? a bout it or they wouldent ask them prices for it $50.00 a peace because thats the reglar price and just think of me geting a hold of 1 for $7.50 but you couldent get no $50.00 a peace for a 4 leave clover or a horse shoe but you could buy all you wanted of them for $1.00 and that shows they aint realy nothing to the bunk a bout them being lucky.

Well Al I got the old scarab hid a way where they wont no body find it and I cant do nothing but wait til we get to where ever wear head it and play an other game and then we will see weather its a fake or not but I guess they aint no faké a bout it hey Al.

Well Al I got to be geting to bed because we leave here in the A. M. and I been going some today and need a good rest but couldent wait til tommorow to tell you a bout my luck and I know it will be good news to you. And I supose I might as well tell you what else we done today and it wont take long.

This A. M. we was drove a round town and done some more site seen and I guess we certunly seen evry thin they is to see in the 3 days we been in Cairo and I can get a long all the rest of my life with out seen no more musks and desserts. This P. M. we was tooken up to the america Council 8 like I told you and had a party and stuff to eat and drink and I talked the pone off wile we was eating and its apone I wrote to spring at this party and I will coppy it down so as you can see what I hand it them:

Wear going to leave Cairo
and Boys we hate to leave

Youve showed us a grand good time

Is why we hate to leave.

I pitched a game in the sand

And so it was no supprise

That I couldent win my game

With the sand blowing in my eyes.

I done pretty good I think
to hold them to a tie

When I couldent see where was I pitching

On acct of the sand in my eyes.

We seen the Pyrmids and spinx
and all they was to see

The desserts and musk and campbells

Was a mung the things we seen.

Good by boys we will you remmember

Your well come has been grate

And we will all ways remmember

Cairo and the boys of Council 8.

I would of gave them more bull a bout there lodge only I for got to find out weather they was K. C.s or elks or what was they but any way the peace I give them made a big hit and the america Council him self was tickeled to deth and Schaefer says it was the best Id wrote yet and Im geting better right a long.

Well Al thats a bout all they is to tell because I all ready told you what I done after the party and that was when I and Evans got the scarab. We leave here tommorow A. M. on a train and go to Alexander and from there we get on an other boat and go some wheres else and I wisht we was going to play 1 game in Alexander before we get on the Ship bord so as I could try out my luck peace and after this Wiltse and Leverenz and them other left hand it stiffs wont have nothing on me for luck and I will show Allen some thing when I get back home.

When he sees I got some luck to go a long with the rest of my stuff he will probily jump the league if he aint been canned by Comiskey all ready by wirelest telegram. O you little scarab.

Your pal, Jack.

• 5 •

The Busher’s Welcome Home

ON THE SHIP BORD.
FEB. 6.

Friend Al:  Well Al here we are in the Meadow Training ocean and this is the last day we will be on the Ship bord til we get to London Eng. and from now til we get a bord of the boat at London for N. Y. City we will all the wile be on land in Itly Rome Paris France and so 4th. Wear do in Naples tommorow and thats the 1st. place we stop at wile wear in Itly and we stay there 3 days with out playing no ball game so they wont be no chanct for me to find out if my scarab is going to bring me luck or not going to bring me no luck.

Talking a bout my scarab and that reminds me what come off yest. and last night and theys some stiffs a long on the trip that you couldent get them to stoop to low and that they isent nothing they wouldent do even steal and I ain’t found it out who done it yet or that is tride to do it but who ever was it would steal candy a way from a blind man wile there back was turned and when I find out who was it Im going to tell Comiskey and Callahan and they will see what kind of a gang of theifs they brot a long on the trip.

I guess I told you a bout me geting a hold of that scarab in Cairo and it was a big bargun because the man that sold it to me wouldent of never gave it up only it wasent hisn and he was hard up and this is a genuwind scarab from the tume of Cops that was the cheif of Police in Cairo 4 thousend yrs. a go & I give the man $7.50 for it and Steve Evans says its the gratest bargun a man ever got because 1 of these here scarabs if there genuwind gives you nothing but good luck and you cant have no bad luck as long is you carry them a round with you.

Well yest. P. M. we was setting out on the porch I and Evans and Schaefer and a hole bunch of us and Schaefer halled some thing out of his pockit and it was a bout 10 of these here scarabs only of coarse not the real scarabs but fakes and some body ast him how much did he give for them and he says a nichol a peace and then he says to me Do you want to buy 1 of them off of me so as you will get some luck and I says No. I dont want no fake scarab because I got a real 1 and Schaefer says how much did you give for it and I says $7.50 and Schaefer says leave me see it a minut and I says Yes if you will promus to give it back right a way so he give me his promus and I halled out my scarab and showed it to them and they all says it was a dandy.

Then Schaefer put my scarab in his hand a long with his fake scarabs and then he held his hand out and ast me to pick my scarab out and at 1st. they all of them looked pretty near a like and I dident know for a minut witch was mine but Evans says Cant you tell a real scarab from a fake and then he picked mine right out of the bunch with out no trubble and then he says You should ought to be a shamed of your self not knowing a real scarab from a fake and if you aint care full some body will get yours a way from you and you will be carring a fake a round in your pockit and wundring why dont you get some luck so I says How do you tell them a like” and be says You cant tell by just looking with out a hole lot of practice but if you get a hold of them you can tell O.K. because you can bite on them and if its a real scarab it dont make no noise but if there a fake they sqeek like a rat.

So then he give me my scarab and I bit on it and they wasent no noise of any kind. But Schaefer was jellus a bout me haveing a real 1 and him haveing a lot of fakes so he beggin talking like hisn was as good is mine so I says all right think so if you want to but wait and see witch 1 of us has the luck.

Well Al when I come to bed last night I herd a noise like some body trying to get in to my birth room and at 1st I was going to jump up and open the door and smash who ever was it jaw and then I thot I better just lay there and leave them open the door and come in and then I would have them where they couldent get a way but they couldent open the door so pretty soon I dident hear no noise no more so I got up and went to the door and they was gone so this A. M. I told Evans a bout it and he says it was probily some body after my scarab and if he was me he wouldent carry it a round with me but get the perser to stick it in the safe so now its in the safe and if some body steals it out of there the peopl that owns the boat will half to come acrost but I guess they wouldent of no body tride to steal my scarab if it wasent a real 1 and I ast Schaefer this A. M. was they any body tride to steal hisn and he says no so that prooves whose got the real scarab and whose got the fakes.

But it shows you what a fine gang we got a long on the trip and pertending like wear all pals to gather but the minut your backs turned they would steal your shirt and I guess some of these here pitchers would like to steal my fast ball but if they did they wouldent have nothing only a fast ball because they aint got nothing there self but I guess if they had my fast ball they wouldent need nothing else hey Al.

Well Al we get to Naples tommorow night and I will male you this letter from there and they should ought to be some male waiting for me there from Florrie and little Al and of coarse I dont mean that little Al will be writeing me a letter but Florrie would know better then write me a letter and not say nothing a bout him and Im crazy to know how is he geting a long talking yet and how much does he weigh and so 4th and he should ought to have sevrel teeth by this time but I guess I shouldent be in no hurry for him to get a jaw full of teeth and that means all the sooner I would half to be buying stake for him.

Your old pal, Jack.

NAPLES. IT.
FEB. 8.

Friend Al : Well Al tommorow we will be threw with Naples and wear going to Rome next and I hope Romes a lifer place then Naples and all as we been doing for 2 days is looking at this in that and the other thing diffrunt mts. and Vilecanose and bldgs. and so 4th and Im tireder then if Id pitched 2 double headers in 1 P. M. tho I guess I could do that all right when my arm feels good because when a mans got a fast ball like mine you dont hardily ever half to use your curve and when my arms good I could zip them fast ones threw there all day and not never feel it.

Well Al they wasent no male for me here not even a post card and I dont know weather little Als a live or dead and burred and how would you like to have a wife that dont never have time to write to you tho of coarse they wouldent be no sence in Bertha writeing to you when you dont never go a way no wheres or Bertha nether and besides you havent got no baby and Bertha wouldent have nothing to write a bout even if she went a way some wheres and set down to write you a letter.

We got here yest. and the 1st. thing when we land it they was a Dr come a round and exxamined us to see weather we had any thing and Evans says to him Dont waist your time exxamineing the pitchers because they aint none of them got nothing and he ment that we was all big helthy fellows tho of coarse they aint all of us that way and theys 1 or 2 of them that could take on a few lbs. with out crowding no body off of the bench. And then we was drove to the hotel and Callahan says we could go any wheres we wanted and I wanted to go up in my room and lay down but the boys says it wouldent be no fun going any wheres with out me so I had to go a long and we went and seen Pump A and Linoleum and Mt. Vesuvius and Evans says it was a good thing we got vaxinated up to japan so as we wouldent be in no danger if old Vesuvius had a erupsion and hes all ways pulling off stuff like that.

This is Sun. and I dident go no wheres accept to see some of the mts. and runes we dident see yest. and if they hadent of told me these was diffrunt I would of thot they was the same and Im glad it dident cost me nothing to see them and a little wile a go we was all called to gather and a wop give us a couple of bronx statues 1 for the giants and 1 for the White Sox and there statues of athaletes and the 1 the giants got is a left hander and it looks like he had just let lose of the ball and hes looking out to right field probily to see where the batters going to hit it and if hes like most of the left handers he will half to go and clime up on the right field fence if he wants to see the ball lite. and the 1 Comiskey got is an other athalete geting ready to throw a plate at some body and probily him and his Mrs. has had a quarl but you cant tell because the statue dont say nothing on it and both the statues is bear and not a stich of cloths on them and I guess theyd be bigger crowds come to the ball games if we drest like that hey Al tho theys all ways a pretty fare crowd out to the south side park in Chi when its my turn to work. I ment they wasent nothing wrote on the statues to tell you who they are but theys a motto wrote on them both and the mottos was wrote by Hal Cane and Evans says hes wrote a lot of grate books some of them pretty near as long is the Bibble.

Well Al Comiskey wont half to keep his statue locked up in no safe because I wont try and steal it off of him and take it home because evry time we had Co. we would half to rap it up in a over coat or some thing.

Well Al I will try and write you a letter wile wear in Rome and we will be home a bout 1 mo. from today.

Your pal, Jack.

ROME. IT.
FEB. 13.

Old Pal:  Well Al they could of left this burg off of the skedule and I wouldent of made no holler and they should ought to call it rain insted of Rome and they dident give us no rooms with a bath in the hotel where wear stopping at but Schaefer says they dident bild no bath rms. in the hotels here because when the hotels was bilt all the peopl drest like them statues and when they wanted a bath all as they had to do was go out and stand on the side walk in the rain but now the police has made them ware cloths so they half to get a long with sparrow baths in the wash bold.

Well Al lm so sick in tired of staying in the hotel and nothing to do that I couldent stand it laying a round here an other day and I would jump out the window or some thing but wear going to Niece tonight.

May be thats a lifer place than this is and the sun shins onct in a wile.

We could may be of played a game the day we got here 3 days a go because it wasent raining then but just geting ready to rain but the mare of the town says No base ball was to ruff and wouldent leave us play so Callahan and Mcgraw had to get out and show him what the games like and I guess he thot it was foot ball or some thing or may be he thot the pitcher shot the ball out of a canon and tride to hit the batter and I guess if he could see my fast ball when my supers good he would think the ball was shot out of a canon but any way when Mcgraw and Callahan explaned the game to him he seen they wasent nothing ruff a bout it so he says we could play the next day and then it beggin to rain and been raining ever sence and dont look like it was in no hurry to stop.

So theys been nothing doing and no chanct to see if my scarabs going to bring me luck. Some of the boys has been out looking at more runes and wanted I should go a long but I told them I guest I could live a few yrs. with out seen no more runes and the day before yest. they was all up calling on the pope & wanted I should go a long but you had to ware your evening cloths and it just ment getting them soked and the boys that went has got some runes of there own to look at now I mean there evening cloths that they wore out in the rain. But I guess I should ought to of went a long at that because Evans says the pope ast where I was and Evans had to tell him I was sick and Evans says its bad enough to lie to any body let a lone the pope.

Well Al I and Schaefer was talking a bout the rotten weather and Schaefer says he was talking a bout it with some of the peopl that lives here and they told him this was the worst rain sence the rain of Nearo and they use to have a lot worse rains then they have now and they got all the diffrunt rains named like the rain of Cesar the rain of August S. and so 4th. and its a fine burg Al where they got so much rain that they half to name the diffrunt rains to tell them a part and if this burg was in the league theyd play on the home grounds a bout twict a yr. and on them 2 days theyd half to start a bout 1 a clock in the A. M. to get in all the double headers and probily the grounds would be 5 or 6 ft. under water and take a little sod off like Bush or Schalk and theyd half to come up evry little wile and get some air and the outfielders would probily half to ride a round in boats and at that I bet I could take a mud skow and get a round as fast is some of them outfielders with out menshoning no bodys name.

Well Al wear leaveing right after supper tonight and the sooner we get a way from here I will be tickeled to deth.

Your pal, Jack.

NIECE. IT.
FEB. 16.

Friend Al:  Well old pal, I guess the scarabs O.K. and I dident get stung when I bought it and its 1/2 payed for it self all ready and then some. They was a game this P. M. the 1st. game we played sence we come a way from Cairo but it wasent in the game where I found out a bout the scarab being O.K. because Mcgraw wouldent leave me pitch the game because he is saveing me for the day after tommorow in Paris when they will be a big crowd. The giants got beat this P. M. 10 to 9 and they wasent none of the pitchers had a thing and I could of went in there and throwed left hand it and give the both sides a triming but Mcgraw says he dident care nothing a bout this game and the 1st. game in Paris is the 1 he wants to win and thats why he kept me on the bench and wouldent take no chanct of wareing me out.

But I was going to tell you a bout the scarab and what it done for me and heres what it done for me Al. We went over to monte Carlo a hole gang of us and thats the place where they run all them gamboling games faro and chuckle luck and the roll it wheel where you bet what coller the marbles going to drop in to or you can pick a No. and bet on that only of coarse theys so many Nos. that a mans a sucker to try and pick out any 1 No. but theys only 2 collers and you can bet weather its going to be black or red.

Well Al before we start it out Evans ast me did I have my scarab a long and I says no so he made me go back and get it and I kept it in my pants pockit all the wile we was over there and they was a big crowd a round the diffrunt tables but I and Evans found a place and I dident make no bets for a wile and he made a few and dident win none of them because he was trying to pick out a No. so finely I layed down a $1 only they call it 5 franks here and in Itly it would be 5 liars and I layed it down on the red and sure enough up come the red and the cooper give me an other dollar so I says I was threw but Evans says I better try it again and bet the both of my $1 at onct but I wasent no sucker like that so I stuck a $1 in my pockit and bet the other $1 on the red and sure enough it come red again and the cooper had to give me an other $1.

So Evans says now your playing with there money why dont you bet the hole $2 at onct so I seen where I wouldent be nothing out if I lost it so I bet the hole $2 on the red and sure enough it come up red so then I says Im threw and Evans says he wouldent never be threw as long is the luck was staying with me like that and he wanted I should play the hole $4.00 that Id all ready win on the red but I says no and wile we was argueing a bout it they throwed the marble again and it come up black so you see Al I would of lost the hole $4 if Id did what Evans wanted I should so I give him the laugh and I got up and left the table and he come with me and we went and found the other boys and they was all looseing there money as fast is they played it trying to pick out Nos. insted of collers so Evans told them what Id pulled off and Scott wanted me to sell the scarab to him and says he would give me $10.00 for it and I give him the laugh and now you see Al that the scarabs only costed me $3.50 insted of $7.50 because it win $4.00 for me playing roll it and after we come out of the place Evans says he over herd the prop. say that he was glad I wasent going to stay no longer because the way things was brakeing for me I would probily have all there money in a couple hrs.

And Scott says 1 of the coopers ast him if I dident have some luck peace in my pockit because he never seen no body win 3 bets in suceshon before and Scott told him no that I was just born lucky because theys a rule against carring scarabs in there when your going to play the wheel. and they would of tooken my money a way from me if they had of found out a bout me haveing a scarab but they wont get the money now because I got it right here and the scarabs hid a way where they couldent find it. O you little scarab hey Al.

Theys a big st. carnval going on here and evry body drest up yest. and parade it up and down the sts. in funny customs and we all put on our base ball sutes and road in the parade and I guess its a good thing Florrie wasent a round Al the way some of them girls over looked me and theys some fine looking girls a round here but of coarse I got a wife now and dont have nothing to do with no pretty girl.

Well Al we go to Paris tommorow and I will may be write you a letter from there.

Your old pal, Jack.

PARIS.
FEB. 21.

Al:  Well Al this place is worse then Rome when it comes to rain and the 1st. day we was in Rome it dident rain but they hasent been no day like that here and they wasent no more chanct to play a game here then a man could fly you might say but it can rain all the rest of the winter and I wont have no holler comeing because I dont half to pitch no ball game now to find out weather my scarabs lucky because I found out now for sure Al and I dont mean a bout me wining that money at monte Carlo but I got an other big peace of news for you but probily you will see it in the Chi papers before you get this letter and may be you all ready know a bout it but theys a chanct that the federals wants to keep it a secrit for a wile and pull it just before the season opens up. So I will tell you a bout it Al and you can see for your self weather the scarab brot me luck.

Well Al I wont be with the White Sox this comeing season but I will be with the federal and geting what Im worth and Comiskey and Callahan can jump in Mich. lake as far as Im conserned and the White Sox to and I will be pitching for the Chicago federal and I bet Comiskey will wisht he had of gave me real money when he finds out his pitching staff is all shot to peace is and probily 1/2 the peopl thats been going to the White Sox pk. will quite going there and come over where the federals plays there games and the federals is going after all the stars and they will get them to because they aint afrade to let lose of there money.

Well Al I will tell you how it come off and I and Schaefer and Evans was setting in the hotel this A. M. and Schaefer says Well boys we made a big miss take leaveing home this winter and Evans says how is that and Schaefer says the federals was sineing up all the stars that stayed home and giveing them grate big salerys and Cobb and Mathewson and Lajoie and Jackson and a hole lot others had all ready jump to the federal and probily we would of got them offers if we had of been where they could get a hold of us. So Evans says Well they could get a hold of us all right if they wanted to because they could wire us a telegram couldent they and Schaefer says Yes but may be there afrade that Callahan or Comiskey or Mcgraw would get a hold of the telegrams and not give them to us and then Evans says Thats right and I wouldent be supprised if some telegrams had all ready came for some of us and Comiskey and Mcgraw was holding them out on us so Schaefer says I bet thats the dope and Im going up and ast the clerk if they was any telegrams come for me that some body else got a hold of them.

So Schaefer left us and went up to the dest and talked to the clerk a wile and pretty soon he come back and says nothing doing and we hadent set there more then 5 minuts after he come back when all of a sudden 1 of the bell hops come a round yelling my name and I ast him what was it and he says they was a cable for me only he says it in France and Evans had to tell me what was he saying so he give me the cable telegram and I couldent hardily open it Al because I thot sure it was from Florrie and may be little Al was sick or dead or some thing but after a wile I got it opened up and it wasent from Florrie a tall Al but Joe Tinker the mgr. of the Chi federal and it says Jack Keefe St. Jas. hotel Will give you ten thousend dollars per anum 3 yr. contrack to pitch for us cable the anser at onct and then it was sined Joe Tinker.

Well Al you could of knock me down with a toy bloon only at 1st I thot it was a joke or some thing but then I seen it was wrote on the reglar paper like they all ways send telegrams on it so I seen it wasent no fake so I just set there and couldent say nothing and finely Evans says Whats the matter bad news and I says Well I wouldent hardily call it bad news and then I showed he and Schaefer the telegram and I thot theyd brake my arm off shakeing hands with me and pounding me on the back and Evans says You lucky stiff and I says How a bout that little scarab now and Evans says Yes and who got that scarab for you and you should ought to come acrost because if it hadent of been for me you wouldent of never saw the scarab so I says All right I aint no Sherlock and I will buy the ciggars for the both of you and Evans says Yes you should ought to buy a man 2 ciggars for geting you 10 thousend per anum so I says all right you cant call me no piker so I took them out and bought a couple ciggars for Evans and 1 for Schaefer and I wasent going to give Schaefer no 2 ciggars when he dident have nothing to do with me geting a hold of the scarab and he was lucky to get 1 ciggar.

So then Evans says Well you better hurry up and anser the telegram or may be Tinker will change his mind and take the offer back so I ast them what to put in the anser and they says what I should put in it just Except your offer and will sine as soon is I get home and then they both of them wanted I should put some thing in a bout them and ast Tinker if he dident have no jobs for them so I stuck that in to and then I went in the telegram ofice and tride to send the telegram but they wouldent send it unlest I payed for it 1st. so I says how much is it and they says 31 cts a word and what do you think of that for a robbers game Al but they wasent no use makeing a holler because I couldent take no chanct of Tinker changeing his mind so I give them the money and it was $3.72 all to gather because I cut out the part a bout Evans and Schaefer because Tinker will let them know if he wants them and may be he dont want them and its none of my busness weather he wants them or not.

So then I thot I better tell Callahan a bout it but Schaefer and Evans told me I better not because may be the federal might blow up before the season start it and then I wouldent have no job no wheres so I aint going to say nothing to ether he or Comiskey for a wile tho I guess they aint no chanct of the federal blown up when they got all them stars sined up and all that money to spend hey Al and I hope Tinkers got Cobb sined up for his club and I guess that wouldent be some comebination hey Al with Cobb geting the runs and me makeing the other club look like a sucker and I guess Cobb would be tickeled to deth to be on the same club with me because then he wouldent never half to hit against me accept in practice onct in a wile and I can make him look like a sucker on my curve ball any time he steps up there. Well Al if Tinkers got Cobb we will go threw that federal league like soup threw a sift and it will be a shame to take the money. O you 10 thousend per anum.

Well Al thats the bigest news I got to tell you and if it aint in the papers youll be the 1st. 1 to know a bout it out side of I and Tinker and Evans and Schaefer because I aint going to tell Florrie nothing a bout it til we get home and then I will spring it on her for a supprise. Some supprise party hey Al.

Well the boys has all been a round Paris seen the sites and theys plenty to see but Im all tired out with it all ready and cant hardily wait til we get to London and get on the bord of the Ship for home and I guess I wont only pitch 1 more game on the trip and that will be in London and may be that will be the last time I ever pitch with Callahan looking at me but its his own falt him and Comiskey and if they had of gave me a real salery in the 1st. place I wouldent half to jump to the federal to get the money.

Well Al we seen all they was to see a round here and seen the place where Lajoies grate granfathers burred and the diffrunt liberys and gallerys and so 4th. and Im glad Florrie dident come a long on the trip because the wommen in the party has been spending all there time in the diffrunt stores buying hats and cloths and some of them will have enough diffrunt cloths so as they can ware a diffrunt dress out to the ball pk. evry day and go home and change between the 2 games when theys a double header. And we was gave a dinner party by a man that makes champlain wine and of coarse they was nothing to do but I must write 1 of them pones of mine and talk it off at the party and heres what I give them Al:

Well boys wear all sorry

We couldent give you no game.

But you dident give us no good weather

Rain rain rain.

I wisht I could of pitched a game here

It would of gave me plesure
but I guess the White Sox are all

Of them glad it was rotten weather.

Well boys wear on our way home

From the trip a round the world

And soon we will be in america

The Home of the USA.

But we wont for get you boys

You showed us all the sites .

so hurrah for Paris the best place in the world

Accept the stars and strips.

Well Al I got to do some packing because wear leaveing here tommorow A. M. for London and I will write you an other letter in London and I bet your tickeled to deth over the good news Ive gave you Al and I know I would be tickeled to deth to hear a bout you landing a good job only of coarse it wouldent be no 10 thousend per anum. O you 10 thousend per anum. Hey Al.

Your old pal, Jack.

LONDON. ENG.
FEB. 27.

Al:  Well Al it takes more then a scarab for a man to be lucky is some of these lucky stiffs and some of them must of been born with a silver horse shoe in there mouth the lucky stiffs and all as they half to do is throw there bat at a ball and make base hits when they got there eyes shut and if I was as lucky is some of them stiffs I would quite playing ball and buy stock in 1 of these here gold minds and theyd probily find dimonds and insted of them finding gold theyd probily find dimonds or some thing.

Well Al I guess Ive pitched my last game for Callahan and of coarse I wasent pitching for Callahan but Mcgraw but I wont do no more pitching where Callahans watching me because I will be in the federal as soon is we get home where he cant see me no more and I would of gave a $100.00 to of win this game on acct. of it being the last game I pitched with Callahan watching me but I guess he seen that they was lucky to beat me and a man cant win no game no matter how much stuff you got when your working against a club thats so lucky that if they got a hold of some stock in a gold mind some wheres theyd probily be dimonds insted of gold.

This here Daly should ought to start a black Smith shop with them horse shoes hes got and the White Sox sined him for a catcher but hes been playing 1 base on this trip on acct. of Callahan not haveing no reglar 1 base man a long on the trip so Daly was lucky to be in the game let a lone brake it up with a base hit and as soon is we get home youll read a bout him geting sent back to the new Eng. league and Im glad I dont half to pitch in that league if there all as lucky is him.

Well old pal I wasent feeling nothing like my self any way and how could a man feel right when you been laying a round this burg 3 or 4 days and the air damp and fogy all the wile and yest. was the 1st. time we seen the sun sence we got here so my arm was lame and stiff and I wouldent of never went in there only king Geo. the king of Eng. and the Lord mare of London and all the other High puloy was out to the game and Mcgraw dident dast pitch no body else only me on acct. of them peopl being out to the game and expected to see the best we had to show them. So when Mcgraw says I was to work I dident say nothing back a bout me not feeling good so before the game he dident know nothing a bout how bad I felt but if he was any kind of a mgr. he would of saw the minut I went in there that I wasent right and tooken me out. Or may be he seen they was something the matter with me but was afrade to take me out on acct. of may be the peopl that come to the game would make a holler.

Well any way I went in there and the ball felt like it wade a 100 lbs. and I couldent do nothing with it and couldent hardily raze my arm a bove my solder and evry ball I throwed pretty near killed me but I wasent going to say nothing as long is Mcgraw insist it I should pitch so I stuck it out and I would of beat them at that if theyd been some body behind me besides a bunch of lofers that all there thinking a bout is get home and win an other penant in the Nat. league and get the loosers share of the serious money and they should ought to thank them self that there in the Nat. league and if they was in the american league they would be giveing the st. Louis club and the yankees a tuft battle.

Well they played like a bunch of these here collige willy boys and they should ought to of murdered what Benz was sloping up there but they act it like they was a scarred may be they would hit a hard foul and the ball would go threw the scream and hurt king Geo. and they would get arested for a trader so when we come up to the 10 ining the score was tide 4 and 4 and 2 out and up come this here lucky busher Daly and I was waisting my curve ball right a long on acct. I couldent get no brake to it because the ball was heavy and logy so I waisted a curve ball on him and he throwed his bat at it and catched it just right and made a home run off of it and that wounded the game up and we was licked and all the willy boys in the grand stand claped there hands and made Daly think he was a grate guy when he should ought to of been arested for ever swinging at the ball and pretty soon he will be throwing his bat at waist balls in the new Eng. league where he bellongs and the scout that picked him up must be sore at Comiskey.

Well Al they was a grate crowd out to the game and I guess we showed them we got a better game then there baby game crickit only of coarse they dident see me at my best and I would like to pitch a game for them when my old super was in shape but at that they wouldent know weather a man was good or weather he was not good and they certunly got funny idears a bout base ball and before the game wile the boys was haveing there fielding practice Evans run a bout 10 ft. and catched a fly ball and evry body beggin claping there hands and yelling so I says to mike Donlin on the bench What are they holling a bout and he says That catch and I says what was they in that catch and he says they aint use to seen a fly ball catched because when theys a fly ball hit in there crickit games there fielders is lucky if the ball dont come down on top of there head but 1 time a bout a yr. a go 1 of there crickit fielders catched a fly ball and the king declaired a leagul hollow day. So you see what kind of a game crickit is Al a baby game and I would of win that bet off them crickit players in australia if they hadent of made up there own rules and robed me out of the money.

Well Al we was just going to start the game and I was anounced to pitch and evry body beggin claping there hands and all standing up and Evans says Take off your hat so I took off my hat and bowed to them and Evans says what are you bowing for and I says Because there giveing me a hand and he says You got a grate lot of nerve because the reason there all standing up and got there hats off is because the kings just came and I told you to take your hat off because you wouldent of knowed enough if I hadent of told you and I says I guess I know enough all right and I dont half to ast you how to act or take no lessons from you and he dident say nothing back so I ast him witch was the king and he point it out a man that wasent no more king then you are Al.

So Evans wasent as smart is he thot he was and the man he point it out was may be the Lord mare or some body but who ever he was he wasent no king Geo. because he drest just like I or you and a derby hat and hadent shaved for a wk. But the king was there some wheres all right because all the papers come’ out today and says he was there and probily hes got a privut box some wheres where they cant none of the bugs go up and bother him and ast him this in that and pester the life out of him and the papers says they was a bout 20 thousend peopl to the game and 1 of them says theys been 5 times that many out to some of the crickit and foot ball games and ether the reporter was full of hops or else they must be a fine bunch of rummys in this burg or else they dont charge nothing to get in to there crickit and foot ball games and they certunly shouldent ought to and it would be like as if a man had to pay to set in the livry staple and watch them hitch up a horse.

Well Al I guess I shouldent ought to make no holler a bout my luck or find falt with the scarab after me geting that swell offer from the federal and whats the diffrunts weather I loose a ball game when it dont count nothing and a crowd watching you that thinks a man must be a star if he dont trip up and fall on his ear evry time theys a fly ball hit so I guess I shouldent ought to make no holler but I will be tickeled to deth when we get a way from here and on the Ship bord going home and we leave tommorow A. M. for the Liver pool where the boat leaves from and this time wear going acrost a diffrunt Ocean from the 1 we went acrost when we start it out on the trip and this is the atlantic Ocean and it dont only take 6 days to go acrost and I will be home with Florrie and little Al in a little over a wk. now and the White Sox that is the boys that dident make the trip is all ready out to Calif. on the training trip and Callahan thinks I will be going a long with him to Calif. as soon is we get to Chi but I will give him a big supprise Al and I guess I will try and get Tinker to leave me stay home a wk. or 2 insted of going south to where ever the federals is at right a way and I guess Tinker will leave me do pretty near any thing I want to on acct. of how glad he will be to have me on the club.

Well Al we been runing a round seen all the sites West Mr. Abie and the cort house and all the rest of it and beef stake diners and so 4th. til wear sick in tired and that old boat cant go to fast to sute me and of coarse I wont write you nothing on the Ship bord because you wouldent no sooner get the letter then we will be back in Chi a bout the same time but may be I will write you a letter from N. Y. city if I have time. So I will cloths for now old pal.

Your old pal, Jack.

N. Y. CITY.
MARCH 7.

Old Pal:  Well Al Ive sprang it on Comiskey a bout me going with the federal and he pertended like he dident care and says he hopped I would have good luck and thats what they all say Al but you can bet he feels bad a bout it and would meet the figger of my federal contrack if Id give him a chanct but nothing doing Al because I want to be in the league where Cobb and them is in it and we will get the peopl wile the rest of them wont have no more peopl out to there grounds then if it was A. M. practice. But the federals has been keeping things quite and they aint no body a round here knows a bout Cobb and Mathewson and Johnson and them jumping to the federal and it will come like a big supprise when they spring it and I wouldent be supprised if the american and Nat. leagues busted up when they hear about it. They might just as well Al is try and go a long with the bunch of bushers theyll have left when the federal gets threw with them.

Well Al I sprang it on Comiskey up to the banquit tonight and the banquit was gave for us by the N. Y. fans and a crowd of Chi fans come all the way down here to meet us and they was at the banquit and there going to give an other banquit for us when we get to Chi and I called Comiskey to 1 side just before we went in to the banquit and I says Well Mr. Comiskey I got a big supprise for you and he says What is it are you going to beggin useing your head and I says No and he says well speak up.

So I told him a bout me getting a offer from the federal in Paris and he says well did you except it and I says yes and, he says Why dident you give us a chanct to meet it and I says I dident think he would want to meet it because it was 10 thousend dollars per anum and he says Well thats onct you guest right and when did your bughouse friend buy a franchize in the federal and I says I dont know nothing a bout that but Im going to play with the Chicago federal and he says what a bout the contrack you sined up with me and I says You cant expect me to play for no $2400.00 dollars when I can get five times is much and he says All right go to the federal and good luck so I says Im sorry to leave you in the hole and he says Never mind I guess I can sell my ball pk. and live on the procedes.

So I says Will you tell Callahan and he says Why dont you tell him your self and I says I dident want to spoil the trip for him so then Comiskey says Well we wont nether 1 of us tell him and may be he will find it out for him self a long a bout the 4th of July when wear playing st Louis a double header so I ast Comiskey to shake hands to show they wasent no hard feeling on my part and then we went in and set down to the banquit and I watched him pretty clost Al and he dident in joy nothing that came off and you cant blame him and I felt bad a bout it my self but a mans got to look out for your self in this game and cant let no sentimunt enter fear with you geting the money but you cant help feeling bad when your eaveing a club in the hole and Comiskey and Callahans been figgering on a penant winner all winter and now look at them and you can bet that Comiskey will tell Callahan a bout me and not leave him to find it out for him self the 4th. of July or no other time because they will half to go and get some body to take my place or that is try to. Fine chanct hey Al.

Well Al I cant hardily wait til tommorow A. M. and we get on the train for home and its after mid night now but I cant sleep on acct. of Im all exited up a bout geting home and seen little Al and Florrie again and I hope Allens tooken his wife a long to Calif. with him so as I and Florrie and little Al can have a little peace to our self wile Im home and I bet little Als talking by this time and cute as they make them and got a jaw full of teeth but may be he wont know me from a rabbit Al but he will know me before I get threw with him and after this he will remmember who I am because hes old enough now to know some thing and pretty near 9 mos. old. I wisht you could be there when he sees me Al and see how he acts when he sees his daddy and I bet he wont cry because I will make some of them comical faces at him and make him laugh even if he dont know who I am.

They was some exitemunt the last part of the trip on the. boat Al and I put some thing over on these here smart alex gov. employs and when ever a boat comes in they get on the bord of it and serch evry body to see if there smugleing dimonds or perls or any thing valueble that they bought in farm countrys so of coarse if they find them things on you you got to pay your duty on them and I wouldent of knew any thing a bout it only Evans tiped me off and says I better hide that scarab or they would soke me good in plenty and I says I will keep it in my pockit and he says they will serch all threw your pockits so I says where shell I hide it then and he sags Take a big chew and put the scarab in the chew and keep it in side your mouth.

So thats what I done Al and they dident never suspeck nothing and some of the rest of the gang had to come acrost and pay their duty; on some of that junk they throwed there money a way on it in Cairo and japan and it dident cost me a nichol and all the wile I had some thing worth more then any of them but I come near chokeing to deth before it was all over and Demon Runyon a reporter for a N. Y. paper that met with us in Paris and made the rest of the trip from there the rest of the way a long with us says if he had of been the gov. employ that examuned me he would of put on a brown sute of cloths before he ast me any qestions.

Them fans from Chi charted a lunch and came out to meet us and the Pres. of the Boston club come out and sined Speaker up because the federal was after him and I dont know how much is the Boston club going to give him but it wont be no 10 thousend per anum and I bet he will wisht he hadent of been in such a hurry to sine up when he hears a bout I and Cobb and them.

Well they was a big parade down to the Doc to meet us and took us to the hotel and gave us a grate well come and evry body was glad to see us back safe again and we was glad to be back in the old USA where you dont half to lern no new farm languige evry 2 or 3 days and keep geting your money changed to liars and plasters and so 4th. As soon is we got to the hotel Schaefer called me to 1 side and says I must be sure and have a little poultry fixed up for the banquit so I went to my room and fixed up some thing for them Al to talk off at the banquit and heres what I give them and I wisht you could of herd them clap:

Well boys we been a round the world

All threw the diffrunt farm lands
and showed the Nat. game to

The peopl of evry land.

But wear glad to be back again boys

In the good old USA

Where they dont talk no farm Dilex

Or no baby games to play.

I pitched for Mcgraw and the giants

And give him the best I had

I win a lot of ball games but

Some times my suport was bad.

But heres to the good old USA

Where all men has = rights

Them people can have there diffrunt countrys
but me for the stars and strips.

Well Al after the banquit I says good by to Mcgraw and the rest of the boys that aint going a long to Chi with us and Mcgraw give me a box of ciggars and says he wisht he could have me a long with him all the wile and how would he get a long with out me and so 4th. and I felt sorry for him and a speshuly because he dont know yet a bout Mathewson jumping to the federal and I was going to tell him a bout it and a bout me going to quite the White Sox but some body buted in and I dident get no chanct so I come out and sent a night telegram letter to Florrie that Id be home day after tommorow and now its pretty near tommorow Al and I wont have hardily any time to get some sleep before its time to get up and catch the train but I supose I can sleep on the train but of coarse if Comiskey tells Callahan a bout me jumping Callahan wont give me no chanct to sleep but will try and make me change my mind.

Well old pal I will write and tell you all a bout little Al and how he acts when he sees me and may be I can get Florrie to take him down to Bedford and vissit with you wile Im south with the federal.

Your Pal, Jack.

CHICAGO.
MARCH 11.

Friend Al:  Well Al this will be a big supprise to you Al and I bet you couldent never guess what it is so I will tell the boys to Calif. tonight and we will get there Sat. or Sun. and join the boys that of been out there geting in shape sence last mo. and Im not going with the federal after all Al but made up my mind to stay with the White Sox. And that aint all the supprise Al and heres the rest of it Florrie and little Als out in Calif. to and they went a long with Allen and his wife when the rest of the club went last mo. and Florrie and little Als going to be there to meet me and will make the rest of the trip with me til its time to start back east and then I will send them strate threw wile I stay with the 1st. team for the exhibition games or may be I can get Callahan to leave me come strate back with my famly.

Well Al I guess this is a big supprise to you and it come like a big supprise to me to I mean a bout Florrie and little Al being in Calif. and at 1st. I was so sore I couldent hardily talk but Florrie showed me in her note where it was the best thing to do and insted of me not haveing no time to get aquanted with her and little Al like if she had of stayed home and been here when I come we will have pretty near 2 or 3 wks. to gather because she will be on the training trip a long with me and of coarse she dident know not a bout me haveing that offer from the federal or she would of stayed here and I would of probily tooken her and little Al to Skreevport where the federals is at.

Well we got in yest. A. M. and I was dissapoint it a bout Florrie not being down to the train to meet me but I went home and rung the bell to the flat and I seen the male box was full of male and bills and so 4th. and no body ansered; the bell and opened up the front door for me and I was going to bust my way in because I thot they must be murdered or some thing but finely the womman on the 1st. floor come out and seen me and ast who was I and I told her and then she give me Florries note.

Well when I opened it up and seen she was in Calif. and not home I set down on the steps and blubbered and couldent read no more of her note but finely I read threw the rest of it and come to the part where she says she was doing it so as I and she and little Al wouldent half to be suppurated again so soon and then I seen what a miss take I made not telling her I was going with the federal and the rest of the etter told a bout how Allen had loned her the money to go to Calif. and I would half to pay him back the 1st. pay day but I should ought to be dirty with money then because I certunly hadent throwed none a way all winter on my own famly but may be I might of spent a lot of money buying candy and beer for them farm qeens and princes.

And down to the bottun of the letter she says the lady on the 1st. floor had the key to the flat and I could get in and leave some of my bagge but to not get the flat all must up and dirty and then she says an other reason why she had made up her mind to make the trip was on acct. of little Al and he was looking kind a peak it and the Dr. had told her that he was probily lonesum for his daddy and a change of seen would do him good.

Well Al for a minut I dident know what to do next but finely I thot I might is well go in and get rid of some of my bagige and see what kind of a place we was liveing in so I got the key from the lady and went in. Well Al they wasent no danger of me geting the place dirty because they was enough dirt there if a man wanted to plant corn and theyd left 1 of the lights burning and you can bet your life that Allen will pay for that and not I and Florrie and thats just what you might expect from a left hander to go a way to Calif. and leave the lights burning and I supose he was afrade it would be to dark for the roachs to read by hey Al.

Well I finely brushed some of the dirt off the phone and I was going to call up the federal and see what did they want me to do but it was 1 of these here nichol 1st. phones and I dident have no nichol so I had to go clear down to the cor. of 35th. st. and get a 1/4 changed and I took a big shot wile I was down there and I guess I had it comeing hey Al.

So then I went back and called up the federal and of coarse Tinker was down south with the club and Weegman that owns the club was down there to and finely I got a hold of Gilmore the pres. of the league and told him who I was and ast him if Tinker had left any orders and he says no and dident act like he knowed any thing a bout me excepting the offer so I finely ast him would he wire to Tinker for me and find out what he wanted I should do and he says he would and I give him my phone No. and that was a bout 1 a clock and I dident hear nothing up to 3 a clock so I road down town and went up and seen Gilmore and he says he hadent herd nothing from Tinker but would call him up long distance for me so he got Tinker clear down to Skreevport.

And then I talked to Tinker and he says who made you a offer and I says you made me a offer wile we was in Paris and he says some body was kiding you. He says I got your cable telegram excepting the offer so evry things O.K. accept that we dident make you no offer and aint going to make you none because your sined up. So then I seen what kind of a gang they was Al makeing a man a offer and then line out of it so I says is that so and hung up the receiver and Gilmore ast me what was the matter and I says they wasent nothing the matter with me but I would starv to deth before I would play in a league where they make a man an offer and then try and crall out of it so I come out of his ofice and slamed the door.

What do you think of a league that trys to pull that kind of stuff and I guess Im lucky I changed my mind and come to find out they was line when they says they had Cobb and Mathewson and them and they havent got no body Al and I wouldent play in there league now for 10 thousend or 1/2 that amt.

So after I come out of Gilmores ofice I called up Comiskeys ofice and he was down town so they wasent nothing fer me to do but hang a round til it was time for the banquit that the Chi fans give us and as soon is Comiskey showed up there I called him to 1 side and told him and says I changed my mind and Im going to stick with your club and Callahan was standing a little ways a way from us so Comiskey hollered to him and says Cal our young friend here is going to stick with us so you wont half to get Johnson so you see Al they was going to try and get Walter Johnson if I hadent of changed my mind a bout going to the federal.

Well Al we had some banquit last night and now Im resting up and we start for Calif. tonight I and Callahan and Weaver and Scott and Benz and this here Dal and Slight and in 3 or 4 dais I will see Florrie and little Al and wont half to say good by to them right after I see them like I would of if theyd of stayed here only of coarse I would probily of tooken them a long with us if Florrie really wanted to go.

Well Al I wont get no 10 thousend per anum but insted of that I will get what I been geting and besides I will half to pay for Florries fair back and 4th. to Calif. and back and what ever else she has ran up on me but I guess Im lucky I dident fall for no federal league skin game and they come out and says Cobb and them had sined so theyd get me to sine but I was to smart for them and I guess may be I wont go threw that american league this yr. like gravy threw a sift.

Just a little luck is all Im asking for and I guess I will have the luck all right because I still got that little old scarab and they couldent no body get it a way from me with out I was a corps.

Im going to work easy from now til the season opens up and if Im feeling good I will make Callahan leave me open up and I will wire you a telegram a little wile a head and may be you can win a little bet on me because I wouldent give you no tip if I wasent sure what Im doing. You know me Al.

Well good by old pal and may be I will write to you from Calif. and regards to Bertha and I havent time to send you the tea I got for you wile we was in Salome but I will send it when I get back and I forgot to buy some thing or Florrie and Allen and Marie so may be its a good thing they wasent none of them home when I got here but I will tell them I left there presents in the flat and then I will get some thing for them in Calif. and give it to them when wear all back home again.

But I wont get nothing for no body unlest the secy. comes acrost with some advanse money and with what I owe Allen and Mcgraw and Callahan and this in that I will be pitching a bout the 1st. 2 mos. of the season for my helth but any way I been a round the world and seen all they was to see and I guess theys lots of peopl down home would change there places with me that dont never get no father from home then Terre Haute. I dont mean you Al but some of them others.

Your old pal, Jack.

The Busher Called to Soldier

1 … Call for Mr. Keefe!
2 … Jack the Kaiser Killer
3 … Corporal Punishment
4 … Purls Before Swine

• 1 •

Call for Mr. Keefe!

ST. LOUIS,
APRIL 10.

Friend Al:  Well Al the training trips over and we open up the season here tomorrow and I suppose the boys back home is all anxious to know about our chances and what shape the boys is in. Well old pal you can tell them we are out after that old flag this year and the club that beats us will know they have been in a battle. I’ll say they will.

Speaking for myself personly I never felt better in my life and you know what that means Al. It means I will make a monkey out of this league and not only that but the boys will all have more confidence in themself and play better baseball when they know my arms right and that I can give them the best I got and if Rowland handles the club right and don’t play no favorites like last season we will be so far out in front by the middle of July that Boston and the rest of them will think we have jumped to some other league.

Well I suppose the old towns all excited about Uncle Sam declairing war on Germany. Personly I am glad we are in it but between you and I Al I figure we ought to of been in it a long time ago right after the Louisiana was sank. I often say alls fair in love and war but that don’t mean the Germans or no one else has got a right to murder American citizens but thats about all you can expect from a German and anybody that expects a square deal from them is a sucker. You don’t see none of them umpireing in our league but at that they couldn’t be no worse than the ones we got. Some of ours is so crooked they can’t lay in a birth only when the trains making a curve.

But speaking about the war Al you couldn’t keep me out of it only for Florrie and little Al depending on me for sport and of course theys the ball club to and I would feel like a trader if I quit them now when it looks like this is our year. So I might just as well make up my mind to whats got to be and not mop over it but I like to kid the rest of the boys and make them think I’m going to enlist to see their face fall and tonight at supper I told Gleason I thought I would quit the club and join the army. He tried to laugh it off with some of his funny stuff. He says “They wouldn’t take you.” “No,” I said. “I suppose Uncle Sam is turning down men with a perfect physic.” So he says “They don’t want a man that if a shell would hit him in the head it would explode all over the trench and raise havioc.” I forget what I said back to him.

Well Al I don’t know if I will pitch in this serious or not but if I do I will give them a touch of high life but maybe Rowland will save me to open up at Detroit where a mans got to have something besides their glove. It takes more than camel flags to beat that bunch. I’ll say it does.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO,
APRIL 15.

Friend Al:  Well Al here I am home again and Rowland sent some of us home from St. Louis instead of takeing us along to Detroit and I suppose he is figureing on saveing me to open up the home season next Thursday against St. Louis because they always want a big crowd on opening day and St. Louis don’t draw very good unless theys some extra attraction to bring the crowd out. But anyway I was glad to get home and see Florrie and little Al and honest Al he is cuter than ever and when he seen me he says “Who are you?” Hows that for a 3 year old?

Well things has been going along pretty good at home while I was away only it will take me all summer to pay the bills Florrie has ran up on me and you ought to be thankfull that Bertha aint 1 of these Apollos thats got to keep everybody looking at them or they can’t eat. Honest Al to look at the clothes Florrie has boughten you would think we was planning to spend the summer at Newport News or somewhere. And she went and got herself a hired girl that sticks us for $8.00 per week and all as she does is cook up the meals and take care of little Al and run wild with a carpet sweeper and dust rag every time you set down to read the paper. I says to Florrie “What is the idea? The 3 of us use to get along O.K. without no help from Norway.” So she says “I got sick in tired of staying home all the time or dragging the baby along with me when I went out.” So I said I remembered when she wouldn’t leave no one else take care of the kid only herself and she says “Yes but that was when I didn’t know nothing about babys and every time he cried I thought he had lumbago or something but now I know he has got no intentions of dying so I quit worring about him.”

So I said “Yes but I can’t afford no high price servants to say nothing about dressing you like an actor and if you think I am going to spend all my salary on silks and satans and etc. you will get a big supprise.” So she says “You might as well spend your money on me as leave the ball players take it away from you in the poker game and show their own wives a good time with it. But if you don’t want me to spend your money I will go out and get some of my own to spend.” Then I said “What will you do teach school?” And she says “No and I won’t teach school either.” So I said “No I guess you won’t. But if you think you want to try standing up behind a cigar counter or something all day why go ahead and try it and we ll see how long you will last.” So she says “I don’t have to stand behind no counter but I can go in business for myself and make more then you do.” So I said “Yes you can” and she didn’t have no come back.

Imagine Al a girl saying she could make more money then a big league pitcher. Probably theys a few of them that does but they are movie actors or something and I would like to see Florrie try to be a movie actor because they got to look pleasant all the time and Florrie would strain herself.

Well Al the ski jumper has got dinner pretty near ready and after dinner I am going over North and see what the Cubs look like and I wish I pitched in that league Al and the only trouble is that I would feel ashamed when I went after my pay check.

Your old pal, Jack.

CHICAGO,
MAY 19.

Dear Friend Al:  Well old pal if we wasn’t married we would all have to go to war now and I mean all of us thats between 21 and 30. I suppose you seen about the Govt, passing the draft law and a whole lot of the baseball players will have to go but our club won’t loose nobody except 1 or 2 bushers that don’t count because all as they do any way is take up room on the bench and laugh when Rowland springs a joke.

When I first seen it in the paper this morning I thought it meant everybody that wasn’t crippled up or something but Gleason explained it to me that if you got somebody to sport they leave you home and thats fair enough but he also says they won’t take no left handers on acct. of the guns all being made for right handed men and thats just like the lucky stiffs to set in a rocking chair and take it easy while the regular fellows has got to go over there and get shot up but anyway the yellow stiffs would make a fine lot of soldiers because the first time a German looked X eyed at them they would wave a flag of truants.

But I can’t help from wishing this thing had of come off before I seen Florrie or little Al and if I had money enough saved up so as they wouldn’t have to worry I would go any way but I wouldn’t wait for no draft. Gleason says I will have to register family or no family when the time comes but as soon as I tell them about Florrie they will give me an excuse. I asked him what they would do with the boys that wasn’t excused and if they would send them right over to France and he says No they would keep them here till they had learned to talk German. He says “You can’t fight nobody without a quarrel and you can’t quarrel with a man unless they can understand what you are calling them.” So I asked him how about the aviators because their machines would be makeing so much noise that they couldn’t tell if the other one was talking German or rag time and he said “Well if you are in an areoplane and you see a German areoplane coming tords you you can pretty near guess that he don’t want to spoon with you.” Thats what I would like to be Al is an aviator and I think Gleasons afraid I’m going to bust into that end of the game though he pretends like he don’t take me in ernest. “Why don’t you?” he said “You could make good there all right because the less sense they got the better. But I wish you would quit practiceing till you get away from here.” I asked him what he meant quit practiceing. “Well” he said “you was up in the air all last Tuesday afternoon.”

He was refering to that game I worked against the Phila. club but honest Al my old souper was so sore I couldn’t cut loose. Well Al a mans got a fine chance to save money when they are married to a girl like Florrie. When I got paid Tuesday the first thing when I come home she wanted to borrow $200.00 and that was all I had comeing so I said “What am I going to do the next 2 weeks walk back and forth to the ball park and back?” I said “What and the hell do you want with $200.00?” So then she begin to cry so I split it with her and give her a $100.00 and she wouldn’t tell me what she wanted it for but she says she was going to supprise me. Well Al I will be supprised if she don’t land us all out to the county farm but you can’t do nothing with them when they cry.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO,
MAY 24.

Friend Al:  What do you think Florrie has pulled off now? I told you she was fixing to land us in the poor house and I had the right dope. With the money I give her and some she got somewheres else she has opened up a beauty parlor on 43th St. right off of Michigan. Her and a girl that worked in a place like it down town.

Well Al when she sprung it on me you couldn’t of knocked me down with a feather. I always figured girls was kind of crazy but I never seen one loose her mind as quick as that and I don’t know if I ought to have them take her to some home or leave her learn her lesson and get over it.

I know you ain’t got no beauty parlor in Bedford so I might as well tell you what they are. They are for women only and the women goes to them when they need something done to their hair or their face or their nails before a wedding or a eucher party or something. For inst. you and Bertha was up here and you wanted to take her to a show and she would have to get fixed up so she would go to this place and tell them to give her the whole treatment and first they would wash the grime out of her hair and then comb it up fluffy and then they would clean up her complexion with buttermilk and either get rid of the moles or else paint them white and then they would put some eyebrows on her with a pencil and red up her lips and polish her teeth and pair her finger nails and etc. till she looked as good as she could and it would cost her $5.00 or $10.00 according to what they do to her and if they would give her a bath and a massage I suppose its extra.

Well theys plenty of high class beauty parlors down town where women can go and know they will get good service but Florrie thinks she can make it pay out here with women that maybe haven’t time to go clear down town because their husband or their friend might loose his mind in the middle of the afternoon and phone home that he had tickets for the Majestic or something and then of course they would have to rush over to some place in the neighborhood for repairs.

I didn’t know Florrie was wise to the game but it seems she has been takeing some lessons down town without telling me nothing about it and this Miss Nevins thats in partners with her says Florrie is a darb. Well I wouldn’t have no objections if I thought they was a chance for them to make good because she acts like she liked the work and its right close to where we live but it looks to me like their expenses would eat them up. I was in the joint this morning and the different smells alone must of cost them $100.00 to say nothing about all the bottles and cans and tools and brushs and the rent and furniture besides. I told Florrie I said “You got everything here but patients.” She says “Don’t worry about them. They will come when they find out about us.” She says they have sent their cards to all the South Side 400.

“Well” I said “if they don’t none of them show up in a couple of months I suppose you will call on the old meal ticket.” So she says “You should worry.” So I come away and went over to the ball park.

When I seen Kid Gleason I told him about it and he asked me where Florrie got the money to start up so I told him I give it to her. “You” he says “Where did you get it?” So just jokeing I said “Where do you suppose I got it? I stole it.” So he says “You did if you got it from this ball club.” But he was kidding Al because of course he knows I’m no thief. But I got the laugh on him this afternoon when Silk O’Loughlin chased him out of the ball park. Johnson was working against us and they was two out and Collins on second base and Silk called a third strike on Gandil that was down by his corns. So Gleason hollered “All right Silk you won’t have to go to war. You couldn’t pass the eye test.” So Silk told him to get off of the field. So then I hollered something at Silk and he hollered back at me “That will be all from you you big busher.” So I said “You are a busher yourself you busher.”

So he said:

“Get off of the bench and let one of the ball players set down.”

So I and Gleason stalled a while and finely come into the club house and I said “Well Kid I guess we told him something that time.” “Yes” says Gleason “you certainly burned him up but the trouble with me is I can’t never think of nothing to say till it’s to late.” So I said “When a man gets past sixty you can’t expect their brain to act quick.” And he didn’t say nothing back.

Well we win the ball game any way because Cicotte shut them out. The way some of the ball players was patting him on the back afterwards you would have thought it was the 1st. time anybody had ever pitched a shut out against the Washington club but I don’t see no reason to swell a man up over it. If you shut out Detroit or Cleveland you are doing something but this here Washington club gets a bonus every time they score a run.

But it does look like we was going to cop that old flag and play the Giants for the big dough and it will sure be the Giants we will have to play against though some of the boys seem to think the Cubs have got a chance on acct. of them just winning to straight on their eastren trip but as Gleason says how can a club help from winning to straight in that league?

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO,
JUNE 6.

Friend Al:  Well Al the clubs east and Rowland left me home because my old souper is sore again and besides I had to register yesterday for the draft. They was a big crowd down to the place we registered and you ought to seen them when I come in. They was all trying to get up close to me and I was afraid some of them would get hurt in the jam. All of them says “Hello Jack” and I give them a smile and shook hands with about a dozen of them. A man hates to have everybody stareing at you but you got to be pleasant or they will think you are swelled up and besides a man can afford to put themself out a little if its going to give the boys any pleasure.

I don’t know how they done with you Al but up here they give us a card to fill out and then they give us another one to carry around with us to show that we been registered and what our number is. I had to put down my name on the first card and my age and where I live and the day I was born and what month and etc. Some of the questions was crazy like “Was I a natural born citizen?” I wonder what they think I am. Maybe they think I fell out of a tree or something. Then I had to tell them I was born in Bedford, Ind. and it asked what I done for a liveing and I put down that I was a pitcher but the man made me change it to ball player and then I had to give Comiskey’s name and address and then name the people that was dependent on me so I put down a wife and one child.

And the next question was if I was married or single. I supposed they would know enough to know that a man with a wife dependent on him was probably married. Then it says what race and I had a notion to put down “pennant” for a joke but the man says to put down white. Then it asked what military service had I had and of course I says none and then come the last question Did I claim exemption and what grounds so the man told me to write down married with dependents.

Then the man turned over to the back of the card and wrote down about my looks. Just that I was tall and medium build and brown eyes and brown hair. And the last question was if I had lost an arm or leg or hand or foot or both eyes or was I other wise disabled so I told him about my arm being sore and thats why I wasn’t east with the club but he didn’t put it down. So thats all they was to it except the card he give me with my number which is 3403.

It looks to me like it was waisting a mans time to make you go down there and wait for your turn when they know you are married and got a kid or if they don’t know it they could call up your home or the ball park and find it out but of course if they called up my flat when I or Florrie wasn’t there they wouldn’t get nothing but a bunch of Swede talk that they couldn’t nobody understand and I don’t believe the girl knows herself what she is talking about over the phone. She can talk english pretty good when shes just talking to you but she must think all the phone calls is long distance from Norway because the minute she gets that receiver up to her ear you can’t hardly tell the difference between she and Hughey Jennings on the coaching line.

I told Florrie I said “This girl could make more then $8.00 per week if she would get a job out to some ball park as announcer and announce the batterys and etc. She has got the voice for it and she would be right in a class with the rest of them because nobody could make heads or tales out of what she was trying to get at.”

Speaking about Florrie what do you think Al? They have had enough suckers to pay expenses and also pay up some of the money they borrowed and Florrie says if their business gets much bigger they will have to hire more help. How would you like a job Al white washing some dames nose or levelling off their face with a steam roller? Of course I am just jokeing Al because they won’t allow no men around the joint but wouldn’t it be some job Al? I’ll say so.

Your old pal, Jack.

CHICAGO,
JUNE 21.

Dear Al:  Well Al I suppose you read in the paper the kind of luck I had yesterday but of course you can’t tell nothing from what them dam reporters write and if they know how to play ball why aint they playing it instead of trying to write funny stuff about the ball game but at that some of it is funny Al because its so rotten its good. For inst. one of them had it in the paper this morning that I flied out to Speaker in that seventh inning. Well listen Al I hit that ball right on the pick and it went past that shortstop so fast that he didn’t even have time to wave at it and if Speaker had of been playing where he belongs that ball would of went between he and Graney and bumped against the wall. But no. Speakers laying about ten feet back of second base and over to the left and of course the ball rides right to him and there was the whole ball game because that would of drove in 2 runs and made them play different then they did in the eigth. If a man is supposed to be playing center field why don’t he play center field and of course I thought he was where he ought to been or I would of swung different.

Well the eigth opened up with the score 1 and 1 and I get 2 of them out but I got so much stuff I can’t stick it just where I want to and I give Chapman a base on balls. At that the last one cut the heart of the plate but Evans called it a ball. Evans lives in Cleveland. Well I said “All right Bill you won’t have to go to war. You couldn’t pass the eye test.”

So he says “You must of read that one in a book.” “No” I said “I didn’t read it in no book either.”

So up comes this Speaker and I says “What do you think you are going to do you lucky stiff?” So he says “I’m going to hit one where theys nobody standing in the way of it.” I said “Yes you are.” But I had to hold Chapman up at first base and Schalk made me waist 2 thinking Chapman was going and then of course I had to ease up and Speaker cracked one down the first base line but Gandil got his glove on it and if he hadn’t of messed it all up he could of beat Speaker to the bag himself but instead of that they all started to ball me out for not covering. I told them to shut their mouth. Then Roth come up and I took a half wind up because of course I didn’t think Chapman would be enough of a bone head to steal third with 2 out but him and Speaker pulled a double steal and then Rowland and all of them begin to yell at me and they got my mind off of what I was doing and then Schalk asked for a fast one though he”said afterwards he didn’t but I would of made him let me curve the ball if they hadn’t got me all nervous yelling at me. So Roth hit one to left field that Jackson could of caught in his hip pocket if he had been playing right. So 2 runs come in and then Rowland takes me out and I would of busted him only for makeing a seen on the field.

I said to him “How can you expect a man to be at his best when I have not worked for a month?” So he said “Well it will be more than a month before you will work for me again.” “Yes” I said “because I am going to work for Uncle Sam and join the army.” “Well,” he says “you won’t need no steel helmet.” “No” I said “and you wouldn’t either.” Then he says “I’m afraid you won’t last long over there because the first time they give you a hand grenade to throw you will take your wind up and loose a hand.” So I said “If Chapman is a smart ball player why and the hell did he steal third base with 2 out?” He couldn’t answer that but he says “What was you doing all alone out in No Mans Land on that ball of Speakers to Gandil?” So I told him to shut up and I went in the club house and when he come in I didn’t speak to him or to none of the rest of them either.

Well Al I would quit right now and go up to Fort Sheridan and try for a captain only for Florrie and little Al and of course if it come to a show down Comiskey would ask me to stick on acct. of the club being in the race and it wouldn’t be the square thing for me to walk out on him when he has got his heart set on the pennant.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO,
JULY 5.

Friend Al:  Just a few lines Al to tell you how Florrie is getting along and I bet you will be surprised to hear about it. Well Al she paid me back my $100.00 day before yesterday and she showed me their figures for the month of June and I don’t know if you will beleive it or not but she and Miss Nevins cleared $400.00 for the month or $200.00 a peace over and above all expenses and she says the business will be even better in the fall and winter time on acct. of more people going to partys and theaters then. How is that for the kind of a wife to have Al and the best part of it is that she is stuck on the work and a whole lot happier then when she wasn’t doing nothing. They got 2 girls working besides themself and they are talking about moveing into a bigger store somewheres and she says we will have to find a bigger flat so as we can have a nurse and a hired girl instead of just the one.

Tell Bertha about it Al and tell her that when she comes up to Chi she can get all prettied up and I will see they don’t charge her nothing for it.

The clubs over in Detroit but it was only a 5 day trip so Rowland left me home to rest up my arm for the eastren clubs and Phila. is due here the day after tomorrow and all as I ask is a chance at them. My arm don’t feel just exactly right but I could roll the ball up to the plate and beat that club.

Its a cinch now that the Giants is comeing through in the other league and if we can keep going it will be some worlds serious between the 2 biggest towns in the country and the club that wins ought to grab off about $4500.00 a peace per man. Is that worth going after Al? I’ll say so.

Your old pal, Jack.

CHICAGO,
JULY 20.

Friend Al:  Well Al I don’t suppose you remember my draft number and I don’t remember if I told it to you or not. It was 3403 Al. And it was the 5th number drawed at Washington.

Well old pal they can wipe the town of Washington off of the map and you won’t hear no holler from me. The day before yesterday Rowland sends me in against the Washington club and of course it had to be Johnson for them. And I get beat 3 and 2 and I guess its the only time this season that Washington scored 3 runs in 1 day. And the next thing they announce the way the draft come out and I’m No. 5 and its a misery to me why my number wasn’t the 1st. they drawed out instead of the 5th.

Well Al of course it don’t mean I got to go if I don’t want to. I can get out of it easy enough by telling them about Florrie and little Al and besides Gleason says they have promised Ban Johnson that they won’t take no baseball stars till the seasons over and maybe not then and besides theys probably some White Sox fans that will go to the front for me and get me off on acct. of the club being in the fight for the pennant and they can’t nobody say I’m trying to get excused because I said all season that I would go in a minute if it wasn’t for my family and the club being in the race and I give $50.00 last week for a liberty bond that will only bring me in $1.75 per annum which is nothing you might say. You couldn’t sport a flee on $1.75 per annum.

Florrie wanted I should go right down to the City Hall or where ever it is you go and get myself excused but Gleason says the only thing to do is just wait till they call me and then claim exemptions. I read somewheres a while ago that President Wilson wanted baseball kept up because the people would need amusement and I asked Gleason if he had read about that and he says “Yes but that won’t get you nothing because the rest of the soldiers will need amusement even more then the people.”

Well Al I don’t know what your number was or how you come out but I hope you had better luck but if you did get drawed you will probably have a hard time getting out of it because you don’t make no big salary and you got no children and Bertha could live with your mother and pick up a few dollars sowing. Enough to pay for her board and clothes. Of course they might excuse you for flat feet which they say you can’t get in if you have them. But if I was you Al I would be tickled to death to get in because it would give you a chance to see something outside of Bedford and if your feet gets by you ought to be O.K.

I guess they won’t find fault with my feet or anything about me as far physical goes. Hey Al?

I will write as soon as I learn anything.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO,
AUG. 6.

Friend Al:  Well Al I got notice last Friday that I was to show up right away over to Wendell Phillips high school where No. 5 board of exemptions was setting but when I got over there it was jamed so I went back there today and I have just come home from there now.

The 1st. man I seen was the doctor and he took my name and number and then he asked me if my health was O.K. and I told him it was only I don’t feel good after meals. Then he asked me if I was all sound and well right now so I told him my pitching arm was awful lame and that was the reason I hadn’t went east with the club. Then he says “Do you understand that if a man don’t tell the truth about themself here they are libel to prison?” So I said he didn’t have to worry about that.

So then he made me strip bear and I wish you had seen his eyes pop out when he got a look at my shoulders and chest. I stepped on the scales and tipped the bean at 194 and he measured me at 6 ft. 1 and a half. Then he went all over me and poked me with his finger and counted my teeth and finely he made me tell him what different letters was that he held up like I didn’t know the alphabet or something. So when he was through he says “Well I guess you ain’t going to die right away.” He signed the paper and sent me to the room where the rest of the board was setting.

Well 1 of them looked up my number and then asked me did I claim exemptions. I told him yes and he asked me what grounds so I said “I sport a wife and baby and besides I don’t feel like it would be a square deal to Comiskey for me to walk out on him now.” So he says “Have you got an affidavit from your wife that you sport her?” So I told him no and he says “Go and get one and bring it back here tomorrow but you don’t need to bring none from Comiskey.” So you see Comiskey must stand pretty good with them.

So he give me a blank for Florrie to fill out and when she gets home we will go to a notary and tend to it and tomorrow they will fix up my excuse and then I won’t have nothing to think about only to get the old souper in shape for the big finish.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO,
AUG. 8.

Dear Old Pal:  Well old pal it would seem like the best way to get along in this world is to not try and get nowheres because the minute a man gets somewheres they’s people that can’t hardly wait to bite your back.

The 1st thing yesterday I went over to No. 5 board and was going to show them Florrie’s affidavit but while I was pulling it out of my pocket the man I seen the day before called me over to 1 side and says “Listen Keefe I am a White Sox fan and don’t want to see you get none the worst of it and if I was you I would keep a hold of that paper.” So I asked him what for and he says “Do you know what the law is about telling the truth and not telling the truth and if you turn in an affidavit thats false and we find it out you and who ever made the affidavit is both libel to prison?” So I said what was he trying to get at and he says “We got information that your wife is in business for herself and makeing as high as $250.00 per month which is plenty for she and your boy to get along on.” “Yes” I said “but who pays for the rent of our flat and the hired girl and what we eat?” So he says “That don’t make no difference. Your wife could pay for them and that settles it.”

Well Al I didn’t know what to say for a minute but finely I asked him where the informations come from and he says he was tipped off in a letter that who ever wrote it didn’t sign their name the sneaks and I asked him how he knowed that they was telling the truth. So he says “Its our business to look them things up. If I was you I wouldn’t make no claim for exemptions but just lay quiet and take a chance.”

Then all of a sudden I had an idea Al and I will tell you about it but 1st. as soon as it come to me I asked the man if this here board was all the board they was and he says no that if they would not excuse me I could appeal to the Dist. board but if he was me he wouldn’t do it because it wouldn’t do no good and might get me in trouble. So I said “I won’t get in no trouble” and he says “All right suit yourself.” So I said I would take the affadavit and go to the Dist. board but he says no that I would have to get passed on 1st. by his board and then I could appeal if I wanted to.

So I left the affidavit and he says they would notify me how I come out so then I beat it home and called up Florrie and told her they was something important and for her to come up to the flat.

Well Al here was the idea. I had been thinking for a long time that while it was all O.K. for Florrie to earn a little money in the summer when I was tied up with the club it would be a whole lot better if we was both free after the season so as we could take little Al and go on a trip somewheres or maybe spend the winter in the south but of course if she kept a hold of her share in the business she couldn’t get away so the best thing would be to sell out to Miss Nevins for a good peace of money and we could maybe buy us a winter home somewheres with what she got and whats comeing to me in the worlds serious.

So when Florrie got home I put it up to her. I said “Florrie I’m sick in tired of haveing you tied up in business because it don’t seem right for a married woman to be in business when their husbands in the big league and besides a womans place is home especially when they got a baby so I want you to sell out and when I get my split of the worlds serious we will go south somewheres and buy a home.”

Well she asked me how did I come out with the affidavit. So I said “The affidavit is either here nor there. I am talking about something else” and she says “Yes you are.” And she says “I been worring all day about that affidavit because if they find out about it what will they do to us.” So I said “You should worry because if this board won’t excuse me I will go to the Dist. board and mean while you won’t be earning nothing because you will be out of business.” Well Al she had a better idea then that. She says “No I will hold on to the business till you go to the Dist. board and then if they act like they wouldn’t excuse you you can tell them I am going to sell out. And if they say all right I will sell out. But if they say its to late why then I will still have something to live on if you have to go.”

So when she said that about me haveing to go we both choked up a little but pretty soon I was O.K. and now Al it looks like a cinch I would get my exemptions from the Dist. board because if Florrie says she wants to sell out they can’t stop her.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO,
AUG. 22.

Friend Al:  Well Al its all over. The Dist. board won’t let me off and between you and I Al I am glad of it and I only hope I won’t have to go before I have had a chance at the worlds serious.

My case come up about noon. One of the men asked me my name and then looked over what they had wrote down about me. Then he says Theys an affidavit here that says your wife and child depends on you. Is that true?” So I said yes it was and he asked me if my wife was in business and I said yes but she was thinking about selling out. So he asked me how much money she made in her business. I said “You can’t never tell. Some times its so much and other times different.” So he asked me what the average was and I said it was about $250.00 per month. Then he says “Why is she going to sell out?” I said “Because we don’t want to live in Chi all winter” and he said “You needn’t to worry.” Then he said “If she makes $250.00 per month how do you figure she is dependent on you?” So I said “Because she is because I pay for the rent and everything.” And he asked me what she done with the $250.00 and I told him she spent it on clothes.

So he says “$250.00 per month on clothes. How does she keep warm this weather?” I said “I guess they don’t nobody have no trouble keeping warm in August.” Then he says “Look here Keefe this affidavit mitigates against you. We will have to turn down your appeal and I guess your wife can take care of herself and the boy.” I said “She can’t when she sells out.” “Well” he said “you tell her not to sell out. It may be hard for her at first to sport herself and the boy on $250.00 but if the worst comes to the worst she can wear the same shoes twice and she will find them a whole lot more comfortable the second time.” So I said “She don’t never have no trouble with her feet and if she did I guess she knows how to fix them.”

Florrie was waiting for me when I got home. “Well” I said “now you see what your dam beauty parlor has done for us.” And then she seen what had happened and begin to cry and of course I couldn’t find no more fault with her and I called up the ball park and told them I was sick and wouldn’t show up this P. M. and I and Florrie and little Al stayed home together and talked. That is little Al done all the talking. I and Florrie didn’t seem to have nothing to say.

Tomorrow I am going to tell them about it over to the ball park. If they can get me off till after the worlds serious all right. And if they can’t all right to.

Your old pal, Jack.

P.S.  Washington comes tomorrow and I am going to ask Rowland to leave me pitch. The worst I can get is a tie. They scored a run in St. Louis yesterday and that means they are through for the week.

CHICAGO,
AUG. 23.

Dear Al:  Well Al the one that laughs last gets all the best of it. Wait till you hear what come off today.

When I come in the club house Rowland and Gleason was there all alone. I told them hello and was going to spring the news on them but when Rowland seen me he says “Jack I got some bad news for you.” So I said what was it. So he says “The boss sold you to Washington this morning.”

Well Al at first I couldn’t say nothing and I forgot all about that I wanted to tell them. But then I remembered it again and here is what I pulled. I said “Listen Manager I beat the boss to it.” “What do you mean?” he said so I said “I’m signed up with Washington all ready only I ain’t signed with Griffith but with Uncle Sam.” Thats what I pulled on them Al and they both got it right away. Gleason jumped up and shook hands with me and so did Rowland and then Rowland said he would have to hurry up in the office and tell the Old Man.“But wait a minute” I said. “I am going to quit you after this game because I don’t know when I will be called and theys lots of things I got to fix up.” So I stopped and Rowland asked me what I wanted and I said “Let me pitch this game and I will give them the beating of their life.” So him and Gleason looked at each other and then Rowland says “You know we can’t afford to loose no ball games now. But if you think you can beat them I will start you.”

So then he blowed and I and Gleason was alone.

“Well kid” he says “you make the rest of us look like a monkey. This game ain’t nothing compared to what you are going to do. And when you come back they won’t be nothing to good for you and your kid will be proud of you because you went while a whole lot of other kids dads stayed home.”

So he patted me on the back and I kind of choked up and then the trainer come in and I had him do a little work on my arm.

Well Al you will see in the paper what I done to them. Before the game the boss had told Griffith about me and called the deal off. So while I was warming up Griffith come over and shook hands. He says “I would of like to had you but I am a good looser.” So I says “You ought to be.” So he couldn’t help from laughing but he says “When you come back I will go after you again.” I said “Well if you don’t get somebody on the club between now and then that can hit something besides fouls I won’t come back.” So he kind of laughed again and walked away and then it was time for the game.

Well Al the official scorer give them 3 hits but he must be McMullins brother in law or something because McMullin ought to of throwed Milan out from here to Berlin on that bunt. But any way 3 hits and no runs is pretty good for a finish and between you and I Al I feel like I got the last laugh on Washington and Rowland to.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO,
SEPT. 18.

Friend Al:  Just time for a few lines while Florrie finishs packing up my stuff. I leave with the bunch tomorrow A. M. for Camp Grant at Rockford. I don’t know how long we will stay there but I suppose long enough to learn to talk German and shoot and etc.

We just put little Al to bed and tonight was the first time we told him I was going to war. He says “Can I go to daddy?” Hows that for a 3 year old Al?

Well he will be proud of me when I come back and he will be proud of me if I don’t come back and when he gets older he can go up to the kids that belong to some of these left handers and say “Where and the hell was your father when the war come off?”

Good by Al and say good by to Bertha for me.

Your pal, Jack.

P.S.  I won’t be in the serious against New York but how about the real worlds serious Al? Won’t I be in that? I’ll say so.

• 2 •

Jack the Kaiser Killer

CAMP GRANT,
SEPT. 23.

Friend Al:  Well Al I am writeing this in the recreation room at our barracks and they’s about 20 other of the boys writeing letters and I will bet some of the letters is rich because half of the boys can’t talk english to say nothing about writeing letters and etc. We got a fine bunch in my Co. Al and its a cinch I won’t never die in the trenchs because I will be murdered in my bed before we ever get out of here only they don’t call it bed in the army.

They call it bunk and no wonder.

Well Al I have been here since Wed. night and now it is Sunday and this is the first time I have not felt sick since we got here and even at that my left arm is so sore it is pretty near killing me where I got vacinated. Its a good thing I am not a left hander Al or I couldn’t get a ball up to the plate but of course I don’t have to think of that now because I am out of baseball now and in the big game but at that I guess a left hander could get along just as good with a sore arm because I never seen one of them yet that could break a pain of glass with their fast ball and if they didn’t have all the luck in the world they would be rideing around the country in a side door Pullman with all their baggage on.

Speaking about baseball Al I suppose you seen where the White Sox have cinched the penant and they will be splitting the world serious money while I am drawing $30.00 per mo. from the Govmt. but 50 yrs. from now the kids will all stop me on the st. and make me tell them what hotel we stayed at in Berlin and when Cicotte and Faber and Russell begins to talk about what they done to the Giants everybody will have themself paged and walk out.

Well Al a lot of things come off since the last time I wrote to you. We left Chi Wed. noon and you ought to seen the crowd down to the Union station to bid us good by. Everybodys wifes and sisters and mothers was there and they was all crying in 40 different languages and the women wasn’t allowed through the gates so farewell kisses was swapped between the iron spokes in the gates and some of the boys was still getting smacked yet when the train started to pull out and it looked like a bunch of them would get left and if they had I’ll say their wifes would of been in tough luck.

Of course wife Florrie and little son Al was there and Florrie was all dressed up like a horse and I bet a lot of them other birds wished they was in my shoes when the kissing battle begun. Well Al we both blubbered a little but Florrie says she mustn’t cry to hard or she would have to paternize her own beauty parlors because crying makes a girl look like she had pitched a double header in St. Louis or something. But I don’t know if you will believe it or not but little Al didn’t even wimper. How is that for a game bird and only 3 yrs. old?

Well Al some alderman or somebody had got a lot of arm bandages made for us with the words Kaiser Killers printed on them and they was also signs stuck on the different cars on the train like Berlin or Bust and etc. and the Stars and Strips was flying from the back platforms so we certainly looked like regular soldiers even without no uniforms and I guess if Van Hindburg and them could of seen us you wouldn’t of needed a close line no more to take their chest measure.

Well all our bunch come from the south side and of course some of them was fans and the first thing you know they had me spotted and they all wanted to shake hands and I had a smile for all of them because I have got it doped out that we are all fighting for Uncle Sam and a man ought to forget who you are and what you are and be on friendly turns with everybody till after the war.

Well Al they had told us to not bring much baggage and some of the boys come without even their tooth brush but they hadn’t some of them forgot to fetch a qt. bottle and by the time we got outside of the city limits the engineer didn’t have to blow his whistle to leave people know we were comeing. Somebody had a cornet and another fellow had a trombone and a couple of them had mouth organs and we all sung along with them and we sung patriotic songs like Jonah Vark and Over There and when they started on the Star Spangled Banner the guy I was setting along side of him hollered for them to not play that one and I thought he was a pro German or something and I was going to bust him but somebody asked him why shouldn’t they play it and he says because he couldn’t stand up and he wasn’t the only one either Al.

The train stopped at a burg called Aurora and a bunch of the boys needed air so they got off, some of them head first and one bird layed down on the station platform and says he had changed his mind about going to war and he was going to sleep there a while and catch the first train back to Chi so we picked him up and throwed him back on our train and told him we would have the engineer back up to Chi and drop him off and he says O.K. and of course the train started ahead again but he didn’t know if we was going or comeing or looping the loop.

Well the trombone blower finely blowed himself to a nap and while he was asleep a little guy snuck the trombone away from him and says “Look here boys I am willing to give my life for Uncle Sam but I am not going to die to no trombone music.” So he throwed the trombone out of the window without opening the window and the guy woke up that owned it and the next thing you know the Kaiser Killers was in their first battle.

Well Al by the time we got to Camp Grant some of the boys looked like they was just comeing from the war instead of just going and I guess I was about the only one that was O.K. because I know how to handle it but I had eat some sandwiches that a wop give me on the train and they must of been poisoned or something because when I got off everything looked kind of blured.

We was met by a bunch of officers in uniform. The guy that had throwed the trombone away had both eyes swelled shut and a officer had to lead him to the head quarters and I heard the officer ask him if he was bringing any liquor into the camp and he says yes all he could carry, but the officer meant did he have a bottle of it and he says No he had one but a big swede stuck his head in front of it and it broke.

Over to the head quarters they give us a couple of blankets a peace and then they split us up into Cos. and showed us our barracks and they said we looked like we needed sleep and we better go to bed right after supper because we would have to get down to hard work the next a.m. and I was willing to go to bed without no supper after eating them dam sandwichs and the next time them wops trys to slip me something to eat or drink I will hang one on their jaw.

Well Al the buggle has blowed for mess which is what they call the meals and you would know why if you eat some of them so I will close for this time and save the rest for the next time and my address is Co. C. 399th. Infantry, Camp Grant, Ill.

Your pal, Jack.

CAMP GRANT,
SEPT. 24.

Friend Al:  Well Al they give us some work out today and I am pretty tired but they’s no use going to bed till 9 o’clock which is the time they blow the buggle for the men to shut up their noise. They do everything by buggies here. They get you up at a quarter to 6 which is first call and you got to dress in 15 minutes because they blow the assembly buggle at 6 and then comes the revelry buggle and then you eat breakfast and so on till 11 p.m. when they blow the taps buggle and that means everybody has got to put their lights out and go to sleep just as if a man couldn’t go to sleep without music and any way a whole lot of the boys go to sleep before 11 because with so many of us here how could the officers tell if we waited for the buggle or didn’t wait for it?

Well Al about all we done the first 3 days was try and get the place to looking like something because the men that built the buildings was to lazy to clean up after themself and I wouldn’t of minded only for feeling so bad all day Thursday on acct. of that sandwich and Friday I felt rotten because a Dr. vacinated me and fixed me up so as I can’t catch small pox or tyford fever and I would rather have the both of them the same day then have that bird work on me again.

Thursday a.m. after breakfast a bunch of us went to the Drs. and they give us a physical examination and before the Dr. examined me he says “Well is they anything the matter with you outside of a headache?” So I said “How do you know I got a headache” and he says because they was a epidemic of them in the camp. Well Al I could of told him why only of course I wouldn’t squeel on the rest of the boys so all I told him was about me eating that sandwich and he says all the boys must of eat them and that shows how much them wise Drs. knows.

Well of course he didn’t find nothing the matter with me physicly and he says I was a fine specimen and the next place I went was to the head quarters or something where they give us our uniforms and you ought to see me in mine Al only the shoes is 6 sizes to big and I made a holler about it but the man says they wouldn’t be so big after I had wore them a while. They must be fine shoes that will srink Al because all the shoes I ever seen the more you wear them they get bigger. They give us each 2 pair shoes one to march in with cleats on the bottom and a hat and a hat cord and 5 pair sox and 2 shirts and a belt and 3 suits under wear and 2 cocky suits.

And we had to tell our family history to a personal officer that writes down all about you on a card and what kind of work you done before so if the General or somebody tears their pants they won’t have to chase all over the camp and page a taylor because they can look at the cards and find out who use to be a taylor and send for him to sow them up.

A lot of the boys give this officer a song and dance about how good they can drive a car and etc. so they can get a soft snap like driveing one of the officers cars and I could of got some kind of a snap only I come here to be a soldier and fight Germans and not mend their pants.

The officer asked me my name and age and etc. and what I done in civil life so I said “I guess you don’t read the sporting page.” So he says “Oh are you a fighter or something?” So I said “I am a fighter now but I use to pitch for the White Sox.” So then he asked me what I done before that so I told him I was with Terre Haute in the Central League and Comiskey heard about me and bought me and then he sent me out to Frisco for a while and I stood that league on their head and then he got me back and I been with him about 3 years.

So the officer asked me if I ever done anything besides pitch so I told him about the day I played the outfield in Terre Haute when Burns and Stewart shut their eyes going after a fly ball and their skulls come together and it sounded like a freight wreck and they was both layed out so I and Lefty Danvers took their place and in the 8th. inning I come up with 2 on and hit a curve ball off big Jack Rowan and only for the fence that ball wouldn’t of made no stops this side of Indpls.

So then the officer says “Yes but didn’t you do something when you wasn’t playing ball?” so I told him a pitcher don’t have to do nothing only set on the bench or hit fungos once in a while or warm up when it looks like the guy in there is beggining to wobble. So he says “Well I guess I will put you down as a pitcher and when we need one in a hurry we will know where to find one.” But I don’t know when they would need a pitcher Al unless it was to throw one of them bombs and believe me when it comes to doing that I will make a sucker out of the rest of these birds because if my arm feels O.K. they’s nobody got better control and if they tell me to stick one in a German’s right eye that is where I will put it and not in their stomach or miss them all together like I was a left hander or something.

Well Al we done a little training Friday and Saturday but today was the first day we realy went to it. First of course we got up and dressed and then they was 10 minutes of what they call upseting exercises and then come breakfast which was oatmeal and steak and bread and coffee. The way it is now you got to get your own dishs and go up to the counter and wait on yourself but of course we will have waiters when things gets more settled. You also got to make your own bed and that won’t never kill nobody Al because all as we got is 2 blankets and you don’t have to leave the bed open all a.m. like at home because whatever air wanted to get in wouldn’t let these blankets stop it.

Then they give us an hour of drilling and that was duck soup for me on acct. of the drilling we done on the ball club last spring and you ought to seen the corporal and sargent open their eyes when they seen me salute and etc. but some of the birds don’t know their right from their left and the officers had to put a stick of wood in their right hand so they would know it was their right hand and imagine if some of them was ball players and played left field. They would have to hire a crossing policeman to tell them where to go to get to their position and if they was pitchers they wouldn’t know if they was right hand pitchers or left hand pitchers till they begun to pitch and then they would know because if they were hog wild they would be left handers.

The corporals and sargents come from the regular army but after a while Capt. Nash will pick some of us out to take their place and it is a cinch I will be picked out on acct. of knowing all about the drills etc.

The next thing was a lecture on what they could do to us if we got stewed or something and how to treat the officers and we got to sir them and salute them and etc. and it seems kind of funny for a man that every time he walked out to pitch the crowd used to stand up and yell and I never had to sir Rowland or Collins. I’d knock their block off if they tried to make me.

Well every time we wasn’t doing something else they sprung some more of them upseting exercises on us and I called the corporal to one side and says if he would excuse me I would pass up some of them because I didn’t need to exercise on acct. of playing baseball all summer and besides I was tired and he says these exercises was to fix me so I wouldn’t get tired and he made me go through with all of them. How is that for brains Al and I suppose if a man was up all night watching a corpse or something this bird would make you stay awake all the next day so you wouldn’t get sleepy.

For dinner we had roast chicken and sweet potatoes and cream corn and biscuits and coffee and for supper they was bake beans with tomato sauce and bread and pudding and cake and coffee and the grub is pretty fair only a man can’t enjoy it because you got to eat to fast because if theys anything left on your plate when the rest of them birds gets through you got to fight to keep it from going to the wrong address. Well Al its pretty near time for the tattoo buggle which means the men has got to shut up and keep quiet so I am going to get ready for bed but I don’t know if I would rather have them keep quiet or not because when they are keeping quiet you don’t know what they are up to and maybe they are snooping a round somewheres waiting for a man to go to sleep so they can cut your throat. Some of them has been use to doing it all their life Al and they are beggining to miss it. But I don’t know if I wouldn’t just as leave die that way as from them upseting exercises.

Your pal, Jack.

CAMP GRANT,
SEPT. 26.

Friend Al:  Well Al don’t be surprised if you pick up the paper some a.m. and see where I’m gone and you may think I am just jokeing Al but I am telling you the truth and I am glad Florrie is fixed so she can make a liveing for herself and little Al because I wouldn’t bet a nickle I will be alive by the time this gets to you.

I guess I all ready told you the kind of birds we got in our Co. Well the worst one in the bunch is a guy named Sebastian and of course he would have to be the one that got the bunk next to mine. Well Al you remember me writeing to you about the little runt that throwed that guy’s trombone away, well his name is Lahey but we call him Shorty on acct. of him being so short. Well I hadn’t payed much attention to this here Sebastian because he has always got a grouch and don’t say nothing only to mumble at the officers when they ask him some question but Shorty knows him and last night he told me all about him and he has been pinched 50 times for stabbing people but he has got some pull or something and they can’t never do nothing to him except once he served a turn at Joliet for cutting off a guy’s ears because he wouldn’t get up and give him a seat on a st. car. He has always got a knife hid on him somewheres and his first name is Nick so they call him Nick the Blade on acct. of always haveing a knife on him.

I don’t know if I told you or not but we got a shed outside of the barracks with shower baths and etc. and everybody is supposed to take baths and keep themself clean and of course its a pleasure for a man like I because I got use to takeing them every day after the game and I don’t feel right unless I am clean but some of the birds hollered like a Indian the first time the officers made them get under the shower and you would think they never seen water before and I guess some of them hadn’t because when they come out afterwards the officers had to ask them their name.

Well Al I was takeing a bath yesterday and this big Nick bird was standing there striped and he couldn’t get up the nerve to step under the shower and Corporal Daly come up behind him and give him a shove under the water and he give a bellow that you could hear from here to Rockford and I didn’t know who he was then and I couldn’t help from laughing and he seen me but he didn’t say nothing and I wouldn’t of thought no more about it only for what Shorty told me afterwards. Well Shorty was there to and he laughed at him to but Nick didn’t see him but he seen me and Shorty says I better keep my eyes pealed because Nick wouldn’t think no more of stabbing a man then picking his teeth and if theys one thing he won’t stand for its somebody laughing at him.

Well I been keeping my eyes pealed all right and I kept them pealed all night last night but I can’t stay awake all night every night and the first time I doze off it will probably be the last time.

Sebastian hasn’t spoke to nobody or looked at nobody today and when a man acts like that it means they are makeing plans. Well Al I only wish he was planning to dessert from the army and if I seen him trying to make his get away I wouldn’t blow no buggle to wake up the guards. I’ll say I wouldn’t Al.

I pretty near forgot to tell you that Teddy Roosevelt was here today over looking us and he made a speech but they was about 20 thousand for him to talk to and I was a mile away and couldn’t hear nothing but I suppose he told the boys they was fine physical specimens and etc. Well Al that stuff is O.K. but if I wasn’t a fine physical specimen I might be somewheres where I could go to sleep without some stabber waiting to carve their initials in my Adams apple.

Your pal, Jack.

CAMP GRANT,
SEPT. 29.

Friend Al:  Well old pal you see I am still alive and I guess that is because by the time night comes a round Nick the Blade is all wore out with them upseting exercises and etc. and hasn’t got enough strenth left to carve nobody or maybe he has figured out the truth which is that I wasn’t realy laughing at him Al but when I am takeing a bath I feel so good that I am libel to bust out laughing at nothing you might say.

But Sebastian isn’t the only bird I got to watch now Al because last night they sprung a new one on me and he just come into the camp yesterday and the man that was sleeping on the other side of me is sick in the infirmiary so they stuck this new one in his bunk and now I got them on both sides and I don’t know which is the worst Nick or him because this one wispers all night and it would be O.K. if he was wispering in his sleep or wispering to himself but he isn’t.

I didn’t turn in till 11 and Nick was buzzing away like a saw buck and I figured on getting some sleep myself but I hadn’t no sooner layed down when the wispering begun on the other side. First I didn’t catch what he was trying to get at but I heard him the second time all right and he says “Do you want me to kill?” Well Al for 2 or 3 minutes I couldn’t get enough strenth up to turn over and look at him but the next time he repeated it over again I couldn’t stand it no more so I said “Are you talking to me?” And what do you think he said Al? He says “I am talking to God.”

Well Al the connection couldn’t of been very good you might say because he kept asking the same question over and over and not getting no answer but how was I to know when the party at the other end would speak up and maybe say yes and they wasn’t nobody closer to him then me for him to work on so you can see what a fine nights rest I got Al and this a.m. I told Shorty Lahey about him and sure enough Al the bird is a gun man named Tom the Trigger and Shorty says he is a nut that thinks he is aces up with the all mighty and some times he imagines that they are telling him to go ahead and shoot and then he takes aim at whoever is handy.

Well Al this was inspections day and everybody was supposed to have a clean shave and their hair brushed and all their buttons sowed on and their beds made up neat and their shoes and mess kits shinned bright and etc. and Capt. Nash and the lieuts. give us all the double O and some of the boys got a nice little baling out for the way they looked but I looked like a soldier ought to look Al and didn’t give them no chance to ball me out.

But what difference is it going to make Al for me to look good and have things neat when I am sleeping between a man that if he can ever stay awake till I doze off he will dig a trench system in my chest with a stilleto and on the other side of me they’s a bird that the minute the lord says Fire he will make me look like a soup strainer. It don’t hardly seem like its worth while to be strick about looks when sooner or later they are bound to muss me and my bed both up.

Your pal, Jack.

CAMP GRANT,
OCT. 3.

Friend Al:  Well old pal I just got some good news and this it is Al. Next Saturday they are going to let some of the boys go home on leave and I asked Corporal Daly to fix it up for me to go and he says he didn’t know if he could or not because most of the ones that’s going is men that has been here a mo. or more but on acct. of me haveing been with the White Sox they fixed it so as I could go and the world serious opens up in Chi Saturday and I won’t get away from here till Saturday noon so I can’t get there for the first game but I will see the Sunday game and won’t Gleason and them pop their eyes out when I go down to the bench with my cocky suit on and shake hands with them and I bet Rowland will wish I was wearing the White Sox uniform instead of Uncle Sam’s uniform.

Well Al I can’t hardly wait to get home and see Florrie and little Al and of course I will see them Saturday night and I will take them to the game Sunday and leave for back here after the game because a man has got to be back in camp at 11 Sunday night and the funny part is that Florrie was going to bring little Al and come and see me next Sunday but now I am going to see her and I have wrote her to not come.

Well I am feeling to good to go to bed but that is where I ought to be Al because I wasn’t never so tired in my life because they hung a new one on us this p.m. Instead of giveing us upseting exercises from a quarter to 4 till a quarter after they made us all run 20 minutes without stopping and they says it was to improve our wind. Well before we was half through I didn’t have no wind to improve and I suppose some day they will pull all our teeth so as we can chew better. At that I would of been O.K. only my feet got to hurting and now I can’t hardly walk and all because the shoes they give you are about 6 sizes to small and they keep lectureing us about feet hygeine but how is a man going to keep your feet O.K. when they make you wear shoes that Houdini couldn’t get in or out of them.

But listen Al the news about going to Chi isn’t the only peace of good news I got today because I also found out that this bird that Shorty called Tom the Trigger isn’t no gun man at all and this here Nick the Blade won’t do nothing to me because he is scared of the officers so I won’t have to lay awake no more nights worring but I didn’t find it out till today and here is how it come off.

This a.m. I went to sleep right at breakfast and couldn’t keep my eyes open so Corporal Daly come up to me afterwards and asked me what was the matter so I told him I was to nervous to sleep nights on acct. of a crazy man bunking next to me and any minute he might take a notion and shoot me full of holes. I didn’t say nothing about Nick the Blade on the other side of me because he was standing where he could hear us. So Corporal Daly asked me who I was talking about and I told him and he laughed and says that if I waited for Castle which is this other bird’s name to start shooting I would probably die of old age or something because he is one of these objecters that don’t beleive in war and he told them about it the first day we got here and says he objected to being a soldier. So Capt. Nash asked him if he would object to unloading a few cars of coal and that is what he has been doing up and till last Friday and then he begun objecting to a shovel and he says he would like to join the rest of us and see what it was like and maybe he would loose his objections. So now they are giveing him a week to make up his mind what he is going to do and he is talking it over all the while with the Lord and if the Lord tells him its O.K. to kill people why well and good but he won’t practice on us because in the first place he hasn’t no gun and if he had one he wouldn’t know if it was to shoot with or stir your coffee.

So afterwards I told Shorty Lahey he had made a mistake about Castle and he says “All right and if he is a objecter it is up to us to talk him out of it.” So after supper tonight Castle was seting right near me in the recreation room and Shorty come up to him and says “Well Castle haven’t you been able to get that party on the wire yet” so Castle asked him what he meant and he says he heard Castle was waiting for a message from somewheres telling him if he should be a soldier or not so Castle didn’t answer and begun to read. So Shorty says “You ain’t the only one that objects to war but we got to make the world safe for Democrats and you shouldn’t ought to object to getting your head blowed off in a good cause.” So Castle spoke up and said he didn’t object to getting killed but what he objected to was killing other people. So Shorty says “Well then all you got to do is stick along side of me in the trenches and when you get orders to go over the top you can slip me your gun and bayonet and I will see that they don’t nobody sneak off with them dureing your absents.” So then Castle got up and walked out on us.

So I says to Shorty I said, “You certainly had the wrong dope on that bird and maybe you got Sebastian wrong to.” So he says “No I haven’t and I may as well tell you what he told me today. He told me he would of cut you up in slices long ago only if he done it here in the camp he wouldn’t have no chance to make his get away and he is waiting till some time he catchs you outside of the camp and then he will go to work on you. And if I was you and a married man I would rather get it here then in France because if you get it here your Mrs. can tend the funeral provide it they find enough of the slices to make it worth while.”

Well Al he has got a sweet chance to catch me outside of the camp because when he is outside of the camp I will be inside of the camp and I am glad I found out the truth about both he and Castle and now maybe I can get some sleep.

So all and all I feel a whole lot better then I did only for my feet but feet or no feet I will enjoy myself in Chi and I only wish I was going tomorrow instead of wait till Sat.

Your pal, Jack.

CAMP GRANT,
OCT. 7.

Friend Al:  Well Al its Sunday night and I haven’t been to Chi or nowheres else and I don’t care if I ever go anywheres and the sooner they send me to France to the front line trenches I will be tickled to death.

Well old pal I decided yesterday a.m. to stay here and not go and I made up my mind all of a sudden and it was partly because I wasn’t feeling good and my feet pretty near killed me and besides they are going to pick some of us out for corporals and sargents pretty soon and I figured a man would have a better chance of getting a officer job if you didn’t ask them for leave all the while. So as soon as I changed my mind about going I found one of the boys that was going and asked him to call Florrie up as soon as he got to Chi and tell her I couldn’t get off and for her to come out here today and see me and bring little Al.

Well Al yesterday and today has been the 2 longest days I ever spent and it seems like a yr. since yesterday a.m. and it don’t hardly seem possible that I was feeling so good yesterday a.m. and now I don’t care if school keeps or not as they say. Yesterday a.m. I was up before the buggle blowed all ready and so excited I couldn’t hardly eat breakfast and just before inspections Shorty Lahey seen me smileing to myself and asked me what was the joke and I told him they wasn’t no joke only I was going home and he says he hoped I would have a good trip and come back safe in sound so I said I guessed they wasn’t no danger of anything happening to me and he says “You will he O.K. if you keep your eyes open.” So I said “What do you mean keep my eyes open.”

So he says “Your a game bird but they’s no use of you takeing reckless chances so you want to be on the look out every minute till you get back.”

So then I asked him what and the hell he was talking about and he says “Didn’t you know that Nick the Blade was going along with you?”

Well Al it seems like Sebastian got wise that I was going home on leave and he seen a chance to get even with me for laughing at him or that is he thought I was laughing at him but I really wasn’t but any way as soon as he found out I was going he told them his brother in law had fell and struck his head on the brass rail and was dying and wanted him to come home and they eat it up and give him leave. So when Shorty tipped me off I said I would wait and go on a later train but Shorty says that wouldn’t do me no good because Nick wouldn’t be a sucker enough to try and pull anything on the train amidst all them soldiers but would wait till we was in Chi and then he would get his gang and lay for me and the way he generally worked was come right up to your flat and get you and if your wife or kid says I yes or no it would be taps for them to. And Nick could come back here to camp and they wouldn’t never know he was mixed up in it.

Well Al I guess you know I am not scared of anything in the world as far as myself personly am concerned but Florrie isn’t one of the kind that would set there in a rocker and pair her finger nails while their husband was getting massacreed and little Al is a game bird to and a chip of the old block and they would both holler like a Indian and call for the police and you know what would happen to the both of them and I wouldn’t care for myself but if anything happened to them I would feel like I was the murder.

So while I just laughed at Sebastian and his gang on my own acct. I would be a fine stiff to in danger my wife and baby and besides as I said I eat something for breakfast that didn’t set good on me and I don’t know if it was the coffee or the milk or what it was but I eat something that was poisoned and that’s a fine way to treat soldiers is to give them poison food and the easiest way to get the Germans killed off would be to invite them out here and board a while. And in the second place if a man asks for leave when he hasn’t only been here 2 wks. it would hurt my chance to get a corporal or a sargent and any way I figured Florrie would rather see something new like the camp then set through a ball game and of course it would be different if I was pitching but I suppose it was Faber’s turn today and I see where Cicotte trimmed them yesterday but at that the score would of been 1 and 1 if Felsch hadn’t of hit that ball out of the park and Sallee must be his brother in law or something to give him a ball like that to hit. If I was pitching he would be lucky to hit one up in the press box.

So I told Sargent Leslie I wasn’t feeling good and would he fix it for me to take my leave some other time and he says I was the only soldier he ever seen that was to sick to go on their leave so then I told him my wife and kid was comeing out here to see me today and he says all right.

So I didn’t go Al and the funny part of it is that somebody must of tipped Sebastian off that I wasn’t going and what does he do but get his leave called off to and he has been here all yesterday and today and that proves he is laying for me and just wanted to go because I was going and it looks like the only way I can ever get away from here is sneak out without letting nobody know I am going and even then he would probably send word to his gang in Chi to keep their eye on me till he come.

I have caught him looking at me 2 or 3 times and I had a notion to ask him if he seen anything green but what is the use Al of starting something with a man like he and if I was to loose my temper and bust him Capt. Nash might hear about it and shut us both up in the guard house together and one or the other of us wouldn’t never come out alive and which ever one it was it would give the camp a black eye.

Well Al about all I done today was look for Florrie and little Al and I didn’t give them up till 5 o’clock tonight because I thought maybe they had missed the a.m. trains and would come later and every time I seen a woman and kid toddleing up the road I would think sure it was them this time and I was dissapointed about 30 thousand times because they was at least that many women and kids here today and if they was all somebody’s wife Camp Grant must be infected with Mormons.

All the women had baskets and boxs full of pie and jell and fried cakes and what all but they wasn’t no package of goodys with my name and address on them Al and they wasn’t no little schaefer yelling theres daddy when they seen me and running up to get huged.

Well Al the man that was to call up Florrie come back this p.m. and come in the barracks just before I started this letter and I asked him I said “Well Bishop did you call up my wife like I told you?” His name is Bishop. “Hell” he says “I forgot all about it.” And honest Al his size is all that saved him the little srimph and if he was anywheres near a man I would of Bishoped him right in the eye. But I managed to keep my hands off of him and all as I said was for him to get out of my way before it was to late and then he begun to whine and says how sorry he was and he says “I got some excuse because I reached home just in time to be presented with a baby girl.”

How is that for an excuse Al and the only wonder is that he didn’t forget if it was a boy or a girl before he got back here but of course a man like he wouldn’t have nothing but a girl. But isn’t it just my luck Al for me to trust somebody to do something and then for them to go and have a baby on me? And I hope every time he gos home she is yelling all night with the collect.

Your pal, Jack.

CAMP GRANT,
OCT. 10.

Friend Al:  Well Al I wrote to Florrie Sun. night and told her what had came off and about this fat head forgetting to call her up and I just got a letter back from her and she says her and little Al both of them cried themself to sleep Saturday night because I didn’t show up and she had let little Al set up till 9 o’clock so as he could see his daddy in a uniform and when I didn’t come then or Sun. a.m. neither they thought I didn’t care for them no more so they went to the ball game Sun. p.m., and McGraw started another left hander and you probably read what happened to him and I suppose everybody is saying what a whale Faber is and who wouldn’t be a whale if they get 5 runs for you in one inning but even if you are a whale that don’t excuse you from trying to steal a base that one of your own men all ready got there ahead of you and hasn’t left yet.

But Florrie and little Al are comeing out here next Sunday Al and this time they won’t be no mix up because I won’t depend on no half wit that the minute they become a father they go all to peaces.

But what I wanted to tell you about was Sebastian. Well Al Shorty Lahey was trying to make me believe this bird was a bad egg and that they called him Nick the Blade because he always went a round with a knife and whittled you if you looked X eyed at him but the next time Shorty wants to kid somebody he better try it on some yapp that hasn’t been in the big league and I let him think he was stringing me just to see how far he would go with it but if he thought he had me fooled the shoes was on his feet not mine.

Well Al Sebastian’s name is just plain Nick without no Blade on it and the only blade he ever pulled was a blade of grass or something because he use to help take care of the grounds at Washington Pk. before he was drafted and he has been one of my admirers for a long while and that is why he kept looking at me and he says he use to always try and get to the games when it was my turn to pitch and he has been wanting to talk to me ever since we been here but today was the first time he got up the nerve and he never had no intentions of going on leave last Sat. and to prove it he showed me a letter he got from his wife last Friday and she don’t spell very good but she spoke in the letter about comeing here to see him this next Sunday and nothing about him comeing there to see her and she is going to bring their 2 kids along and he says he never seen a man with a prettier wind up then I got and all together he is O.K. and when Shorty trys to make you beleive somebody is a murder he ought to pick out a man that looks like the part.

I haven’t said nothing to Shorty and I won’t but what I will do is play a joke on him right back only I will make it a good one and not no fizzle like some of his.

And oh yes Al they have sent Castle over to the quarter masters dept. and he won’t have a chance to kill nobody there except when they come after a pair of shoes.

Your pal, Jack.

• 3 •

Corporal Punishment

CAMP GRANT,
OCT. 12.

Friend Al:  Well old pal I am writeing this in the Y.M.C.A. where a man has got some chance to hear yourself think as they say but if you try and write over in the barracks if they don’t joggle your arm or tip your seat over for a joke they are all the time jabbering back and forth in foreign languages till you get so balled up that instead of writeing a letter a man is libel to make out his will in Eskimo or something.

Speaking about foreign languages Al the next time I see you I will be talking French like a regular Frenchman and you will have to ask me to translate what I am talking about. Of course I am just jokeing about that because I wouldn’t spring a lot of stuff on you that you wouldn’t understand and I might just as well go up to a statue and ask them how their father stood his operation or something. But what I am getting at is that I am going to join the French lesson class here and its something that you don’t have to belong to it unless you want to but I figure a man is a sucker if they don’t take advantage of a chance like this because in the first place it don’t cost you nothing and in the second place the men that knows how to talk French will have all the best of it when we get over there because suppose you was in Paris and felt like you wanted a glass of pilsner and if you said it in French they would fetch it to you but if you just said pilsner they wouldn’t know if you was asking for something to drink or a nasal dooch or what not.

But besides that Al after we get to France the French officers will want to tip us off on this and that about the Germans and of course they won’t talk to the privates but they will only talk to the officers and if I am a officer by that time which it looks like a cinch I will be one by that time at the outside why suppose I was standing by 1 of our genls. and a French genl. wanted to tell him what was what and etc. but couldn’t talk nothing but French and our genl. couldn’t make head or tales of it then I could act like an interpeter between the both of them and the first thing you know all the high monkey monks when they want to talk back and forth will be pageing Capt. Keefe or Major Keefe or whatever officer I am by that time.

Some of the boys laughed at me tonight when I told them about going to attend the lessons but I will be the one that does the laughing when we get across that old pond and Shorty Lahey the smart alex that I told you about says to me “We won’t do all our training with the French army but we will do some of it with the English army so while you are at it you better learn to talk English to.” So I said “You better learn to talk English yourself” and he shut his mouth.

Well Al Florrie and little Al will be here to see me Sunday and I can’t hardly wait for them to get here and I suppose Florrie will bring along some daintys of some kind that she cooked up herself or maybe got the swede girl to do it but of course I am not worring about whether she brings anything or don’t bring anything as long as she brings herself and the kid only most of the wifes that comes out here Sundays brings something along to show they been thinking of you though if I was most of these birds wifes the only time I would think about them would be when I said my prayers at night and then I would thank God they had joined the army.

Your pal, Jack.

CAMP GRANT,
OCT. 14.

Friend Al:  Well Al its Sunday night and I been entertaining company. Florrie and little Al got out here just after noon and I was in the barracks reading about the world serious game in Chi yesterday and Florrie says she asked 1 of the boys where I was at and he told her I was polishing the general’s shoes and wouldn’t he do just as well. How is that for a fresh bum Al and of course I don’t have to polish the general’s shoes or any shoes and if I could find out who it was that Florrie was talking to I would polish their jaw for them.

Well of course Florrie didn’t beleive him and the next man she asked was Nick Sebastian and he come and got me and you ought to seen Florrie stair when she got a look at me in my uniform and little Al didn’t know me at first and when Florrie says to him who is it he says it was the capt. Well Al it is to soon to be calling me a capt. but if they are running this game on the square it won’t be long and they will be calling me more then that.

Well Florrie handed me a box and she says I was to not open it till she was gone and then I showed them over the camp and the way the boys staired at Florrie I couldn’t help from being proud of her but of course if some of them had of got to fresh I would of fixed them so they wouldn’t do no stairing for a couple of wks. Sebastian’s wife and 2 kids was here to visit him and we run into them and we all went a round together and I made the remark that it would be nice for Mrs. Sebastian and her kids and Florrie and little Al to all go back to Chi on the same train together and it was O.K. with Mrs. Sebastian but when I and Florrie was alone together for a few minutes she started to ball me out for makeing the suggestion and I asked her what was the matter with it and she says she wasn’t going to set in the same seat on the train with a woman that looked like she had left home before she got up and little Al would probably catch something from the 2 Sebastian kids so I said that Mrs. Sebastian done real work for a liveing and you couldn’t expect her to look like Sarah Bernhart but Florrie is the kind that if she takes a dislike towards somebody its good night to them and it don’t do no good to tell her that a person can’t help their looks and that is all the more reason you should try and not hurt their feelings. So Mrs. Sebastian had a round trip ticket on the C.B. and Q. and so did Florrie but she pretended like hers was on the I.C. and thats the way her and little Al went back so they wouldn’t have to set with the Sebastians and take a chance of little Al catching something though from what I seen of the Sebastian kids they looked as strong as a horse and they wasn’t no danger of catching nothing from them unless maybe it was the banana habit.

I suppose I would of been a grass widower long ago if I was ugly and how will it be if I get shot up in the war and Florrie would sew me for a bill of divorce on the grounds that I didn’t have no nose to smell the cooking.

Well Al after they had gone Sebastian made the remark that I had a beautiful wife and I couldn’t help from feeling kind of sorry for him so I says “Never mind old boy” I said to him “as long as your Mrs. is a good mother and willing to work you should not worry if she is no Eva Tanguay.” But I didn’t feel so sorry for him when we opened up the boxs they had broughten us and Sebastian’s wife had give him doughnuts and a pie and part of a cake and goodys of all kinds and when I opened up my box it was a lb. of candy like you get in a union station for 60 cts and if it wasn’t for the picture of a girl on the cover it would be all profit and a man can’t eat the picture which was the only part of it that hadn’t ran together like chop sooy and Florrie would of made just as big a hit with me if she had of put in the time bakeing me a mess of cookys that she spent toneing up her ear lobs or something.

Well Al I suppose you read about yesterday’s game in Chi. I been saying right along that the White Sox was to lucky to loose and the only way I can figure out yesterday’s game is that they must be a rule in the National League where you can’t change from 1 pitcher to another pitcher till the other team gives their consent. From what I read in the papers Sallee could of been turned loose with his fast ball in a looking glass factory without damageing the goods and when Jackson and Collins begins to take a toe hold against a left hander its time to summons the Red X. You will notice Rowland didn’t waist no time getting Russell out of there and the next time he starts a left hander will be on the training trip next spring in Wichita where if you beat them to bad they won’t give you a card to the Elks.

Your pal, Jack.

CAMP GRANT,
OCT. 16.

My cher ami:  I suppose you will think I have gone crazy when you read the way I started this letter out and you will wonder if I have gone crazy. Well Al that is the French word for my dear friend in English so you see I have not gone crazy after all. I took my first lesson last night and it is going to be nuts to learn it because most of the words is just like English only spelled different and you don’t say them the same but the man learns us a dozen words and tells us how to say them and we keep saying them over till we get them down and it wont’ be long when we got enough of them learned so as we can jabber back and forth in front of the boys that didn’t have sense enough to learn it and they won’t know if we are calling them names or getting ready to murder them.

Well Al we had Gen. Barry out overlooking us yesterday and he said we was a fine looking bunch of soldiers as he even seen and we put in most of the day digging trenchs just like the ones they got over in Germany and when we get them fixed up we will practice fighting for them till we can go through them Dutchmen like they was fly paper and I wouldn’t be surprised Al if we got word soon to pack up and start because Red Sampson one of the boys in our Co. has got a brother thats over there all ready and he is Gen. Pershing’s right hand bower and so he gets the dope pretty straight and in a letter Red got from him he says Gen. Pershing had asked Secty. Daniels to send over the best looking lot of soldiers from each camp and from what Gen. Barry said about us I suppose we will be the first to go but it may not be for a wk. or so because Red said he heard we wasn’t going till each Co. had a rifle.

If we do have to go in a hurry I won’t be able to write you about where we are leaveing from and etc. on acct. of the censure because the German spy might get next to it and he could wire across to Germany and the submarine U boats would be on the outlook for us. But between you and I Red says we are libel not to go where the submarines can get a crack at us but we may slip around the other way and light in Japan and make the rest of the trip by R.R. and he says we may even not go to France but stay and help the Russians out. So Shorty Lahey was there and he has always got to say something so people will think he knows it all so he said the Russians didn’t need nobody to help them out because they were pretty near out now. So Red said “You will notice they didn’t loose much ground yesterday” and Shorty says “No they only loose 2 miles and they must of been a strong east wind blowing but I will bet you that if we do make the trip that way we will bump into them along about Ogden Utah.” So Red says “No because if they ever get to Utah they will hide in Salt Lake City where the Germans couldn’t tell them by their beards.” So then Shorty seen he was getting kidded and shut up.

This a.m. we spent a half hour listening to a speech about the German gas and of course you have read about the gas Al and it isn’t like regular gas but its some kind of poison that the Germans lets it loose in the air and it floats across Nobodys land and comes to the other trenchs and if you haven’t got no mask its good night but we are all going to have masks to wear so the gas can’t hurt us. Red says thats one thing where the Russians have got it on us and they don’t have to be scared of dying from gastritis because the Germans haven’t no gas fast enough to catch up with them.

Well Al the world serious is over just like I said it would be with the White Sox winner and each one of the boys gets $3600.00 and that would of been my share only I loved my country more than a few dollars and I bet the boys feel kind of ashamed of themself to think I was the only one that passed up all that jack to work for Uncle Sam at $30.00 per mo. but between you and I Al I have got a scheme where I will make twice that amt. and if some of the rest of the boys here thought about it they could do the same thing but why should I tip them off because you can bet they wouldn’t tip me off to a good thing if they thought of it first.

Here is the scheme when a man has got a family the govt. keeps out 1/2 of your pay every month or more if you want them to and then the govt. sticks the same amt. in with it and sends it to your wife or who ever gets it. Say you are a private and getting about $30.00 per mo. and you tell the govt. to keep out $15.00 of it. So the govt. keeps $15.00 and sticks another $15.00 with it and sends it to your family.

Well Al I am going to tell them to keep out my whole $30.00 per mo. and they will have to put another $30.00 with it and send the $60.00 to Florrie and she won’t need it so she can either send it to me or salt it away somewheres in my name and it means I will be getting $60.00 while the rest of them are dragging down $30.00 and if it was just luck on my part I wouldn’t think it was hardly fair but when a man figures something out in your head you got a right to take advantage of it and a man that give up a big league salary and the world serious dough to do their bit deserves something extra while the only way some of the rest of these birds could earn $30.00 per mo. outside of the army would be to ask for it with a peace of lead pipe.

Well old pal bon sore for this time and that means good night in French and pretty soon I will be writeing you a whole letter in French only of course I wouldn’t do that because it would be like waisting that much paper because they couldn’t nobody in Bedford make heads or tales out of it and I might just as well save my labor for my pains as they say.

Your pal, Jack.

CAMP GRANT,
OCT. 18.

Friend Al:  Well old pal I got a peace of news for you that I bet you will be tickled to death for my sake when I tell it to you. I guess I told you in my last letter about Gen. Barry inspecting us. Well Al I kind of thought I seen him looking at me like he liked the way I carry myself and etc. but I didn’t want to say nothing about it till I was sure but after breakfast this a.m. Capt. Nash sent for me and when I went in his office and saluted he says “Good morning Corporal Keefe.” Well Al of course that means I have been appointed a corporal and of course I expected it only I wasn’t looking for it so soon and while Capt. Nash didn’t say nothing it don’t take no Bobby Burns to figure out that the orders come from higher up.

The corporals and sargents we had at first was men from the regular army and they been sending them away lately and now some of the boys from the ranks gets their chance. In order to get a corporal or a sergent a man has got to have the drills down perfect besides being a perfect physical specimen and good appearance and a man that the rest of the boys will look up to him and respect him and a man that don’t know the meaning of the word fear. Well Al I must of filled the bill and I will show Gen. Barry he didn’t make no mistake.

My command is made up of 7 men that I am the boss of them and they contain Sebastian and Red Sampson and Shorty Lahey and a wop named Janinny or something and a big stropper named Hess and 2 boys named Gardner and Bowen and some of them is pretty rough birds but I won’t have no trouble handleing them because they know about my record in baseball and they can’t help from respecting a man that give up a big salary to help Uncle Sam out and the only I that might try and give me trouble is Lahey and I guess he has got better sense then trying some of his funny jokes with a corporal because when a private monkeys with a officer he is libel to wake up the next a.m. with no place to wear his hat.

Well Al a corporal isn’t the highest officer in the army but its a step up and everybody has got to start at the bottom and Napoleon started as a corporal and the soldiers was all nuts about him and called him the little Corporal and maybe they will give me a nick name like that only of course it won’t be the little corporal because that would be like calling Jess Willard Tiny Jess or something and the salary is $36.00 per mo. instead of $30.00 and with that scheme I got fixed up with the govt. that will give me twice $36.00 per mo. or $66.00 and I’ll say thats a whole lot better then a private at $1.00 per day.

I have all ready wrote and told Florrie about it and I bet she will go crazy when she reads my letter and after this when they call her Mrs. Keefe she can shrink up her shoulders and say “Mrs. Corp. Keefe please” and you will have to salute when you see me Al. Of course I mean that for a joke because what ever honors I get I wouldn’t leave them make no difference in our friendship and betwen you and I it will always be just plain Jack Keefe.

Well Al we started today learning to throw bombs and of course that won’t be no trick for me and you might say it was waisting time for me to practice at it because when my arm feels O.K. I can throw in your vest pocket but today it was raining and I wouldn’t cut loose and take chances with my arm because I figure this war won’t last long and I guess I won’t have no trouble signing up in the big league at my own turns after what I done. But you ought to seen the officer that was trying to learn us how and if they all throw like he its a wonder they hit Europe to say nothing about the Germans. He kept his arm stiff like he didn’t have no elbow joint and he was straight over hand all the while like Reulbach and you know what kind of control he had.

We didn’t have no regular bombs but only stones and tomato cans but the way he throwed he couldn’t of took a baseball and hit the infield from second base and finely I told him and he said yes but if you crooked your arm you would wear it out because the regular bombs weighs almost 2 lbs. and you had to use a easy motion. How is that Al for a fresh bum trying to talk to me about easy motions and I had a notion to tell him to go back to France with his motions but I kept my temper and throwed a few the right way till my arm got to feeling sore.

Well its 10 o’clock and after and I am going to turn in and it isn’t that I feel sleepy but when a man is a officer you feel like you ought to set an example to the men.

Your pal, Corp. Jack Keefe.

CAMP GRANT,
OCT. 22.

Friend Al:  Well Al we had some lessons in trench takeing today and I feel like I had been in a football game or something. We would climb up out of the trenchs that was supposed to be the U.S. trenchs and run across Nobody’s Land and take the trenchs that was supposed to be the German trenchs and clean them out with rifles and bayonets and bombs and of course we didn’t have no real rifles and bombs but if we had of and they had been any Germans in the trenchs it would of been good night to them.

We done it over and over till I was pretty near wore out but of course I pretended like I was fresh as a daisy because a good corporal wouldn’t never lay down till he was dead and its their business to set up an example for the boys and inspire them so I kept hollering like Hughey Jennings or somebody and every time we started out of our trenchs I would holler “Come on boys give them hell this time” and I guess it made a hit with the instructers because they kept smileing at me and talking about me between themselfs and I could pretty near guess what they said. But of course it made Shorty Lahey sore to see me getting all the attentions and he says to me “Who do you think you are Jonah Vark?” So I said “You tend to your business and show some life or I will Jonah Vark you in the jaw.”

So afterwards when we was in the barracks he come up and says “If you are playing Jonah Vark you should ought to quit telling us to come on boys and give them hell because Jonah Vark wouldn’t never use a word like that.” So I said “I guess he would say a whole lot worse then that if he had a dirty rat like you in his command.” So that shut him up.

Tonight they showed us some pictures that was supposed to be the West Pt. cadets drilling and Capt. Nash says if we ever got so as we could drill like that he would quit working us so hard. Well Al its all O.K. to hand that stuff to the boys that don’t know no more then to fall for it but I hope they didn’t suppose I was a sucker enough to think those was real pictures but of course I wouldn’t say nothing because if looking at a lot of fake pictures makes the boys work harder the sooner we will get sent to France.

I was just talking to Red Sampson and he was telling me about a bird named Chambers in Co. A and it shows some people don’t know when they have got a good thing and don’t appreciate what people trys to do for them. I remember this bird comeing out with us on the train and they wouldn’t nobody go near him on acct. of him being such a bum and Red says he heard that for a while after we got here they had to chase this bird under the shower bath with a bayonet and he done most of his drilling in the guard house. So finely his captain told him he wouldn’t stand for no more of his monkey business and he would call him up in front of the court marshall if he didn’t behave himself.

So then Chambers says all right he would make a new start and sure enough he cut it all out and begin to take a pride in himself and got the drills down pat and kept clean and his captain wanted to show him it payed to be a man and he made a corporal out of him.

Well Al you can’t break the rules when you are a corporal no more than a private but this bird went to Chi the day before yesterday on a leave and he was supposed to be back at 11 p.m. last night but he don’t show till 2 a.m. and he was all lit up like the City of Benton Harbor and of course the guard nailed him and he got called up before his captain and he busted him and I don’t mean he cracked him in the jaw but when a man gets busted in the army it means you get reduced to a private. So I said to Red what a sucker this bird was and Red says maybe he wanted to get busted because a corporal has got such a load on their shoulders that lots of men would rather be a private. So I said it must be a fine kind of a man that would turn down a job in the army because it was a tough job and Red says “Yes but everybody ain’t like you and some men don’t want no responsibility but you are one of the kind that the more they have the better they like it and everybody could see you was a born leader the way you acted in that trench drill today.”

So I suppose after all a man like Chambers has no business in a job like corporal because it is a cinch nobody would ever call him a born leader unless it was in the gin league but still a person would think he would try and behave himself after the captain give him that chance but still I should not worry and it is none of my business and all I got to do is set up the right kind of an example for my own command and leave the rest of them take care of themselfs.

Your pal, Jack.

CAMP GRANT,
OCT. 23.

Friend Al:  Well I have quit takeing French class lessons and I quit because I felt it wasn’t fair to either myself or Capt. Nash because when a man is a corporal its all head work you might say and a man ought to keep their mind on their job evenings as well as day times and I felt like I couldn’t do that and be monking with French at the same time and it would be like as if I was back pitching baseball and trying to learn to play a saxophone or something at the same time and in the evenings when I ought to be figureing out how to pitch to Pipp instead of that I would have my mind on what keys to blow next though of course I just say that for a comparison because I could learn how to play the whole band and still make a sucker out of that bird because all you got to do is to pitch outside. But besides that I figured that the man who was trying to learn us French didn’t know what he was talking about and what is the use of learning it wrong and then you got to start all over again when we got over there. For inst. he asked me what was the English word for very in French so I knew it was tres so I said tres and he says no it was tray because you say the letter e like it was the letter a and you don’t pay no attention to the letter s. So I asked him what it was there for then and he said that was just the French of it so I had a notion to tell him to go and take a jump in the lake but I decided to just say nothing and quit. I guess the French people are not crazy and they wouldn’t nobody but a crazy man stick a letter in a word and then make up their mind to ignore it you might say and it would be just like as if I wanted a beer and I would go up to the bar and say “Give me a bee” and I guess the man would think I thought I was in a bee hive or something or else he would think I had a bee in my bonnet eh Al?

But laying all jokes to one side I have got to much on my mind to be fooling with it and besides I put in a week on it and I figure I have got it down good enough so as I can get by and besides I am one of those kind that don’t have much to say but when theys something to be done you don’t have to send no blood hounds to find where I am at.

Red Sampson got another letter today from his brother in France and Red says his brother and Pershing was right up close to the front where they could see the fighting and they was a big battle in Sept. that the papers didn’t get a hold of it and about 2500 Frenchmen was killed. So Shorty Lahey asked if they was all privates and Red says No that in the French army they have things different and you don’t often see a private killed but when theys 25000 men killed you can figure that at least 20000 of them was corporals and sargents because the corporals and sargents has to go out in front of all the charges. Well Al I am glad its different in the U.S. army but at that I am not the kind of a man that would hang back for the fear of getting a bullet in me and if I was I would resign from my command and tell them to get somebody else.

Your pal, Jack.

CAMP GRANT,
OCT. 24.

Friend Al:  Well Al this was Liberty Day and we had a parade in Rockford and they was also some ball games out here and that is the boys thought they was playing ball and everybody was crazy I should pitch for one of the teams but in the first place I didn’t feel like it would be fair and besides I figure its bad dope for the officers to mix up with the men and play games with them and etc. and thats not because I think I am any better then anybody else but if you hold yourself off they respect you that much more and I have noticed that Capt. Nash and the lieuts, don’t hang a round with nobody only themselfs and when it comes to the majors and colonels I guess they don’t even speak to their own wife only when they are danceing maybe and step on each others ft.

Well Al I decided today to not try and work that little scheme I had about alloting my whole salary to Florrie and then the govt. would put the same amt. with it and I would be salting away $66.00 per mo. instead of $36.00 and I was talking to Corp. Haney about it and he says it couldn’t be done and I don’t know about that but any way I figured it wouldn’t be fair to the rest of the boys so I am going to allot $18.00 per mo. to Florrie to keep for me and that leaves me $18 per mo. to spend that is it leaves me that amt. on paper but when you come to figure it out Al I am paying $5.60 for soldiers insurance and $10.00 per mo. for another liberty bond I bought and that leaves me $2.40 per mo. to spend and how is that for a man that was drawing a salary in the big league but at that I have got it on some of the privates that gives up the same amt. for insurance and a liberty bond and they only gets $30.00 per mo. and 1/2 of that amt. gos to their wife so when it comes to the end of the month they owe $.60 for being a soldier.

Speaking about the soldiers insurance with the kind I got if I was disabled they would have to give me $50.00 to $60.00 per mo. on acct. of me haveing Florrie and little Al and that would come in handy Al if I got my right arm shot off and couldn’t pitch but at that I know birds in the big league now thats drawing $400.00 to $500.00 per mo. and as far as their pitchings conserned they might just as well have both their arms shot off and include their head.

Well anyway we won’t have to practice fighting no more with broom sticks and cans and etc. because Sargent James told us tonight that the rifles was comeing so I said to my boys that I hoped they was good shots so we could make a sucker out of the other squads and I told them if they was all as good a shot as me I wouldn’t have no kick because I figure that anybody thats got as good control when they throw or pitch should certainly ought to shoot straight. So Red Sampson says that if I was in the French army it wouldn’t do me no good to be a crack shot and I asked him why not and he says the corporals in the French army are not allowed to carry no guns but all they was supposed to do was run ahead of the privates and draw the fire and maybe if the Germans happened to not hit them they could pull out their scissors and cut the bob wire untanglements so as the privates wouldn’t have no trouble getting in to the German trenchs where they could use their bayonets.

Red says “Instead of the pollutes trying to get to be a corporal they try not to because when they appoint you a corporal in the French army its a good night kiss and of course its a honor at that because it shows they think you are a game bird and don’t care for your own life as long as you help the cause and that is why they picked you out. Because a corporal don’t carry no arms of any kind and all he is is a kind of a decoy to kep the Germans shooting at him so as to protect the regular soldiers and that is why over 80% of the casualtys in the French army is corporals.”

Well Al as I said before I am not in the French army and I should worry about what they do to corporals in the French army.

I pretty near forgot to tell you that I am going home on leave Saturday and you can bet I am going this time sick or no sick because from all the rumors a round the camp we might be leaveing for across the pond any day now specially with the rifles comeing and that makes it look like we would soon be on our way and if I didn’t see Florrie and little Al before I left it would probably be the last time I would see them because something tells me Al that if I go over there I won’t never come back.

Your pal, Jack.

CAMP GRANT,
OCT. 26.

Friend Al:  Well don’t be surprised if you read in the paper any a.m. where our regt. has been ordered to France but of course I don’t suppose they would come out in the paper with it because General Pershing don’t want it to get out what regts. is over there and probably you won’t hear nothing about it when we do go because they won’t be no chance for me to write to you and if you don’t hear from me for a long while you will know we have gone and the next time you hear from me will be from over there. I got the dope tonight from Red Sampson and he heard it from one of the men that was on guard yesterday and this man heard the Col. telling Capt. Gould of Co. B that General Pershing had sent for the best looking regt. out here and Gen. Barry had recommended our regt. and from what Red says we will probably go in a week or so and he don’t know if we are going by the way of the Atlantic or the Pacific but all as I hope is that we get there before the war is over.

I am certainly glad now that I arranged for leave this wk. end because it will give me a chance to fix my affairs up before I go and if anything should happen to me they wouldn’t be no trouble for Florrie about property and etc. I certainly wish I had enough so as I could leave you and Bertha something to help you along old pal and maybe if they had give me more time I could of fixed things up but all as I can leave you now is my friendship and remember that if anything happens I was your old pal and you boys that stays home is the ones we are laying down our life for and if it wasn’t for men like we where would you be at Al and your familys?

Well Al I am proud of my squad the way they took the news and we was the only ones that knew about it and yet they wasn’t a man in my command that didn’t act like he was tickled to death and thats the right kind of a spirit and I spoke about it to Red Sampson. I said “I am proud of all of you because instead of you whineing and putting on a long face you all act like you was going to a picnic or something.” So Red says he guessed the rest of the boys and him didn’t have no license to cry as long as I kept up my spirits. He says “Maybe it would be different if we was all corporals because then it would seem like we was leaveing home forever. But you are the bird thats takeing the chance and if you can keep smileing we would be a fine bunch if we broke down and begun to whine and I don’t suppose theys a man amongst us that has thought about danger to themselfs but its all whats going to happen to you.”

Well Al thats the kind of a bunch to have under you and it makes a man think of Napoleon and how his men looked up at him.

Well maybe you won’t get no more letters from me that is if the call comes before I leave tomorrow for Chi but if I get there O.K. I will write to you from there because probably by the time I get back here the orders will be to pack up and move and then I won’t have no time to write.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO,
OCT. 28.

Friend Al:  Well Florrie is still in the hay yet and little Al is playing with himself on the floor and reading the pictures in the Sunday a.m. paper and I thought I would sleep late this a.m. but when a man gets in the habit of wakeing up early you get so as you can’t sleep after you wake up once and thats the way it was with me.

Well Al I suppose you will be surprised at me saying it but I pretty near wish I wasn’t no officer but just a private like at first and I got a good notion to go back to the camp like Chambers did behind time and 1/2 stewed and the reason I feel like that is because I have got attached to my boys and I would pretty near rather give up going to France all together then quit them because it seems like it wouldn’t be hardly fair to leave them now that they have got so as they look up at me and I figure that even if I wasn’t a corporal no more but just I of them I could do more good then if I quit them entirely.

I suppose you will wonder what I am getting at Al. Well on the train comeing from Rockford yesterday I was setting with Shorty Lahey and he was on leave to and I know its a mistake sometimes for a officer to pal a round with their men but I set with him on the train because I can’t stand it to hurt a man’s feelings and Shorty’s hearts in the right place with all his jokeing and etc. So we set down together on the train and got to talking things over and he says “Well Keefe you have got to be a corporal and that means you have made good and I wish I was in your shoes.”

So I said that if he took care of himself and minded his business they wasn’t no reason why he wouldn’t be advanced higher up the ladder some time in the future and he says “Yes but now is the time I would like to be in your shoes because I would like to get over to France and get in it.” So I asked him what he meant and he says the dope Red Sampson was giving me was part of it right and part of it wrong and the right dope was that General Pershing hadn’t sent for our whole regt. but what he had sent for was all the non commission officers out of the regt. and that means all the corporals and sergents and they was the only ones going this time because the French army had ran out of non commission, officers and General Pershing was going to lend them the best ones we had over here in training.

So I said “Well it looks like I was elected and its 100 to 1 that I won’t never come back.” So Shorty says “Oh I don’t know about that and I think Red Sampson is wrong about them killing all them corporals because from what I heard they’s a few of them they don’t try and kill so they can take them prisoner and get information off them.”

So I said “They would have a hell of a chance getting information off me because they could kill me before I would spill anything.” So Shorty says “You might not spill nothing at first but you would be a game bird if you stuck through all the tortures because when they ask you something and you don’t tell them they cut off a couple of toes and see if that won’t make you talk and so on till you don’t hardly know if you are alive but if you are game enough to stand all they give you why finely they will see what a game bird you are and then they finish you off so you won’t suffer no more. But if you tell them all you know right at first they won’t do nothing to you only of course you will be a prisoner there in Germany till the war is over and they make you work your head off without no food and they don’t even feed the guards because they want to keep them mad at the prisoners so as they will make them work harder and every time you act like you was loafing or something the guards scratchs their initials in you with their bayonet.”

So I asked him where he got his dope and he says he didn’t know if it was all true or not but his wife’s 2 brothers was in the German army and they had wrote home about it and maybe it was all bunk.

Well Al I figured I would take Florrie to a show somewheres last night because maybe it would be the last time but after supper I felt kind of sick on acct. of the change in food and I asked Florrie if she would just as leave stay home so I went to bed early and I thought I would get a good rest but I didn’t get no sleep and as I said I couldn’t sleep this a.m. and now I am waiting for her to get up for breakfast.

I only wish they was some way for me to get out of this corporal and it isn’t that I can’t handle it but it seems like a shame to leave the other boys that almost worships me you might say and here is little Al playing on the floor and if his daddy was just a private I might maybe stay at Camp Grant all winter and come in and see Florrie and he every month.

Your pal, Jack.

CAMP GRANT,
OCT. 30.

Friend Al:  Well Al I am not going to France at all that is right away and this time I got the dope straight from Capt. Nash and not from no Lahey or Sampson.

Here is the way I come to find out Al. I was supposed to get back in camp Sunday night but I missed the train out of Chi and I took the first train yesterday a.m. and I got reported for being A.W.O.L., and that means I was absent without no leave so I got called up in the orderly room in front of Capt. Nash.

So he says “Well Keefe don’t tell me your aunt died.” So I asked him what he meant because I haven’t no aunt only by marriage that lives down in Texas. So he says “Do you know what we could do to you for being A.W.O.L.” So I said “I suppose you could bust me.” So he says “Yes and that isn’t all. If you was drunk or some excuse like that we could have you out in front of a fireing party or if we wanted to go easy with you we could send you down to Ft. Leavenworth for 10 yrs.” So I said “I wasn’t drunk sir and all the trouble was that I missed a train out of Chi and I didn’t miss it more than 2 minutes.” So he says “Well 2 minutes and 2 wks. don’t make no difference in this game. But you have been behaving yourself O.K. and we got a fine record in this Co. and I don’t want to loose no non commission officers because I haven’t got none now thats worth a dam. So you see that you don’t miss no more trains because the next time it will go a whole lot different. You are excused only that you won’t get no more leave for a month.”

So I said thank you sir and told him I was sorry because I was in a hurry to get to France and didn’t want nothing to come up to interfere with me going and he says “You don’t want to go no more then I do but it looks like we would all be here till we die of old age.” So I asked him if the corporals wasn’t going ahead of the rest of the bunch and he says the corporals would go with the privates unless they was all shot by that time for being A.W.O.L.

So here I am Al and I have told the boys I was not going to quit them and I never seen nobody so tickled. Well Al I am glad to in a way and on the other hand its a big dissapointment but a man has got to learn to swallow their dissapointments in the army and take what comes.

Your pal, Jack.

CAMP GRANT,
NOV. 4.

Friend Al:  Well Al they have begin to bust up our regt. and take men away from it and the men they take will get to France before the rest of us the lucky stiffs but they don’t send them right to France from here but they send them down south to the national guards camps and fill up the national guards with them and the national guards are going to get across the pond first because Secty. Daniels wants to save the good regts. for the finish.

Well Al they can’t send me to France to soon but it looks like they wasn’t a chance for a man like I to get sent with the national guards because the men we are sending down south is the riff and raff you might say who we want to get rid of them so when Secty. Daniels sends word that the national guards at such and such a place wants 7 or 800 men the officers here picks them out from amidst the kitchen policemen and the guard house.

It looks now like the real soldiers that they got here would be here maybe all winter but between you and I Al I got a scheme to beat that game. I found out today that they are going to start a officers training camp here in Jan. and if a man makes good in it they will give him a lieut. or a capt. and they won’t be no riff and raff allowed in the camp only men that would make a good officer so I guess I won’t have no trouble getting in the camp and once I win my lieut. or capt. bars they will probably send me straight to France to take command.

Things are going along O.K. without much news to write about. Sarah Bernhart the French comedian was in Rockford Friday and come out to give the boys a treat and for some reason another the most of the boys fell all over their self trying to get up close to her and get her to smile at them. Well Al everybody to their own taste but from what I seen of her she would be perfectly safe around me and if she is a day old she is 50 yrs. old and I will bet money on it. Any way I wouldn’t trade Florrie for a dozen like she.

Your pal, Jack.

• 4 •

Purls Before Swine

CAMP GRANT,
NOV. 7.

Friend Al:  Here is one for you Al and its just between you and I because I wouldn’t have no one else hear about it for the world. Yesterday we was all presented with some sox made out of knitting and they come in a bunch from the Red X and when I was going to bed I thought I would try mine on and see if they fit and if they didn’t maybe I could trade with somebody that they did. Well Al I stuck my foot down in 1 of them and my toe run into something funny and I pulled my foot out and stuck my hand down in it and pulled out a note that was folded in side of the sock. Well of course I opened the note up and read it and I will copy down what it said. It says “Dear Soldier Boy, you may never see me but if you can spare time to write me just a few lines it will make me happier than any one in the world for I am oh so lonesome. You won’t disappoint me will you Soldier Boy?” And it was signed Lone Star but down below she had wrote her name and address. Her name is Miss Lucy Chase and she lives in Texas.

Well Al I can’t help from feeling sorry for her and if it wasn’t for Florrie and little Al I would write her a note back and thank her for the sox though between you and I they are to small and try and say something that would cheer her up. But of course Florrie wouldn’t like for me to do it and a married man shouldn’t ought to be monking around like that and lead a girl on though of course if I did write to her the first thing I would tell her would be that I am married.

But what has been puzzling me is where she seen me. Maybe it was 1 of the times we played in Texas in the spring trip either that or she seen my picture somewheres. Well Al it must of been a picture without my feet in it or she would of made the sox bigger and I wish she had of because I don’t feel like tradeing them off to nobody now that I know they was made for me by a admirer. Laying all jokes to 1 side I do feel sorry for the girl and if she had of made herself known to me a few years sooner things might of been different. Don’t say nothing about this even to Bertha because I don’t want it to get all over Bedford. I am not the kind that brags around about their admirers especially when its a girl.

I thought once or twice today that I would just drop her a card pretending like the sox fit me to a tea and thanking her for them and giving a hint that I was a married man but on second thoughts I guess its better to just let the whole affair drop right here.

They sprung a new one on us last night. Word come from the head quarters that everybody had to learn to sing and last night was the first lesson and they was about 3000 of us and the teacher was a bird named Nevin and he got up in front and started out on Keep the home fires burning and said we was to all join in. Well Al for some reason another everybody but he had the lockjaw and as far as we was concerned the fires would of all died out. Most of our gang is from Chi where they leave takeing care of the furnace to the janitor. He tried 2 or 3 other songs but we was all deaf and dumb mutes and he finely give up and says he would try some other time when the cat didn’t have a hold of our tongue so on the way back to quarters everybody cut loose and sung and you could of heard us in Beloit. We got a lot of good singers right in our Co. that can hit the minors to but we are not going to bust out on no teacher’s say so like we was in kinder-garden or something.

Well Al I am going to break into a new game football. They are getting up a club here in camp to play against the Great Lakes navy and the Camp Custer club up in Mich. and they want all the men thats played football to come out and try for the club here. Well I never played but I told them I did and they won’t know the difference when they see me because when a man is a born athelete they can play any game and especially a college Willy boy game like football. I seen one of their college games out to the university in Chi once and a man built like I could of made a sucker out of both clubs.

The capt. of the camp club here is Capt. Whiting and he played with the university of Chi and they got some other would be stars like Shiverick that played with the Ithaca club down east and Schobinger or something from Champlain college here in Ill. and a man from Princeton name Eddy something. Well I will show them something before I get through with them because an athelete has got to be born and you can’t make them out of college Willy boys that stays up all night doing the foxy trot and gets stewed on chocolate and whip cream.

Your pal, Jack.

CAMP GRANT,
NOV. 10.

Friend Al:  Well Al I suppose you read in the papers about that troop train that a gang of spys tried to wreck it and it was a train full of burglars from here that we sent down to Camp Logan to fill up the national guards and the papers made out like the people that tried to wreck it was pro German spys but if you had of seen the birds that was on the train you wouldn’t believe it because they wouldn’t no Germans waist their time on them because they will all kill each other anyway before they get to France. One of the birds on it was Shorty Lahey that I all ready told you about him and when the national guards sees him they will just about declare war against Camp Grant.

Well Al you remember me writeing to you about that little girl down in Texas that sent me the note in the sox. Well I got to thinking it over and the more I thought about it I got to thinking that it wasn’t the square thing to not pay no attention to her when she maybe wore her hands to the bone and strained her eyes so as my feet would keep warm so finely I set down and answered her back and I didn’t say nothing mushy of course but just a friendly note to let her know I received the sox and I told her they was a perfect fit and I asked her where it was she ever seen me or my picture or how she come to pick me out and I didn’t tell her nothing about being married because what would be the use of hurting her and they can’t be no harm done because we will never meet and as soon as she writes and tells me where she seen me that will end it. But I just couldn’t stand it to think of the poor kid running to the door every time the mail man come and maybe crying when they wasn’t nothing for her. I guess Florrie wouldn’t have no objections under the circumstances but if she did find out and start to ball me out I would tell her to take a jump in the lake because she never even mended me a pair of sox to say nothing about knit them. I also asked the girl to send me a picture of herself because it tickles them to be asked for their picture and of course as soon as I get it I will tear it up but she won’t know that.

Well Al I decided to not play on the football club here after all. In the 1st. place theys 3 or 4 privates trying for the club and I don’t believe in mixing up with them to much and if Whiting and them other officers wants to all right, but that don’t make it all right in my mind. And besides I figured it wasn’t fair to either myself or Capt. Nash to run the risk of getting hurt in some fool game to say nothing about learning a lot of fool signals that don’t mean nothing but just learning them takes up your time that you ought to spend thinking how to improve your command. And another thing the minute they started to practice I seen they didn’t know the fame and they will get licked every time they play and I can’t stand to be with a looser. They talked about what a great kicker this Shiverick is but I watched him trying to kick gools and he missed 3 out of 10 and one of them rolled right along the ground like a baby had kicked it.

Capt. Whiting come up to me when I come out on the field and asked me my name and etc. and what position did I play and I told him center rush or tackle back it didn’t make no difference. So he asked me what college I played at and I told him Harvard which was the 1st. thing that come into my head. So he says “All right we need a good tackle back so you can play there now in signal practice” so they lined up and I stood back of the center rush and they called out some numbers and throwed the ball to one of them and 3 or 4 of us bumped into each other and fell down and I got a bad kick in the head but it wasn’t bad enough to make me quit but what is the use of takeing chances. They can have their football Al if they want to waist the govt. time but I got enough to think about thinking about winning this war.

Your pal, Jack.

CAMP GRANT,
NOV. 14.

Friend Al:  Well this was our day out to the rifle range and I’ll say Secty. Daniels better hurry up and send some teachers here that knows their business. But wait till you hear about it.

In the 1st. place it was a rotten day and a bad wind and so dark you couldn’t hardly see and they ought not to of made anybody try to shoot. Well they had some targets that they said was 100 yds. from where we was to shoot from but it was more like 1/4 of a mile and they said 100 yds. so we would think it was closer. Well the idear was that each guy was to shoot 10 times and if you hit the target it counted 1 pt. and if you hit the bulls eye it counted 5 pts. so if you hit the bulls eye every time you got 50 pts. but nobody in the world could do that the way they made us shoot. What do you think of them makeing a man lay on their stomach to shoot instead of standing up and I suppose if the Germans got 100 yds. from us we would all lay there like we had a stomache and let them come. Somebody said we layed that way so as to give them less mark to shoot at. How is that for fine dope? Because if you was laying on your stomach faceing them and they hit you at all they couldn’t hit you nowheres only in the head and kill you where if you was standing up straight they would be more libel to hit you anywheres except in the head and maybe you would get off with a flesh wound or something.

Well 1 of the smart aleck lieuts. started out and hit the bulls eye 8 times and the target the other 2 times and that give him 42 and he swelled up like a poison pup but the way the wind was blowing you could tell it was just a accident because if he had of really shot at the target the wind would of carried his shots to hell and gone away from it but what he done was shoot with his eyes shut and the wind done the rest of it for him. So some of the other boys shot and some of them had a lot of luck and Red Sampson got 38 and finely it come my turn and I was dizzy from something I eat and besides by that time it was so dark you couldn’t hardly make out where the target was and I was all cramped up laying there but at that I just missed the bulls eye the 1st. time and finely quit with 8. So afterwards Red Sampson asked me how it come I didn’t have a expert rifle shooter’s meddle on me trying to kid me. So I said “I never had to shoot for a liveing because I could go out and pitch baseball and make real money where a man like you every time the family wanted meat for dinner they would send you out to shoot a snake or a tom cat or something.” So it was him that got kidded.

Well Al I will be shooting with the best of them as soon as I get the nack and when they get a man here to learn us that knows his business and pick out a day when the wind ain’t blowing a mile a minute and pitch dark.

I haven’t had no answer from that little girl down in Texas and I hope she has got over her infatuation and decided to forget me.

Your pal, Jack.

CAMP GRANT,
NOV. 17.

Friend Al:  Well Al what do you think I got a letter from the girlie down in Texas and the poor kid has gone crazy over me and I only wish they was some way to stop her because of course it has got to end right here and I will just have to drop her a line and tell her the truth that I am a married man and the best thing she can do is try and forget. But I am afraid it will be pretty hard for her and I only wish she hadn’t never seen or heard about me.

For some reason another she won’t tell me where it was she seen me or she won’t send me no picture because she says I might show it to the boys and laugh over that little girl down in Texas and of course I wouldn’t do nothing like that and she wouldn’t think so if she knew me better. Here is what her letter says.

My Soldier Boy, so you are an officer now. Well that is just grand and I feel all the happier and prouder to hear from you. No Soldier Boy I won’t tell you where I saw you. You will just have to guess. Don’t you remember that day at –  –  – ? If you don’t I won’t tell you. And I won’t send you my photo because I know what soldier boys are. You would show it to everybody in camp and you would all have a good laugh over the little f – l woman down in Texas who is fond of you. Well Boy we will probably never see each other unless you should happen to be sent to one of the camps down here. Is there any chance of that Soldier Boy? So you quit a job in the big league to fight for Uncle Sam? That was fine of you and makes me all the prouder to have your friendship. I am glad you like the hose I knitted for you. Do you want some more or can I make you a helmet or a sweater or something? Just say what you need and I will make my needles fly to furnish you with it. And write to me soon. We are so far apart that it takes your letters days and days to reach me. Au revoir for this time Big Boy.

Well Al I can’t remember to save my soul where it was I and she could of met. Maybe I could if she had of put the name of the town in her letter but she just left a dash like I copied it. I been trying to think up all the girls I met in different towns while I was with the ball club and I can remember a lot of them but nobody named Chase but of course she might of give me a fake name the time we met.

Well as I say theys only the 1 thing to do and that is drop her a line and say how things stand with me and for her to forget about me. Its mighty nice of her to offer to knit me them other articles but of course I can’t ask her to under the circumstances and all I can do is just to call it off or maybe it would be better to not write to her back but just leave her guess the truth only I am afraid she would think I was a bum to not acknollege her letter. I wish they was somebody to advice me what to do but I guess I can’t look for no help from you along those lines eh Al? You never had them looseing their heads and makeing garments for you and etc.

I pretty near forgot to tell you that these college Willy boys got cleaned up 9 to 6 in their game with the sailors from the Great Lakes and the sailors made a monkey out of them and they wasn’t a kid on the sailors club that is 20 yrs. old. I bet Capt. Whiting would of gave his right eye for a good husky tackle back when them sailors was pushing his Willys around the field.

Your pal, Jack.

CAMP GRANT,
NOV. 22.

Friend Al:  Well they have just sent away another train load of the boys to 1 of the national guards and if they keep it up we won’t have more then 30 or 40 left to a Co. I wish I was with the boys that went but theys no chance of that because they are keeping the best men here so as we will be all together when they get ready to send us across. And it looks like I won’t be able to get into the officers training camp because I heard today that they won’t leave nobody in that can’t talk all the languages of the ally countrys. Red Sampson heard 2 of the lieuts. talking about it and 1 of them was saying how even the college boys would have to hustle between now and Jan. because while most of them could talk French and Italian they was very few colleges where you can learn Roman and Australian and etc. so it looks like I would be bared out because while I might pick up the French and maybe 1 or 2 others I couldn’t possibly master 8 or 9 languages in hardly a month you might say. I don’t know what the idear is but it probably come from the same guy that makes you shoot laying on your stomach.

Speaking about a month my month without leave is pretty near up and I am figureing on going to Chi the 1st. of Dec. and see Florrie and little Al though for all as I know they both may be dead because Florrie won’t never suffer from writers cramp on my acct. I have asked her 2 or 3 times to come out for Sunday and bring the kid but no its always to cold or she has got company comeing for dinner or 1 thing another.

Sometimes I pretty near wish I had a wife like Sebastian’s thats so homely you can’t hardly look at her but still and all you get a chance to once in a while.

Well I wrote to that poor kid down in Texas and told her I didn’t want to bother her to make me a helmet or a sweater but I all ready got a helmet. I didn’t have the heart to tell her about Florrie or tell her to quit writeing to me but I give her a kind of a hint that I was to busy to spend much time writeing letters and I hope she don’t try and keep up a correspondence because it can’t do neither of us no good and the best way would be for us to both forget it and of course that wouldn’t be no trouble for me but I am afraid a girl don’t forget so easy.

Well Al this ain’t what you might call a happy letter but I don’t know no good news to write only they have gave up our choir practice as a bad job and we don’t have to worry no more about letting the fires go out.

Your pal, Jack.

CAMP GRANT,
DEC. 2.

Friend Al:  Well Al I just got back from Chi and of all the tough luck a man ever had I had it.

You remember me telling you about the last time I come back from my leave and I got in late and Capt. Nash says I couldn’t have no more leave for a month. Well the month was up Friday and I had it fixed so as I could go to Chi Saturday a.m. with the gang that was going to the football game between our club and Camp Custer and the only ones that was allowed to go was the ones that had boughten tickets to the game so I bought a ticket though I didn’t have no intentions of waisting my time out to no Willy boy football game.

Well we got to Chi about noon and we had to march all over town and everybody stood on the sidewalks and cheered us to the ecco and I couldn’t get away from the bunch till the parade was over though I don’t enjoy marching and have everybody stare at you but when it was over I beat it for home. Well I hadn’t said nothing to Florrie about comeing because I wanted to surprise her and I thought of course little Al and the Swede would be home and I and little Al could walk in on Florrie over to the beauty parlor and surprise her, but when I got to the flat and rung the bell they wasn’t no answer and I rung and rung and finely I seen they wasn’t nobody home so I went to the beauty parlor and 1 of the girls there told be that Florrie was takeing the p.m. off and wouldn’t be back till Monday a.m.

So I went back to the flat and looked for the janitor to let me in and when you don’t want janitors they are always snooping around at your coat tails but when you do want them they are hideing in the ash bbl. or something. So it took me about a hour to find this bird and another hour to get him to open the door up for me and of course they wasn’t nobody home so the janitor says maybe I could find out where they went from the neighbors so I rung the woman across the hall’s bell and she come to the door. So I said “I’m Corp. Keefe and I wanted to know if you knew where is my wife and kid.” So she says “They went out.” Well Al I suppose I didn’t know they had went out and I felt like saying to her “Oh I thought they might maybe of crawled in between the wall paper to take a nap or I thought maybe they might of left the stopper out of the bath tub and got drained off or something.” But I just asked her did she know where they went and she said she didn’t.

Well I seen she didn’t know nothing about them or probably nothing else so I went back in the flat and waited and waited and it come along 5 o’clock and I called up a saloon over on Indiana and asked them to fetch me over a doz. bottles of beer and I had 2 of them and then went out to a restaurant and had supper and come back and nobody home yet. Well to make a short story out of it I finished the beer up and finely went to bed and I didn’t know nothing more till 9 a.m. this morning when the Swede come snooping into the room and seen me and let out a screem and beat it and I got up and dressed and went in the kitchen and she said Florrie had took little Al somewheres to stay all night with some friends and give the Swede permission to go to a ski jumpers dance out to Berwyn and Florrie would be home about 11.

Well Florrie come strutting in with the kid about 12 looking like she hadn’t done nothing out of the way and when she seen me she squeeled and come romping over for a kiss. Well Al she didn’t get it. I kissed little Al all right but I didn’t see where she had a right to expect favors. Well she seen how things stood and begin trying to explain something about spending the p.m. down town shopping and then going to a show with some friends of hers on the north side and they left little Al in charge of the nurse at the friends and they both stayed there all night and why didn’t I tell her I would be home so as she could have changed her plans and etc. So I said “Yes you are a fine wife and mother running around town with a bunch of bums and leave your kid all alone in charge of a nurse that you don’t know nothing about her and for all as you know she might of cut his ears off like a Belgium.” Well I was sore and I give her a good balling out and of course it wound up like usual with her busting out crying and then they wasn’t nothing for me to do only say I didn’t mean what I had been saying and we had dinner and maybe everything would of been O.K. only we hadn’t no sooner gotten up from the table when in come 1/2 of the south side and their wifes to call. Well they wasn’t none of them I ever seen before or ever want to see them again and they was all friends of Florrie’s and 2 of the ladys was customers of hers so she didn’t dare tell them to get the h –  – ll out of there and a Mrs. Crane and a Mrs. Somebody else picked on me and got me in a pocket on the Davenport and they didn’t even have sence enough to call me Corporal but it was Mr. Keefe this and Mr. Keefe that and when did I think the war would end and wasn’t the Germans awful and how many men did we have in France and when was I going and so on. And Mrs. Crane said her and all her friends was so jealous of Mrs. Keefe because her husband was a soldier so I said I had heard they was room in some of the camps for a few more husbands and Mrs. Crane said her husband had tried his hardest to get into something but he had bad teeth so I said why didn’t he try and get into some good dentist office. But they wasn’t no way I could get them mad enough to go home till 5 o’clock then I and Florrie and the kid had just a hour together before I had to beat it for the train.

Well Al I won’t get no more leave off till Xmas and maybe not then but what is the use any way when your wife gives you a welcome like that and all together it was a fine trip and I won’t never try and take nobody by surprise after this but at that why couldn’t she of stayed home where a woman belongs.

My train was jamed comeing back tonight and I don’t know where they got it but everybody was oiled up and celebrating about beating Camp Custer in the football game and I’ll say Camp Custer must be a home for cripples or something if that’s the kind of a football club they turn out any way I bet they ain’t no room to dance in the guard house tonight.

Your pal, Jack.

CAMP GRANT,
DEC. 4.

Friend Al:  I guess I was so full of my swell visit home when I wrote you the last time that I forgot about telling you about that little girlie down in Texas. Well Al they isn’t much to tell only that I got another letter from her though I as good as told her I wished she wouldn’t write me no more but she wrote any way and she says she can’t forget me and theys no use asking her to and she wouldn’t tell me where it was we seen each other and they was no use me asking her. It looks from her letter like she was getting in deeper every day and I don’t know what will be the end of it all and if she done anything to herself on my acct. I would feel like a murder though of course a man can’t help how they look or what a girl thinks about them but still and all you can’t help from feeling like you was to blame.

I guess the best way to do is just not answer her letter and hope for the best and hope she won’t do nothing rash.

Well Al I started out to write you a long letter but I am to wore out and I guess anybody would be after what we went through today. It was the coldest day I ever seen so they picked it out for us to go on a 19 mile hike and if you could see the roads around here you would know what that means and they can talk all they want to about how the men suffers in France but I would rather go out in the middle of Nobody’s Land and start a mumblety peg game then take another of these dam hikes with the weather a million below zero and the road full of rutts as big as the grand canion.

If it hadn’t been for setting a example to my command I believe I would of pretended like I was sick and when you are sick they make somebody else carry your junk and leave you ride in a wagon thats O.K. for a private that don’t care what the rest of them think of him but a corporal has got to keep going and try to keep his men going and when you got a bunch of sap heads like mine it keeps a man on the jump to tend to them. Red Sampson was so bad that I had to keep after him all the while and finely I pulled a good one on him I said “Sampson everybody in the whole regt. is out of step but you.” So the rest of them give him the laugh but he can’t take a joke no matter how good it is so he says “I haven’t heard that one since they fought with spears.” So I said “You get in step and show a little life or I’ll spear you.”

Well its all over now any way and I don’t suppose they will send us out again till theys a big blizzard or something and then they will march us to Canada or somewheres for a little work out.

Your pal, Jack.

CAMP GRANT,
DEC. 7.

Friend Al:  Well Al I got some big news for you. The govt. have changed their plans all around and decided after this to send the best men from the national army to fill up the national guards and that means theys a big bunch of us leaveing soon for Camp Logan down in Texas and the officers say we musent spill nothing about it that is when we are going because if the pro German spys ever found out that our bunch was going down there they would spread the rails and turn switches on us and probably put torpedos on the track or something. So all as I can say is that you won’t hear from me here no more and I can’t tell you what units we will be in because we haven’t got no official notice yet and all as I know is what some of the boys heard that we would be in Col. House’s regt. I thought when I 1st. heard the news that it meant we would be starting for France pretty quick and of course I didn’t stop to think that they have closed up navigations for the winter.

Well Al I am glad we are going somewheres for the winter where it isn’t so dam cold and of course I don’t like to be so far away from home but maybe Florrie can get away and come down there and join me for a while and I am going to have a few hours off any way to say good bye to little Al and she and I wish I could see you and Bertha before I go especially you but theys no chance so good bye and good luck to you and I will write when I can.

I just happened to think Al that Camp Logan is in Texas and thats where that little girl lives but you can bet I won’t leave her know where I am because in the 1st. place she would probably be just crazy enough to want to see me or something and besides I wrote her a farewell note yesterday and asked her wouldn’t she send me her picture because I thought that would make her feel a little happier to think I wanted her picture even if we don’t keep on writeing letters and I don’t care if she sends it or not any way if she sent it up here I will probably be gone before that time.

Well Al I will be kind of sorry to leave Camp Grant where all and all we have had a pretty good time and I guess Gen. Martin and them will be sorry to see our bunch duck out and they will have a fine bunch left when we go but I am glad we won’t freeze to death this winter and besides that they tell me the national guards is shy of officers and maybe I may not stay a corporal long after I get there but will get something bigger though a corporal can’t be sneezed at.

Your pal, Jack.

CAMP LOGAN,
DEC. 14.

Friend Al:  Well old pal here we are in sunny Texas and its been pretty cold so far but nothing like it was up at Camp Grant and of course it don’t never get as cold here as up there on acct. of this being further south.

Well nothing happened to us on the way down though of course it would of been good night nurse if it had got out what road we come on and when we left and even at that we seen some bad eggs at several different stations that looked like Germans that might of tried to pull something if they had a chance but we watched them like a hawk and they was scared to make a false move.

Well Al what do you think they have made Shorty Lahey a sargent down here only thank god he isn’t in my Co. or I would be up in front of the court’s marshall for murder. But him being a sargent shows they must of been pretty hard up and you can bet they was tickled to death to see our bunch roll in. Well Al if he can get a sargent I will be a gen. in a month. He says to me yesterday he says “Well old sport I wish they had of put you in my Co. and you would do the rest of your drilling with a dish towel.” So I said “Yes I would.”

Well after thinking it over a while I decided I better write to the little girl and tell her where I was at because I asked her in my farewell note for her to send me her picture of herself and if she sent it up to Camp Grant maybe 1 of them rummys might get a hold of it and open it up and then write back to the girl and kid her about it and I figured maybe if I let her know I was down here that maybe she hadn’t sent the picture up there yet. But I didn’t give her no encouragement to write to me here and all I said was that if she ever happened to be in Houston and I happened to be in town on leave maybe we might run into each other but I just said that jokeingly because her town is about a 100 miles from here and what would she be doing a 100 miles from home and besides even if I seen her on the st. I doubt if I would know her though I generally almost always remember faces though I can’t always remember their names. But if she seen me and spoke to me I would pretend like I didn’t hear her and duck because it would only make it tougher for her to talk to me because I would have to tell her the truth. But I guess its all over between us now and any way I hope so.

Your pal, Jack.

CAMP LOGAN,
DEC. 16.

Friend Al:  Well old pal I am up against a funny proposition now and it isn’t so dam funny at that. Here is a letter I received this a.m. from that girlie. I will copy it down.

“Soldier Boy, so we are going to meet at last. Yes we are, that is if you want it to happen. My aunt in Houston has been wanting me to come there for months, but not till now have I really wanted to. You know why I do now, don’t you Soldier Boy? You say it is easier for you to get off Sundays. All right. Will you meet me in the lobby of the Rice Hotel a week from today at one in the afternoon. I will let you take me to dinner and we can talk things over. We have a lot to say to each other, haven’t we Soldier. Boy? Write me at once and say you will meet me. I can hardly wait to get your reply and if you disappoint me I will do something to make you sorry. But you won’t will you? I am just finishing your sweater and will bring it to you.”

Well Al when the letter come I had a notion to write to her back and tell her to not come but in her letter she said she would do something to make me sorry and I am afraid of what she would do and if she done something rash I would feel like it was my fault and besides if she has got a sweater pretty near made for me it would be kind of mean to of made her do all that work for nothing and besides a man needs a sweater a lot of times even down here and I was going to buy one because I didn’t have no idear she was makeing one for me. So I figure the best way to do is to tell her I will meet her and I will take her somewheres to dinner and while we are at dinner I can tell her the truth about me being married and it will be much better to tell her to her face then write it in a letter because it would sound pretty hard in black and white but the only thing is we have got to find some quite spot so as if she makes a seen or something they won’t be no crowd around to pop their eyes out at us. But I hope she is a game bird and will take it O.K. and I’m sorry now I didn’t tell her in the 1st. place and I wish she wasn’t comeing and I sometimes wish I was a little scrimp or ugly so as a girl wouldn’t look at me twice and between you and I Al it isn’t all a bed of roses to be like I am.

I will write and tell you how I come out but I am to exited to write any more now and I wish they was some way I could get out of it all without leaveing no scars.

Your pal, Jack.

HOUSTON, TEX.,
DEC. 24.

Friend Al:  I bet you will pop your eyes out when you read this letter and read what I got to tell you. I will begin at the beginning and tell you what come off so as you will know what come off.

Saturday I pretty near made up my mind that it would be better for me to not see Miss Chase so when I asked for leave for yesterday I hoped they wouldn’t give it to me but they give it to me O.K. so I had to come or it would look funny. Well I come into the Rice at about 5 min, to 1 and looked around the lobby and they was only one woman that was alone and she was old about 35 and I looked around and couldn’t see no girl that looked like they was waiting for somebody, and while I was looking this woman I seen seen me and come over to where I was standing. Well Al I thought sure it was the girl’s aunt and she had heard about our date and was going to raise h –  – ll or something. Well this woman come up and says wasn’t I Corporal Keefe. Well I didn’t know what to say and I kind of stalled and she says “Was you expecting to meet some one here?” So I said “Yes I was looking for a man.” So then she kind of smirked and says “Well I was expecting to meet a man to and I thought you was him.” So I said “No I guess you have got the wrong bird.”

Well Al everything would of been O.K. and I could of got away O.K. only just when I had her beleiving it wasn’t me who should come up but Lefty Kramer that pitchs in the Texas League and lives here and instead of him just saying “Hello Jack” of course he had to say “Well if here ain’t old Jack Keefe” and then it was good night. Well I suppose I turned into all the colors of the rainbow and I didn’t know what to say and then Lefty asked right out loud if I wasn’t going to introduce him to the lady and she spoke up and said her name Miss Chase and then I had to say something so I said “Oh I didn’t know you was really Miss Chase or I would of acted different but I thought you was somebody else.” So she kind of give a funny smile and says “Yes you did” and then all of a sudden I heard little Al’s voice right behind hollering “There’s daddy” and I looked around and it was Florrie and little Al.

Well Al Florrie come up and kissed me right in front of the whole hotel and the next thing I know the 3 of us was away from Kramer and the dame and Florrie was telling me how she had came down to give me a Xmas supprise and she is going to stay about 3 wks. and spend some of the time with her sister over in Beaumont.

Well I took a look just as we was going up in the elevator and Miss Chase was still standing there yet with Kramer and she was looking right at me and I couldn’t help from feeling sorry for her the way she looked but a woman her age should ought to know more then start writeing letters to a guy she never seen and maybe this will learn her a lesson and I suppose she can give her sweater to somebody else and maybe Kramer has got it by this time but what he ought to have is a wallop in the jaw for butting in but what can you expect from a left hander.

Well Al I have got a leave off for over Xmas and I am writeing this letter while Florrie is out shopping and she asked me what I wanted for Xmas and I told her a sweater so I won’t loose out after all.

Your pal, Jack.

CAMP LOGAN,
JAN. 5.

Friend Al:  Well Al this may be the last time you will ever hear from me or at least for a long time and maybe never. I’m going over there old pal and something tells me I won’t never come back.

I can’t tell you what I am going with or when we go or where we sail from because they won’t leave us give out none of that dope and all as I can say is that about 30 of us has been picked to fill up a unit and we leave here tomorrow and meet them at the place where we sail from. Well Al its a big honor to be 1 of the men picked and it means they have got a lot of confidence in me and you can bet they are not sending no riff and raff over there but just picked men and I will show them they didn’t make no mistake in choosing me.

But its mighty tough to leave Florrie and little Al and I thought Florrie would break her heart when I told her and no wonder. But when its a question of duty I am not the kind that would back out and Florrie wouldn’t want me to but its hard all the same.

Well Al I can’t waist no more time writeing to you and I am going to meet Florrie in Houston in a little while and it may be for the last time so I will say good bye to you now and say good bye to Bertha for me and she ought to be thankful she has got a husband that stayed at home and didn’t enlist. And if we have good luck and nothing happens to us I will write you once in a while from the other side.

Your pal, Jack.

The Busher Over There

1 … And Many a Stormy Wind Shall Blow
2 … Private Valentine
3 … Stragety and Tragedy
4 … Decorated
5 … Sammy Boy
6 … Simple Simon

• 1 •

And Many
a Stormy Wind
Shall Blow

ON THE SHIP BOARD,
JAN. 15.

Friend Al:  Well Al I suppose it is kind of foolish to be writeing you a letter now when they won’t be no chance to mail it till we get across the old pond but still and all a man has got to do something to keep themself busy and I know you will be glad to hear all about our trip so I might as well write you a letter when ever I get a chance and I can mail them to you all at once when we get across the old pond and you will think I have wrote a book or something.

Jokeing a side Al you are lucky to have an old pal thats going to see all the fun and write to you about it because its a different thing haveing a person write to you about what they see themself then getting the dope out of a newspaper or something because you will know that what I tell you is the real dope that I seen myself where if you read it in a newspaper you know its guest work because in the 1st. place they don’t leave the reporters get nowheres near the front and besides that they wouldn’t go there if they had a leave because they would be to scared like the baseball reporters that sets a mile from the game because they haven’t got the nerve to get down on the field where a man could take a punch at them and even when they are a mile away with a screen in front of them they duck when somebody hits a pop foul.

Well Al it is against the rules to tell you when we left the old U. S. or where we come away from because the pro German spy might get a hold of a man’s letter some way and then it would be good night because he would send a telegram to where the submarines is located at and they wouldn’t send no 1 or 2 submarines after us but the whole German navy would get after us because they would figure that if they ever got us it would be a rich hall. When I say that Al I don’t mean it to sound like I was swell headed or something and I don’t mean it would be a rich hall because I am on board or nothing like that but you would know what I am getting at if you seen the bunch we are takeing across.

In the 1st. place Al this is a different kind of a trip then the time I went around the world with the 2 ball clubs because then it was just the 1 boat load and only for two or 3 of the boys on board it wouldn’t of made no difference if the boat had of turned a turtle only to pave the whole bottom of the ocean with ivory. But this time Al we have got not only 1 boat load but we got four boat loads of soldiers alone and that is not all we have got. All together Al there is 10 boats in the parade and 6 of them is what they call the convoys and that means war ships that goes along to see that we get there safe on acct. of the submarines and four of them is what they call destroyers and they are little bits of shafers but they say they can go like he – ll when they get started and when a submarine pops up these little birds chases right after them and drops a death bomb on to them and if it ever hits them the capt. of the submarine can pick up what is left of his boat and stick a 2 cent stamp on it and mail it to the kaiser.

Jokeing a side I guess they’s no chance of a submarine getting fat off of us as long as these little birds is on watch so I don’t see why a man shouldn’t come right out and say when we left and from where we come from but if they didn’t have some kind of rules they’s a lot of guys that wouldn’t know no better then write to Van Hinburg or somebody and tell them all they know but I guess at that they could use a post card.

Well Al we been at sea just two days and a lot of the boys has gave up the ghost all ready and pretty near everything else but I haven’t felt the least bit sick that is sea sick but I will own up I felt a little home sick just as we come out of the harbor and seen the godess of liberty standing up there maybe for the last time but don’t think for a minute Al that I am sorry I come and I only wish we was over there all ready and could get in to it and the only kick I got comeing so far is that we haven’t got no further then we are now on acct. that we didn’t do nothing the 1st. day only stall around like we was waiting for Connie Mack to waggle his score card or something.

But we will get there some time and when we do you can bet we will show them something and I am tickled to death I am going and if I lay down my life I will feel like it wasn’t throwed away for nothing like you would die of tyford fever or something.

Well I would of liked to of had Florrie and little Al come east and see me off but Florrie felt like she couldn’t afford to spend the money to make another long trip after making one long trip down to Texas and besides we wasn’t even supposed to tell our family where we was going to sail from but I notice they was a lot of women folks right down to the dock to bid us good by and I suppose they just guessed what was comeing off eh Al? Or maybe they was all strangers that just happened to be there but I’ll say I never seen so much kissing between strangers. Any way I and my family had our farewells out west and Florrie was got up like a fancy dress ball and I suppose if I die where she can tend the funeral she will come in pink tights or something.

Well Al I better not keep on talking about Florrie and little Al or I will do the baby act and any way its pretty near time for chow but I suppose you will wonder what am I talking about when I say chow. Well Al that’s the name we boys got up down to Camp Grant for stuff to eat and when we talk about food instead of saying food we say chow so that’s what I am getting at when I say its pretty near time for chow.

Your pal, Jack.

ON THE SHIP BOARD,
JAN. 17.

Friend Al:  Well Al here we are out somewheres in the middle of the old pond and I wished the trip was over not because I have been sea sick or anything but I can’t hardly wait to get over there and get in to it and besides they got us jammed in like a sardine or something and four of us in 1 state room and I don’t mind doubleing up with some good pal but a man can’t get no rest when they’s four trying to sleep in a room that wouldn’t be big enough for Nemo Liebold but I wouldn’t make no holler at that if they had of left us pick our own roomys but out of the four of us they’s one that looks like he must of bribed the jury or he wouldn’t be here and his name is Smith and another one’s name is Sam Hall and he has always got a grouch on and the other boy is O.K. only I would like him a whole lot better if he was about 1/2 his size but no he is as big as me only not put up like I am. His name is Lee and he pulls a lot of funny stuff like this A. M. he says they must of thought us four was a male quartette and they stuck us all in together so as we could get some close harmony. That’s what they call it when they hit them minors.

Well Al I always been use to sleeping with my feet in bed with me but you can’t do that in the bunk I have got because your knee would crack you in the jaw and knock you out and even if they was room to strech Hall keeps crabbing till you can’t rest and he keeps the room filled up with cigarette smoke and no air and you can’t open up the port hole or you would freeze to death so about the only chance I get to sleep is up in the parlor in a chair in the day time and you don’t no sooner set down when they got a life boat drill or something and for some reason another they have a role call every day and that means everybody has got to answer to their name to see if we are all on board just as if they was any other place to go.

When they give the signal for a life boat drill everybody has got to stick their life belt on and go to the boat where they have been given the number of it and even when everybody knows its a fake you got to show up just the same and yesterday they was one bird thats supposed to go in our life boat and he was sea sick and he didn’t show up so they went after him and one of the officers told him that wasn’t no excuse and what would he do if he was sea sick and the ship was realy sinking and he says he thought it was realy sinking ever since we started.

Well Al we got some crowd on the boat and they’s two French officers along with us that been giveing drills and etc. in one of the camps in the U. S. and navy officers and gunners and a man would almost wish something would happen because I bet we would put up some battle.

Lee just come in and asked me who was I writeing to and I told him and he says I better be careful to not write nothing against anybody on the trip just as if I would. But any way I asked him why not and he says because all the mail would be opened and read by the censor so I said “Yes but he won’t see this because I won’t mail it till we get across the old pond and then I will mail all my letters at once.”

So he said a man can’t do it that way because just before we hit land the censor will take all our mail off of us and read it and cut out whatever he don’t like and then mail it himself. So I didn’t know we had a censor along with us but Lee says we certainly have got one and he is up in the front ship and they call that the censor ship on acct. of him being on there.

Well Al I don’t care what he reads and what he don’t read because I am not the kind that spill anything about the trip that would hurt anybody or get them in bad. So he is welcome to read anything I write you might say.

This front ship is the slowest one of the whole four and how is that for fine judgment Al to put the slowest one ahead and this ship we are on is the fastest and they keep us behind instead of leaving us go up ahead and set the pace for them and no wonder we never get nowheres. Of course that ain’t the censor’s fault but if the old U. S. is in such a hurry to get men across the pond I should think they would use some judgment and its just like as if Hughey Jennings would stick Oscar Stanage or somebody ahead of Cobb in the batting order so as Cobb couldn’t make to many bases on a hit.

Well Al I will have to cut it out for now because its pretty near time for chow and that’s the name we got up out to Camp Grant for meals and now everybody in the army when they talk about food they call it chow.

Your pal, Jack.

ON THE SHIP BOARD,
JAN. 19.

Friend Al:  Well Al they have got a new nickname for me and now they call me Jack Tar and Bob Lee got it up and I will tell you how it come off. Last night was one rough bird and I guess pretty near everybody on the boat were sick and Lee says to me how was it that I stood the rough weather so good and it didn’t seem to effect me so I says it was probably on acct. of me going around the world that time with the two ball clubs and I was right at home on the water so he says “I guess we better call you Jack Tar.”

So that’s how they come to call me Jack Tar and its a name they got for old sailors that’s been all their life on the water. So on acct. of my name being Jack it fits in pretty good.

Well a man can’t help from feeling sorry for the boys that have not been across the old pond before and can’t stand a little rough spell but it makes a man kind of proud to think the rough weather don’t effect you when pretty near everybody else feels like a churn or something the minute a drop of water splashes vs. the side of the boat but still a man can’t hardly help from laughing when they look at them.

Lee says he would of thought I would of enlisted in the navy on acct. of being such a good sailor. Well I would of Al if I had knew they needed men and I told Lee so and he said he thought the U. S. made a big mistake keeping it a secret that they did need men in the navy till all the good ones enlisted in the draft and then of course the navy had to take what they could get.

Well I guess I all ready told you that one of the boys in our room is named Freddie Smith and he don’t never say a word and I thought at 1st. it was because he was a kind of a bum like Hall that didn’t know nothing and that’s why he didn’t say it but it seems the reason he don’t talk more is because he can’t talk English very good but he is a Frenchman and he was a waiter in the big French resturent in Milwaukee and now what do you think Al he is going to learn Lee and I French lessons and Lee fixed it up with him. We want to learn how to talk a little so when we get there we can make ourself understood and you remember I started studing French out to Camp Grant but the man down there didn’t know nothing about what he was talking about so I walked out on him but this bird won’t try and learn us grammer or how you spell it or nothing like that but just a few words so as we can order drinks and meals and etc. when we get a leave off some time. Tonight we are going to have our 1st. lesson and with a man like he to learn us we ought to pick it up quick.

Well old pal I will wind up for this time as I don’t feel very good on acct. of something I eat this noon and its a wonder a man can keep up at all where they got you in a stateroom jammed in like a sardine or something and Hall smokeing all the while like he was a freight engine pulling a freight train up grade or something.

Your pal, Jack.

ON THE SHIP BOARD,
JAN. 20.

Friend Al:  Just a line Al because I don’t feel like writeing as I was taken sick last night from something I eat and who wouldn’t be sick jammed in a room like a sardine.

I had a kind of a run in with Hall because he tried to kid me about being sick with some of his funny stuff but I told him where to head in. He started out by saying to Lee that Jack Tar looked like somebody had knocked the tar out of him and after a while he says “What’s the matter with the old salt tonight he don’t seem to have no pepper with him.” So I told him to shut up.

Well we didn’t have no French lesson on acct. of me being taken sick but we are going to have a lesson tonight and pretty soon I am going up and try and eat something and I hope they don’t try and hand me no more of that canned beans or whatever it was that effected me and if Uncle Sam wants his boys to go over there and put up a battle he shouldn’t try and poison them first.

Your pal, Jack.

ON THE SHIP BOARD,
JAN. 21.

Friend Al:  Well Al I was talking to one of the sailors named Doran today and he says in a day or 2 more we would be right in the danger zone where all the subs hangs out and then would come the fun and we would probably all have to keep our clothes on all night and keep our life belts on and I asked him if they was much danger with all them convoys guarding us and he says the subs might fire a periscope right between two of the convoys and hit our ship and maybe the convoys might get them afterwards but then it would be to late.

He said the last time he come over with troops they was two subs got after this ship and they shot two periscopes at this ship and just missed it and they seem to be laying for this ship because its one of the biggest and fastest the U. S. has got.

Well I told Doran it wouldn’t bother me to keep my clothes on all night because I all ready been keeping them on all night because when you have got a state room like ours they’s only one place where they’s room for a man’s clothes and that’s on you.

Well old pal they’s a whole lot of difference between learning something from somebody that knows what they are talking about and visa versa. I and Lee and Smith got together in the room last night and we wasn’t at it more than an hour but I learned more then all the time I took lessons from that 4 flusher out to Camp Grant because Smith don’t waist no time with a lot of junk about grammer but I or Lee would ask him what was the French for so and so and he would tell us and we would write it down and say it over till we had it down pat and I bet we could pretty near order a meal now without no help from some of these smart alex that claims they can talk all the languages in the world.

In the 1st. place they’s a whole lot of words in French that they’s no difference you might say between them from the way we say it like beef steak and beer because Lee asked him if suppose we went in somewheres and wanted a steak and bread and butter and beer and the French for and is und so we would say beef steak und brot mit butter schmieren und bier and that’s all they is to it and I can say that without looking at the paper where we wrote it down and you can see I have got that much learned all ready so I wouldn’t starve and when you want to call a waiter you call him kellner so you see I could go in a place in Paris and call a waiter and get everything I wanted. Well Al I bet nobody ever learned that much in I hour off that bird out to Camp Grant and I’ll say its some speed.

We are going to have another lesson tonight but Lee says we don’t want to try and learn to, much at once or we will forget what we all ready learned and they’s a good deal to that Al.

Well Al its time for chow again so lebe wohl and that’s the same like good by in French.

Your pal, Jack.

ON THE SHIP BOARD,
JAN. 22.

Friend Al:  Well Al we are in what they call the danger zone and they’s some excitement these days and at night to because they don’t many of the boys go to sleep nights and they go to their rooms and pretend like they are going to sleep but I bet you wouldn’t need no alarm clock to make them jump out of bed.

Most of the boys stays out on deck most of the time and I been staying out there myself most all day today not because I am scared of anything because I always figure if its going to happen its going to happen but I stay out because it ain’t near as cold as it was and besides if something is comeing off I don’t want to miss it. Besides maybe I could help out some way if something did happen.

Last night we was all out on deck in the dark talking about this and that and one of the boys I was standing along side of him made the remark that we had been out nine days and he didn’t see no France yet or no signs of getting there so I said no wonder when we had such a he – ll of a censor ship and some other guy heard me say it so he said I better not talk like that but I didn’t mean it like that but only how slow it was.

Well we are getting along O.K. with the French lessons and Bob Lee told me last night that he run across one of the two French officers that’s on the ship and he thought he would try some of his French on him so he said something about it being a nice day in French and the Frenchman was tickled to death and smiled and bowed at him and I guess I will try it out on them the next time I see them.

Well Al that shows we been learning something when the Frenchmans themself know what we are talking about and I and Lee will have the laugh on the rest of the boys when we get there that is if we do get there but for some reason another I have got a hunch that we won’t never see France and I can’t explain why but once in a while a man gets a hunch and a lot of times they are generally always right.

Your pal, Jack.

ON THE SHIP BOARD,
JAN. 23.

Friend Al:  Well Al I was just out on deck with Lee and Sargent Bishop and Bishop is a sargent in our Co. and he said he had just came from Capt. Seeley and Capt. Seeley told him to tell all the N. C. O. officers like sargents and corporals that if a sub got us we was to leave the privates get into the boats first before we got in and we wasn’t to get into our boats till all the privates was safe in the boats because we would probably be cooler and not get all excited like the privates. So you see Al if something does happen us birds will have to take things in hand you might say and we will have to stick on the job and not think about ourselfs till everybody else is taken care of.

Well Lee said that Doran one of the sailors told him something on the quiet that didn’t never get into the newspapers and that was about one of the trips that come off in December and it seems like a whole fleet of subs got on to it that some transports was comeing so they layed for them and they shot a periscope at one of the transports and hit it square in the middle and it begun to sink right away and it looked like they wouldn’t nobody get into the boats but the sargents and corporals was as cool as if nothing was comeing off and they quieted the soldiers down and finely got them into the boats and the N. C. O. officers was so cool and done so well that when Gen. Pershing heard about it he made this rule about the N. C. O. officer always waiting till the last so they could kind of handle things. But Doran also told Lee that they was some men sunk with the ship and they was all N. C. O. officers except one sailor and of course the ship sunk so quick that some of the corporals and sargents didn’t have no time to get off on acct. of haveing to wait till the last. So you see that when you read the newspapers you don’t get all the dope because they don’t tell the reporters only what they feel like telling them.

Well Al I guess I told you all ready about me haveing this hunch that I wouldn’t never see France and I guess it looks now more then ever like my hunch was right because if we get hit I will have to kind of look out for the boys that’s in my boat and not think about myself till everybody else is O.K. and Doran says if this ship ever does get hit it will sink quick because its so big and heavy and of course the heavier a ship is it will sink all the sooner and Doran says he knows they are laying for us because he has made five trips over and back on this ship and he never was on a trip when a sub didn’t get after them.

Well I will close for this time because I am not feeling very good Al and it isn’t nothing I eat or like that but its just I feel kind of faint like I use to sometimes when I would pitch a tough game in St. Louis when it was hot or something.

Your pal, Jack.

ON THE SHIP BOARD,
JAN. 23.

Friend Al:  Well I all ready wrote you one letter today but I kind of feel like I better write to you again because any minute we are libel to hear a bang against the side of the boat and you know what that means and I have got a hunch that I won’t never get off of the ship alive but will go down with her because I wouldn’t never leave the ship as long as they was anybody left on her rules or no rules but I would stay and help out till every man was off and then of course it would be to late but any way I would go down feeling like I had done my duty. Well Al when a man has got a hunch like that he would be a sucker to not pay no tension to it and that is why I am writeing to you again because I got some things I want to say before the end.

Now old pal I know that Florrie hasn’t never warmed up towards you and Bertha and wouldn’t never go down to Bedford with me and pay you a visit and every time I ever give her a hint that I would like to have you and Bertha come up and see us she always had some excuse that she was going to be busy or this and that and of course I knew she was trying to alibi herself and the truth was she always felt like Bertha and her wouldn’t have nothing in common you might say because Florrie has always been a swell dresser and cared a whole lot about how she looked and some way she felt like Bertha wouldn’t feel comfortable around where she was at and maybe she was right but we can forget all that now Al and I can say one thing Al she never said nothing reflecting on you yourself in any way because I wouldn’t of stood for it but instead of that when I showed her that picture of you and Bertha in your wedding suit she made the remark that you looked like one of the honest homely kind of people that their friends could always depend on them. Well Al when she said that she hit the nail on the head and I always knew you was the one pal who I could depend on and I am depending on you now and I know that if I am laying down at the bottom of the ocean tonight you will see that my wishs in this letter is carried out to the letter.

What I want to say is about Florrie and little Al. Now don’t think Al that I am going to ask you for financial assistants because I would know better then that and besides we don’t need it on acct. of me having $10000 dollars soldier insurence in Florrie’s name as the benefitter and the way she is coining money in that beauty parlor she won’t need to touch my insurence but save it for little Al for a rainy day only I suppose that the minute she gets her hands on it she will blow it for widows weeds and I bet they will be some weeds Al and everybody will think they are flowers instead of weeds.

But what I am getting at is that she won’t need no money because with what I leave her and what she can make she has got enough and more then enough but I often say that money isn’t the only thing in this world and they’s a whole lot of things pretty near as good and one of them is kindness and what I am asking from you and Bertha is to drop in on her once in a while up in Chi and pay her a visit and I have all ready wrote her a letter telling her to ask you but even if she don’t ask you go and see her any way and see how she is getting along and if she is takeing good care of the kid or leaving him with the Swede nurse all the while.

Between you and I Al what I am scared of most is that Florrie’s mind will be effected if anything happens to me and without knowing what she was doing she would probably take the first man that asked her and believe me she is not the kind that would have to wait around on no st. corner to catch somebody’s eye but they would follow her around and nag at her till she married them and I would feel like he – ll over it because Florrie is the kind of a girl that has got to be handled right and not only that but what would become of little Al with some horse Dr. for a father in law and probably this bird would treat him like a dog and beat him up either that or make a sissy out of him.

Well Al old pal I know you will do like I ask and go and see her and maybe you better go alone but if you do take Bertha along I guess it would be better and not let Bertha say nothing to her because Florrie is the kind that flare up easy and specially when they think they are a little better then somebody. But if you could just drop her a hint and say that she should ought to be proud to be a widow to a husband that died for Uncle Sam and she ought to live for my memory and for little Al and try and make him as much like I as possible I believe it would make her think and any way I want you to do it for me old pal.

Well good by old pal and I wished I could leave some thing to you and Bertha and believe me I would if I had ever known this was comeing off this way though of course I figured right along that I wouldn’t last long in France because what chance has a corporal got? But I figured I would make some arrangements for a little present for you and Bertha as soon as I got to France but of course it looks now like I wouldn’t never get there and all the money I have got is tied up so its to late to think of that and all as I can say is good luck to you and Bertha and everybody in Bedford and I hope they will be proud of me and remember I done my best and I often say what more can a man do then that?

Well Al I will say good by again and good luck and now have got to quit and go to chow.

Your pal to the last, Jack Keefe.

ON THE SHIP BOARD,
JAN. 24.

Friend Al:  Well this has been some day and wait till you hear about it and hear what come off and some of the birds on this ship took me for a sucker and tried to make a rummy out of me but I was wise to their game and I guess the shoe is on the other foot this time.

Well it was early this A. M. and I couldn’t sleep and I was up on deck and along come one of them French officers that’s been on board all the way over. Well I thought I would try myself out on him like Lee said he done so I give him a salute and I said to him “Schones tag nicht wahr.” Like you would say its a beautiful day only I thought I was saying it in French but wait till you hear about it Al.

Well Al they ain’t nobody in the world fast enough to of caught what he said back to me and I won’t never know what he said but I won’t never forget how he looked at me and when I took one look at him I seen we wasn’t going to get along very good so I turned around and started up the deck. Well he must of flagged the first man he seen and sent him after me and it was a 2d. lieut. and he come running up to me and stopped me and asked me what was my name and what Co. and etc. and at first I was going to stall and then I thought I better not so I told him who I was and he left me go.

Well I didn’t know then what was comeing off so I just layed low and I didn’t have to wait around long and all of a sudden a bird from the Colonel’s staff found me in the parlor and says I was wanted right away and when I got to this room there was the Col. and the two Frenchmans and my captain Capt. Seeley and a couple others so I saluted and I can’t tell you exactly what come off because I can’t remember all what the Colonel said but it was something like this.

In the first place he says “Corporal Keefe they’s some little matters that you have got to explain and we was going to pass them up first on the grounds that Capt. Seeley said you probably didn’t know no better but this thing that come off this A. M. can’t be explained by ignorants.”

So then he says “It was reported that you was standing on deck the night before last and you made the remark that we had a he – ll of a censor ship.” And he says “What did you mean by that?”

So you see Al this smart alex of a Lee had told me they called the first ship the censor ship and I believed him at first because I was thinking about something else or of course I never would of believed him because the censor ship isn’t no ship like this kind of a ship but means something else. So I explained about that and I seen Capt. Seeley kind of crack a smile so then I knew I was O.K.

So then he pulled it on me about speaking to Capt. Somebody of the French army in the German language and of course they was only one answer to that and you see the way it was Al all the time Smith was pretending to learn us French he was learning us German and Lee put him up to it but when the Colonel asked me what I meant by doing such a thing as talk German why of course I knew in a minute that they had been trying to kid me but at first I told the Colonel I couldn’t of said no German because I don’t know no more German than Silk O’Loughlin. Well the Frenchman was pretty sore and I don’t know what would of came off only for Capt. Seeley and he spoke up and said to the Colonel that if he could have a few minutes to investigate he thought he could clear things up because he figured I hadn’t intended to do nothing wrong and somebody had probably been playing jokes.

So Capt. Seeley went out and it seemed like a couple of yrs. till he came back and he had Smith and Lee and Doran with him. So then them 3 birds was up on the carpet and I’ll say they got some panning and when it was all over the Colonel said something about they being a dam site to much kidding back and fourth going on and he hoped that before long we would find out that this war wasn’t no practicle joke and he give Lee and Smith a fierce balling out and he said he would leave Capt. Seeley to deal with them and he would report Doran to the proper quarters and then he was back on me again and he said it looked like I had been the innocent victim of a practicle joke but he says “You are so dam innocent that I figure you are temperately unfit to hold on to a corporal’s warrant so you can consider yourself reduced to the ranks. We can’t have no corporals that if some comedian told them the Germans was now one of our allies they would try and get in the German trenches and shake hands with them.”

Well Al when it was all over I couldn’t hardly keep from laughing because you see I come out of it O.K. and the laugh was on Smith and Lee and Doran because I got just what I wanted because I never did want to be a corporal because it meant I couldn’t pal around with the boys and be their pals and I never felt right when I was giveing them orders because I would rather be just one of them and make them feel like we were all equals.

Of course they wasn’t no time on the whole trip when Lee or Doran or Smith either one of them had me fooled because just to look at them you would know they are the kind of smart alex that’s always trying to put something over on somebody only I figured two could play at that game as good as one and I would kid them right back and give them as good as they sent because I always figure that the game ain’t over till the ninth inning and the man that does the laughing then has got all the best of it. But at that I don’t bear no bad will towards neither one of them and I have got a good notion to ask Capt. Seeley to let them off easy.

Well Al this is a long letter but I wanted you to know I wasn’t no corporal no more and if a sub hits us now Al I can hop into a boat as quick as I feel like it but jokeing a side if something like that happened it wouldn’t make no difference to me if I was a corporal or not a corporal because I am a man and I would do my best and help the rest of the boys get into the boats before I thought about myself.

Your pal, Jack.

ON THE SHIP BOARD,
JAN. 25.

Friend Al:  Well old pal just a line to let you know we are out of the danger zone and pretty near in port and I can’t tell you where we land at but everybody is hollering and the band’s playing and I guess the boys feels a whole lot better then when we was out there where the subs could get at us but between you and I Al I never thought about the subs all the way over only when I heard somebody else talk about them because I always figure that if they’s some danger of that kind the best way to do is just forget it and if its going to happen all right but what’s the use of worrying about it? But I suppose lots of people is built different and they have just got to worry all the while and they get scared stiff just thinking about what might happen but I always say nobody ever got fat worrying so why not just forget it and take things as they come.

Well old pal they’s to many sights to see so I will quit for this time.

Your pal, Jack.

SOMEWHERES IN FRANCE,
JAN. 26.

Friend Al:  Well old pal here we are and its against the rules to tell you where we are at but of course it don’t take no Shylock to find out because all you would have to do is look at the post mark that they will put on this letter.

Any way you couldn’t pronounce what the town’s name is if you seen it spelled out because it isn’t nothing like how its spelled out and you won’t catch me trying to pronounce none of these names or talk French because I am off of languages for a while and good old American is good enough for me eh Al?

Well Al now that its all over I guess we was pretty lucky to get across the old pond without no trouble because between you and I Al I heard just a little while ago from one of the boys that three nights ago we was attacked and our ship just missed getting hit by a periscope and the destroyers went after the subs and they was a whole flock of them and the reason we didn’t hear nothing is that the death bombs don’t go off till they are way under water so you can’t hear them but between you and I Al the navy men say they was nine subs sank.

Well I didn’t say nothing about it to the man who tipped me off but I had a hunch that night that something was going on and I don’t remember now if it was something I heard or what it was but I knew they was something in the air and I was expecting every minute that the signal would come for us to take to the boats but they wasn’t no necessity of that because the destroyers worked so fast and besides they say they don’t never give no alarm till the last minute because they don’t want to get everybody up at night for nothing.

Well any way its all over now and here we are and you ought to of heard the people in the town here cheer us when we come in and you ought to see how the girls look at us and believe me Al they are some girls. Its a good thing I am an old married man or I believe I would pretty near be tempted to flirt back with some of the ones that’s been trying to get my eye but the way it is I just give them a smile and pass on and they’s no harm in that and I figure a man always ought to give other people as much pleasure as you can as long as it don’t harm nobody.

Well Al everybody’s busier then a chicken with their head off and I haven’t got no more time to write. But when we get to where we are going I will have time maybe and tell you how we are getting along and if you want drop me a line and I wish you would send me the Chi papers once in a while especially when the baseball training trips starts but maybe they won’t be no Jack Keefe to send them to by that time but if they do get me I will die fighting. You know me Al.

Your pal, Jack.

• 2 •

Private Valentine

SOMEWHERES IN FRANCE,
FEB. 2.

Friend Al:  Well Al here I am only I can’t tell you where its at because the censor rubs it out when you put down the name of a town and besides that even if I was to write out where we are at you wouldn’t have no idear where its at because how you spell them hasn’t nothing to do with their name if you tried to say it.

For inst. they’s a town a little ways from us that when you say it its Lucy like a gal or something but when you come to spell it out its Loucey like something else.

Well Al any way this is where they have got us staying till we get called up to the front and I can’t hardly wait till that comes off and some say it may be tomorrow and others say we are libel to be here a yr. Well I hope they are wrong because I would rather live in the trenches then one of these billets where they got us and between you and I Al its nothing more then a barn. Just think of a man like I Al thats been use to nothing only the best hotels in the big league and now they got me staying in a barn like I was a horse or something and I use to think I was cold when they had us sleeping with imaginery blankets out to Camp Grant but I would prespire if I was there now after this and when we get through here they can send us up to the north pole in our undershirt and we would half to keep moping the sweat off of our forehead and set under a electric fan to keep from sweltering.

Well they have got us pegged as horses all right not only because they give us a barn to live in but also from the way they sent us here from where we landed at in France and we made the trip in cattle cars and 1 of the boys says they must of got us mixed up with the calvary or something. It certainly was some experience to be rideing on one of these French trains for a man that went back and fourth to the different towns in the big league and back in a special Pullman and sometimes 2 of them so as we could all have lower births. Well we didn’t have no births on the French R. R. and it wouldn’t of done us no good to of had them because you wouldn’t no sooner dose off when the engine would let off a screem that sounded like a woman that seen a snake and 1 of the boys says that on acct. of all the men being in the army they had women doing the men’s work and judgeing by the noise they even had them whistleing for the crossings.

Well we finely got here any way and they signed us to our different billets and they’s 20 of us in this one not counting a couple of pigs and god knows how many rats and a cow that mews all night. We haven’t done nothing yet only look around but Monday we go to work out to the training grounds and they say we won’t only half to march 12 miles through the mud and snow to get there. Mean time we set and look out the cracks onto Main St. and every little wile they’s a Co. of pollutes marchs through or a train of motor Lauras takeing stuff up to the front or bringing guys back that didn’t duck quick enough and to see these Frenchmens march you would think it was fun but when they have been at it a wile they will loose some of their pep.

Well its warmer in bed then setting here writeing so I will close for this time.

Your pal, Jack.

SOMEWHERES IN FRANCE,
FEB. 4.

Friend Al:  Well Al I am writeing this in the Y. M. C. A. hut where they try and keep it warm and all the boys that can crowd in spends most of their spare time here but we don’t have much spare time at that because its always one thing another and I guess its just as well they keep us busy because every time they find out you are not doing nothing they begin vaxinating everybody.

They’s enough noise in here so as a man can’t hear yourself think let alone writeing a letter so if I make mistakes in spelling and etc. in this letter you will know why it is. They are singing the song now about the baby’s prayer at twilight where the little girl is supposed to be praying for her daddy that’s a soldier to take care of himself but if she was here now she would be praying for him to shut up his noise.

Well we was in the trenchs all day not the regular ones but the ones they got for us to train in them and they was a bunch of French officers trying to learn us how to do this in that and etc. and some of the time you could all most understand what they was trying to tell you and then it was stuff we learnt the first wk. out to Camp Grant and I suppose when they get so as they can speak a few words of English they will tell us we ought to stand up when we hear the Star spangle Banner. Well we was a pretty sight when we got back with the mud and slush and everything and by the time they get ready to call us into action they will half to page us in the morgue.

About every 2 or 3 miles today we would pass through a town where some of the rest of the boys has got their billets only they don’t call it miles in France because that’s to easy to say but instead of miles they call them kilometts. But any way from the number of jerk water burgs we went through you would think we was on the Monon and the towns all looks so much like the other that when one of the French soldiers gets a few days leave off they half to spend most of it looking for land marks so as they will know if they are where they live. And they couldn’t even be sure if it was warm weather and their folks was standing out in front of the house because all the familys is just alike with the old Mr. and the Mrs. and pigs and a cow and a dog.

Well Al they say its pretty quite these days up to the front and the boys that’s been around here a wile says you can hear the guns when they’s something doing and the wind blows this way but we haven’t heard no guns yet only our own out to where we have riffle practice but everybody says as soon as spring comes and the weather warms up the Germans is sure to start something. Well I don’t care if they start anything or not just so the weather warms up and besides they won’t never finish what they start unless they start going back home and they won’t even finish that unless they show a whole lot more speed then they did comeing. They are just trying to throw a scare into somebody with a lot of junk about a big drive they are going to make but I have seen birds come up to hit in baseball Al that was going to drive it out of the park but their drive turned out to be a hump back liner to the pitcher. I remember once when Speaker come up with a couple men on and we was 2 runs ahead in the 9th. inning and he says to me “Well busher here is where I hit one a mile.” Well Al he hit one a mile all right but it was 1/2 a mile up and the other 1/2 a mile down and that’s the way it goes with them gabby guys and its the same way with the Germans and they talk all the time so as they will get thirsty and that’s how they like to be.

Speaking about thirsty Al its different over here then at home because when a man in uniform wants a drink over here you don’t half to hire no room in a hotel and put on your nightgown but you can get it here in your uniform only what they call beer here we would pore it on our wheat cakes at home and they got 2 kinds of wine red and white that you could climb outside of a bbl. of it without asking the head waiter to have them play the Rosery. But they say the champagne is O.K. and I am going to tackle it when I get a chance and you may think from that that I have got jack to throw away but over here Al is where they make the champagne and you can get a qt. of it for about a buck or 1/2 what you would pay for it in the U. S. and besides that the money they got here is a frank instead of a dollar and a frank isn’t only worth about $.19 cents so a man can have a whole lot better time here and not cost him near as much.

And another place where the people in France has got it on the Americans and that is that when they write a letter here they don’t half to pay nothing to mail it but when you write to me you have got to stick a 5 cent stamp on it but judgeing by the way you answer my letters the war will be all over before you half to break a dime. Of course I am just jokeing Al and I know why you don’t write much because you haven’t got nothing to write staying there in Bedford and you could take a post card and tell me all the news that happened in 10 yrs. and still have room enough yet to say Bertha sends kind regards.

But of course its different with a man like I because I am always where they is something big going on and first it was baseball and now its a bigger game yet you might say but whatever is going on big you can always count on me being in the mist of it and not buried alive in no Indiana X roads where they still think the first bounce is out. But of course I know it is not your fault that you haven’t been around and seen more and it ain’t every man that can get away from a small town and make a name for themself and I suppose I ought to consider myself lucky.

Well Al enough for this time and I will write soon again and I would like to hear from you even if you haven’t nothing to say and don’t forget to send me a Chi paper when you get a hold of one and I asked Florrie to send me one every day but asking her for favors is like rolling off a duck’s back you might say and its first in one ear and then the other.

Your pal, Jack.

SOMEWHERES IN FRANCE,
FEB. 7.

Friend Al:  I suppose you have read articles in the papers about the war that’s wrote over here by reporters and the way they do it is they find out something and then write it up and send it by cablegrams to their papers and then they print it and that’s what you read in the papers.

Well Al they’s a whole flock of these here reporters over here and I guess they’s one for every big paper in the U. S. and they all wear bands around their sleeves with a C on them for civilian or something so as you can spot them comeing and keep your mouth shut. Well they have got their head quarters in one of the towns along the line but they ride all over the camp in automobiles and this evening I was outside of our billet and one of them come along and seen me and got out of his car and come up to me and asked if I wasn’t Jack Keefe the White Sox pitcher. Well Al he writes for one of the Chi papers and of course he knows all about me and has seen me work. Well he asked me a lot of questions about this in that and I didn’t give him no military secrets but he asked me how did I like the army game and etc.

I asked him if he was going to mention about me being here in the paper and he says the censors wouldn’t stand for mentioning no names until you get killed because if they mentioned your name the Germans would know who all was here but after you are dead the Germans don’t care if you had been here or not.

But he says he would put it in the paper that he was talking to a man that use to be a star pitcher on the White Sox and he says everybody would know who it was he was talking about because they wasn’t such a slue of star pitchers in the army that it would take a civil service detective to find out who he meant.

So we talked along and finely he asked me was I going to write a book about the war and I said no and he says all right he would tell the paper that he had ran across a soldier that not only use to be a ball player but wasn’t going to write a book and they would make a big story out of it.

So I said I wouldn’t know how to go about it to write a book but when I went around the world with the 2 ball clubs that time I use to write some poultry once in a wile just for different occasions like where the boys was called on for a speech or something and they didn’t know what to say so I would make up one of my poems and the people would go nuts over them.

So he said why didn’t I tear off a few patriotic poems now and slip them to him and he would send them to his paper and they would print them and maybe if some of them was good enough somebody would set down and write a song to them and probably everybody would want to buy it and sing it like Over There and I would clean up a good peace of jack.

Well Al I told him I would see if I could think up something to write and of course I was just stalling him because a soldier has got something better to do than write songs and I will leave that to the birds that was gun shy and stayed home. But if you see in the Chi papers where one of the reporters was talking to a soldier that use to be a star pitcher in the American League or something you will know who they mean. He said he would drop by in a few days again and see if I had something wrote up for him but I will half to tell him I have been to busy to monkey with it.

As far as I can see they’s enough songs all ready wrote up about the war so as everybody in the army and navy could have 1 a peace and still have a few left over for the boshs and that’s a name we got up for the Germans Al and instead of calling them Germans we call them boshs on acct. of them being so full of bunk.

Well Al one of the burgs along the line is where Jonah Vark was born when she was alive. It seems like France was mixed up in another war along about a 100 yrs. ago and they was getting licked and Jonah was just a young gal but she dressed up in men’s coat and pants and went up to the front and led the charges with a horse and she carried a white flag and the Dutchmens or whoever they was fighting against must of thought it was a flag of truants and any way they didn’t fire at them and the French captured New Orleans and win the war. The Germans is trying to pull the same stuff on our boys now and lots of times they run up and holler Conrad like they was going to give up and when your back is turned they whang away at you but they won’t pull none of that stuff on me and when one of them trys to Conrad me I will perculate them with a bayonet.

Well Al the boys is starting their choir practice and its good night and some times I wished I was a deef and dumb mute and couldn’t hear nothing.

Your pal, Jack.

SOMEWHERES IN FRANCE,
FEB. 9.

Friend Al:  Well Al I didn’t have nothing to do last night and I happened to think about that reporter and how he would be comeing along in a few days asking for that poultry.

I figured I might as well set down and write him up a couple verses because them fellows is hard up for articles to send their paper because in the first place we don’t tell them nothing so they could write it up and when they write it the censors smeers out everything but the question marks and dots but of course they would leave them send poems because the Germans couldn’t make head or tale out of them. So any way I set down and tore off 3 verses and he says they ought to be something about a gal in it so here is what I wrote:

Near a year ago today
Pres. Wilson of the U. S. A.
had something to say,
“Germany you better keep away
This is no time for play.”
When it come time to go
America was not slow
Each one said good by to their girl so dear
And some of them has been over here
since last year.

I will come home when the war is over
Back to the U. S. A.
So don’t worry little girlie
And now we are going to Berlin
And when we the Kaiser skin
and the war we will win
And make the Kaiser jump out of his skin.

The ones that stays at home
Can subscribe to the liberty loan
And some day we will come home
to the girles that’s left alone
Old Kaiser Bill is up against it
For all are doing their bit.
Pres. Wilson says the stars and stripes
Will always fight for their rights.

That’s what I tore off and when he comes around again I will have it for him and if you see it in the Chi papers you will know who wrote it up and maybe somebody will write a song to it but of course they can’t sign my name to it unless I get killed or something but I guess at that they ain’t so many soldiers over here that can turn out stuff like that but what my friends won’t be pretty sure who wrote it.

But if something does happen to me I wished you would kind of keep your eyes pealed and if the song comes out try and see that Florrie gets some jack out of it and I haven’t wrote nothing to her about it because she is like all other wifes and when somebodys else husband pulls something its O.K. but if their own husband does it he must of had a snoot full.

Well today was so rotten that they didn’t make us go nowheres and I’ll say its got to be pretty rotten when they do that and the meal they give us tonight wouldn’t of bulged out a grandaddy long legs and I and my buddy Frank Carson was both hungry after we eat and I suppose you will wonder what do I mean by buddy. Well Al that’s a name I got up for who ever you pal around with or bunk next to them and now everybody calls their pal their buddy. Well any way he says why didn’t we go over to the Red X canteen resturent and buy ourself a feed so we went over and its a little shack where the Red X serves you a pretty good meal for 1 frank and that’s about $.19 cents and they don’t try and make no profits on it but just run them so as a man don’t half to go along all the wile on what the army hands out to you.

Well they was 3 janes on the job over there and 2 of them would be safe anywheres you put them but the other one is Class A and her old woman must of been pie eyed when she left her come over here. Well Carson said she belonged to him because he had seen her before and besides I was a married man so I says all right go ahead and get her. Well Al it would be like Terre Haute going after George Sisler or somebody and the minute we blowed in she didn’t have eyes for only me but I wasn’t going to give her no encouragement because we were here to kill Germans and not ladys but I wished you could of seen the smile she give me. Well she’s just as much a American as I or you but of course Carson had to be cute and try to pull some of his French on her so he says Bon soir Madam Moselle and that is the same like we would say good evening but when Carson pulled it I spoke up and said “If your bones is soir why don’t you go and take the baths somewhere?” Pretending like I thought he meant his bones were sore. Well the little lady got it O.K. and pretty near laughed outright. You see Al when a person has got rhuematism they go and take the baths like down to Mudlavia so I meant if his bones was sore he better go somewheres like that. So the little lady tried to not laugh on acct. of me being a stranger but she couldn’t hardly help from busting out and then I smiled at her back and after that Carson might as well of been mowing the lawn out in Nobody’s Land. I felt kind of sorry the way things broke because here he is a man without no home ties and of course I have all ready got a wife but Miss Moselle didn’t have no eyes for him and that’s the way it goes but what can a man do and Carson seen how it was going and says to me right in front of her “Have you heard from your Mrs. since we been over?” And I didn’t dast look up and see how she took it.

Well they set us up a pretty good feed and the little lady kept asking us questions like how long had we been here and what part of the U. S. we come from and etc. and finely Carson told her who I was and she popped her eyes out and says she use to go to the ball games once in a wile in N. Y. city with her old man and she didn’t never think she would meet a big league pitcher and talk to them and she says she wondered if she ever seen me pitch. Well I guess if she had she would remember it specially in N. Y. because there was one club I always made them look like a fool and they wasn’t the only club at that and I guess they’s about 6 other clubs in the American League that if they had seen my name in the dead they wouldn’t shed off enough tears to gum up the infield.

Well when we come out she asked us would we come again and we said yes but I guess its best for both she and I if I stay away but I said we would come again to be polite so she said au revoir and that’s like you would say so long so I said au reservoir pretending like I didn’t know the right way to say it but she seen I was just kidding and laughed and she is the kind of a gal that gets everything you pull and bright as a whip and her and I Would make a good team but of course they’s no use talking about it the way I am tied up so even when I’m sick in tired of the regular rations I won’t dast go over there for a feed because it couldn’t do nothing only harm to the both of us and the best way to do with those kind of affairs is to cut it out before somebody gets hurt.

Well its time to hop into the feathers and I only wished it was feathers but feathers comes off a chicken or something and I guess these matteresses we got is made out to Gary or Indiana Harbor or somewheres.

Your pal, Jack.

SOMEWHERES IN FRANCE,
FEB. 11.

Friend Al:  Well Al they’s several of the boys that won’t need no motor Laura to carry their pay for the next couple mos. and if you was to mention champagne to them they would ask for a barrage. I was over to the Y. M. C. A. hut last night and when I come back I wished you could of seen my buddys and they was 2 of them that was still able to talk yet and they was haveing a argument because one of them wanted to pore some champagne in a dish so as the rats would get stewed and the other bird was trying to not let him because he said it always made them mean and they would go home and beat up their Mrs.

It seems like one of the boys had a birthday and his folks is well off and they had sent him some jack from the states to buy blankets and etc. with it and he thought it would be a sucker play to load up with bed close when spring was comeing so he loaded up with something else and some of the boys with him and for 50 or 60 franks over here you can get enough champagne to keep the dust layed all summer and of course some of the boys hadn’t never tasted it before and they thought you could bathe in it like beer. They didn’t pay no more tension to revelry this A. M. then if they was a corps and most of them was at that and out of the whole bunch of us they was only 7 that didn’t get reported and the others got soaked 2 thirds of their pay and confined to their quarters and Capt. Seeley says if they was any more birthdays in his Co. we wouldn’t wind the celebration up till sunrise and then it would be in front of a fireing squad. Well Al if the boys can’t handle it no better then that they better leave it alone and just because its cheap that’s no reason to try and get it all at once because the grapes will still be growing over here yet when all us birds takes our teeth off at night with our other close.

Well Al the reporter that asked me to write up the verses ain’t been around since and probably he has went up to the front or somewheres and I am glad of it and I hope he forgets all about it because in the first place I am not one of the kind that is crazy to get in the papers and besides I am to busy to be monking with stuff like that. Yes they keep us on the jump all the wile and we are pretty well wore out when night comes around but a man wouldn’t mind it if we was learning something but the way it is now its like as if we had graduated from college and then they sent us to kindegarden and outside of maybe a few skulls the whole regt. is ready right now to get up there in the trenches and show them something and I only wished we was going tomorrow but I guess some of the boys would like it to never go up there but would rather stay here in this burg and think they was haveing a good time kidding with the French gals and etc. but that’s no business for a married man and even if I didn’t have no family the French gals I seen so far wouldn’t half to shew me away and I been hearing all my life what swell dressers they was but a scout for the Follys wouldn’t waist no time in this burg.

But I’m sick in tired of the same thing day in and day out and here we been in France 2 wks. and all we done is a little riffle practice and stuff we had back home and get soping wet every day and no mail and I wouldn’t wonder if Florrie and little Al had forgot all about me and if Secty. Daniels wired them that Jack Keefe had been killed they would say who and the hell is he.

So all and all they can’t send us up to the front to quick and it seems like a shame that men like I should be held back just because they’s a few birds in the regt. that can’t put on a gas mask yet without triping themself up.

Your pal, Jack.

SOMEWHERES IN FRANCE,
FEB. 13.

Friend Al:  Well Al wait till you hear this and I bet you will pop your eyes out. I guess I all ready told you about Miss Moselle the little lady over to the Red X canteen. Well I was over there the day before yesterday and she wasn’t around nowheres and I was glad of it because I didn’t want to see her and just dropped in there to get something to eat and today I was in there again and this time she was there and she smiled when she seen me and come up and begin talking and she asked me how I liked it and I said I would like it a whole lot better if we was in the fighting and she asked me if I didn’t like this town and I said well no I wasn’t nuts about it and she said she didn’t think I was very complementary so then I seen she wanted to get personal.

Well Al she knows I am a married man because Carson just as good as told her so I didn’t see no harm in kidding her along a wile so I give her a smile and said well you know the whole town ain’t like you and she blushed up and says “Well I didn’t expect nothing like that from a great baseball pitcher” so you see Al she had been makeing inquirys about me. So I said “Well they was only one pitcher I ever heard of that couldn’t talk and that was Dummy Taylor but at that they’s a whole lot of them that if they couldn’t say my arm’s sore they might as well be tongue tied.” But I told her I wasn’t one of those kind and I guest when it came to talking I could give as good as I sent and she asked me was I a college man and I kidded her along and said yes I went to Harvard and she said what year so I told her I was there 2 different yrs. and we talked along about this in that and I happened to have them verses in my pocket that I wrote up and they dropped out when I was after my pocket book and she acted like she wanted to know what the writeing was so I showed them to her.

Well Al I wished you could of seen how supprised she was when she read them and she says “So you are a poet.” So I said “Yes I am a poet and don’t know it” so that made her laugh and I told her about the reporter asking me to write some poems and then she asked me if she could keep a hold of those ones till she made out a copy of them to keep for herself and I said “You can keep that copy and pretend like I was thinking of you when I wrote them.” Well Al I wished you could of seen her then and she couldn’t say nothing at first but finely she says tomorrow was valentine day and the verses would do for a valentine so just jokeing I asked her if she wouldn’t rather have a comical valentine and she says those ones would do O.K. so then I told her I would write her a real valentine for herself but I might maybe not get it ready in time to give her tomorrow and she says she realized it took time and any time would do.

Well of course I am not going to write up nothing for her and after this I will keep away from the canteen because it isn’t right to leave her see to much of me even if she does know I am married but if I do write her something I will make it comical and no mushy stuff in it. But it does seem like fate or something that the harder I try and not get mixed up in a flirtation I can’t turn around you might say but what they’s some gal poping up on my trail and if it was anybody else only Miss Moselle I wouldn’t mind but she is a darb and I wouldn’t do nothing to hurt her for the world but they can’t nobody say this is my fault.

Well Al I pretty near forgot to tell you that the boys is putting on a entertainment over to the Y. M. C. A. Saturday night and they will be singing and gags and etc. and they asked me would I give them a little talk on baseball and I said no at first but they begged me and finely I give my consent but you know how I hate makeing speeches and etc. but a man don’t hardly feel like refuseing when they want me so bad so I am going to give them a little talk on my experiences and make it comical and I will tell you about the entertainment when its over.

Your pal, Jack.

SOMEWHERES IN FRANCE,
FEB. 15.

Friend Al:  Well Al I just been over to the canteen and I give the little lady the valentine I promised to write up for her and I wasn’t going to write it up only I happened to remember that I promised so I wrote something up and I was going to make it comical but I figured that would disappoint her on acct. of the way she feels towards me so here is what I wrote up.

To Miss Moselle

(Private)

A soldier don’t have much time

To set down and write up a valentine
but please bear in mind

That I think about you many a time

And I wished I could call you mine

And I hope they will come a time

When I will have more time

And then everything will be fine

And if you will be my valentine

I will try and show you a good time.

Well after I had wrote it I thought I better have it fixed up like a valentine and they’s one of the boys in our Co. named Stoops that use to be a artist so I had him draw me a couple of hearts with a bow and arrow sticking through them and a few flowers on a peace of card board and I coppied off the valentine on the card in printing and stuck it in a envelope and took it over to her and I didn’t wait for her to open it up and look at it and I just says here is that valentine I promised you and its 1 day late and she blushed up and couldn’t say nothing and I come away. Well Al she has read it by this time and I hope she don’t take nothing I said serious but of course she knows I am a married man and she can read between the lines and see where I am trying to let her down easy and telling her to not expect no more tensions from me and its just like saying good by to her in a way only not as rough as comeing right out and saying it. But I won’t see her no more and its all over before it begun you might say.

Well we passed some German prisoners today and believe me we give them a ride. Everybody called them Heinie and Fritz and I seen one of them giveing me a look like he was wondring if all the U. S. soldiers was big stroppers like I but I stuck out my tongue at him and said “What do you think you are looking at you big pretzel” and he didn’t dast say nothing back. Well they was a fine looking gang and they’s been a lot of storys going the rounds about no soap in Germany. Well Al its all true.

Well I finely got a letter from Florrie that is if you could call it a letter and to read it you wouldn’t never guess that she had a husband over here in France and maybe never see him again but you would think I had went across the st. to get a bottle of ketchup and all as she said about little Al was that he needed a new pair of shoes and they’s about as much news in that as if she said he woke up in the night. And the rest of the letter was about how good she was doing in the beauty parlor and for me not to worry about her because she was O.K. only for a callous on her heel and I suppose she will go to the hospital with it and here I am with so many of them that if they was worth a frank a peace I could pay the Kaiser’s gas bill. And she never asked me did I need anything or how was I getting along. And she enclosed a snapshot of herself in one of these here war bride outfits and she looks so good in it that I bet she goes to church every Sunday and asks god to prolongate the war.

Your pal, Jack.

SOMEWHERES IN FRANCE,
FEB. 16.

Friend Al:  Well Al they’s a certain bird in this camp that if I ever find out who he is they won’t need no tonnages to carry him back when the war’s over. Let me tell you what come off tonight and what was pulled off on the little lady and I and if you read about me getting in front of the court marshall for murder you will know how it come off.

I guess I all ready told you about the show that was comeing off tonight and they asked me to make a little talk on baseball. Well they was as many there as could crowd in and the band played and they was singing and gags and storys and etc. and they didn’t call on me till pretty near the last. Well Al you ought to of heard the crowd when I got up there and it sounded like old times to have them all cheering and clapping and I stepped to the front of the platform and give them a bow and it was the first time I was ever on the stage but I wasn’t scared only at first.

Well I had wrote out what I was going to say and learnt the most of it by heart and here is what I give them only I won’t give you only part of it because it run pretty long.

“Gentlemen and friends. I am no speech maker and I guess if I had to make speeches for a liveing I am afraid I couldn’t do it but the boys is anxious I should say a few words about baseball and I didn’t want to disappoint them. They may be some of you boys that has not followed the great American game very close and maybe don’t know who Jack Keefe is. Well gentlemen I was boughten from Terre Haute in the Central League by that grand old Roman Charley Comiskey owner of the Chicago White Sox in 1913 and I been in the big league ever since except one year I was with Frisco and I stood that league on their head and Mr. Comiskey called me back and I was still starring with the Chicago White Sox when Uncle Sam sent out the call for men and I quit the great American game to enlist in the greatest game of all the game we are playing against the Kaiser and we will win this game like I have win many a game of baseball because I was to fast for them and used my brains and it will be the same with the Kaiser and America will fight to the drop of the hat and make the world safe for democracy.”

Well Al I had to stop 2 or 3 minutes while they give me a hand and they clapped and hollered at pretty near everything I said. So I said “This war reminds me a good deal like a incident that happened once when I was pitching against the Detroit club. No doubt you gentlemen and officers has heard of the famous Hughey Jennings and his eeyah and on the Detroit club is also the famous Tyrus Cobb the Georgia Peach as he is called and I want to pay him a tribute right here and say he is one of the best ball players in the American League and a great hitter if you don’t pitch just right to him. One time we was in Detroit for a serious of games and we had loose the first two games do to bad pitching and the first game Eddie Cicotte didn’t have nothing and the second game Faber was in the same boat so on this morning I refer to Manager Rowland come up to me in the lobby of the Tuller hotel and said how do you feel Jack and I said O.K. Clarence why do you ask? And he said well we have loose 2 games here and we have got to grab this one this P. M. and if you feel O.K. I will work you because I know you have got them licked as soon as you walk out there. So I said all right Clarence you can rely on me. And that P. M. I give them 3 hits and shut them out and Cobb come up in the ninth innings with two men on bases and two men out and Ray Schalk our catcher signed me for a curve ball but I shook my head and give him my floater and the mighty Cobb hit that ball on a line to our right fielder Eddie Murphy and the game was over.

“This war is a good deal like baseball gentlemen because it is stratejy that wins and no matter how many soldiers a gen. has got he won’t get nowheres without he uses his brains and its the same in baseball and the boys that stays in the big league is the boys that can think and when this war is over I hope to go back and begin where I left off and win a pennant for Charley Comiskey the old Roman in the American League.”

Well Al they was a regular storm when I got through and I bowed and give them a smile and started off of the platform but a sargent named Avery from our Co. stopped me and set me down in a chair and says I was to wait a minute and I thought of course they was going to give me a cup or something though I didn’t expect nothing of the kind but I hadn’t no sooner set down when Sargent Avery stepped up to the front of the platform and says “Gentlemen I want to say to you that Private Jack Keefe the great stratejest is not only a great pitcher and a great speech maker but he is also a great poet and if you don’t believe me I will read you this beautiful valentine that he wrote to a certain lady that we all admire and who was in the Red X canteen up till today when she went back to Paris to resume other dutys.”

Well before I could make a move he read that crazy valentine and of course they wasn’t a word in it that I was serious when I wrote it and it was all a joke with me only not exactly a joke neither because I was really trying to let the little lady down easy and tell her good by between the lines without being rough with it. But of course these boobs pretended like they thought I meant it all and was love sick or something and they hollered like a bunch of Indians and clapped and razed he – ll.

Well Al I didn’t get a chance to see Sargent Avery after it was over because he blowed right out but I will see him tomorrow and I will find out from him who stole that poem from Miss Moselle and I wouldn’t be supprised if the reason she blowed to Paris was on acct. of missing the poem and figureing some big bum had stole it off her and they would find out her secret and make things misable for her and the chances is that’s why she blowed. Well wait till I find out who done it and they will be one less snake in this regt. and the sooner you weed those kind of birds out of the army you will get somewheres and if you don’t you won’t.

But the poor little lady Al I can’t help from feeling sorry for her and I only wished I could go to Paris and find her and tell her to not worry though of course its best if she don’t see me again but I’m sorry it had to come off this way.

Your pal, Jack.

SOMEWHERES IN FRANCE,
FEB. 18.

Friend Al:  Well Al this may be the last letter you will ever get from me because I am waiting now to find out what they are going to do with me and I will explain what I mean.

Yesterday A. M. I seen Sargent Avery and I asked him if I could talk to him a minute and he says yes and I said I wanted to find out from him who stole that valentine from Miss Moselle. So he says “Who is Miss Moselle?” So I said “Why that little lady in the canteen that’s blowed to Paris.” So he says “Well that little lady’s name isn’t Miss Moselle but her name is Ruth Palmer and she is the daughter of one of the richest birds in N. Y. city and they wasn’t nobody stole no valentine from her because she give the valentine to me before she left.” So I said “What do you mean she give it to you?” So he says “I mean she give it to me and when she give it to me she said us birds was in the same Co. with a poet and didn’t know it and she thought it was about time we was finding it out. So she laughed and give me the valentine and that’s the whole story.”

Well Al I had a 20 frank note on me and I asked Sargent Avery if he wouldn’t like some champagne and he said no he wouldn’t. But that didn’t stop me Al and I got all I could hold onto and then some and I snuck in last night after lights out and I don’t know if anybody was wise or not but if they are its libel to go hard with me and Capt. Seeley said something about the fireing squad for the next bird that cut loose.

Well I reported sick this A. M. and they could tell to look at me that it wasn’t no stall so I’m here and the rest of the boys is gone and I am waiting for them to summons me before the court marshall. But listen Al if they do like Capt. Seeley said you can bet that before they get me I will get some of these birds that’s been calling me Private Valentine ever since Saturday night.

Your pal, Jack.

• 3 •

Stragety and Tragedy

SOMEWHERES IN FRANCE,
MARCH 2.

Friend Al:  Well Al if it rains a couple more days like its been they will half to page the navy and at that its about time they give them something to do and I don’t mean the chasers and destroyers and etc. that acts like convoys for our troop ships and throws them death bombs at the U boats but I mean the big battle ships and I bet you haven’t heard of a supper dread 0 doing nothing since we been in the war and they say they can’t do nothing till the German navy comes out and that’s what they’re waiting for. Well Al that’s a good deal like waiting for the 30nd. of Feb. or for Jennings to send his self up to hit for Cobb and they can say all they want about the Germans being bullet proof from the neck up but they got some brains and you can bet their navy ain’t comeing out no more then my hair. So as far as I can see a man being on a supper dread 0 is just like you owned a private yatch without haveing to pay for the keep up and when they talk about a man on a big U. S. battle ship in danger they mean he might maybe die because he eat to much and no exercise.

So if I was them I would send the big ships here so as we could use them for motor Lauras and I guess they’s no place in our whole camp where you couldn’t float them and I don’t know how it is all over France but if they was a baseball league between the towns where they have got us billeted the fans would get blear eyed looking at the no game sign and if a mgr. worked their pitchers in turn say it was my turn tomorrow and the next time my turn come around some of little Al’s kids would half to help me out of the easy chair and say “Come on granpa you pitch this afternoon.”

Jokeing a side Al if I was running the training camps like Camp Grant back home instead of starting the men off with the regular drills and hikes like they give them now I would stand them under a shower bath with their close on about 1/2 the time and when it come time for a hike I would send them back and fourth across Rock River and back where they wasn’t no bridge. And then maybe when they got over here France wouldn’t be such a big supprise.

One of the boys has put a sign up on our billet and it says Noahs Ark on it and maybe you have heard that old gag Al about the big flood that everybody was drownded only Noah and his folks and a married couple of every kind of animals in the world and they wasn’t drownded because Noah had a Ark for them to get in out of the wet. Well Noahs Ark is a good name for our dump and believe me they haven’t none of the animals been overlooked and we are also going Noah one better and sheltering all the bugs and some of them is dressed in cocky.

Well I am in this war to the finish and you couldn’t hire me to quit till we have ran them ragged but I wished they had of gave us steel helmets wide enough so as they would make a bumber shoot and I hope the next war they have they will pick out Arizona to have it there.

Your pal, Jack.

SOMEWHERES IN FRANCE,
MARCH 6.

Friend Al:  Well Al I suppose you have read in the communicates that comes out in the paper where the Americans that’s all ready in the trenchs has pulled off some great stuff and a whole lot of them has been sighted and give meddles and etc. by the Frenchmens for what they have pulled off and the way they work it Al when one of the soldiers wrists his life or something and pulls off something big like takeing a mess of prisoners and bringing them back here where they can get something to eat the French pins a meddle on them and sometimes they do it if you don’t do nothing but die only then of course they send it to your family so as they will have something to show their friends besides snapshots of Mich. City.

Well we was kidding back and fourth about it today and one of the smart alex in our Co. a bird named Johnny Alcock that is always trying to kid somebody all the time he said to me “Well I suppose they will half to build more tonnages to carry all the meddles you will win back to the states.” So I said “Well I guess I will win as many of them as you will win.” That shut him up for a wile but finely he says “You have got enough chest to wear a whole junk shop on it.” So I said “Well I am not the baby that can’t win them.” So he says “If you ever happen to be snooping around the bosh trenchs when Fritz climbs over the top you will come back so fast that the Kaiser will want to know who was that speed merchant that led the charge and decorate you with a iron cross.” So I said “I will decorate you right in the eye one of these days.” So he had to shut up and all the other boys give him the laugh.

Well Al jokeing to one side if I half to go back home without a meddle it will be because they are playing favorites but I guess I wouldn’t be left out at that because I stand ace high with most of the Frenchmens around here because they like a man that’s always got a smile or a kind word for them and they would like me still better yet if they could understand more English and get my stuff better but it don’t seem like they even try to learn and I suppose its because they figure the war is in their country so everybody should ought to talk their language but when you get down to cases they’s a big job on both our hands and if one of us has got to talk the others language why and the he – ll should they pick on the one that’s hard to learn it and besides its 2 to I you might say because the U. S. and the English uses the same language and they’s nobody only the French that talks like they do because they couldn’t nobody else talk that way so why wouldn’t it be the square thing for them to forget theirs and tackle ours and it would prolongate their lifes to do it because most of their words can’t be said without straining yourself and no matter what kind of a physic you got its bound to wear you down in time.

But I suppose the French soldiers figure they have got enough of a job on their hands remembering their different uniforms and who to salute and etc. and they have got a fine system in the French army Al because you wear whatever you was before you got to be what you are that is sometimes. For inst. suppose you use to be in the artillery and now you are a aviator you still wear a artillery uniform part of the time and its like I use to pitch for the White Sox and I guess I would be a pretty looking bird if I waddled around in the mire here a wile with my old baseball unie on me and soon people would begin to think I was drafted from the Toledo Mud Hens.

Seriously Al sometimes you see 4 or 5 French officers comeing along and they haven’t one of them got the same color uniform on but they are all dressed up like a Roman candle you might say and if their uniforms run when they got wet a man could let them drip into a pail and drink it up for a pussy cafe.

Well Al the boys in our regt. is going to get out a newspaper and get it out themself and it will be just the news about our regt. and a few gags and comical storys about the different boys and they are going to get it out once per wk.

Corp. Pierson from our Co. that use to work on a newspaper somewheres is going to be the editor and he wants I should write them up something about baseball and how to pitch and etc. but I don’t believe in a man waisting their time on a childs play like writeing up articles for a newspaper but just to stall him I said I would try and think up something and give it to him when I had it wrote up. Well him waiting for my article will be like me waiting for mail because I don’t want nobody to take me for a newspaper man because I seen enough of them in baseball and one time we was playing in Phila. and I had them shut out up to the 8th inning and all of a sudden Weaver and Collins got a stroke of paralysis and tipped their caps to a couple ground balls that grazed their shoe laces and then Rube Oldring hit one on a line right at Gandil and he tried to catch it on the bounce off his lap and Bill Dinneen’s right arm was lame and he begin calling everything a ball and first thing you know they beat us 9 to 2 or something and Robbins one of the Chi paper reporters that traveled with us wired a telegram home to his paper that Phila. was supposed to be a town where a man could get plenty of sleep but I looked like I had set up all the nights we was there and of course Florrie seen it in the paper and got delirious and I would of busted Robbins in the jaw only I wasn’t sure if he realy wrote it that way or the telegraph operator might of balled it up.

So they won’t be no newspaper articles in mine Al but I will be anxious to see what Pierson’s paper looks like when it comes out and I bet it will be a fine paper if our bunch have the writeing of it because the most of them would drop in a swoon if you asked them how to spell their name.

Your pal, Jack.

SOMEWHERES IN FRANCE,
MARCH 9.

Friend Al:  Well Al I guess I all ready told you about them getting up a newspaper in our regt. and Joe Pierson asked me would I write them up something for it and I told him no I wouldn’t but it seems like he overheard me and thought I said I would so any way he was expecting something from me so last night I wrote them up something and I don’t know if the paper will ever get printed or not so I will coppy down a part of what I wrote to give you a idear of what I wrote. He wanted I should write them up something about the stragety of baseball and where it was like the stragety in the war because one night last month I give them a little talk at one of their entertainments about how the man that used their brains in baseball was the one that win just like in the army but I guess I all ready told you about me giveing them that little talk and afterwards I got a skinfull of the old grape and I thought sure they would have me up in front of the old court marshall but they never knowed the difference on acct. of the Way I can handle it and you take the most of the boys and if they see a cork they want to kiss the Colonel. Well any way here is the article I wrote up and I called it War and Baseball 2 games where brains wins.

“The gen. public that go out to the baseball park and set through the games probably think they see everything that is going on on the field but they’s a lot of stuff that goes on on the baseball field that the gen. public don’t see and don’t know nothing about and I refer to what we baseball boys calls inside baseball.

“No one is in a better position to know all about inside baseball then a man like I who have been a pitcher in the big league because it is the pitchers that has to do most of the thinking and pull off the smart plays that is what wins ball games. For inst. I will write down about a little incidents that come off one time 2 yrs. ago when the Boston club was playing against the Chicago White Sox where I was one of the stars when the U. S. went into the war and then I dropped baseball and signed up a contract with Uncle Sam to play for my country in the big game against the Kaiser of Germany. This day I refer to I was in there giveing them the best I had but we was in a tight game because the boys was not hitting behind me though Carl Mays that was pitching for the Boston club didn’t have nothing on the ball only the cover and after the ball left his hand you could have ran in the club house and changed your undershirt and still be back in time to swing when the ball got up there.

“Well it come along the 9th. inning and we was tied up with the score 2 and 2 and I had Larry Gardner swinging like a hammock all day but this time he hit a fly ball that either Weaver or Jackson ought to of caught in a hollow tooth but they both layed down and died on it and Gardner got on second base. Well they was 2 men out and Hoblitzel was the next man up and the next man after he was Scott their shortstop that couldn’t take the ball in his hand and make a base hit off a man like I so instead of me giveing Hobby a ball to hit I walked him as we call it and then of course it was Scott’s turn to bat and Barry their mgr. hesitated if he should send Ruth up to hit for Scott or not but finely he left Scott go up there and he was just dragging his bat off his shoulder to swing at the first strike when I whizzed the third one past him.

“That is what we call inside baseball or stragety whether its in baseball or war is walking a man like Hoblitzel that might be lucky enough to hit one somewheres but if you don’t give him nothing to hit how can he hit it and then I made Scott look like he had been sent for but couldn’t come. Afterwards in the 11th. inning Duffy Lewis hit a ball that he ought to of been traded for even swinging at it because it come near clipping his ear lob but any way he swang at it and hit it for three bases because Jackson layed down and died going after it and Lewis scored on a past ball and they beat us 3 to 2.

“So that is what we call stragety on the baseball field and it wins there the same like in war and this war will be win by the side that has gens. with brains and use them and I figure where a man that has been in big league baseball where you can’t never make a success out of it unless you are a quick thinker and they have got a big advantage over men that’s been in other walks of life where its most all luck and I figure the army would be a whole lot better off if all the officers and gens. had of played baseball in the big leagues and learned to think quick, but of course they ain’t everybody that have got the ability to play baseball and stand the gaff but the man that has got the ability and been through the ropes is just that much ahead of the rest of them and its to bad that most of our gens. is so old that they couldn’t of knew much about baseball since it become a test of brains like it is now.

“I am afraid I have eat up a lot of space with my little Article on War and Baseball so I will end this little article up with a little comical incidents that happened dureing our training trip down in Mineral Wells, Tex. a year ago this spring. The first day we was out for practice they was a young outfielder from a bush league and Mgr. Rowland told him to go out in right field and shag and this was his reply. ‘I haven’t never been in this park before so you will half to tell me which is right field.’ Of course right field, is the same field in all parks and that is what made the incidents so comical and some of the boys is certainly green when they first break in and we have manys the laugh at their expense.”

That is what I wrote up for them Al and I wound it up with that little story and I was reading over what I wrote and Johnny Alcock seen me reading it and asked me to leave him see it so I showed it to him and he said it was great stuff and he hadn’t never dreamt they was that much stragety in baseball and he thought if some of the officers seen it they would pop their eyes out and they would want to talk to me and get my idears and see if maybe they couldn’t some of them be plied to war fair and maybe if I showed them where it could I would get promoted and stuck on to the gen. staff that’s all made up from gens. that lays out the attacks and etc.

Well Al Alcock is a pretty wise bird and a fine boy to if you know how to take him and he seen right off what I was getting at in my article and its true Al that the 2 games is like the other and quick thinking is what wins in both of them. But I am not looking for no staff job that you don’t half to go up in the trenchs and fight but just lay around in some office somewheres and stick pins in a map while the rest of the boys is sticking bayonets in the Dutchmen’s maps so I hope they don’t none of the gens. see what I wrote because I come over here to fight and be a soldier and carry a riffle instead of a pin cushion.

But it don’t hurt nothing for me to give them a few hints once in a wile about useing their brains if they have got them and if I can do any good with my articles in the papers why I would just as leaf wear my fingers to the bone writeing them up.

Your pal, Jack.

SOMEWHERES IN FRANCE,
MARCH 13.

Friend Al:  Well Al I bet you will pretty near fall over in a swoon when you read what I have got to tell you. Before you get this letter you will probably all ready of got a coppy of the paper I told you about because it come out the day before yesterday and I sent you a coppy with my article in it only they cut a part of it out on acct. of not haveing enough space for all of it but they left the best part of it in.

Well Al somebody must of a sent a coppy to Gen. Pershing and marked up what I wrote up so as he would be sure and see it and probably one of the officers done it. Well that’s either here or there but this afternoon when we come in they was a letter for me and who do you think it was from Al. Well you can’t never even begin to guess so I will tell you. It was from Gen. Pershing Al and it come from Paris where he is at and I have got it here laying on the table and I would send it to you to look at only I wouldn’t take no chances of looseing it and I don’t mean you wouldn’t be carefull of it Al but of course the mail has got to go across the old pond and if the Dutchmens periscoped the boat the letter was on it it would be good night letter and a letter like this here is something to be proud of and hold onto it and keep it for little Al till he grows up big enough to appreciate it. But they’s nothing to prevent me from copping down the letter so as you can read what it says and here it is.

PRIVATE KEEFE,

Dear Sir:  My attention was called today to an article written by you in your regimental paper under the title War and Baseball: Two Games Where Brains Wins. In this article you state that our generals would be better able to accomplish their task if they had enjoyed the benefits of strategic training in baseball. I have always been a great admirer of the national game of baseball and I heartily agree with what you say. But unfortunately only a few of us ever possessed the ability to play your game and the few never were proficient enough to play it professionally. Therefore the general staff is obliged to blunder along without that capacity for quick thinking which is acquired only on the baseball field.

But I believe in making use of all the talent in my army, even among the rank and file. Therefore I respectfully ask whether you think some of your baseball secrets would be of strategic value to us in the prosecution of this war and if so whether you would be willing to provide us with the same.

If it is not too much trouble, I would be pleased to hear from you along these lines, and if you have any suggestion to make regarding a campaign against our enemy, either offensive or defensive, I would be pleased to have you outline it in a letter to me.

By the way I note with pleasure that our first names are the same. It makes a sort of bond between us which I trust will be further cemented if you can be of assistance to me in my task.

I shall eagerly await your reply.

Sincerely,

BLACK JACK PERSHING,

Folies Bergere, Paris, France.

That is the letter I got from him Al and I’ll say its some letter and I bet if some of these smart alex officers seen it it would reduce some of the swelling in their chest but I consider the letter confidential Al and I haven’t showed it to nobody only 3 or 4 of my buddys and I showed it to Johnny Alcock and he popped his eyes out so far you could of snipped them off with a shears. And he said it was a cinch that Pershing realy wrote it on acct. of him signing it Black Jack Pershing and they wouldn’t nobody else sign it that way because it was a private nickname between he and some of his friends and they wouldn’t nobody else know about it.

So then he asked was I going to answer the letter and I said of course I was and he says well I better take a whole lot of pains with my answer and study up the situation before I wrote it and put some good idears in it and if my letters made a hit with Gen. Pershing the next thing you know he would probably summons me to Paris and maybe stick me on the war board so as all I would half to do would be figure up plans of attacks and etc. and not half to go up in the trenchs and wrist my life and probably get splattered all over France.

So I said “Well I am not looking for no excuse to get out of the trenchs but its just the other way and I am nuts to get in them.” So he says “You must be.” But he showed me where it would be a great experience to set in at them meetings even if I didn’t have much to say and just set there and listen and hear their plans and what’s comeing off and besides I would get a chance to see something of Paris and it don’t look like none of us only the officers would be give leave to go there but of course I would go if Black Jack wanted me and after all Al I am here to give Uncle Sam the best I have got and if I can serve the stars and strips better by sticking pins in a map then getting in the trenchs why all right and it takes more than common soldiers to win a war and if I am more use to them as a kind of adviser instead of carrying a bayonet why I will sacrifice my own feelings for the good of the cause like I often done in baseball.

But they’s another thing Alcock told me Al and that is that the war board they have got has got gens. on it from all the different countrys like the U. S. and England and France and Spain and of course they are more French gens. than anything else on acct. of the war being here in France so probably they do some of their talking in French and Alcock says if he was I he would get busy and try and learn enough French so as I could make myself understood when I had something to say and of course they probably won’t nothing come out of it all but still and all I always says its best to be ready for whatever comes off and if the U. S. had of been ready for this war I wouldn’t be setting here writeing this letter now but I would be takeing a plunge in one of them Berlin brewry vats.

Any way I have all ready picked enough French so as I can talk it pretty good and I would be O.K. if I could understand it when they are talking it off but to hear them talk it off you would think they seen their dinner at the end of the sentence.

Well Al I will tell you how things comes out and I hope Black Jack will forget all about it and lay off me so as I can get into the real fighting instead of standing in front of a map all the wile like a school teacher or something and I all most wished I hadn’t never wrote that article and then of course the idear wouldn’t of never came to Black Jack that I could help him but if he does take me on his staff it will be some pair of Jacks eh Al and enough to open the pot and if the Germans is sucker enough to stay in they will get their whiskers cinched.

Your pal, Jack.

SOMEWHERES IN FRANCE,
MARCH 14.

Friend Al:  Well this is the second letter I have wrote today and the other one is to Gen. Pershing and I have still got the letter here yet Al and I will coppy it down and tell you what I wrote to him.

GEN. JACK PERSHING,

Care Folies Bergere, Paris, France.

Dear Gen:  You can bet I was supprised to get a letter from you and when I wrote that article I didn’t have no idear that they would something come out of it. Well Gen. I come into the army expecting to fight and lay down my life if nessary and I am not one of the kind that are looking for an out and trying to hide behind a desk or something because I am afraid to go into the trenchs but I guess if you know something about baseball you won’t accuse me from not having the old nerve because they can’t no man hold onto a job in the big leagues unless a man is fearless and does their best work under fire and especially a pitcher. But if you figure that I can serve old glory better some other way then in the rank and files I am willing to sacrifice myself like I often done in baseball. Anything to win Gen. is the way I look at it.

You asked me in your letter did I think some of my idears would help out well gen. a man don’t like to sound like they was bragging themself up but this isn’t no time for monking and I guess you want the truth. Well gen. I don’t know much about running a army and their plans but stragety is the same if its on the battle field or the baseball diamond you might say and it just means how can we beat them and I often say that the men that can use their brains will win any kind of a game except maybe some college Willy boy game like football or bridge whist.

Well gen. without no bragging myself up I learned a whole lot about stragety on the baseball field and I think I could help you in a good many ways but before I tried to tell you how to do something I would half to know what you was trying to do and of course I know you can’t tell me in a letter on acct. of the censors and of course they are Americans to but they’s a whole lot of the boys that don’t mean no harm but they are gabby and can’t keep their mouth shut and who knows who would get a hold of it and for the same reason I don’t feel like I should give you any of my idears by mail but if I could just see you and we could have a little talk and talk things over but I don’t suppose they’s any chance of that unless I could get leave off to run down to Paris for a wile and meet you somewheres but they won’t give us no leave to go to Paris but of course a letter from you that I could show it to Capt. Seeley would fix it up and no questions asked.

So I guess I better wait till I hear from you along these lines and in the mean wile I will be thinking the situation over and see what I can think up and I all ready got some idears that I feel like they would work out O.K. and I hope I will get a chance in the near future to have a little chat with you.

I note what you say about our name being both Jack and I was thinking to myself that lots of times in a poker game a pair of jacks is enough to win and maybe it will be the same way in the war game and any way I guess the 2 of us could put up a good bluff and bet them just as if we had them. Eh gen?

Respy, JACK KEEFE.

That’s what I wrote to him Al and he will get it some time tomorrow or the next day and I should ought to hear from him back right away and I hope he will take my hint and leave me stay here with my regt. where I can see some real action. But if he summonses me I will go Al and not whine about getting a raw deal.

Well I happened to drop into a estaminet here yesterday and that’s kind of a store where a man can buy stuff to take along with him or you can get a cup of coffee or pretty near anything and they was a girl on the job in there and she smiled when I come in and I smiled at her back and she seen I was American so she begin talking to me in English only she has got some brogue and its hard to make it out what she is trying to get at. Well we talked a wile and all of a sudden the idear come to me that I and her could hit it off and both do the other some good by her learning me French and I could learn her English and so I sprung it on her and she was tickled to death and we called it a bargain and tomorrow we are going to have our first lessons and how is that Al for a bargain when I can pick up French without it costing me a nickle and of course they won’t be only time for I or 2 lessons before I hear from Black Jack but I can learn a whole lot in 2 lessons if she will tend to business but the way she smiled at me when I come out and the looks she give me I am afraid if she seen much of me it would be good night so I will half to show her I won’t stand for no foolishness because I had enough flirtations Al and the next woman that looks X eyed at me will catch her death of cold.

Your pal, Jack.

SOMEWHERES IN FRANCE,
MARCH 16.

Friend Al:  Well old pal it looks like they wouldn’t be no front line trenchs for this baby and what I am getting at is that the word was past around today that Black Jack himself is comeing and they isn’t no faulse alarm about it because Capt. Seeley told us himself and said Gen. Pershing would be here in a day or 2 to overlook us and he wanted that everybody should look their best and keep themself looking neat and clean and clean up all the billets and etc. because that was what Gen. Pershing was comeing to see, how we look and how we are getting along and etc.

Well Al that’s what Capt. Seeley said but between you and I they’s another reason why he is comeing and I guess he figures they will be a better chance to talk things over down here then if I was to go to Paris and I am not the only one that knows why he is comeing because after supper Alcock called me over to I side and congratulated me and said it looked like I was in soft.

Well I will be ready for him when he comes and I will be ready to pack up and blow out of here at a minute’s notice and I can’t help from wondring what some of these smart alex officers will say when they see what’s comeing off. So this won’t be only a short letter Al because I have got a lot to do to get ready and what I am going to do is write down some of my idears so as I can read them off to him when he comes and if I didn’t have them wrote down I might maybe get nervous when I seen him and maybe forget what I got to say because the boys says he’s a tough bird for a man to see for the first time till you get to know him and he acts like he was going to eat you alive but he’s a whole lot like a dog when you get to know him and his bark is worse then a bite.

Well Al how is that for news and I guess you will be prouder then ever of your old pal before this business gets over with and I would feel pretty good with everything breaking so good only I am getting worred about Ernestine that little French gal in the estaminet and I wished now I hadn’t never seen her or made no bargain with her and I didn’t do it so much for what I could learn off of her but these French gals Al has had a tough time of it and if a man can bring a little sunshine into their life he wouldn’t be a man unless he done it. So I was just trying to be a good fellow and here is what I get for it because I caught her today Al with that look in her eye that I seen in so many of them and I know what it means and I guess about the best thing for me to do is run away from Gen. Pershing and go over the top or something and leave the boshs shoot my nose off or mess me up some way and then maybe I won’t get pestered to death every time I try and be kind to some little gal.

I guess the French lessons will half to be cut out because it wouldn’t be square to leave her see me again and it would be different if I could tell her I am married but I don’t know the French terms for it and besides it don’t seem to make no difference to some of them and the way they act you would think a wife was just something that come out on you like a sty and the best way to do was just to forget it.

Well Al as I say I caught her looking at me like it was breaking her heart and I wouldn’t be supprised if she cried after I come away, but what can a man do about it Al and I have got a good notion to wear my gas mask everywhere I go and then maybe I will have a little peace once in a wile.

I must close now for this time and get busy on some idears so as Black Jack won’t catch me flat footed but I guess they’s no danger of that eh Al?

Your pal, Jack.

SOMEWHERES IN FRANCE,
MARCH 18.

Friend Al:  Well old pal I am all set for Gen. Pershing when he comes and I have got some of my idears wrote down just the bear outlines of them and when he asks me if I have got any I can just read them off from my notes like I was a lecture and here is a few of the notes I have got wrote down so you can get some idear of what I am going to spring on him.

1

In baseball many big league mgrs. before a game they talk it over in the club house with their men and disgust the weakness of the other club and how is the best way to beat them and etc. For inst. when I was pitching for the White Sox and suppose we was going to face a pitcher that maybe he was weak on fielding bunts so before the game Mgr. Rowland would say to us “Remember boys this baby so and so gets the rabbis if you lay down bunts on him.” So we would begin laying them down on him and the first thing you know he would be frothing at the mouth and triping all over himself and maybe if he did finely get a hold of the ball he would throw it into the Southren League or somewheres and before the other mgr. could get another bird warmed up they would half to hire a crossing policeman to straiten out the jam at the plate. And the same thing would be in war like in baseball and instead of a army going into it blind you might say, why the gens. ought to get together before the battle and fix it up to work on the other side’s weakness. For inst. suppose the Germans is weak on getting out of the way of riffle bullets why that’s the weapon to use on them and make a sucker out of them.

2

Getting the jump on your oppts. is more then 1/2 the battle whether its in the war or on the baseball field and many a game has been win by getting the jump on your oppts. For inst. that reminds me of a little incidents that happened one day when we was playing the Washington club and I was pitching against the notorious Walter Johnson and before they was a man out Geo. McBride booted one and Collins and Jackson got a couple hits and we was 2 runs to the good before they was a man out. Well Johnson come back pretty good and the rest of the game the boys acted like they was scared of him and kept one foot in the water bucket but we would of win the game at that only in the 9th. inning Schalk dropped a third strike on me and Judge and Milan hit a couple of fly balls that would of been easy outs only for the wind but the wind raised havioc with the ball and they both went for hits and they beat us 3 to 2 and that’s the kind of luck I genally always had against the Washington club.

3

In baseball of course they’s only nine men on a side and that is where a gen. in the war has got the advantage on a mgr. in baseball because they’s no rules in war fair to keep a man from useing all the men he feels like so it looks to me like a gen. had all the best of it because suppose the other side only had say 50 thousand men in a certain section they’s nothing to prevent a gen. from going after them with a 100 thousand men and if he can’t run them ragged when you got to them 2 to I its time to enlist in the G. A. R. All though as I say a mgr. can’t only use nine men at a time in baseball, but at that I know of incidents where a mgr. has took advantage of the oppts. being shy of men and one time the St. Louis club came to Chi and Jones was all crippled up for pitchers but the game was on our home grounds so it was up to Mgr. Rowland to say if the game should be played or if he should call it off on acct. of cold weather because it was in the spring. But he knowed Jones was shy of pitchers so he made him play the game and Jones used big Laudermilk to pitch against us and they beat us 5 and 2.

4

Another advantage where a gen. got it on a baseball mgr. because in baseball the game begins at 3 o’clock and the other club knows when its going to begin just the same as your club so they can’t neither club beat the other one to it and start the game wile the other club is looking out the window.

But a gen. don’t half to tell the other side when he is going to attack them but of course they have observers that can see when you are going to get ready to pull something. But it looks to me like the observers wouldn’t be worth a hoop and he – ll if the other gen. made his preparations at night when it was dark like bringing up the troops and artilery and supplys and etc. and in that way you could take them by supprise and make them look like a fool, like in baseball I have often crossed the batter up and one day I had Cobb 3 and 2 and he was all set to murder a fast one and I dinked a slow one up there to him and the lucky stiff hit it on the end of his bat just inside third base and 2 men scored on it.

That’s about the idears I am going to give him Al only of course I can talk it off better then I can write it because wile I am talking I can think up a lot more incidents to tell him and him being a baseball fan he will set there pop eyed with his mouth open as long as I want to talk. But now I can’t hardly wait for him to get here Al and it seems funny to think that here I am a $30 dollar a mo. doughboy and maybe in a few days I will be on the staff and they don’t have nobody only officers and even a lieut. gets 5 or 6 times as much as a doughboy and how is that for a fine nickname Al for men that all the dough they are getting is a $1 per day and the pollutes only gets 2 Sues a day and that’s about 2 cents so I suppose we ought to call them the Wall St. crowd.

Well Al you should ought to be thankfull you are there at home with your wife where you can watch her and keep your eyes on her and find out what she is doing with her spare time though I guess at that they wouldn’t be much danger of old Bertha running a muck and I don’t suppose she would half to wear bob wire entanglements to keep Jack the Kisser away but when a man has got a wife like Florrie and here I am over here and there she is over there well Al a man don’t get to sleep no quicker nights from thinking about it and I lay there night after night and wonder what and the he – ll can she be doing and she might be doing most anything Al and they’s only the one thing that its a cinch she ain’t doing and that’s writeing a letter to me and a man would pretty near think she had forgot my first name but even at that she could set down and write to me and start it out Dear Husband.

But the way she acts why even if they was any fun over here I wouldn’t be haveing it and suppose I do get on Gen. Pershing’s staff and get a lieut. or something and write and tell her about it, why she would probably wait till a legal holiday to answer me back and then she would write about 10 words and say she went to the Palace last week and when she come out after the show it was raining.

Well Al you can’t blame a man for anything he pulls off when their wife acts like that and if I give that little Ernestine a smack the next time she bulges her lips out at me whose fault is it Al? Not mine.

Your pal, Jack.

SOMEWHERES IN FRANCE,
MARCH 20.

Friend Al:  Well Al the sooner the Germans starts their drive let them come and I only hope we are up there when they start it and believe me Al if they come at us with the gas I will dive into it with my mouth wide open and see how much of it I can get because they’s no use Al of a man trying to live with the kind of luck I have got and I’m sick in tired of it all.

Wait till you hear what come off today Al. In the first place my feet’s been going back on me for a long wile and they walked us all over France yesterday and this A. M. I couldn’t hardly get my shoes on and they was going out for riffle practice and I don’t need no riffle practice Al and besides that I couldn’t of stood it so I got excused and I set around a wile after the rest of the bunch was gone and finely my feet got feeling a little better and I walked over to the estaminet where that little gal’s at to see if maybe I couldn’t brighten things up a little for her and sure enough she was all smiles when she seen me and we talked a wile about this in that and she tried to get personal and called me cherry which is like we say dearie and finely I made the remark that I didn’t think we would be here much longer and then I seen she was going to blubber so I kind of petted her hand and stroked her hair and she poked her lips out and I give her a smack Al but just like you would kiss a kid or something after they fell down and hurt themself. Well Al just as this was comeing off the door to the other part of the joint opened up and in come her old man and seen it and I thought all Frenchmens talked fast Al but this old bird made them sound like a impediment and he come at me and if he hadn’t been so old I would of crowned him but of course I couldn’t do nothing only let him rave and finely I felt kind of sorry for him and I had a 20 frank note on me so I shoved it at him and it struck him dumb Al and I got out of there and come back to the Ark and it seems like I had been away a whole lot longer then I meant to and any way I hadn’t hardly no more then got my shoes off and layed down when in come some of the boys.

Well Al what do you think? Gen. Pershing was out there to the riffle practice to overlook them and I suppose he heard we was going to be out there and he went out there to be sure and catch me and he was makeing a visit around the camp and instead of him stopping here he went out there to see us and instead of me being out there Al, here I was mixed up in a riot with an old goof over nothing you might say and Black Jack wondring where and the he – ll could I be at because Alcock told me he noticed him looking around like he mist somebody. And now he’s on his way back to Paris and probably sore as a boil and I can’t do nothing only wait to hear from him and probably he will just decide to pass me up.

And the worst of it is Al that when they brought us the mail they was 2 letters for me from Florrie and I couldn’t of asked for nicer letters if I had wrote them myself only why and the he – ll couldn’t she of wrote them a day sooner and I would of no more thought of getting excused today then fly because if I had knew how my Mrs. mist me and how much she cares I wouldn’t of been waisting no time on no Ernestine but its to late now and Black Jack’s gone and so is my 20 franks and believe me Al 20 frank notes is tray pew over here. I’ll say they are.

Your pal, Jack.

• 4 •

Decorated

SOMEWHERES IN FRANCE,
APRIL 2.

Friend Al:  Well Al yesterday was April Fool and you ought to seen what I pulled on 1 of the boys Johnny Alcock and it was a screen and some of the boys is still laughing over it yet but he is I of the kind that he can’t see a joke at their own expenses and he swelled up like a poison pup and now he is talking about he will get even with me, but the bird that gets even with me will half to get up a long time before revelry eh Al.

Well Al I will tell you what I pulled on him and I bet you will bust your sides. Well it seems like Johnny has got a girl in his home town Riverside, Ill. near Chi and that is he don’t know if he has got her or not because him and another bird was both makeing a play for her, but before he come away she told him to not worry, but the other bird got himself excused out of the draft with a cold sore or something and is still there in the old town yet where he can go and call on her every night and she is libel to figure that maybe she better marry him so as she can have some of her evenings to herself and any way she might as well of told Johnny to not scratch himself over here as to not worry because for some reason another the gal didn’t write to him last month at lease he didn’t get no letters and maybe they got lost or she had writers cramps or something but any way every time the mail come and nothing for him he looked like he had been caught off second base.

Well the day before yesterday he was reading 1 of the letters he got from this baby 5 or 6 wks. ago on acct. of not haveing nothing better to read and he left the envelope lay on the floor and I was going to hand it back to him but I happened to think that yesterday would be April Fool so I kept a hold of the envelope and I got a piece of paper and wrote April Fool on it and stuck it in the envelope and fixed it up so as it would look like a new letter and I handed it to him yesterday like it was mail that had only just came for him and you ought to see him when he tore it open and didn’t find nothing only April Fool in it. At first he couldn’t say nothing but finely he says “That’s some comedy Keefe. You ought to be a end man in the stretcher bearers minstrels” and he didn’t crack a smile so I said “What’s the matter with you can’t you take a joke?” So he said “What I would like to take is a crack at your jaw.” So I said “Well it’s to bad your arms is both paralyzed.” Well Al they’s nothing the matter with his arms and I was just kidding him because as far as him hitting anybody is conserned I was just as safe as the gen. staff because he ain’t much bigger than a cutie and for him to reach my jaw he would half to join the aviation.

Well of course he didn’t start nothing but just said he would get back at me if it took him till the duration of the war and I told some of the other boys about putting it over on him and they couldn’t hardly help from smileing but he acts like a baby and don’t speak to me and I suppose maybe he thinks that makes me feel bad but I got to be 25 yrs. old before I ever seen him and if his head was blowed off tomorrow A. M. I would try and show up for my 3 meals a day if you could call them that.

But speaking about April Fool Al I just stopped writeing to try and light a cigarette with 1 of these here French matchs and every one of them is a April Fool and I guess the parents of the kids over here don’t never half to worry about them smokeing to young because even if they had a box of cigarettes hid in their cradle they would be of age before they would run across a match that lit and I wouldn’t be scared to give little Al a bunch and turn him loose in a bbl. of gasoline.

Well Al I suppose you been reading in the papers about the Dutchmens starting a drive vs. the English up in the northren part of the section and at first it looked like the English was going to leave them walk into the Gulf Stream and scald themself to death, but now it seems like we have got them slowed up at lease that’s the dope we get here but for all the news we get a hold of we might as well of jumped to the codfish league on the way over and once in a wile some of the boys gets a U. S. paper a mo. old but they hog onto it and don’t leave nobody else see it but as far as I am conserned they can keep it because I haven’t no time to waist reading about the Frisco fair or the Federal League has blowed up and etc. And of course they’s plenty of newspapers from Paris but all printed in la la la so as every time you come to a word you half to rumage through a dictionary and even when you run it down its libel to mean 20 different articles and by the time you figured out whether they are talking about a st. car or a hot bath or a raisin or what and the he – ll they are talking about they wouldn’t be no more news to it then the bible and it looks to me Al like it would be a good idear if you was to drop me a post card when the war is over so as I can tell Capt. Seeley or he will still be running us ragged to get in shape a couple of yrs. after the last of the Dutchmens lays molting in the grave.

Jokeing to 1 side Al you probably know what’s going on a long wile before we do and the only chance we would have to know how a battle come out would be if we was in it and they’s no chance of that unless they send us up to the northern part of the section to help out because Van Hindenburg must have something under his hat besides bristles and he ain’t a sucker enough to start driveing vs. the front that we are behind it unless he is so homesick that he can’t stand it no longer in France.

Your pal, Jack.

SOMEWHERES IN FRANCE,
APRIL 6.

Friend Al:  Well Al 1 of the Chi newspapers is getting out a paper in Paris and printed in English and I just seen a copy of it where the Allys has finely got wise to themself and made 1 man gen. of all the Allys and it was a sucker play to not do that long ago only it looks to me like they pulled another boner by makeing a Frenchman the gen. and I suppose they done it for a complement to the Frenchmens on acct. of the war being here, but even suppose this here Foch is a smart gen. and use his brains and etc. it looks to me like it would of been a whole lot better to of picked out a man that can speak English because suppose we was all in a big battle or something and he wanted we should go over the top and if he said it in French why most of the boys hasn’t made no attempts to master the language and as far as they was conserned he might as well be telling them to wash their neck. Or else they would half to be interpeters to translate it out in English what he was getting at and by the time he give the orders to fire and the interpeter looked it up and seen what it meant in English and then tell us about it the Dutchmens would be putting peep holes through us with a bayonet and besides the French word for fire in English is feu in French and you say it like it was few and if Gen. Foch yelled few we might think he was complaining of the heat.

But at that its better to have I man running it even a Frenchman then a lot of different gens, telling us to do this in that and the other thing every one of them different and suppose they done that in baseball Al and a club had 3 or 4 mgrs. and suppose for inst. it come up to the 9th. inning and we needed some runs and it was Benz’s turn to hit and 1 mgr. would tell him to go up and hit for himself and another mgr. would tell Murphy to go up and hit for him and another mgr. would send Risberg up and another would send Russell and the next thing you know they would be 2 of them swinging from 1 side of the plate and 2 from the other side and probably busting each other in the bean with their bats but you take most bird’s beans and what would break would be Mr. Bat. But its the same in war like in baseball and you got to have 1 man running it. With a lot of different gens. in command, 1 of them might tell the men to charge while another was telling them to pay cash. Jokeing to 1 side Al some of our boys have overtook a section up along the Moose river and I wouldn’t dast write about it only its been printed in the papers all ready so I am not giveing away no secrets to the Dutchmens. At lease they don’t mind us writeing something that’s came out in the papers though as far as I can see how would the Dutchmens know it any more if it was in the papers or not, because they ain’t so choked with jack over in Germany that they are going to spend it on U. S. papers a mo. old and even when they got them they would half to find somebody that could read English and hadn’t been killed for it and it would be like as if I should spend part of my $15 a mo. subscribeing to the Chop Suey Bladder that you would half to lay on your stomach and hold it with your feet to get it right side up and even then it wouldn’t mean nothing. But any way the Dutchmens is going to know sooner or later that we are in the war and what’s the differents if they meet us at the Moose or the Elks? Jokeing a side Al I guess you won’t be supprised to hear how I have picked up in the riffle practice and I knew right along that I couldn’t hardly help from being a A No. 1 marksman because a man that had almost perfect control in pitching you might say would be bound to shoot straight when they got the hang of it and don’t be supprised if I write you 1 of these days that I been appointed a snipper that sets up in a tree somewheres and picks off the boshs whenever they stick their head up and they call them snippers so pretty soon my name is libel to be Jake Snipe instead of Jack Keefe, but seriously Al I can pick off them targets like they was cherrys or something and maybe I won’t half to go in the trenchs at all.

I guess I all ready told you about that little trick I pulled on Johnny Alcock for a April Fool gag and at first he swelled up like a poison pup and wouldn’t talk to me and said he wouldn’t never rest till he got even. Well he finely got a real letter from the gal back home and she is still waiting for him yet so he feels O.K. again and I and him are on speaking turns again and I am glad to not be scraping with him because I don’t never feel right unless I am pals with everybody but they can’t nobody stay sore at me very long and even when some of the boys in baseball use to swell up when I pulled 1 of my gags on them it wouldn’t last long because I would just smile at them and they would half to smile back and be pals and I always say that if a man can’t take a joke he better take acid or something and make a corps out of himself instead of a monkey.

Your pal, Jack.

SOMEWHERES IN FRANCE,
APRIL 11.

Friend Al:  Well Al I don’t suppose you knew I was a detective but when it comes to being a dick it looks like I don’t half to salute Win. Burns or Shylock or none of them.

Seriously Al I come onto something today that may turn out to be something big and then again it may not but it looks like it was something big only of course it has got to be kept a secret till I get the goods on a certain bird and I won’t pull it till I have got him right and in that way he won’t suspect nothing until its to late. But I know you wouldn’t breath a word about it and besides it wouldn’t hurt nothing if you did because by the time you get this letter the whole thing will be over and this bird to who I refer will probably own a peace of land in France with a 2 ft. frontidge and 6 ft. deep. But you will wonder what am I trying to get at so maybe I better explain myself. Well Al they’s a big bird in our Co, name Geo. Shaffer and that’s a German name because look at Schaefer that use to play ball in our league and it was spelt different but they called him Germany and he thought he was funny and use to pull gags on the field but I guess he didn’t feel so funny the day Griffith sent him up to hit against me in the pinch I day at Washington and if the ball he hit had of went straight out instead of straight up it would of pretty near cleared the infield. But any way this bird Shaffer in our Co. is big enough to have a corporal to himself and they must of spent the first Liberty Loan on his uniform and he hasn’t hardly said a word since we been in France and for a wile we figured it was just because he was a crab and to grouchy to talk, but now I wouldn’t be supprised Al if the real reason was on acct. of him being a Dutchman and maybe can’t talk English very good. Well I would feel pretty mean to be spying on most of the boys that’s been good pals with me, but when a man is a pro German spy himself they’s no question of friendship and etc. and whatever I can do to show this bird up I won’t hesitate a minute.

Well Al this bird was writeing a letter last night and he didn’t have no envelope and he asked me did I have I and I said no and he wouldn’t of never spoke only to say Gimme but when I told him I didn’t have no envelope he started off somewheres to get 1 and he dropped the last page out of the letter he had been writeing and it was laying right there along side of me and of course I wouldn’t of paid no tension to it only it was face up so as I couldn’t help from seeing it and what I seen wasn’t no words like a man would write in a letter but it was a bunch of marks like a x down at the bottom and they was a whole line of them like this x x x x x x x x x x x

Well that roused up my suspicions and I guess you know I am not the kind that reads other people’s letters even if I don’t get none of my own to read but this here letter I kind of felt like they was something funny about it like he was writeing in ciphers or something so I picked the page up and read it through and sure enough they was parts of it in ciphers and if a man didn’t have the key you couldn’t tell what and the he – ll he was getting at.

Well Al I was still studing the page yet when he come back in and they wasn’t nothing for me to do only set on it so as he wouldn’t see I had it and he come over and begin looking for it and I asked him had he lost something to throw him off the track and he said yes but he didn’t say what it was and that made it all the more suspicious so he finely give up looking and went out again.

Well I have got it put away where he can’t get a hold of it because I showed it to Johnny Alcock this A. M. and asked him if it didn’t look like something off color and he said yes it did and if he was me he would turn it over to Capt. Seeley but on 2d thoughts he said I better keep it a wile and at the same time keep a eye on Shaffer and get more evidents vs. him and then when I had him dead to rights I could turn the letter and the rest of the evidents over to Capt. Seeley and then I would be sure to get the credit for showing him up. Well Al I figure this 1 page of his letter is enough or more then enough only of course its best to play safe and keep my eyes pealed and see what comes off and I haven’t got time to copy down the whole page Al and besides they’s a few sentences that sounds O.K. and I suppose he put them in for a blind but you can’t get away from them x marks Al and I will write down a couple other sentences and I bet you will agree that they’s something fishy about them and here is the sentences to which I refer:

“In regards to your question I guess I understand O.K. In reply will say yes I. L. Y. more than Y. L. M. Am I right.”

“Have you saw D. Give him a ring and tell the old spinort I am W. C. T. U. outside of a little Vin Blank.”

Can you make heads or tales out of that Al? I guess not and neither could anybody else except they had the key to it and the best part of it is his name is signed down at the bottom and if he can explain that line of talk he is a wonder but he can’t explain it Al and all as he can do is make a clean brest of the whole business and Alcock thinks the same way and Alcock says he wished he had of been the 1 that got a hold of this evidents because whoever turned it over to Capt. Sceley along with what other facts I can get a hold of will just about get a commission in the intelligents dept. and that’s the men that looks after the pro German spys Al and gets the dope on them and shows them up and I would probably have my head quarters in Paris and get good money besides my expenses and I would half to pass up the chance to get in the trenchs and fight but they’s more ways of fighting then 1 and in this game Al a man has got to go where they send you and where they figure they would do the most good and if my country needs me to track after spys I will sacrifice my own wishs though I would a whole lot rather stay with my pals and fight along side of them and not snoop round Paris fondleing door nobs like a night watchman. But Alcock says he would bet money that is where I will land and he says “You ought to feel right at home in the intelligents dept. like a camel in Lake Erie” and he says the first chance I get I better try and start up a conversation with Shaffer and try and lead him on and that is the way they trap them is to ask them a whole lot of questions and see what they have got to say and if you keep fireing questions at them they are bound to get balled up and then its good night.

Well I don’t suppose it seems possible to you stay at homes that they could be such a thing like a pro German spy in the U. S. army and how did he get there and why did they leave him in and etc. Well Al you would be supprised to know how many of them has slipped in and Alcock says that at first it amounted to about 200% but the intelligents officers has been on their sent all the wile and most of them has been nailed and when they get them they shoot them down like a dog and that’s what Shaffer will get Al and he is out of luck to be so big because all as the fireing squad would half to do would be look at their compass and see if he was east or west of them and then face their riffle in that direction and let go.

I will write and let you know how things comes along.

Your pal, Jack.

SOMEWHERES IN FRANCE,
APRIL 14.

Friend Al:  Well Al I am closeing the net of evidents around Shaffer and I guess I all ready got enough on him to make out a case that he couldn’t never wrinkle out of it but Capt. Seeley is away and I can’t do nothing till he gets back.

I had my man on the grill today Al and I thought he would be a fox and not criminate himself but I guess I went at him so smooth he didn’t never suspect nothing till along towards the finish and then it was to late. I don’t remember all that was said but it run along these lines like as follows: In the first place I asked him where he lived and he said Milwaukee Ave. in Chi and I don’t know if you know it or not Al but that’s a st. where they have got traffic policemens at the corners to blow their whistles once for the Germans to go north and south and twice for them to go east and west. So then I said was he married and he says no. So then I asked him where he was born and he said “What and the he – ll are you the personal officer?” So I laughed it off and said “No but I thought maybe we come from the same part of the country.” So he says something about everybody didn’t half to come from the country but he wouldn’t come out and say where he did come from so then I kind of led around to the war and I made the remark that the German drive up on the north side of France didn’t get very far and he says maybe they wasn’t through. How was that for a fine line of talk Al and he might as well have said he hoped the Germans wouldn’t never be stopped.

Well for a minute I couldn’t hardly help from takeing a crack at him but in these kind of matters Al a man has got to keep a hold of themself or they will loose their quarry so I kind of forced a smile and said “Well I guess they would have kept going if they could of.” And then he says “Yes but they half to stop every once in a wile to bring up Van Hindenburg.” So I had him traped Al and quick is a flash I said “Who told you their plans?” And he says “Oh he – ll my mother in law” and walked away from me.

Well Al it was just like sometimes when they are trying a man for murder and he says he couldn’t of did it because he was over to the Elite jazing when it come off and a little wile later the lawyer asks him where did he say he was at when the party was croked and he forgets what he said the 1st. time and says he was out to Lincoln Pk. kidding the bison or something and the lawyer points out to the jury where his storys don’t jib and the next thing you know he is dressed up in a hemp collar a couple sizes to small.

And that’s the same way I triped Shaffer getting him to say he wasn’t married and finely when I have him cornered he busts out about his mother in law. Well Al I don’t know of no way to get a mother in law without marrying into one. So I told Alcock tonight what had came off and he says it looked to him like I had a strong case and if he was me he would spill it to Capt. Seeley the minute he gets back. And he said “You lucky stiff you won’t never see the inside of a front line trench.” So I asked him what he meant and he repeated over again what he said about them takeing me in the intelligents dept. So it looks like I was about through being a doughboy Al and pretty soon I will probably be writeing to you from Paris but I don’t suppose I will be able to tell you what I am doing because that’s the kind of a job where mum is the word.

Your pal, Jack.

SOMEWHERES IN FRANCE,
APRIL 16.

Friend Al:  Well old pal don’t be supprised if I write you the next time from Paris. I have got a date to see Capt. Seeley tomorrow and Lieut. Mather fixed it up for me to see him but I had to convince the lieut. that it wasn’t no monkey business because they’s always a whole lot of riffs and raffs asking Capt. Seeley can they have a word with him and what they want is to borry his knife to pair their finger nails.

But I guess he won’t be sorry he seen me Al not when I show him the stuff I have got on this bird and he will probably shake me by the hand and say “Well Keefe Uncle Sam is proud of you but you are waisting your time here and I will be sorry to loose you but it looks like you belong in other fields.” And he will wire a telegram to the gen. staff reccomending me to go to Paris.

I guess I all ready told you some of the stuff I have got on this bird but I have not told you all because the best one didn’t only happen last night. Well on acct. of I and Alcock being friends he has kind of been keeping a eye pealed on Shaffer to help me out and he found a letter last night that Shaffer had wrote and this time it was the whole letter with the address and everything and who do you suppose it was to? Well Al it was to Van Hindenburg himself and I have got it right here where I can keep a eye on it and believe me it’s worth watching and I wished I could send it to you so you could see for yourself what kind of a bird we are dealing with. But that’s impossible Al but they’s nothing to keep me from copping it off.

Well the letter is wrote in German and to show you what a foxy bird he is he wrote it out in printing so as if it got found by somebody they couldn’t prove he wrote it because when words is wrote out in printing it looks just the same who ever wrote it and you can’t tell. But he wasn’t foxy enough to not sign G. S. down to the bottom of it and that stands for his name George Shaffer and he is the only G. S. in the Co. so it looks like we had him up in a tree. Here is what the letter says:

“Field Marshall Van Hindenburg, c/o Die Vierten Dachshunds, Deutscher Armee, Flanders. 500,000 U. S. Soldaten schon in Frankreich doch. In Lauterbach habe Ich mein Strumpf verloren und ohne Strumpf gehe Ich nicht heim. xxxxxxx G.S.”

Notice them x marks again Al like in the other letter and the other letter was probably to Van Hindenburg to and I only wished I knew what the x marks means but maybe some of the birds that’s all ready in the intelligents dept. can figure it out. But they’s no mystery about the rest of it Al because Alcock understands German and he translated it out what the German words means and here is what it means:

500,000 United States soldiers in France all ready yet. Will advise you when to attack on this front.

How is that Al for a fine trader and spy to tell the gen. of the German army how many soldiers we got over here and to not attack till Shaffer says the word and he was probably going to say it wile we was all asleep or something. But thanks to me Al he will be the one that is asleep and it will be some sleep Al and it will make old Rip and Winkle look like they had the colic and when the boys finds out what I done for them I guess they won’t be nothing to good for me. But it will be to late for them to show their appreciations because I won’t be here no more and the boys probably won’t see me again till its all over and we are back in the old U. S. because Alcock was talking to a bird that’s in the int. dept. and he says 1 of their dutys was to keep away from everybody and not leave them know who you are. Because of course if word got out that you was a spy chaser the spys wouldn’t hardly run up and kiss you on the st. but they would duck when they seen you and you would have as much chance to catch them as though you was trolling for wales with a grass hopper.

And from this bird’s dope that Alcock was talking to I will half to leave off my uniform and wear plain close and maybe wear false whiskers and etc. so as people who see me the 1st. time I will look different to them the next time they see me and maybe I will half to let my mustache grow and grease it so as they will think maybe I am a Dutchman and if they are working for the Kaiser I could maybe pump them.

But they’s 1 thing I don’t like about it Al because Alcock says Paris is full of women that isn’t exactly spys but they have been made a fool out of and they are some German’s duke but the Dutchmens tells them a whole lot of things that Uncle Sam would like to know and I would half to find them things out and the only way to do that would be to get them stuck on me and I guess that wouldn’t be no chore but when a gal gets stuck on you they will tell you everything they know and wile with most gals I ever seen they could do that without dropping another nickle still and all it would be different with these gals in Paris that’s been the tools of some Dutchmens because you take a German and he don’t never stop braging till he inhales a bayonet.

But it don’t seem fair to make love to them and pertend like I was nuts over them and then when I had learned all they was to know I would half to get rid of them and cast them to 1 side and god knows how many wounds I will leave behind me but probably as many as though I was a regular soldier or snipper but then I wouldn’t feel so bad about it because it would be men and not girlies but everything goes in war fair as they say Al and if Uncle Sam and Gen. Pershing asks me to do it I will do whatever they ask me and they can’t nobody really hold it vs. me because of why I am doing it.

But talking about snippers Al I noticed today that I wasn’t near as good as usual in the riffle practice and it was like as if I was haveing a slump like some of the boys does in baseball when they go along 5 or 6 days without finding out who is umpireing the bases and I am afraid that is how it would be with me in snipping I would be O.K. part of the time and the rest of the time I couldn’t hit Europe and maybe I would fall down when they was depending on me and then I would feel like a rummy so I guess I better not try and show up so good in practice even when I do feel O.K. because they might make a snipper out of me without knowing my weakness and I figure its something the matter with my eyes. Besides Al it don’t seem like its a fair game to be pecking away at somebody that they can’t see you and aren’t looking for no supprise and its a whole lot different then fighting with a bayonet where its man to man and may the best man win.

Well Al I guess I have told you all the news and things is going along about as usual and they don’t seem to be no prospects of us overtakeing a section up to the front but its just train and train and train and if the ball clubs had a training trip like we been haveing they would be so tired by the 1 of May that they wouldn’t run out a base on balls. Yesterday we past by a flock of motor Lauras that was takeing wounded back to a base hospital somewheres and Alcock was talking to 1 of the drivers and he said that over 100% of the birds that’s getting wounded and killed these days is the snippers and the boshs don’t never rest till they find out where there nests is at and then they get all their best marksmens and aim at where they think the snipper has got his nest and then its good night snipper and he is either killed right out or looses a couple of legs or something. I certainly feel sorry for the boys that’s wounded Al and every time we see a bunch of them all us boys is crazy to get up there to the front and get even for what they done.

Well old pal I will half to get busy now and overlook the dope I have got on Shaffer so as I will have everything in order for Capt. Seeley and I will write and let you know how things comes out.

Your pal, Jack.

SOMEWHERES IN FRANCE,
APRIL 18.

Friend Al:  Well Al they’s a whole lot of birds that thinks they are wise and always trying to pull off something on somebody but once in a wile they pick out the wrong bird to pull it on and then the laugh is on the smart Alex themself.

Well Alcock and some of them thought they was putting up a game on me and was going to make me look like a monkey but before I get through with them Al they will be the suckers and I will be giveing them the horse laugh but what I ought to do is bust them in the jaw and if I was running this war every bird that tried to pull off some practical joke to put a man in bad, I would give a lead shower in their honor some A. M. before breakfast.

Alcock was trying to make me believe that 1 of the boys in the Co. name Geo. Shaffer was a German spy or something and they framed up a letter like as if he wrote it to Van Hindenburg giveing away secrets in German about our army and etc. but they made the mistake of signing his initials to the letter so when I come to think it over I seen it must be a fake because a bird that was a real spy wouldn’t never sign their own name to a letter but they would sign John Smith or something.

But any way I had a hold of this letter and a peace of another letter that Shaffer really did write it and I thought I would show them to Capt. Seeley and play it safe because they might be something in them after all and any way it would give him a good laugh. So yesterday I went and seen him and he says “Well Keefe what can I do for you?” So I said “You can’t do nothing for me sir but this time I can do something for you. What would you think if I told you they was a trader and a German spy in your Co.” So he says “I would think you were crazy.” So I said “I am afraid you will half to think so then but maybe you won’t think I am so crazy when I show you the goods.”

So then Al I pulled that 1st. peace of a letter on him and showed it to him and he read it and when he got through he says “Well it looks suspicious all right. It looks like the man that wrote it was hacking up a big plot to spring a few dependents on his local board the next time they draft him.” So I said “The bird that wrote that letter is a Dutchman name Geo. Shaffer.” So Capt. Seeley says “Well I wish him all the luck in the world and a lot of little Shaffers.” So I said “Yes but what about them x marks and all them letters without no words to them?” So he said “Didn’t you never correspond with a girl and put some of them xs down to the bottom of your letter?” So I says “I have wrote letters to a whole lot of girls but I never had to write nothing in ciphers because I wasn’t never ashamed of anything I wrote.” So he said “Well your lady friends was all cheated then because this is ciphers all right but its the kind of messages they love to read because it means kisses.”

Well Al of course I knew it meant something like that but I didn’t think a big truck horse like Shaffer would make such a mushmellow out of himself. But anyway I said to Capt. Seeley I says “All right but what about them other initials without no words to go with them?” And he says “Well that’s some more ciphers but they’s probably a little gal out in Chi that don’t half to look at no key to figure it out.”

So then I pulled the other letter on him the 1 in German and he also smiled when he read this one and finely he says “Some of your pals has been playing a trick on you like when you come over on the ship and the best thing you can do is to tear the letters up and keep it quite and don’t leave nobody know you fell for it. And now I have got a whole lot to tend to so good by.”

So that’s all that was said between us and I come away and come back to quarters and Alcock and 2 or 3 of the other boys was there and Alcock knew where I had been and I suppose he had told the other birds and they was all set to give me the Mary ha ha but I beat them to it.

“Well Alcock” I says when I come in “you are some joke Smith but you wouldn’t think you was so funny if I punched your jaw.” So he turned kind of pail but he forced a smile and says “Well I guess the Vin Blank is on you this time.” So I said “You won’t get no Vin Blank off me but what you are libel to get is a wallop in the jaw.” So he says “You crabbed at me a wile ago for not takeing a joke but it looks like you was the one that couldn’t take them now.” So I said “What I would like to take is a poke at your nose.” So that shut him up and they didn’t none of them get their laugh because I had them scared and if they had of laughed I would of made them swallow it.

So after all Al the laugh is on them because their gag fell dead and I guess the next time they try and pull some gag they will pick out some hick from some X roads to pull it on and not a bird that has traveled all over the big leagues and seen all they is to see.

Well Al I am tickled to death I won’t half to give up my uniform and snoop around Paris like a white wings double crossing women and spying and etc. and even if the whole thing hadn’t of been just a joke I was going to ask Capt. Seeley to not reccomend me to no int. dept. but jest leave me be where I am at so as when the time comes I can fight fair like man to man and not behind no woman’s skirts like a cur.

So you see Al everything is O.K. after all and the laugh is on Alcock and his friends because they was the ones that expected to do all the laughing but instead of that I made a monkey out of them.

Your pal, Jack.

SOMEWHERES IN FRANCE,
APRIL 23.

Friend Al:  Well Al if you would see my face you would think I had been attending a barrage or something or else I had been in a bar room fight only of course if it was a fair fight I wouldn’t be so kind of marred up like I am. But I had a accident Al and fell over a bunk and lit on the old bean and the result is Al that I have got a black eye and a bad nose and my jaw is swole a little and my ears feels kind of dull like so I guess the ladys wouldn’t call me Handsome Jack if they seen me but it will be all O.K. in a few days and I will be the same old Jack.

But I will tell you how it come off. I was setting reading a letter from Florrie that all as she said in it was that she had boughten herself a new suit that everybody says was the cutest she ever had on her back just like I give a dam because by the time I see her in it she will of gave it to little Al’s Swede. But any way I was reading this letter when in come Shaffer the bird that was mixed up in that little gag about the fake spy and he come up to me and says “Well you big snake who’s male are you reading now?” Well Al him calling me big is like I would say hello Jumbo to a flee. But any way I says “My own male and who and the he – ll male would I be reading?” So he said “Well its hard to tell because you stole some of mine and read it and not only that but you showed it to the whole A. E. F. so now stand up and take what’s comeing to you.”

Well Al I thought he was just kidding so I says “I come over here to fight Germans and not 1 of my own pals.” So he says “Don’t call me no pal, but if you come to fight Germans now is your chance because you say I’m 1 of them.”

Well he kind of made a funny motion like he wanted to spar or wrestle or something and I thought he meant it in a friendly way like we sometimes pull off a rough house once in a wile so I stood up but before I had a chance to take holds with him he cut loose at me with his fists doubled up and I kind of triped or something and fell over a bench and I must have hit something sharp on the way down and I kind of got scratched up but they are only scratchs and don’t amt. to nothing. Only I wished I knew he had of been serious and I would of made a punching bag out of him and you can bet that the next time he wants to start something I won’t wait to see if he is jokeing but I will tear into him and he will think he run into a Minnie Weffers.

Well I suppose Alcock was sore at me for getting the best of him and not falling for his gag and he was afraid to tackle me himself and he told big Shaffer a peck of lies about some dam letter or something and said I stole it and it made Shaffer sore and no wonder because who wouldn’t be sore if they thought somebody was reading their male. But a man like Shaffer that if he stopped a shell the Dutchmens would half to move back a ways so as they would be room enough in France to bury him hasn’t got no right to pick on a smaller man especially when I wasn’t feeling good on acct. of something I eat but at that Al size don’t make no difference and its the bird that’s got the nerve and knows how that can knock them dead and if Shaffer had of gave me any warning he would of been the 1 that is scratched up instead of I though I guess he is to lucky to trip over a kit bag and fall down and cut himself.

But my scratchs don’t really amt. to nothing Al and in a few days I will be like new.

Your pal, Jack.

SOMEWHERES IN FRANCE,
APRIL 25.

Friend Al:  Well old pal I have got some big news for you now. We been ordered up to the front and its good by to this Class D burg and now for some real actions and I am tickled to death and I only hope the Dutchmens will loose their minds and try and start something up on the section where we are going to and I can’t tell you where its at Al but you keep watching the papers and even if the boshs don’t start nothing maybe we will start something on our own acct. and the next thing you know you will read where we have got them on the Lincoln highway towards Russia and believe me Al we won’t half to stop every little wile to bring up no Van Hindenburg but we will run them ragged and they say the Germans is the best singers and when they all bust out with Comrades they will make the Great Lakes band sound like the Russia artillery.

Well Al I am so excited I can’t write much and I have got a 100 things to tend to so I will half to cut this letter short.

Well some of the other birds like Alcock and them is pertending like they was tickled to death to but believe me Al if the orders was changed all of a sudden and they told us we was going to stay here till the duration of the war we wouldn’t half to call on the Engrs. to dam their tear ducks. But they pertend like they are pleased and keep whistleing so as they won’t blubber and today they all laughed their heads off at something that come out in the Co. paper that some of the boys gets out but they laughed like they was nervous instead of enjoying it.

Well what come out in the paper was supposed to be a joke on me and if they think its funny they are welcome and I would send the paper to you that its in only I haven’t got only the 1 copy so I will copy it down and you can see for yourself what a screen it is. Well they’s 1 peace that’s got up to look like it was the casuality list in some regular newspaper and it says:

WOUNDED IN ACTION
Privates
Jack Keefe, Chicago, Ill. (Very)

And then they’s another peace that reads like this:

DECORATED

“The Company has won its first war honors and Private Jack Keefe is the lucky dog. Private Keefe has been decorated by Gen. George Shaffer of the 4th. Dachshunds for extreme courage and cleverness in showing up a dangerous nest of spies. Keefe was hit four times by large caliber shells before he could say surrender. He was decorated with the Order of the Schwarz Auge, the Order of the Rot Nase and the Order of the Blumenkohl Ohren, besides which a Right Cross was hung on his jaw. Private Keefe takes his honors very modestly, no one having even heard him mention them except in stifled tones during the night.”

Well Al all right if they can find something to amuse themself and they need it I guess. But they better remember that they’s plenty of time for the laugh to be on the other foot before this war is over.

Your pal, Jack.

• 5 •

Sammy Boy

IN THE TRENCHS,
MAY 6.

Friend Al:  Well Al I haven’t wrote you no letter for a long wile and I suppose maybe you think something might of happened to me or something. Well old pal they hasn’t nothing happened and I only wished they would because anything would be better than laying around here and I would rather stop a shell and get spread all over Europe then lay around here and die a day at a time you might say.

Well I would of wrote you before only we was on the march and by the time night come around my dogs fret me so bad I couldn’t think of nothing else and when they told us we was comeing up here I thought of course they would send us up in motor Lauras or something and not wear us all out before we got here but no it was drill every ft. of the way and I said to Johnny Alcock the night we got here that when they was sending us up here to die they might at lease give us a ride and he says no because when they send a man to the electric chair they don’t push him up there in a go cart but they make him get there on his own dogs. So I said “Yes but he travels light and he don’t half to go far and when he gets there they’s a chair waiting for him to set down in it but they load us up like a troop ship and walk us 1/2 way to Sweden and when we finely get here we can either remain standing or lay down in a mud puddle and tuck ourself in.”

And another thing Al I thought they meant we was going right in the front line trenchs where a man has got a chance to see some fun but where we are at is what they call the reserve trenchs and we been here 3 days all ready and have got to stay here 7 days more that is unless they should something happen to the regt. that’s up ahead of us in the front line and if they get smashed up or something and half to be sent back to the factory then we will jump right in and take their place and I don’t wish them no bad luck but I wished they would get messed up tonight at lease enough so as they would half to come out for repairs but it don’t look like they was much chance of that as we are on a quite section where they hasn’t been nothing doing since the war begin you might say but of course Jerry is raising he – ll all over the front now and here is where he will probably pick on next and believe me Al we will give him a welcome.

But the way things is mapped out now we will be here another wk. yet and then up in the front row for 10 days and then back to the rest billets for a rest but they say the only thing that gets a rest back there is your stomach but believe me your stomach gets a holiday right here without going to no rest billets.

Well I thought they would be some excitement up here but its like church but everybody says just wait till we get up in front and then we will have plenty of excitement well I hope they are telling the truth because its sure motonus here and about all as we do is have inspections and scratch. As Johnny Alcock says France may of lose a whole lot of men in this war but they don’t seem to of been no casualitys amist the cuties.

Well Al they’s plenty of other bugs here as well as the kinds that itchs and I mean some of the boys themselfs and here is where it comes out on them is where they haven’t nothing to do only lay around and they’s 1 bird that his name is Harry Friend but the boys calls him the chicken hawk and its not only on acct. of him loveing the ladys but he is all the wile writeing letters to them and he is 1 of these fancy writers that has to wind up before he comes down on the paper with a word and between every word he sores up and swoops down again like he was over a barn yard and sometimes the boys set around and bets on how many wirls he will take before he will get within writeing distants of the paper.

Well any way he must get a whole lot of letters wrote if he answers all the ones that comes for him because every time you bump into him he pulls one on you that he just got from some gal that’s nuts about him somewheres in the U. S. and its always a different 1 and I bet the stores that sells service stars kept open evenings the wk. this bird enlisted in the draft. But today it was a French gal that he had a letter from her some dame in Chalons and he showed me her picture and she’s some queen Al and he is pulling for us to be sent there on our leave after we serve our turn up here and I don’t blame him for wanting to be where she’s at and I wished they was some baby doll that I could pal around with in what ever burg they ship us to. But I don’t know nobody Al and besides I’m a married man so no flirting with the parley vous for me and I suppose I will spend most of my time with the 2 Vin sisters and a headache.

Your pal, Jack.

IN THE TRENCHS,
MAY 9.

Friend Al:  Well Al I was talking to 1 of the boys Jack Brady today and we was talking about Harry Friend and I told Jack about him getting a letter from this French girlie at Chalons and how he was pulling for us to go there on our leave so as he could see her so Jack said he didn’t think we would go there but they would probably send us to 1 of the places where we could get a bath as god knows we will need one and they will probably send us to Aix les Bains or Nice or O. D. Cologne. So I said I didn’t care where we was sent as they wouldn’t be no gal waiting for me in none of them towns so Jack says it was my own fault if they wasn’t as all these places was full of girlies that was there for us to dance with them and etc. and the officers had all their names and addresses and the way to do was write to 1 of them and tell her when you was comeing and would she like to show you around and he said he would see 1 of the lieuts. that he stands pretty good with him and see what he could do for me. Well Al I told him to go ahead as I thought it was just a joke but sure enough he showed up after a wile and he said the lieut. didn’t only have 1 name left but she was a queen and he give me her name and address and its Miss Marie Antoinette 14 rue de Nez Rouge, O. D. Cologne.

Well Al I didn’t have nothing else to do so I set down and wrote her a note and I will coppy down what I wrote:

“Dear Miss Antoinette:  I suppose you will be supprised to hear from me and I hope you won’t think I am some fresh bird writeing you this letter for a joke or something but I am just 1 of Uncle Sam’s soldiers from the U. S. A. and am now in the trenchs fighting for your country. Well Miss Antoinette we expect to be here about 2 wks. more and then we will have a leave off for a few days and some of the boys thinks we may spend it in your city and I thought maybe you might be good enough to show me around when we get there. I was a baseball pitcher back in the U. S. A. tall and athletic build and I don’t suppose you know what baseball is but thought maybe you would wonder what I look like. Well if you aren’t busy when we get there I will hope to see you and if you are agreeable drop me a line here and I will sure look you up when I get there.”

So then I give her my name and where to reach me and of course they won’t nothing come out of it Al only a man has got to amuse yourself some way in a dump like this or they would go crazy. But it would sure be a horse on me if she was to answer the letter and say she would be glad to see me and then of course I would half to write and tell her I was a married man or else not write to her at all but of course they won’t nothing come out of it and its a good bet we won’t never see Cologne as that was just a guess on Brady’s part.

Well Al things is going along about like usual with nothing doing only inspections and etc. and telling us how to behave when we get up there in the front row and not to stick our head over the top in the day time and you would think we was the home guards or something and at that I guess the home guards is seeing as much of the war as we are in this old ditch but they say it will be different when we get up in front and believe me I hope so and they can’t send us there to soon to suit me.

Your pal, Jack.

IN THE TRENCHS,
MAY 11.

Friend Al:  Well Al here we are up in the front line trenchs and we come in here 2 days ahead of time but that’s the way they run everything in the army except feed you but they don’t never do nothing when they say they are going to and I suppose they want a man to get use to haveing things come by supprise so as it won’t interfere with your plans if you get killed a couple days before you was looking for it.

Well Al we are looking for it now most any day and this may be the last letter you will ever get from your old pal and you may think I am kidding when I say that but 1 of the boys told me a wile ago that he heard Capt. Seeley telling 1 of the lieuts. that the reason we come in here ahead of time was on acct. of them expecting the Dutchmans to make their next drive on this section and the birds that we are takeing their place was a bunch of yellow stiffs that was hard of hearing except when they was told to retreat and Gen. Pershing figured that if they was up here when Jerry made a attack they would turn around and open up a drive on Africa and the bosh has been going through the rest of the line like it was held by the ladies aid and Gen. Foch says they have got to be stopped so we are elected Al and you know what that means and it means we can’t retreat under no conditions but stay here till we get killed. So you see I wasn’t kidding Al and it looks like it was only a question of a few days or maybe not that long but at that I guess most of the boys would just as leave stop a Dutch bayonet as to lay around in this he – ll hole. Believe me Al this is a fine resort to spend 10 days at what with the mud and the perfume and a whole menajery useing you for a parade grounds.

Well Capt. Seeley wants us to get all the rest we can now on acct. of what’s comeing off after a wile but believe me I am not going to oversleep myself in this he – ll hole because suppose Jerry would pick out the time wile you was asleep to come over and pay us a visit and they’s supposed to be some of the boys on post duty to watch all night and keep their eye pealed and wake us up if they’s something stiring but I have been in hotels a lot of times and left a call with some gal that didn’t have nothing to do only pair her finger nails and when the time come ring me up but even at that she forgot it so what chance is they for 1 of these sentrys to remember and wake everybody up when maybe they’s 5 or 6 Dutchmens divideing him into building lots with their bayonet or something. So as far as I am conserned I will try and keep awake wile I can because it looks like when we do go to sleep we will stay asleep several yrs. and even if we are lucky enough to get back to them rest billets we can sleep till the cows come home a specially if they give us some more of them entertainments like we had in camp.

Well Al before we got here I thought they would be so much fireing back and 4th. up here that a man couldn’t hear themself think but I guess Jerry is saveing up for the big show though every little wile they try and locate our batterys and clean them out and once in so often 1 of our big guns replys but as Johnny Alcock says you couldn’t never accuse our artillrys from being to gabby and I guess we are lucky they are pretty near speechless as they might take a notion to fire short but any way a little wile ago 1 of our guns sent a big shell over and Johnny says what and the he – ll can that be and I said its a shell from 1 of our guns and he says he thought they fired 1 yesterday.

Well as I say here we are with 10 days of it stareing us in the eye and the cuties for company and the only way we can get out of here ahead of time is on a stretcher and I wouldn’t mind that Al but as I say I want to be awake when my time comes because if I am going to get killed in this war I want to have some idear who done it.

Your pal, Jack.

IN THE TRENCHS,
MAY 14.

Friend Al:  Well Al I got the supprise of my life today when Jack Brady handed me a letter that had came for me and that’s supprise enough itself but all the more when I opened it up and seen who it was from. Well it was from that baby in Cologne and I will coppy it down as it is short and you can see for yourself what she says. Well here it is:

“Dear Mr. Keefe:  Your letter just reached me and you can bet I was glad to get it. I sure will be glad to see you when you come to Cologne and I will be more than glad to show you the sights. This is some town and we sure will have a time when you get here. I am just learning to write English so please excuse mistakes but all I want to say is don’t disappoint me but write when you will come so I can be all dressed up comme un cheval. Avec l’amour und kussen.

“MARIE ANTOINETTE.”

You see Al they’s part of it wrote in French and that last part means with love and kisses. Well I guess that letter I wrote her must have went over strong and any ways it looks like she didn’t exactly hate me eh Al? Well it looks like I would half to write to her back and tell her I am a married man and they can’t be no flirting between her and I but if she wants to be a good pal and show me around O.K. and no harm done. Well I hope she takes it that way because it sure will seem good to talk to a gal again that can talk a little English and not la la la all the wile but of course its a good bet that I won’t never see her because we are just as libel to go somewheres else as Cologne though Brady seems to think that’s where we are headed for. Well time will tell and in the mean wile we are libel to get blowed to he – ll and gone and then of course it would be good by sweet Marie but I was supprised to hear from her as I only wrote to her in fun and didn’t think nothing would come from it but I guess Harry Friend isn’t the only lady killer in the U. S. army and if I was 1 of the kind that shows off all their letters I guess I have got 1 now to show.

A side from all that Al we was supposed to have our chow a hr. ago but no chow and some of the boys says its on acct. of our back arears being under fire and you see the kitchens is way back of the front lines and the boys on chow detail is supposed to bring our food up here but when the back arears is under fire they are scared to bring it up or they might maybe run into some bad luck on the way. How is that for fine dope Al when a whole regt. starves to death because a few yellow stiffs is afraid that maybe a shell might light near them and spill a few beans. Brady says maybe they are trying to starve us so as we will get mad and fight harder when the time comes like in the old days when they use to have fights between men and lions in Reno and Rome and for days ahead they wouldn’t give the lions nothing to eat so as they would be pretty near wild when they got in Reno and would make a rush at the gladaters that was supposed to fight them and try and eat them up on acct. of being so near starved. Well Al I would half to be good and hungry before I would want to eat a Dutchman a specially after they been in the trenchs a wile.

But any way it don’t make a whole lot of differents if the chow gets here or not because when it comes its nothing only a eye dropper full of soup and coffee and some bread that I would hate to have some of it fall on my toe and before we left the U. S. everybody was trying to preserve food so as the boys in France would have plenty to eat but if they sent any of the preserves over here the boat they come on must of stopped a torpedo and I hope the young mackerels won’t make themselfs sick on sweets.

Jokeing to 1 side this is some climate Al and they don’t never a day pass without it raining and I use to think the weather profits back home had a snap that all they had to do was write down rain or snow or fair and even if they was wrong they was way up there where you couldn’t get at them but they have got a tough job when you look at a French weather profit and as soon as he learns the French for rain he can open up an office and he don’t half to hide from nobody because he can’t never go wrong though Alcock says they have got a dry season here that begins the 14 of July and ends that night but its a holiday so the weather profit don’t half to monkey with it. Any way its so dark here all the wile that you can’t hardly tell day and night only at night times the Dutchmens over across the way sends up a flare once in a wile to light things up so as they can see if they’s any of us prowling around Nobody’s Land and speaking about Nobody’s Land Brady says its the ground that lays between the German trenchs and the vermin trenchs but jokeing to 1 side if it wasn’t for these here flares we wouldn’t know they was anybody over in them other trenchs and when we come in here they was a lot of talk about Jerry sending over a patrol to find out who we was but it looks like he wasn’t interested. But all and all Al its nothing like I expected up here and all we have seen of the war is when a shell or 2 busts in back of us or once in a wile 1 of their areoplanes comes over and 1 of ours chases them back and sometimes they have a battle but they always manage to finish it where we can’t see it for the fear we might enjoy ourselfs.

Well it looks like we would half to go to bed on a empty stomach if you could call it bed and speaking about stomach Brady says they’s a old saying that a army travels on their stomach but a cutie covers a whole lot more ground. But as I say when you don’t get your chow you don’t miss much only it kills a little time and everybody is sick in tired of doing nothing and 1 of the boys was saying tonight he wished the Dutchmens would attack so as to break the motley and Alcock said that if they did attack he hoped they would do it with gas as his nose needed a change of air.

Your pal, Jack.

IN THE TRENCHS,
MAY 16.

Friend Al:  Well old pal I come within a ace you might say of not being here to write you this letter and you may think that’s bunk but wait till you hear what come off. Well it seems our scout planes brought back word yesterday that the Dutch regt. over across the way had moved out and another regt. had took their place and it seems when they make a change like that our gens. always trys to find out who the new rivals is so the orders come yesterday that we was to get up a patrol party for last night and go over and take a few prisoners so as we would know what regt. we was up vs. Well as soon as the news come out they was some of the boys volunteered to go in the patrol and they was only a few going so I didn’t feel like noseing myself in and maybe crowding somebody out that was set on going and besides what and the he – ll do I care what regt. is there as long as its Germans and its like you lived in a flat and the people across the hall moved out and some people moved in why as long as you knowed they wasn’t friends of yours you wouldn’t rush over and ring their door bell and say who the he – ll are you but you would wait till they had time to get some cards printed and stick 1 in the mail box. So its like I told Alcock that when the boys come back they would tell the Col. that the people opp. us was Germans and the Col. would be supprised because he probably thought all the wile that they was the Idaho boy scouts or something. But at that I pretty near made up my mind at the last minute to volunteer just to break the motley you might say but it was to late and I lost out.

Well Al the boys that went didn’t come back and I hope the Col. is satisfied now because he has lost that many men and he knows just as much as he did before namely that they’s some Germans across the way and either they killed our whole bunch or took them a prisoner and instead of us learning who they are they found out who we are because the boys that’s gone is all from our regt. and its just like as if we went over and give them the information they wanted to save them the trouble of comeing over here and getting it.

Well it don’t make a man feel any happier to think about them poor boys and god only knows what happened to them if they are prisoners or dead and some of them was pals of mine to but the worst part of it is that the word will be sent home that they are missing in actions and their wifes won’t know what become of them if they got any and I can’t help from thinking I might of been with them only for not wanting to crowd somebody out and if I had of went my name would be in the casuality list as missing in actions but I guess at that if Florrie picked up the paper and seen it she wouldn’t know it was her husband its so long since she wrote it on a envelop.

Well Al they’s other gals in the world besides Florrie and of course its to late to get serious with them when a man has got a wife and kid but believe me I am going to enjoy myself if they happen to pick out Cologne to send us to and if the little gal down there is 1 of the kind that can be good pals with a man without looseing her head over me I will sure have a good time but I suppose when she sees me she will want to begin flirting or something and then I will half to pass her up before anybody gets hurt. Well any way I wrote her a friendly letter today and just told her to keep me in mind and I stuck a few French words in it for a gag but I will coppy down what I wrote the best I can remember it so you will know what I wrote. Here it is:

Mon cher Marie:  Your note recd. and you can bet I was mighty glad to hear from you and learn you would show me around Cologne. That is if they send us there and if we get out of here alive. Well you said you was just learning English well I will maybe be able to help you along and you can maybe help me with the French so you see it will be 50 50. Well I sure hope they send us to Cologne and I will let you know the minute I find out where they are going to send us and maybe even if its somewheres else couldn’t you visit there at the same time and maybe I could see you. Well girlie we will be out of here in less then a wk. now if we don’t have no bad luck and you can bet I won’t waist no time getting to where ever they send us and I hope its Cologne. So in the mean wile don’t take no wood nickles and don’t get impatient but be a good girlie and save up your loving for me. Tres beaucoup from

Your Sammy Boy, JACK KEEFE.

That’s what I wrote her Al and I bet she can’t hardly wait to hear if I’m comeing or not but I don’t suppose they’s any chance of them sending us there and a specially if they find out that anybody wants to go there but maybe she can fix it to meet me somewheres else and any ways they won’t be no lifes lost if I never see her and maybe it would be better that way. But a man has got to write letters or do something to keep your mind off what happened to them poor birds that went in the patrol and a specially when I come so near being 1 of them.

Your pal, Jack.

IN THE TRENCHS,
MAY 18.

Friend Al:  Well Al if I am still alive yet its not because I laid back and didn’t take no chances and I wished some of the baseball boys that use to call me yellow when I was in there pitching had of seen me last night and I guess they would of sang a different song only in the 1st. place I was where they couldn’t nobody see me and secondly they would of been so scared they would of choked to death if they tried to talk let alone sing. But wait till you hear about it.

Well yesterday P. M. Sargent Crane asked me how I liked life in the trenchs and I said O.K. only I got tired on acct. of they not being no excitement or nothing to do and he says oh they’s plenty to do and I could go out and help the boys fix up the bob wire in front of the trenchs like we done back in the training camp. So I said I didn’t see how they could be any fixing needed as they hadn’t nothing happened on this section since the war started you might say and the birds that was here before us had plenty of time to fix it if it needed fixing. So he says “Well any ways they’s no excitement to fixing the wire but if you was looking for excitement why didn’t you go with that patrol the other night?” So I said “Because I didn’t see no sence to trying to find out who was in the other trenchs when we know they are Germans and that’s all we need to know. Wait till they’s a real job and you won’t see me hideing behind nobody.” So he says “I’ve got a real job for you tonight and you can go along with Ted Phillips to the listening post.”

Well Al a listening post is what they call a little place they got dug out way over near the German trenchs and its so close you can hear them talk sometimes and you are supposed to hear if they are getting ready to pull something and report back here so as they won’t catch us asleep. Well I was wild to go just for something to do but I been haveing trouble with my ears lately probably on acct. of the noise from so much shell fire or something but any ways I have thought a couple times that I was getting a little deef so I thought I better tell him the truth so I said “I would be tickled to death to go only I don’t know if I ought to or not because I don’t hear very good even in English and of course Jerry would be telling their plans in German and suppose I didn’t catch on to it and I would feel like a murder if they started a big drive and I hadn’t gave my pals no warning.” So he says “Don’t worry about that as Phillips has got good ears and understands German and he has been there before only in a job like that a man wants company and you are going along for company.”

Well before we snuck out there Sargent Crane called us to 1 side and says “You boys is takeing a big chance and Phillips knows what to do but you want to remember Keefe to keep quite and not make no noise or talk to each other because if Jerry finds out you are there we probably won’t see you again.”

Well Al it finely come time for us to go and we went and if anybody asks you how to spend a pleasant evening don’t steer them up against a listening post with a crazy man. Well I suppose you think its pretty quite there at home nights and I use to think so to but believe me Al, Bedford at 2 o’clock in the A. M. is a bowling alley along the side of 1 of these here listening posts. It may sound funny but I would of gave a month’s pay if somebody would of shot off a fire cracker or anything to make a noise. There was the bosh trench about 20 yds. from us but not a sound out of them and a man couldn’t help from thinking what if they had of heard us out there and they was getting ready to snoop up on us and that’s why they was keeping so still and it got so as I could feel 1 of their bayonets burrowing into me and I am no quitter Al when it comes to fighting somebody you can see but when you have got a idear that somebody is cralling up on you and you haven’t no chance to fight back I would like to see the bird that could enjoy themself and besides suppose my ears had went back on me worse then I thought and the Dutchmens was realy makeing a he – ll of a racket but I couldn’t hear them and maybe they was getting ready to come over the top and I wouldn’t know the differents and all of a sudden they would lay a garage and dash out behind it and if they didn’t kill us we would be up in front of the court’s marshal for not warning our pals.

Well as I say I would of gave anything for some one to of fired off a gun or made some noise of some kind but when this here Phillips finely opened up his clam and spoke I would of jumped a mile if they had of been any room to jump anywheres. Well the sargent had told us not to say nothing but all of a sudden right out loud this bird says this is a he – ll of a war. Well I motioned back at him to shut up but of course he couldn’t see me and he thought I hadn’t heard what he said so he said it over again so then I thought maybe he hadn’t heard the sargent’s orders so I whispered to him that he wasn’t supposed to talk. Well Al they wasn’t no way of keeping him quite and he says “That’s all bunk because I been out here before and talked my head off and nothing happened.” So I says well if you have got to talk you don’t half to yell it. So then he tried to whisper Al but his whisper sounded like a jazz record with a crack in it so he says I’m not yelling I am whispering so I said yes I have heard Hughey Jennings whisper like that out on the lines.

So he shut up for a wile but pretty soon he busted out again and this time he was louder then ever and he asked me could I sing and I said no I couldn’t so then he says well you can holler can’t you so I said I suppose I could so he says “Well I know how we could play a big joke on them square heads. Lets the both of us begin yelling like a Indian and they will hear us and they will think they’s a whole crowd of us here and they will begin bombing us or something and think they are going to kill a whole crowd of Americans but it will only be us 2 and we can give them the laugh for waisting their ammunitions.”

Well Al I seen then that I was parked there with a crazy man and for a wile I didn’t say nothing because I was scared that I might say something that would encourage him some way so I just shut up and finely he says what is the matter ain’t you going to join me? So I said I will join you in the jaw in a minute if you don’t shut your mouth and then he quited down a little, but every few minutes he would have another swell idear and once he asked me could I imitate animals and I said no so he says he could mew like a cow and he had heard the boshs was so hard up for food and they would rush out here thinking they was going to find a cow but it wouldn’t be no cow but it would be a horse on them.

Well you can imagine what I went through out there with a bird like that and I thought more then once I would catch it from him and go nuts myself but I managed to keep a hold of myself and the happiest minute of my life was when it was time for us to crall back in our dug outs but at that I can’t remember how we got back here.

This A. M. Sargent Crane asked me what kind of a time did we have and I told him and I told him this here Phillips was squirrel meat and he says Phillips is just as sane as anybody usualy only everybody that went out on the listening post was effected that way by the quite and its a wonder I didn’t go nuts to.

Well its a wonder I didn’t Al and its a good thing I kept my head and kept him from playing 1 of those tricks as god knows what would of happened and the entire regt. might of been wipped out. But I hope they don’t wish no more listening post on me but if they do you can bet I will pick my own pardner and it won’t be no nut and no matter what Sargent Crane says if this here Phillips is sane we’re stopping at Palm Beach.

Your pal, Jack.

IN THE TRENCHS,
MAY 19.

Friend Al:  Well old pal don’t say nothing about this not even to Bertha what I am going to tell you about as some people might not understand and a specially a woman and might maybe think I wasn’t acting right towards Florrie or something though when a man is married to a woman that he has been in France pretty near 4 mos. and she has wrote him 3 letters I don’t see where she would have a sqawk comeing at whatever I done but of course I am not going to do nothing that I wouldn’t just as leave tell her about it only I want to tell her myself and when I get a good ready.

Well I guess I told you we was only supposed to stay here in the front line 10 days and then they will somebody come and releive us and take our place and then we go to the rest billets somewheres and lay around till its our turn to come up here again. Well Al we been in the front line now eight days and that means we won’t only be here 2 days more so probably we will get out of here the day after tomorrow night. Well up to today we didn’t have no idear where we was going to get sent as they’s several places where the boys can go on leave like Aix le Bains and Nice and etc. and we didn’t know which 1 it would be. So today we was talking about it and I said I wished I knew for sure and Jack Brady stands pretty good with 1 of the lieuts. so he says he would ask him right out. So he went and asked him and the lieut. told him Cologne.

Well Al I hadn’t no sooner found out when 1 of the boys hands me a letter that just come and it was a letter from this baby doll that I told you about that’s in Cologne and I will coppy down the letter so you can see for yourself what she says and here it is Al:

Dear Sammy Boy:

I was tres beaucoup to get your letter and will sure be glad to see you and can hardly wait till you get here. Don’t let them send you anywhere else as Cologne is the prettiest town in France and the liveliest and we will sure have some time going to shows etc. and I hope you bring along beaucoup francs. Well I haven’t time to write you much of a letter as I have got to spend the afternoon at the dressmaker’s. You see I am getting all dolled up for my Sammy Boy. But be sure and let me know when you are going to get here and when you reach Cologne jump right in a Noir et Blanc taxi and come up to the house. You know the number so come along Sammy and make it toot sweet.

Yours with tres beaucoup,

MARIE.

So that’s her letter Al and it looks like I was going to be in right in old O. D. Cologne and it sure does look like fate was takeing a hand in the game when things breaks this way and when I wrote to this gal the first time I didn’t have no idear of ever seeing her but the way things is turning out it almost seems like we was meant to meet each other. Well Al I only hope she has got some sence and won’t get to likeing me to well or of course all bets is off but if we can just be good pals and go around to shows etc. together I don’t see where I will be doing anything out of the way. Only as I say don’t say nothing about it to Bertha or nobody else as people is libel to not understand and I guess most of them women back in the U. S. thinks that when a man has been up at the front as long as we have and then when he gets a few days leave he ought to take a running hop step and jump to the nearest phonograph and put on a Rodeheaver record.

Your pal, Jack.

IN THE TRENCHS,
MAY 20.

Friend Al:  Well Al just a line and it will probably be the last time I will write you from the trenchs for a wile as our time is up tomorrow night and the next time I write you it will probably be from Cologne and I will tell you what kind of a time they show us there and all about it. I just got through writeing a note to the little gal there telling her I would get there as soon as possible but I couldn’t tell her when that would be as I don’t know how far it is or how we get there but Brady said he thought it was about 180 miles so I suppose they will make us walk.

Well talk about a quite section and they hasn’t even been a gun went off all day or no areoplanes or nothing and here we thought we was going to see a whole lot of excitement and we haven’t fired a shot or throwed a grenade or even saw a German all the wile we was here and we are just like when we come only for those poor birds that went on that wild goose chase and didn’t come back and they’s been some talk about sending another patrol over to get revenge for those poor boys but I guess they won’t nothing come of it. It would be like sending good money after bad is the way I look at it.

Several of the boys has been calling me Sammy Boy today and I signed my name that way in 1 of the notes I wrote that little gal and I suppose who ever censored it told some of the boys about it and now they are trying to kid me. Well Al I don’t see where a censor has got any license to spill stuff like that but they’s no harm done and they can laugh at me all they want to wile we are here as I will be the 1 that does the laughing when we get to Cologne. And I guess a whole lot of them will wish they was this same Sammy Boy when they see me paradeing up and down the blvd. with the bell of the ball. O you sweet Marie.

Your pal, Jack.

IN THE TRENCHS,
MAY 22.

Friend Al:  Well Al its all off and we are here yet and what is more we are libel to be here till the duration of the war if we don’t get killed and believe me I would welcome death rather then stay in this he – ll hole another 10 days and from now on I am going to take all the chances they is to take and the sooner they finish me I will be glad of it and it looks like it might come tonight Al as I have volunteered to go along with the patrol that’s going over and try and get even for what they done to our pals.

Well old pal it was understood when we come up here that we would be here 10 days and yesterday was the 10th day we was here. Well I happened to say something yesterday to Sargent Crane about what time was we going and he says where to and I said I thought our time was up and we was going to get releived. So he says “Who is going to releive us and what and the he – ll do you want to be releived of?” So I said I understood they didn’t only keep a regt. in the front line 10 days and then took them out and sent them to a rest billet somewheres. So he says what do you call this but a rest billet? So then I asked him how long we had to stay here and he said “Well it may be a day or it may be all summer. But if we get ordered out in a hurry it won’t be to go to no rest billet but it will be to go up to where they are fighting the war.”

So I made the remark that I wished somebody had of tipped me off as I had fixed up a kind of a date thinking we would be through here in 10 days. So he asked me where my date was at and I said Cologne. So then he kind of smiled and said “O and when was you planing to start?” So I said “I was figureing on starting tonight.” So he waited a minute and then he said “Well I don’t know if I can fix it for you tonight or tomorrow night, but they’s some of the boys going to start in that direction one of them times and I guess you can go along.”

Well Al I suppose Alcock and Brady and them has been playing another 1 of their gags on me and I hope they enjoyed it and as far as I am conserned they’s no harm done. Cologne Al is way back of the German lines and when Sargent Crane said they was some of the boys starting in that direction he meant this here patrol. So I’m in on it Al and they didn’t go last night but tonight’s the big night. And some of the boys is calling me Sammy Boy and trying to make a monkey out of me but the smart Alex that’s doing it isn’t none of them going along on this raid and that’s just what a man would expect from them. Because they’s a few of us Al that come across the old puddle to fight and the rest of them thinks they are at the Young Peoples picnic.

Your pal, Jack.

• 6 •

Simple Simon

IN THE TRENCHS,
MAY 29.

Friend Al:  Well Al we have been haveing a lot of fun with a bird name Jack Simon only the boys calls him Simple Simon and if you seen him you wouldn’t ask why because you would know why as soon as you seen him without asking why as he keeps his mouth open all the wile so as he will be ready to swallow whatever you tell him as you can tell him anything and he eats it up. So the boys has been stuffing him full of storys of all kinds and he eats them all up and you could tell him the reason they had the bob wire out in front was to scratch yourself on it when the cuties was useing you for a race track and he would eat it up.

Well when we come in here and took over this section this bird was sick and I don’t know what ailed him only it couldn’t of been brain fever but any way he didn’t join us in here till the day before yesterday but ever since he joined us the boys has been stuffing him full and enjoying themself at his expenses. Well the 1st. thing he asked me was if we had saw any actions since we been here and I told him about a raid we was on the other night before he come and we layed down a garage and then snuck over to the German trenchs and jumped into them trying to get a hold of some prisoners but we couldn’t find head or tale of no Germans where our bunch jumped in as they had ducked and hid somewheres when they found out we was comeing. So he says he wished he could of been along as he might of picked up some souvenirs over in their trenchs.

That’s 1 of his bugs Al is getting souvenirs as he is 1 of these here souvenir hounds that it don’t make no differents to him who wins the war as long as he can get a ship load of junk to carry it back home and show it off. So I told Johnny Alcock and some of the other boys about Simon wishing he could of got some souvenirs so they framed up on him and begin selling him junk that they told him they had picked it up over in the German trenchs and Alcock blowed some cigarette smoke in a bottle and corked it up and told him it was German tear gas and Simon give him 8 franks for it and Jack Brady showed him a couple of laths tied together with a peace of wire and told him it was a part of the areoplane that belonged to Guy Meyer the French ace that brought down so many Dutchmans before they finely got him and Brady said he hated to part with it as he had took it off a German prisoner that he brought in but if Simon thought it was worth 20 franks he could have it. So Simon bought it of him and wanted to know all about how Brady come to get the prisoner and of course Brady had to make it up as we haven’t saw a German let alone take them a prisoner since we was back in the training arears and wouldn’t know they was any only for their artillery and throwing up rockets at night and snipping at a man every time you go out on a wire party or something.

But any way Simon eats it up whatever you pull on him and some times I feel sorry for him and feel like tipping him off but the boys fun would be spoiled and believe me they need some kind of sport up here or pretty soon we would all be worse off then Simon and we would be running around fomenting at the mouth.

Well Al I wished you would write once in a wile if its only a line as a man likes to get mail once in a wile and I haven’t heard from Florrie for pretty near a month and then all as she said was that the reason she hadn’t wrote was because she wasn’t feeling the best and I suppose she got something in her eye but anything for an excuse to not write and you would think I had stepped outdoors to wash the windows instead of being away from her since last December.

Your pal, Jack.

IN THE TRENCHS,
JUNE 4.

Friend Al:  Well Al nothing doing as usual only patching things up once in a wile and it would be as safe here as picking your teeth if our artillery had a few brains as the Germans wouldn’t never pay no tension to us if our batterys would lay off them but we don’t no sooner get a quite spell when our guns cuts loose and remind Fritz that they’s a war and then of course the Dutchmens has got to pay for their board some way and they raise he – ll for a wile and make everybody cross but as far as I can see they don’t nobody never get killed on 1 side or the other side but of course the shells mess things up and keeps the boys busy makeing repairs where if our artillery would keep their mouth shut why so would theirs and the boys wouldn’t never half to leave their dice game only for chow.

But from all as we hear I guess they’s no dice game going on up on some of the other sections but they’s another kind of a game going on up there and so far the Dutchmens has got all the best of it but some of the boys says wait till the Allys gets ready to strike back and they will make them look like a sucker and the best way to do is wait till the other side has wore themself out before you go back at them. Well I told them I have had a lot of experience in big league baseball where they’s stragety the same like in war but I never heard none of the big league managers tell their boys to not try and score till the other side had all the runs they was going to get and further and more it looked to me like when the Germans did get wore out they could rest up again in the best hotel in Paris. So Johnny Alcock says oh they won’t never get inside of Paris because the military police will stop them at the city limits and ask them for their pass and then where would they be? So I says tell that to Simple Simon and he shut up.

Speaking about Simple Simon what do you think they have got him believeing now. Well they told him Capt. Seeley had sent a patrol over the other night to find out what ailed the Germans that they never showed themself or started nothing against us and the patrol found out that Van Hindenburg had took all the men out of the section opp. us and sent them up to the war and left the trenchs opp. us empty so Simon asked him why we didn’t go over there and take them then and they told him because our trenchs was warmer on acct. of being farther south. I suppose they will be telling him the next thing that Capt. Seeley and Ludendorf married sisters and the 2 of them has agreed to lay off each other.

Well Al I am glad they have got somebody else to pick on besides me and of course they can have a lot more fun with Simon as they’s nothing to raw that he won’t eat it up wile in my case I was to smart for them and just pretended like I fell for their gags as they would of been disappointed if I hadn’t of and as I say somebody has got to furnish amusement in a he – ll hole like this or we would all be squirrel meat.

Your pal, Jack.

IN THE TRENCHS,
JUNE 7.

Friend Al:  Well Al here is a hot 1 that they pulled on this Simon bird today and it was all as I could do to help from busting out laughing while they was telling it to him.

Well it seems like he must of been thinking that over what they told him about they not being no Germans in the trenchs over opp. to where we are at and it finely downed on him that if they wasn’t nobody over there why who was throwing up them flares and rockets every night. So today he said to Brady he says “Didn’t you birds tell me them trenchs over across the way was empty?” So Brady says yes what of it. So Simon says “Well I notice they’s somebody over there at night times or else who throws up them flares as they don’t throw themselfs up.” So Brady says they had probably left a flare thrower over there to do that for them. But Simon says they must of left a lot of flare throwers because the flares come from different places along the line.

So then Alcock cut in and says “Yes but you will notice they don’t come from different places at once and the bird that throws them gos from 1 place to another so as we will think the trenchs is full of Germans.” So Simon says “They couldn’t nobody go from 1 place to another place as fast as them flares shoots up from different places.” So Alcock says “No they couldn’t nobody do it if they walked but the man that throws them flares don’t walk because he hasn’t got only 1 leg as his other leg was shot off early in the war. But Van Hindenburg is so hard up for men that even if you get a leg shot off as soon as the Dr. mops up the mess and sticks on the court plaster they send the bird back in the war and put him on a job where you don’t half to walk. So they stuck this old guy in the motorcycle dept. and now all as he does is ride up and down some quite section like this here all night and stop every so often and throw up a flare to make us think the place is dirty with Germans.”

Well Al Simon thought it over a wile and then asked Alcock how a man could ride a motorcycle with only 1 leg and Alcock says “Why not because you don’t half to peddle a motorcycle as they run themself.” So Simon says yes but how about it when you want to get off? So Alcock says “What has a man’s legs got to do with him getting off of a motorcycle as long as you have got your head to light on?”

That is what they handed him Al and they hadn’t hardly no sooner then got through with that dose when Brady begun on the souvenirs. First he asked him if he had got a hold of any new ones lately and Simon says no he hadn’t seen nobody that had any for sale and besides his jack was low so Brady asked him how much did he have and he says about 4 franks. So Brady says “Well you can’t expect anybody to come across with anything first class for no such chicken’s food as that.” So Simon says well even if he had a pocket full of jack he couldn’t buy nothing with it when they wasn’t nothing to buy. Then Brady asked him if he had saw the German speegle Ted Phillips had picked up and Simon says no so Brady went and got Phillips and after a wile he come back with him and Phillips said he had the speegle in his pocket and he would show it to us if we promised to be carefull and not jar it out of his hands wile he was showing it as he wouldn’t have it broke for the world. So Simon stood there with his eyes popping out and Phillips pulled the speegle out of his pocket and it wasn’t nothing only a dirty little looking glass that you could pretty near crall through the cracks in it and all the boys remarked what a odd little speegle it was and they hadn’t never saw 1 like it before and etc. and finely Simon couldn’t keep his clam shut no longer so he asked Phillips how much he would take for it. Well Phillips says it wasn’t for sale as speegles was scarce in Germany on acct. of the war and that was why the Dutchmens always looked like a bum when you took them a prisoner. So Simon asked him what price he would set on it suppose he would sell it and Phillips says about 8 franks. Well Simon got out all his jack and they wasn’t only 4 franks and he showed it to Phillips and said if he would take 10 franks for the speegle he would give him 4 franks down and the other 6 franks when he got hold of some jack so Phillips hummed and hawed a wile and finely said all right Simon could have it but he wouldn’t never sell it to him only that it kept worring him so much to carry it in his pocket for the fear he would loose it or break it.

Well Al Phillips has got Simon’s last 4 franks and Simon has got Phillips’s speegle and I suppose now that the boys sees how soft it is they will be selling him stuff on credit and he will owe them his next months pay before they get through with him and I suppose the next thing you know they will keep their beard when they shave and sell it to him for German tobacco. Well I would half to be pretty hard up before I went in on some skin game like that and I would just as leave go up to 1 of them cripples that use to spraddle all over the walk along 35 st. after the ball game and stick my heel in their eye and romp off with their days receipts.

Your pal, Jack.

IN THE TRENCHS,
JUNE 11.

Friend Al:  Well Al it seems like Capt. Seeley is up on his ear because they haven’t took our regt. out of here yet because it seems Gen. Pershing told Gen. Foch that he was to help himself to any part of the U. S. army and throw them in where ever they was needed and they’s been a bunch of the boys throwed in along the other parts of the front to try and stop the Germans and Capt. Seeley is raveing because they keep us here and don’t take us where we can get some actions. Any way 1 of the lieuts. told some of the boys that if we didn’t get took out of here pretty quick Capt. Seeley would start a war of our own on this section and all the officers was sore because we hadn’t done nothing or took no prisoners or nothing you might say only make repairs in the wire and etc. Well Al how in the he – ll can we show them anything when they don’t never send us over the top or nowheres else but just leave us here moldering you might say but at that I guess we have showed as much life as the birds that’s over there opp. us in them other trenchs that hasn’t hardly peeped since we come in here and the boys says they are a Saxon regt. that comes from part of Germany where the Kaiser is thought of the same as a gum boil so the Saxons feels kind of friendly towards us and they will leave us alone as long as we leave them alone and visa and versa. So I don’t see where Capt. Seeley and them other officers has got a right to pan us for not showing nothing but I don’t blame them for wishing they would take us out of here and show us the war and from all as we hear they’s plenty of places where we could do some good or at lease as much good as the birds that has been there.

Well Al they have been stringing poor Simon along and today they give him a song and dance about some bird name Joe in the regt. that was here ahead of us that got a collection of souvenirs that makes Simon’s look rotten and they said the guy’s pals called him Souvenir Joe on acct. of him haveing such a fine collection. So Brady says to Simon “All you have got is 5 or 6 articles and the next thing you know they will be takeing us out of here and you might maybe never get another chance to pick up any more rare articles so if I was you I would either get busy and get a real collection or throw away them things you have got and forget it.”

So Simon says “How can I get any more souvenirs when I haven’t no more jack to buy them and besides you birds haven’t no more to sell.” So Brady says “Souvenir Joe didn’t buy his collection but he went out and got them.” So Simon asked him where at and Brady told him this here Joe use to crall out in Nobody’s Land every night and pick up something and Simon says it was a wonder he didn’t get killed. So Brady says “How would he get killed as the trenchs over across the way was just as empty when he was here as they are now and Old 1 Legged Mike and his motorcycle was on the job then to, so Joe would wait till Mike had throwed a few flares on this section and then he would sneak out and get his souvenirs before Mike come back again on his rounds.”

Well then Simon asked him where the souvenirs was out there and Brady says they was in the different shell holes because most of Joe’s souvenirs was the insides of German shells that had exploded and they was the best kind of souvenirs as they wasn’t no chance of them being a fake.

Well Al I had a notion to take Simon to 1 side and tell him to not pay no tension to these smart alex because the poor crum might go snooping out there some night after the insides of a shell and get the outsides and all and if something like that happened to him I would feel like a murder though I haven’t never took no part in makeing a monkey out of him, but I thought well if the poor cheese don’t know no more then that he is better off dead let him go.

Your pal, Jack.

IN THE TRENCHS,
JUNE 13.

Friend Al:  Just a line Al as I am to excited to write much but I knew you would want to know the big news. Well Al I have got a daughter born the 18 of May. How is that for a supprise Al but I guess you won’t be no more supprised than I was when the news come as Florrie hadn’t gave me no hint and a man can’t guess a thing like that when you are in France and the lady in question is back in old Chi. But it sure is wonderfull news Al and I only wished I was somewheres where I could celebrate it right but you can’t even whistle here or somebody would crown you with a shovle.

Well Al the news come today in a letter from Florrie’s sister Marie Allen and she has been down in Texas but I suppose Florrie got her to come up and stay with her though as far as I can sec its bad enough to have a baby without haveing that bird in the house to, but they’s I consolation we haven’t got rm. in the apt. for more than 2 kids and 3 grown ups so when I get home if sweet Marie is still there yet we will either half to get rid of the Swede cook or she, and when it comes to a choice between a ski jumper that will work and a sister that won’t why Florrie won’t be bothered with no family ties.

Any way I haven’t no time to worry about no Allen family now as I am feeling to good and all as I wish is that somebody wins this war dam toot sweet so as I can get home and see this little chick Al and I bet she is as pretty as a picture and she couldn’t be nothing else you might say and I have wrote to Florrie to not name her or nothing till I have my say as you turn a woman loose on nameing somebody all alone and they go nuts and look through a seed catalog.

Well old pal I know you would congratulate me if you was here and I am only sorry I can’t return the complement and if I was you and Bertha I would adopt 1 of these here Belgium orphans that’s lost their parents as they’s nothing like it Al haveing a kid or 2 in the house and I bet little Al is tickled to death with his little sister.

Well Al I have told all the boys about it and they have been haveing a lot of fun with me but any way they call me Papa now which is a he – ll of a lot better then Sammy Boy.

Your pal, Jack.

IN THE TRENCHS,
JUNE 14.

Friend Al:  I am all most to nervous to write Al but anything is better then setting around thinking and besides I want you to know what has came off so as you will know what come off in the case something happens.

Well Al Simple Simon’s gone. We don’t know if he’s dead or alive or what the he – ll and all as we know is that he was here last night and he ain’t here today and they hasn’t nobody seen or heard of him.

Of course Al that isn’t all we know neither as we can just about guess what happened. But I have gave my word to not spill nothing about what the boys pulled on him or god knows what Capt. Seeley would do to them.

Well Al I got up this A. M. feeling fine as I had slept better then any time for a wk. and I dreamt about the little gal back home that ain’t never seen her daddy or don’t know if she’s got 1 or not but in my dream she knowed me O.K. as I dreamt I had just got home and Florrie wasn’t there to meet me as usual but I rung the bell and the ski jumper let me in and I asked her where Florrie was and she said she had went out somewheres with little Al so I was going out and look for them but the Swede says the baby is here if you want to see her and I asked her what baby and she says why your new little baby girl.

So then I heard a baby crying somewheres in the house and I went in the bed rm. and this little mite jumped right up out of bed and all of a sudden she was 3 yrs. old instead of a mo. and she come running to me and hollered daddy. So then I grabbed her up and we begin danceing around but all of a sudden it was I and Florrie that was danceing together and little Al and the little gal was danceing around us and then I woke up Al and found I was still in this he – ll hole but the dream was so happy that I was still feeling good over it yet and besides it looked like the sun had forgot it was in France and was going to shine for a while.

Well pretty soon along come Corp. Evans and called me to 1 side and asked me what I knew about Simon. So I says what about him. So Corp. Evans says he is missing and they hasn’t nobody saw him since last night. So I says I didn’t know nothing about him but if anything had happened to him they was a lot of birds in this Co. that ought to pay for it. So Corp. Evans asked me what was I driveing at and I started in to tell him about Alcock and Brady and them kidding this poor bird to death and Corp. Evans says yes he knew all about that and the best thing to do was to shut up about it as it would get everybody in bad. He says “Wait a couple days any way and maybe he will show up O.K. and then they won’t be no sence in spilling all this stuff.” So I says all right I would wait a couple days but these birds ought to get theirs if something serious has happened and if he don’t show up by that time I won’t make no promise to spill all I know. So Corp. Evans says I didn’t half to make no promise as he would spill the beans himself if Simon isn’t O.K.

Well Al of course all the boys had heard the news by the time I got to talk to them and they’s 2 or 3 of them that feels pretty sick over it and no wonder and the bird that feels the sickest is Alcock and here is why. Well it seems like yesterday while I was telling all the boys about the news from home Simon was giveing Alcock a ear full of that junk Brady had been slipping him about Souvenir Joe and Simon asked Alcock if he thought they was still any of them souvenirs worth going after out in them shell holes. So Alcock says of course they must be as some of the holes was made new since we been here. But Alcock told him that if he was him he wouldn’t waist no time collecting the insides of German shells as the Germans was so hard up for mettle and etc. now days that the shells they was sending over was about 1/2 full of cheese and stuff that wouldn’t keep. So Alcock says to him “What you ought to go after is a Saxon because you can bet that Souvenir Joe didn’t get none and if you would get 1 all the boys would begin calling you Souvenir Simon instead of Simple Simon and you would make Souvenir Joe look like a dud.”

Well Al Simon didn’t know a Saxon from a hang nail so he asked Alcock what they looked like and Alcock told him to never mind as he couldn’t help from knowing 1 if he ever seen it so then Simon asked him where they was libel to be and Alcock told him probably over in some of the shell holes near the German trench.

That’s what come off yesterday wile I was busy telling everybody about the little gal as you can bet I would of put Simon wise had I of been in on it and now Al he’s gone and they don’t nobody know what’s became of him but they’s a lot of us that’s got a pretty good idear and as I say they’s 2 or 3 feels pretty sick and one a specially. But I guess at that they don’t no one feel no worse then me though they can’t nobody say I am to blame for what’s happened but still in all I might of interfered because I am the only 1 of them that has got a heart Al and the only reason Alcock and Brady is so sick now is that they are scared to death of what will happen to them if they get found out. Because their smartness won’t get them nothing up in front of the Court Marshall as he has seen to many birds just like them.

Well Al I am on post duty tonight and maybe you don’t know what that means. Well old pal its no Elks carnivle at no time and just think what it will be tonight with your ears straining for a cry from out there. And if the cry comes Al they won’t only be the 1 thing to do and I will be the 1 to do it.

So this may be the last time you will hear from me old pal and I wanted you to know in the case anything come off just how it happened as I won’t be here to write it to you afterwards.

All as I can think about now Al is 2 things and 1 of them is that little gal back home that won’t never see her daddy but maybe when she gets 4 or 5 yrs. old she will ask her mother “Why haven’t I got a daddy like other little girls?” But maybe she will have 1 by that time Al. But what I am thinking about the most is that poor 1/2 wit out there and as Brady says he isn’t nothing but a Mormon any way and ought never to of got in the army but still and all he is a man and its our duty to fight and die for him if needs to be.

Your pal, Jack.

IN THE HOSPITAL,
JULY 20.

Friend Al:  You will half to excuse this writeing as I am proped up in a funny position in bed and its all as I can do to keep the paper steady as my left arm ain’t no more use then the Russian front.

Well Al yesterday was the 1st. time they left me set up and I wrote a letter to Florrie and told her I was getting along O.K. as I didn’t want she should worry and this time I will try and write to you. I suppose you got the note that the little nurse wrote for me about 2 wks. ago and told you I was getting better. Well old pal the gal that wrote you that little note is some baby and if you could see the kid that wrote you that little note you would wished you was laying here in my place. No I guess you wouldn’t wished that Al as they’s nobody that would want to go through what I have been through and they’s very few that could stand it like I have and keep on smileing.

Well old pal they thought for a wile that it was Feeney for yrs. truly as they say over here and believe me I was in such pain that I would of been glad to die to get rid of the pain and the Dr. said it was a good thing I was such a game bird and had such a physic or I couldn’t of never stood it. But I am not strong enough yet to set this way very long so if I am going to tell you what happened I had better start in.

Well Al this is the 20 of July and that means I have been in here 5 wks. as it was the 14 of June when all this come off. Well Al I can remember writeing to you the day of the night it come off and I guess I told you about this bird Simon getting lost that was always after the souvenirs and some of the boys told him they wasn’t no Germans over in the other trenchs but just a bird name Motorcycle Mike that went up and down the section throwing flares so as we would think they was Germans over there. So they told him if he wanted to go out in Nobody’s Land and spear souvenirs it was safe if you went just after Mike had made his rounds so as the snippers wouldn’t get you.

Well old pal I was standing there looking out over Nobody’s Land that night and I couldn’t think of nothing only poor Simon and listening to hear if I couldn’t maybe hear him call from somewheres out there and I don’t know how long I had been standing there when I heard a kind of a noise like somebody scrunching and at the same time they was a flare throwed up from our side and I seen a figure out there cralling on the ground quite a ways beyond our wire. Well Al I didn’t wait to look twice but I called Corp. Evans and told him. So he says who did I think it was and I said it must be Simon. So he says “Well Keefe its up to 1 of us to go get him.” So I said “Well Corp. I guess its my job.” So he says “All right Keefe if you feel that way about it.” So I says all right and I’ll say Al that he give up his claims without a struggle. Well I started and I was going without my riffle but the Corp. stopped me and says take it along and I says “What for, do you think I am going to pick Simon up with a bayonet.” So he says who told me it was Simon out there. Well Al that’s the 1st. time I stopped to think it might maybe be somebody else.

Well Florrie use to say that I couldn’t get up in the night for a drink of water without everybody in the bldg. thinking the world serious must of started but I bet I didn’t knock over no chairs on this trip. Well Al it took me long enough to get out there as you can bet I wasn’t trying for no record and every time they was a noise I had to lay flat and not buge. But I got there Al to where I thought I had saw this bird moveing around but they hadn’t no rockets went up since I started and it was like a troop ship and I couldn’t make out no figure of a man or nothing else and I was just going to whisper Simon’s name when I reached out my hand and touched him. Well Al it wasn’t Simon.

Well old pal we had some battle this bird and me and the both of us forgot bayonets and guns and everything else. I would of killed him sure only he got a hold of my left hand between his teeth and I couldn’t pry it loose. But believe me Al he took a awful beating with my free hand and I will half to hand it to him for a game bird only what chance did he have? None Al and the battle couldn’t only end the 1 way and I was just getting ready to grab his wind pipe and shut off the meter when he left go of my other hand and let out a yell that you could hear all over the great lakes and then all of a sudden it seemed like everybody was takeing a flash light and then the bullets come whizzing from all sides it seemed like and they got me 3 times Al and never pinked this other bird once. Well Al it wasn’t till 2 wks. ago that I found out that my opponent was Johnny Alcock.

Just 2 wks. ago yesterday Johnny come in and seen me and told me the whole story and it was the 1st. day they left me see anybody only the Dr. and the little nurse and was the 1st. day Johnny was able to be up and around. How is that Al to put a man in the hospital for 3 wks. without useing no gun or knife or nothing on him only 1 bear fist. Some fist eh Al.

Well it seems like he had been worring so about Simon that he finely went out there snooping around all by himself looking for him and he was the 1 I seen when that flare went up and of course we each thought the other 1 was a German and finely it was him yelling and the rockets going up at the same time that drawed the fire and I got all of it because I was the bird on top.

But listen Al till you hear the funny part of it. Simple Simon the bird that we was both out there looking for him showed up in our trench about a 1/2 hr. after we was brought in and he showed up with a Saxon all right but the Saxon was dead. Well Al Simon told them that he had ran into this guy over near their wire and that he was alive when he got him, but Alcock says that Brady said Simon hadn’t only been gone 24 hrs. and the Saxon had been gone a he – ll of a lot longer than that.

Well they’s no hard feeling between Alcock and I and I guess I more then got even with him for eating out of my hand as they say but Johnny said it was a shame I couldn’t of used some of my strength on a German instead of him but any way its all over now and the Dr. says my leg is pretty near O.K. and I can walk on it in a couple wks. but my left arm won’t be no use for god knows how long and maybe never and I guess I’m lucky they didn’t half to clip it off. So I don’t know when I will get out of here or where I will go from here but I guess they’s 1 little party that ain’t in no hurry to see me go and I wished you could see her look at me Al and you would say its to bad I am a married man with 2 kids.

Your pal, Jack.

SOMWHERES IN FRANCE,
AUG. 16.

Friend Al:  Well Al I don’t suppose this will reach you any sooner then if I took it with me and mailed it when I get home but I haven’t nothing to do for a few hrs. so I might as well be writeing you the news.

Well old pal I am homewards bound as they say as the war is Feeney as far as I am conserned and I am sailing tonight along with a lot of the other boys that’s being sent home for good and when I look at some of the rest of them I guess I am lucky to be in as good a shape as I am. I am O.K. only for my arm and wile it won’t never be as good as it was I can probably get to use it pretty good in a few months and all as I can say is thank god it is my left arm and not the old souper that use to stand Cobb and them on their head and it will stand them on their head again Al as soon as this war is over and I guess I won’t half to go begging to Comiskey to give me another chance after what I have done as even if I couldn’t pitch up a alley I would be a money maker for them just setting on the bench and showing myself after this.

Well we are saying good by to old France and I don’t know how the rest of the boys feels but I am not haveing no trouble controling myself and when it comes down to cases Al the shoe is on the other ft. and what I am getting at is that France ought to be the 1 that hates to see us leave as I doubt if they will ever get a bunch of spenders like us over here again.

Well Al it certainly seems quite down here in this old sea port town after what we have been through and it seems like I can still hear them big guns roar and them riffles crack and etc. and I feel like I ought to keep my head down all the wile and keep out of the snippers way and I could all most shut my eyes and imagine I was back there again in that he – ll hole but I know I’m not Al as I don’t itch.

Well Al my wounds isn’t the only reason I am comeing home but they’s another reason and that is that they want some of us poplar idles to help rouse up the public on this here next Liberty Loan and I don’t mind it as they have promised to send me home to Chi and I can be with Florrie and the kids. I will do what I can Al though I can’t figure where the public would need any rouseing up and they certainly wouldn’t if they had of been through what I have been through and maybe some of the other boys to. It takes jack to run a war Al even if us boys don’t get none of it or what we do get they either send it home to our wife or take it away from us in a crap game.

Well old pal I left the hospital the day before yesterday and that was the only time I felt like crying since they told me I was going home and it wasn’t so much for myself Al but that poor little nurse and you would of felt like crying to if you could of seen the look she give me. Her name is Charlotte Warren and she lives in Minneapolis and expects to go right back there after she is through over here but that don’t do me no good as a married man with a couple children has got something better to do besides flirting with a pretty little nurse and besides I won’t never pitch ball in Minneapolis as I expect to quit the game when I am about 40.

Well Al some of the boys wants to say their farewells to the Vin Rouge and the la la las and I will half to close and I will write again as soon as I get home and tell you what the baby gal looks like though they’s only the 1 way she could look and that’s good.

Well here is good by to France and good luck to all the boys that’s going to stay over here and Simple Simon with the rest of them and I suppose I ought to of got a few souvenirs off him to bring home with me. But I guess at that I will be carrying a souvenir of this war for a long wile Al and its better than any of them foney ones he has got as the 1 I have got shows I was realy in it and done my bit for old Glory and the U. S. A.

Your pal, Jack.

CHICAGO,
AUG. 29.

Friend Al:  Well Al here I am back in old Chi and feeling pretty good only for my arm and my left leg is still stiff yet and I caught a mean cold comeing across the old pond but what is a few little things like that as the main thing is being home.

Well old pal they wasn’t nothing happened on the trip across the old pond only it took a whole lot to long and believe me old N. Y. looked good but believe me I wouldn’t waist no time in N. Y. only long enough to climb outside a big steak and the waiter had to cut it up for me but even the waiters treated us fine and everywheres we showed up the people was wild about us and cheered and clapped and it sounded like old times when I use to walk out there to warm up.

Well we hit N. Y. in the A. M. and left that night and got here last eve. and I didn’t leave Florrie know just when I was comeing as I wanted to supprise her. Well Al I ought to of wired ahead and told her to go easy on my poor old arm because when she opened the door and seen me she give a running hop step and jump and dam near killed me. So then she seen my arm in a sling and cried and cried and she says “Oh my poor boy what have you been through.” So I says “Well you have been through something yourself so its 50 50 only I got this from a German.”

Well Al little Al was the cutest thing you ever seen and he grabbed me by the good hand and rushed me in to where the little stranger was laying and she was asleep but we broke the rules for once and all and all it was some party and she is some little gal Al and pretty as a picture and when you can say that for a 3 mos. old its going some as the most of them looks like a French breakfast.

Well I finely happened to think of Sister Marie and I asked where she was at and Florrie says she went back to Texas so I says tough luck and Florrie says I needn’t get so gay the 1st. evening home and she says “Any way we have still got a Marie in the house as that is what I call the baby.” So I says “Well you can think of her that way but her name ain’t going to be that as I don’t like the name.” So she says what name did I like and I pretended like I was thinking a wile and finely I says what is the matter with Charlotte. Well Al you will half to hand it to the women for detectives as I hadn’t no sooner said the name when she says “Oh no you can’t come home and name my baby after none of your French nurses.” And I hadn’t told her nothing about a nurse.

Well any way I says I had met a whole lot more Maries then Charlottes in France and she says had I met any Florries and I said no and that was realy the name I had picked out for the kid. So she says well she didn’t like the name herself but it was the only name I could pick out that she wouldn’t be suspicious of it so the little gal is named after her mother Al and if she only grows up 1/2 as pretty as her old lady it won’t make no differents if she has got a funny name.

Well Al have you noticed what direction the Dutchmens is makeing their drive in now? They started going the other way the 18 of July and it was 2 days ahead of that time that our regt. was moved over to the war and now they are running them ragged. Well Al I wished I was there to help but even if I was worth a dam to fight I couldn’t very well leave home just now.

Your pal, Jack.

The Busher Back in the Game

1 … The Busher Reenlists
2 … The Battle of Texas
3 … Along Came Ruth
4 … The Courtship of T. Dorgan
5 … The Busher Pulls a Mays

• 1 •

The Busher Reenlists

CHI, DEC. 2

Friend Al:  Well Al I was down to see the Dr. for the last time today as he said they wasn’t no use in me comeing down there again as my arm is just as good is new though of course its weak yet on acct. of being in a sling all this wile and I haven’t used it and I suppose if it was my right arm it would take me a long wile to get it strenthened up again to where I could zip the old ball through there the way like I use to but thank god its the left arm that the Dutchmens shot full of holes. But at that it wouldn’t make no differents if it was the left arm or the old souper either one as I have gave up the idear of going back in to the old game.

I bet you will be surprised to hear that Al as I am still a young man just a kid you might say compared to some of the other birds that is still pitching yet and getting by with it and I figure that if I would stick in the game my best yrs. is yet to come. But that isn’t the point Al but the point is that after a man has took part in the war game all the other games seems like they was baby games and after what I went through acrost the old pond how could a man take any interest in baseball and it would be like as if a man set up all night in a poker game with the sky for the limit and when they come home their wife asked them to play a hand of jack straws to see which one of them had to stick the ice card in the window. No man can do themself justice Al if you don’t take your work in ernest whether its pitching baseball or takeing a bath.

Besides that Al I figure that even a man like I am that’s put up like a motor Laura you might say can’t last forever in baseball and why not quit wile you are young and have still got the old ambition to start out in some other line of business that a man can last in it all their life and probably by the time I got to be the age where I would half to give up pitching if I stuck at it, why by that time I can work myself up to the head of some business where I would be drawing $15000.00 per annum or something and no danger of getting kicked out of it when the old souper finely lays down on me.

And besides that when a man has got a wife and 2 kiddies that the whole 3 of them has got the world beat why should I go out and pitch baseball and be away from home 1/2 the yr. around where if I hooked up good in some business here in Chi I wouldn’t never half to leave except maybe a run down to N. Y. city once or twice a yr. So in justice to them and myself I don’t see nothing to it only give up the game for good in all and get in to something permerant.

Well Al I suppose you will be saying to yourself that I haven’t never had no experience in business and what kind of business could I get in to that would pay me the right kind of money. Well old pal if you will stop and think I haven’t never tackled no job yet where I didn’t make good and in the 1st. place it was pitching baseball and I hadn’t only been pitching a little over 2 yrs. when I was in the big league and then come the war game and I was made a corporal a few wks. after I enlisted and might of stayed a corporal or went higher yet only I would rather pal around with the boys and not try and lord it over them and you can bet it won’t be no different in whatever business I decide to take up because they isn’t nothing that can’t be learned Al if a man gos at it the right way and has got something under their hat besides scalp trouble.

As for getting in to the right kind of a place I guess I can just about pick out what kind of a place I want to start in at as everybody that reads the papers knows who I am and how I went in the war wile most of the other baseball boys kept the home fires burning though I had a wife and a kid to look out for besides the baby that came since I went in and for all as I knew might of been here a long wile before that. So it looks like when I make it up in my mind what business I want to tackle I can just go to whoever is at the head of the business and they will say “You bet your life we will find a place for you after what you done both in baseball and for the stars and strips.” Because they won’t no real man turn a soldier down Al a specially 1 that earned his wound strips acrost the old pond.

So they won’t be no trouble about me landing when I decide what I want to go in to and the baseball men can offer me whatever kind of a contract they feel like and I will give them 1 of my smiles and tell them they are barking the wrong tree.

Regards to Bertha.

Your pal, Jack.

CHI, DEC. 8.

Friend Al:  Well Al this is a fine burg where a lot of the business men don’t know they’s been a war or read the papers or nothing only set in front of the cash register and watch how the money rolls in or else they must of bet 20 cents on the Kaiser and have got a gruge against the boys that stopped him.

The other night I was with a couple of friends of mine that’s White Sox fans and we was histing a few and 1 of them is asst. mgr. down to 1 of the big dept, stores so I told him I was going to quit the game and try and bust in to some business where I could work up to something worth wile and he says they was shy of a floor man down to their store and he would speak to the mgr. about me and if I come down maybe I could land the job, as the floor man has to be a man that can wear clothes and carry themself as most of the customers is ladys and you half to give them a smile and make them feel at home and the job pays pretty good jack.

Well I didn’t think much of the job only this bird is a kind of an admire of mine on acct. of baseball so I didn’t want to be nasty to him so I went down there yesterday and he introduced me to the mgr. and his name is suppose to be Kelly but I guess Heinz would be closer to what his name is. Well he asked me had I had any experience in dept, stores and I said yes I had had all the experience I wanted the times I had been in there with Florrie shoping and my feet was still sore yet where all the women in Chi had used them for a parade grounds. So he said he meant did I ever have any experience working in a store so I said do I look like a counter jumper or something? I said “I have o had the kind of experience that I guess a whole lot of men would give their right eye if they could brag about it, playing in the big league in baseball and the big league in war and I guess that’s enough of experience for a man of my age.” So he said “Well our floor men is not suppose to hit the customers with a bat or tickle them with a bayonet either one so I don’t see how we can use you right now.” So I said “I have got a charge acct. here and here is where my wife does pretty near all her shoping.” So he said “Well if we was to give jobs to all our customers why as soon as they had all reported for work in the A. M. we could close the doors and get along without a floor man.” Well Al all as I could do was walk away front him as I couldn’t very well take a wallop at his jaw on acct. of his asst, being my pal.

Well as long as I was down town I thought I might as well look up some of my other friends so I happened to remember a pal of mine that use to work in the Gas Co. so I dropped in there and asked for him but he wasn’t there no more so I asked for whoever was in charge and they showed me to an old bird that must of began to work for them the day they struck gas and I told him my name and who I was and he said about the only thing open was meter readers so I said “Read them yourself” and come away.

That’s the kind of birds I have got here Al but they can’t all be that way and the next time I will wait for them to come to me before I go around and lay myself libel to insults from a bunch of pro German spys or whatever you have a mind to call them.

Well they’s a saloon on Adams St. that it use to be a big hang out for the fans so I dropped in there before I started home but they wasn’t nobody in there that I knew them or they knew me and the bunch that was in there didn’t even know their own name but they was all trying to sing tenor and that’s about the way it is in all the saloons you drop in to these days and they all seem to think that every day is June 30. Well I couldn’t stand for the noise and everybody with their arm around each other tearing off Smiles so I come home and Florrie asked me how I had came out and I told her and she says it looked like I better go back in to baseball. So I said if I do go back it will be because they give me a $5000.00 contract in the stead of the $2500.00 I was getting when I quit and enlisted and between you and I Al that’s the lowest figure I would sign up for and of course I wouldn’t have no trouble getting that if I give Comiskey the word that I was thinking about pitching baseball again. But nothing doing in baseball for me Al when I know I can get in to some big business with a future in it and won’t never half to worry about my arm or catching cold in it or nothing and be home every night with the kiddies. But if I did sign up to a $5000.00 contract in baseball it would mean our income would be around $8000.00 per annum as Florrie is kicking out pretty close to $250.00 per mo. clear profit in her beauty parlor.

Well Florrie said if I couldn’t get no $5000.00 from the White Sox or find no job that suited me she would give me a job herself so I said “What doing pairing finger nails over in your studio?” So she said “No indeed I would hire you as nurse for little Al and the baby in place of the one we have got.” So I said I wouldn’t mind being a nurse for little Al as I and him can have a fine time playing together and I would make a man out of him but I wouldn’t sign no contract to take care of little Florrie for no amt. of money as it would mean I would half to stay awake 24 hrs. per day as this little bird don’t never close her eyes and I only wished they was a few umpires like her in the American League and maybe a man could get something like a square deal. I have often heard people that had babys brag about how good they was and slept all the wile except when they was getting their chow but little Florrie ain’t no relation to them or neither is little Al as he was just as bad when he was a baby and when I hear these storys about these here perfect babys I begin to think that the husbands and wifes that owns them is the same kind that never had a cross word since they been married.

But jokeing to 1 side Al I don’t see how the Swede stands it being up all day and then up again all night and sometimes I wished I could help her out by walking the floor with the kid nights but the Dr. said I wasn’t to do nothing that might strain my bad arm till I was sure it was O.K.

Your pal, Jack.

CHI, DEC. 12.

Friend Al:  Well Al yesterday was the American League meeting and I happened to be down town so I dropped in to the hotel where the meeting was at just to see some of the boys as they’s always a bunch of them hangs around in the hopes that 1 of the club owners will smile at them or something and any way I dropped in the lobby and the 1st. bird I seen was Bobby Roth that was with us a few yrs. ago and played the outfield for Cleveland last yr. So I says “Hello Bobby.” So he said “Hello Jack.” Well it was the 1st. time I seen him since I quit baseball for the army but I guess he hadn’t never heard that I was in the war or something and any way he didn’t say nothing about it but finely he said he supposed I would be back with the White Sox next yr. so then I told him I had made it up in my mind to quit the game and go in to business and he said he was sorry to hear it. So I said “Yes you are because when you was with the Cleveland club I always made you look like a monkey.” So he said “I never had a chance to hit against you as they had me batting 4th. at Cleveland and by the time it come my turn to hit you was took out of the game.” So I said “Yes I was” and he didn’t have nothing more to say.

Well I walked around a wile and run in to some of the other boys Artie Hofman and Charley O’Leary and Jim Archer and Joe Benzo but not a 1 of them mentioned about the war or me being over there and I finely figured it out that it was kind of a sore subject with them so I walked away from them and all of a sudden I seen Rowland the mgr. and I thought sure he would ask me about signing up but I guess Bobby or somebody must of tipped him off about me going in to business so he didn’t want to take a chance of me turning him down or maybe he thought he would have a better chance of landing me if he didn’t say nothing at this time but just sent me a big fat contract when the time comes. Any way we didn’t talk contract but he had heard about me getting shot in the left arm and he mentioned about it and smiled and said it was lucky I wasn’t a left hander so you see he has got me on his mind and I suppose the contract will come along in a few days and then I will half to send it back to them and tell them I am through even if the contract meets my figure which is $5000.00 because I wouldn’t go back and pitch baseball even for that amt. when I can go in to business and maybe not do that well right at the start but work myself up in to something worth wile.

Well after I left Rowland I bumped in to Hy Pond that I was with him down in the Central League and he asked me to come in and have a drink so I went with him and histed a couple beers but it was a mad house and besides wile we was over there takeing the fight out of the Germans the people that stayed home done the same thing to the beer and the way they have got it fixed now you could drink all they have got left without feeling like shock troops so finely I told Hy to make my excuses to the boys and I come along home.

Well I have had 2 or 3 pretty good chances so far to break in to some line of business and 1 of them was an ad I seen in the paper today where they wanted a young man of good appearances to represent them in Detroit with $5000.00 per annum to start out but they didn’t say what line of business it was and besides I don’t feel like moveing to Detroit so I decided to not answer the ad but wait till something showed up where I could stay here in Chi as they’s no use of a man rushing in to something blind folded you might say when all as I half to do is play the waiting game and let them come to me with all their offers and then pick out the one that suits me best. Get them bidding against each other for you is the system Al.

Your pal, Jack.

CHI, DEC. 23.

Friend Al:  Well Al I just come back from down town where I and Florrie has been all P. M. buying xmas presents and she has been saying ever since I come back from France how lonesome she was all the wile I was away but from the number of xmas presents she had to buy for people I never seen or heard of they couldn’t of been more than a couple hours of the time I was over there when she wasn’t busy saying please to meet you. But whenever I would raise a holler about the jack she was spending she would swell up and tell me she would pay for it out of her own money so of course I couldn’t say nothing though when the bills comes in they will be addressed to me and her check book will of probably got halled away with the garbage.

Well when we got through buying for the city directory she said she was through except for the baby as she had fixed up for little Al last time she was down so she asked me what could I suggest for little Florrie so I said why get her a new rattle as what else is they for a 6 mos. old baby so she said the baby wasn’t going to be 6 mos. old all her life. How is that for a bright remark Al but of course a woman can’t expect to have the looks and everything else with it, but any way she said she had a idear that she heard about a friend of hers doing it that had a little baby girl and that was to start a pearl necklace for her and 1st. buy the chain and a few pearls and then add a couple pearls every yr. so as when she got old enough to wear it she would have something.

Well I said why not wait till some xmas when we have got a little more jack say in 7 or 8 yrs. and then get enough pearls to make up for the yrs. we passed up and then give them to the little girl and tell her we started buying them before she was a yr. old and she wouldn’t know the differents and in the mean wile we could get her something that if she busted it we wouldn’t be out no real jack. So Florrie said “You don’t suppose I am going to leave her get a hold of the necklace now do you or even show it to her?” So I said “That is a fine way to give a person a xmas present is to buy something and hide it and if that is the system why don’t you buy her a couple new undershirts my size and I can wear them and when I have wore them out you can put them away somewheres till she gets old enough to have some sence and then you can hall them out and show them to her and tell her that was what we give her for xmas in 1918.”

Well you know how much good it done to argue and finely she picked out a little gold chain and 4 little pearls to go with it and it cost $47.50 but what and the he – ll is $47.50 as long as the baby has a merry xmas.

Well we was shoping all the P. M. but you can bet we didn’t go in that smart Alex store where that smart Alex mgr. got so fresh when they offered me that cheap job and we use to spend a lot of jack in there at that but never again and if they want to know why they haven’t got no big bill against us like they usually have around xmas time I will tell them and then maybe Mr. Smart will wished he hadn’t of been so smart but at that when I seen them floor men on the job today I was tickled to death I turned that job down because the way them women jousled them around I couldn’t of never stood for it and I would of felt like busting them in the eye if it had of been me and of course I don’t mean that Al as I wouldn’t think of hitting a woman but I would of certainly gave them the elbow or accidently parked my heel on a few of their best toes.

Well of course I couldn’t buy Florrie no present wile she was along and I half to go back down again tomorrow and try and find something and I haven’t the lease idear what will it be and all as I know is that it won’t be no pearl necklace for adults. She says she has all ready boughten my present and wait till I see it. Well I suppose it will be a corset or maybe she will give me a set of false teeth and hide them away somewheres till I come of age to put them on.

Well Al we are sending xmas cards to you and Bertha and I only wished it could be something more but we kind of feel this yr. like we shouldn’t ought to spend a whole lot of money what with some of the boys still over in France yet and another liberty loan comeing along some time soon and all and all it don’t seem hardly right to be blowing jack for xmas presents but maybe next yr. everything will be different and in the mean wile merry xmas to you and Bertha from the both of us.

Your pal, Jack.

CHI, DEC. 31.

Friend Al:  Well Al they’s not much news to write as everything has been going along about like usual and I haven’t made it up in my mind yet what line of business to take up though I have got several good offers hanging in the fire you might say and am just playing the waiting game till I decide which 1 looks best as I would be sorry to get in to 1 thing and then find out they was something else opened up that I would like a whole lot better.

One of the things I have got in mind is takeing up newspaper work and writeing articles about baseball or maybe army life and when the baseball season opens maybe I would go out and see the games and write up the reports and you can bet my articles would be different then some of these birds that’s reporting the games as I would at lease know what I was writeing about wile you take the most of these here reporters and all the baseball they know you could carry it around in a eye dropper.

But I don’t know whether the papers would pay me the kind of money I would want and if not why I am in a position to laugh at them.

Well I got tired of setting around the house today as Florrie was over to her looks garage and the Swede had both the kiddies out to get the air so I walked around a wile and then I hopped on to a 35th. St. car and rode over west and I happened to look out of the window and we was just passing the ball pk. so I didn’t have nothing else to do so I give the conductor the highball and jumped off and went up in the office to see if they wasn’t maybe some mail for me that some of the boys wrote from France not knowing my home address.

Well they wasn’t no mail so I set down and fanned a wile with Harry the secty. of the club and he asked me all about what I seen over acrost the pond and we had quite a talk and finely I thought maybe Comiskey would be sore if he heard I had been up there and hadn’t paid my respects but Harry said he wasn’t in so then I thought maybe he might of left some word about me and wanted to know if I was going to come back and pitch baseball for him or not but Harry said he hadn’t mentioned nothing about it so I guess when the time comes he will just send me my contract and then I will send it back and tell him I have decided to quit baseball and go in to some line of business where they’s a future in it.

Because they’s no use of a man killing himself pitching baseball and then when your arm gives out you haven’t got no business to go in to because business men won’t hire a man that’s 33 or 34 yrs. old and no experience and besides if a man has got a family like mine why not stay home and enjoy them in the stead of traveling on the road 1/2 the yr. around you might say. So even if Comiskey should send me a contract calling for $4000.00 per annum I would send it back though that is the lease I would sign up for if I was going to sign at all.

Well Al xmas is over and I only wished you could of been here to see how little Al eat it up. Besides all the junk we give him all of Florrie’s friends sent something and all together he must of got about 25 presents in the 1st. place and now he has got about 100 as everything he got is broke in to 4 peaces and they also sent the baby a load of play things that means as much to her as the hit and run but Florrie says never mind they will be put away till some xmas when she is old enough to enjoy them and then we won’t half to buy her nothing new. Well the idear is O.K. Al but it reminds me like when Sept, comes along and a man has got a straw Kelly that looks pretty good and you give it to your wife to take care of till next June and when it comes June you go and buy yourself a new hat.

Well Florrie’s present to me was a phonograph and of course that’s a mighty fine present and will cost her or whoever pays for it a bunch of jack but between you and I Al I wouldn’t be surprised if she was thinking to herself when she bought it that maybe she might turn it on some times when I am not in the house. What I give her is 1 of these here patent shower bath attachments that you can have it put up on a regular bath tub and you can have a regular tub bath or a shower just as you feel like. They cost real money to Al but what’s the differents when its your wife?

Your pal, Jack.

CHI, JAN. 16.

Friend Al:  Well Al I don’t know if you have been reading the papers but if you have you probably seen the big news where Kid Gleason has been appointed mgr. of the White Sox. Well old pal that peace of news makes all the differents in the world to your old pal. As you know I had entirely gave up the idear of going back in to baseball and figured where I would take up some other line of business and work myself up to something big and I was just about makeing it up in my mind to accept 1 of the offers I got when this news come out.

Well old pal I haven’t no idear how things will come out now as I guess you know what friends I and Gleason are. You know he was asst. mgr. when Callahan had the club and then again the yr. Rowland win the pennant and he seemed to take a fancy to me some way and I guess I may as well come out and say that I was his favorite of any man on the club and I always figured that it was because when he tried his kidding on me I always give him back as good as he sent wile the rest of the boys was a scared of him but he use to kid me just to hear what I would say back to him. Like 1 time we was playing a double header with the St. Louis club and Jim Scott lose the 1st. game and Callahan said I was to work the 2d. game so I was warming up and Gleason come out and stood behind me and I had eat something that didn’t set very good so Gleason asked me how I felt and I said “Not very good. I’m not myself today.” So he said “Well then it looks like we would break even on the afternoon.” So I said “I will break your jaw in a minute.”

But a side from all that he was the 1 man that ever give me the credit for the work I done and if he had of been mgr. of the club he would of pitched me in my regular turn in the stead of playing favorites like them other 2 birds and all as I needed was regular work and I would of made them forget Walsh and all the rest of them big 4 flushers.

Well Al Gleason lives in Philly in the winter so I expect he will either wire me a telegram and ask for my terms or else he will run out here and see me if they give me $4000.00 per annum I am afraid they won’t be nothing for me to do only sign up though I have got several chances to go in to some business at better money than that and with a future to it. But this here is a matter of friendships Al and after all Gleason done for me why if he says the word I can’t hardly do nothing only say yes though of course I am not going to sacrifice myself or sign for a nickel less then $4000.00.

You see Al this will be Gleason’s 1st. yr. as a mgr. and he will want to finish up in the race and I don’t care how good a mgr. is he can’t win unless he has got the men and beleive me he will need all the pitching strenth he can get a hold of as Cleveland and N.Y. has both strenthened up and the Boston club with all their men back from the service has got enough good ball players to finish 1st. and 2d. both if they was room for all of them to play at once. So that is where friendships comes in Al and I figure that it is up to your old pal to pass up my business chances and show the Kid I am true blue and beleive me I will show him something and I will come pretty near winning that old flag single handed.

So all and all it looks like your old pal wouldn’t go in to no business adventure this yr. but I will be out there on the old ball field giveing them the best I have got and I guess the fans won’t holler their heads off when I walk out there the 1st. time after what I done in France.

Your pal, Jack.

CHI, FEB. 13.

Friend Al:  Well Al it says in the paper this A. M. that Gleason is comeing to Chi for a few days to see Comiskey and talk over the plans for the training trip and etc. but they’s another reason why he is comeing to Chi and maybe you can guess what it is. Well Al that’s the way to work it is to wait and let them come to you in the stead of you going to them as when you make them come to you you can pretty near demand whatever you want and they half to come acrost with it.

That’s a fine story Al about him comeing to talk over plans for the training trip as I know Comiskey and you could talk to him for 3 wks. about the plans for the training trip and when you got all through talking he would tell you what the plans was for the training trip so you can bet that Gleason isn’t comeing all the way out here from Philly to hear himself talk but what he is comeing for is to get some of the boys in line that lives here and when I say some of the boys I don’t half to go no further eh Al?

And all the more because I dropped him a letter a couple wks. ago and said I had made all arrangements to go in to business but if he wanted me I would give up my plans and pitch for him provided he give me my figure which is $3600.00 per annum and I never got no answer to the letter and now I know why I didn’t get no answer as he is 1 of the kind that would rather set down and do their talking face to face then set down and take the trouble of writeing a letter when he could just as well hop on the old rattler and come out here and see me personly.

Well Al he will be here next wk. and I have left my phone No. over to the ball pk. so as he will know how to get a hold of me and all they will be to it is he will ask me how much I want and I will tell him $3600.00 and he will say sign here.

Well Al Florrie says she don’t know if she is glad or sorry that I am going to be back in the old game as she says she don’t like to have me away from home so much but still and all she knows I wouldn’t be happy unless I was pitching baseball but she also says that if I do get back in to harness and ern a liveing and they’s another war breaks out she will probably half to go as she couldn’t claim no exemptions on the grounds of a dependant husband. So I said “I guess they won’t ask no women to go to war because the minute they heard 1 of them trench rats give their college yell they would all retreat to the equator or somewheres.” So she said “They had women in the Russia army and they didn’t retreat.” So I said “Yes they did only the men retreated so much faster that the women looked like they was standing still.”

Jokeing to 1 side Al I will let you know how I come out with Gleason but they’s only 1 way I can come out and that is he will be tickled to death to sign me at my own figure because if he trys any monkey business with me I will laugh in his face and Comiskey to, and give up the game for good and take the best offer I have got in some other line.

Your pal, Jack.

CHI, FEB. 20.

Friend Al:  Well Al I have just came back from the ball pk. and had a long talk with Gleason and the most of it was kidding back and 4th. like usual when the 2 of us gets together but it didn’t take no Wm. A. Pinkerton to see that he is anxious to have me back on the ball club and in a few days they will probably send me a contract at my own figures and then they won’t be nothing to do only wait for the rattler to start for the sunny south land.

Well Gleason got in yesterday P. M. and I was expecting him to call up either last night or this A. M. but they didn’t no call come and I figured they must of either lost my phone No. over to the office or else the phone was out of order or something and the way the phones has been acting all winter why he might of asked central to give him my No. and the next thing he knew he would be connected with the morgue so any way when they hadn’t no call came at noon I jumped on a 35th St. car and went over the pk. and up in the office and the secty. said Gleason was in talking to Comiskey but he would be through in a little while.

Well after about a hr. Gleason come out and seen me setting there and of course he had to start kidding right off of the real so he said “Well here is the big Busher and I hoped you was killed over in France but I suppose even them long distance guns fell short of where you was at.” So I said “They reached me all right and they got me in the left arm and wasn’t it lucky it wasn’t my right arm?” So he said “Its to bad they didn’t shoot your head off and made a pitcher out of you.”

So then he asked me all about the war and if I got in to Germany and I told him no that I got my wounds in June and was invalid home. So he said “You fight just like you pitch and they half to take you out in the 5th. inning.” So I asked him if he got my letter and he said he got a letter that looked like it might of came from me so he didn’t open it. So I said “Well I don’t know if you opened it or not but I just as soon tell you right here what I said in the letter. I told you I was going in to some business but I would stay in baseball another yr. to help you out if you met my figure.” So he asked what was my figure, so I told him $3000.00 per annum. So he said how much was I getting in the army and I told him I was getting $30.00 per mo. most of the time. So he said “Yes you was getting $30.00 per mo. to get up at 5 A. M. and work like a dog all day and eat beans and stew and sleep in a barn nights with a cow and a pig for your roomies and now you want $3000.00 a yr. to live in the best hotels and eat off the fat of the land and about once in every 10 days when we feel like we can afford to loose a ball game why you half to go out there and stand on your feet pretty near 1/2 the P. M. and if it happens to be July or Aug. you come pretty close to prespireing.”

So I said “You are the same old Gleason always trying to kid somebody but jokeing a side I will sign up for $3000.00 or else I will go in to business.” So he asked me what business I was going in to and I told him I had an offer from the Stock Yards. So he said “How much do they offer for you on the hoof?”

Well we kidded along back and 4th. like that for a wile and finely he said he was going out somewheres with Comiskey so I asked him if he wasn’t going to talk business to me 1st. So he said “I will tell you how it is boy. They have cut down the limit so as each club can’t only carry 21 men and that means we won’t have no room for bench lizards. But the boss says that on acct. of you haveing went to France and wasn’t killed why we will take you south if you want to go and you will get a chance to show if you are a pitcher yet or not and if you are like you use to be why maybe the Stock Yards will keep open long enough to take you when we are through with you and you can tell Armour and Swift and them that I will leave them know whether I want you or not about 3 days after we get to Texas.” So I asked him how about salery and he said “The boss will send you a contract in a few days and if I was you I would be satisfied with it.”

So it looks now like I was all set for the season Al and Gleason said I would be satisfied with the salery which is just as good as saying it will be $3000.00 as I wouldn’t be satisfied with no less, so all I half to do now is wait for the contract and put my name on it and I will be back in the game I love and when a man’s heart is in their work how are you going to stop him a specially with the stuff I’ve got.

Your pal, Jack.

CHI, MARCH 8.

Friend Al:  Well Al I am through with baseball for good and am going in to business and I don’t know just yet which proposition I will take that’s been offered to me but they’s no hurry and I will take the one that looks best when the proper time comes.

I suppose you will be surprised to hear that I have gave up the old game but maybe you won’t be so surprised when I tell you what come off today.

Well in the 1st. place when the mail man come this A. M. he brought me a contract from Comiskey and the figures amounted to $2400.00 per annum. How is that Al when I was getting $2500.00 per annum before I went to the war. Well at 1st. I couldn’t hardly beleive my eyes but that was the figure all right and finely I thought they must be some mistake so I was going to call up Comiskey and demand an explanation but afterwards I thought maybe I better run over and see him.

Well Al I went over there and Harry said the boss was busy but he would find out would he see me. Well after a wile Harry come out and said I was to go in the inside office so I went in and Comiskey was setting at his desk and for a wile he didn’t look up but finely he turned around and seen me and shook hands and said “Well young man what can I do for you?” So I said “I come to see you about this here contract.” So he asked me if I had signed it and I said no I hadn’t so he said “Well they’s nothing to see me about then.” So I said “Yes because I figure they must of been some mistake in the salery you offered me.” So he said “Don’t you think you are worth it?” So I said “This here contract calls for $2400.00 per annum and I was getting $2500.00 when I quit and enlisted in the war so it looks like you was fineing me $100.00 per annum for fighting for my country.” I said “Gleason said he wanted me and would send me a contract that I would be satisfied with.” Well Comiskey said “If Gleason said he wanted you he must of been kidding me when I talked to him but if he wants you bad enough to pay the differents between what that contract calls for and what you want why he is welcome but that is up to him.”

Well Al it was all as I could do to hold myself in and if he was a younger man it would of been good night Comiskey but I kept a hold of myself and asked him why didn’t he trade me to some club where I could get real jack. So he said “Well I will tell you young man I have got just 1 chance to trade you and that is to Washington and if you think Griffith will pay you more money than I will why I will make the trade.” Well I told him to not trouble himself as I was through with baseball any way and had decided to go in to some business so he said good luck and I started out but he said “Here you have left your contract and you better take it along with you because some times when you leave a contract lay around the house a few days the figures gets so big that you wouldn’t hardly know them.”

Well I seen he was trying to kid me so I said “All right I will take the contract home and tear it up” and I walked out on him.

Well Al that’s all they is to it and I am tickled to death that it has came out the way it has and now I can take the best offer that comes along in some good business line and can stay right here in Chi and be home all the yr. around with Florrie and the kiddies.

As for the White Sox I wished them good luck and beleive me they will need it the way Gleason and Comiskey are trying to run things and they will do well to finish in the same league with Boston and Cleveland and N. Y. but at that I don’t believe its Gleason that’s doing it and the way I figure is that this is his 1st. yr. as mgr and he is a scared to open his clam and if he had his say he would give me the $2800.00 I am holding out for. But its Comiskey himself that’s trying to make a monkey out of me. Well god help his ball club is all I can say.

As for leaveing them trade me to Washington that would be a sweet club to pitch for Al where the only time they get a run is when the president comes out to see them and he’s libel to be in France all summer.

Your pal, Jack.

CHI, MARCH 20.

Friend Al:  Well Al this is the last letter you will get from me from Chi for a wile as I am leaveing for Texas with the White Sox tomorrow night. The scheme worked Al and by setting pretty in the boat and keeping my mouth shut I made them come to me.

I suppose you will be surprised to hear that I am going to get back in to harness but wait till I tell yoti what come off today and you will where they wasn’t no other way out.

Well I went over to the stores this A. M. and when I come back the Swede said some man had called me up on the phone. So of course I knew it must of been the ball pk. so I called them up and the secty. answered the phone and I asked him if anybody wanted to talk to me. So he said no but Gleason was there if I wanted to talk to him.

So I said put him on the wire and pretty soon I heard Gleason’s voice and he said “Well Jack are you going along with us?” So I said “What about salery?” So he said “You have got your contract haven’t you?” So I said “Yes but it don’t call for enough jack.” So he said “Well if you earn more jack than your contract calls for you will get it.” So I said “If that’s a bet I’m on.”

So he told me to bring my contract along and come over there and I went over and there was a whole bunch of the boys getting ready for the get away and I wished you could of heard them when they seen me stride in to the office. Well Al they was hand shakes all around and you would of thought it was a family union or something.

Well the business was all tended to in a minute and I signed up and I am going to get $2400.00 which is the same money I was getting when I quit and that’s going some Al when you think of the way they have been cutting salerys in baseball.

Well Al I am going to show them that they haven’t made no mistake and I am going to work my head off for Gleason and Comiskey and the rest of the boys and wile I hate to be away from Florrie and the kiddies, still and all they’s nobody on this ball club that lays awake all night crying for their bottle and if Texas don’t do nothing else for me it will at lease give me a chance to get a little sleep.

Your pal, Jack.

• 2 •

The Battle of Texas

ON THE RATTLER,
MARCH 22.

Friend Al:  Well Al I am writeing this on the old rattler bound for sunny Texas and a man has got to write letters or something or you would gap yourself to death. They don’t have no more poker game Al but just some baby game like rummy that may be O.K. for birds that has spent all their life at some X roads but take a man like I that was over in France and played in the big game and it kind of sets up a man’s stomach to watch a bunch of growed up men popping their eyes out for the fear that they might maybe have a picture card left in their hand when some other bird lays down their cards. So about all they’s left for a real man to do is write letters or read the paper or look out at the scenery and I all ready read the papers and as for the scenery we been going through Kas. most of the day and you could pull down the shade most any minute and feel pretty sure you wasn’t going to miss nothing.

Well Al we left Chi last night and the 1st. thing Kid Gleason come through the car and asked everybody if they had any bottle goods hid in their grips as he says they are getting strick and if they catch a bird carring anything in to dry territory they send you to Siberia or somewheres. So when he come along to me he said “Well you big busher I don’t half to ask you if you are bringing anything along with you as my nose knows but is any of it in bottles?” So I said “No all I have got with me they would half to operate to find it.”

So he said “Well you want to be sure as they are libel to go through everybody’s baggage.” So I said “I would like to see some fresh Alex make a move to serch my baggage and I would knock him for a gool.” Well they’s 2 or 3 of the other boys besides myself that was in the service or that is they call it being in the service though I was the only 1 that got acrost the old pond outside of Joe Jenkins 1 of the catchers that’s still over there yet, but Red Faber was in the navy up to Great Lakes and Ed Collins was in the marines and 1 of the young fellows is wearing a aviation uniform and I suppose he seen the war from Texas and maybe got up so high that the 1st. baseman had to jump for him. But for a wile last night they was all asking me questions about what I seen over there and this in that but every time I would tell them something Collins or 1 of the other smart Alex would say he read about it in the papers and it was different so I said “All right if you seen it in the papers that way it must be so only I kind of figured that me being right up to the front I might be in a position to know something about the war where you take the most of these here reporters and for all they seen of it they might as well of been on Pikes Peek with a pair of opera glasses looking west.” So that shut them up.

Well Al we are supposed to get to Mineral Wells tomorrow noon and they can’t get us there to soon to suit me as I am wild to get out there in the old ball yard ahd show Gleason that I have got something left and he was telling me this A. M. that he had picked up a lot of good looking young right handers and I would half to step along to hold a job or the next thing I knowed I would be up to Minneapolis wearing a white beard and pitching for Joe Cantillon. But the new recruits that I have met on the train so far that thinks they are pitchers couldn’t pass the physical examination for the Portugal army so it looks like I wouldn’t have much trouble if I get a square deal and if I don’t I will knock somebody for a gool.

Your pal, Jack.

MINERAL WELLS,
MARCH 24.

Friend Al:  Well Al we landed here yesterday noon and it was raining when we got here and still raining and don’t look like it would ever stop and a man might almost think we had came to France by a mistake. And the only differents is that the harder it rained in France why they would see that we was all out in it wile here they’s nothing to do only lay around the hotel. Well Al I don’t know how many people they have got in Texas but they are all stopping at this hotel and on a rainy day it would take Houdini to get through the lobby. They call this hotel the Crazy Wells on acct. of 1 of the wells that they say it cures crazy people but it would half to be some well to cure some of the birds on our club a specially after they been jammed up together in this hotel a couple of rainy days with nothing to do only gap at each other.

Well we got in to Ft. Worth yesterday A. M. they switched us on to the R. R. that runs over here at lease they call it a R. R. and its the Weatherford Mineral Wells and North Western but Buck Weaver says the letters stands for Whoa Mule Whoa now Whoa. So I said if you think this R. R. balks you should ought to ride around France in some of them horse cars so Buck said “I wished I was a extra catcher so as I could set down in the bull pen with you all summer and learn all about France.” He said “You boys that went to France thinks you had a tough time of it but what about we birds that has to listen to it all the rest of our life.” So I said shut your mouth. But any way Al this R.R. isn’t only 28 miles long from 1 end to the other so even if the trains do run like old Cy Young was paceing them you get to where you was going some time, where the roads we was on in France never seemed to know where to leave off.

Well we couldn’t of done no work yesterday any way on acct. of just getting in and unpacking and getting our uniforms and everything but Gleason was certainly sore when we woke up this A. M. and it was still poring rain and I set with him at the breakfast table and the waiter said this rain was makeing a big hit with the people in Texas as they hadn’t had no rain for so long that pretty near everything was drying up so Gleason said “Well you better make it unanimous.” He meant for the waiter to dry up to and shut his mouth.

Well Gleason said we would half to go out and work tomorrow rain or shine and he said after this everybody would half to be down for breakfast at 8 bells or they wouldn’t get no breakfast and if they didn’t get down for breakfast he would go up to their rooms and use his razor strap on them. That’s the way he generally always does Al on the new recruits is go after them with his razor strap to show them he is in ernest but of course he wouldn’t dast do that on 1 of we old timers and if he ever tried it on me I would knock him for a gool.

I told him that this A. M. and he said “Well they’s no danger of you ever comeing late to a meal and the only thing I am a scared of is that you will get here before they open up the dinning rm. and bust down the door and get us put out of the hotel.”

Well Al I am glad of 1 thing and that is most of the people stopping at the hotel is men and very few gals not that the gals would make any differents in my young life only in most of these southern hotels they’s generally always a flock of gals that wants to make a fuss over the ball players and usually 1 of them takes a kind of a shine to me but this time I have made it up in my mind to tend to business and show Gleason that he didn’t make no mistake in meeting my terms so I am glad I won’t have nothing to take my mind off of my work though they’s 1 little gal stopping here that the boys says she is a swell heiress from St. Louis that’s here with her mother that’s got rheumatism and I noticed she give me a long look when I come in the dinning rm. this noon but I looked straight ahead and pretended like I didn’t notice it. Her name is Miss Krug and she is some looker but she is certainly wasteing them goggly eyes on me as I am down here to get my arm in shape to pitch and not hold hands or something.

The clerk tells me that she has got a big car that she drives around in it all the wile her mother is takeing the treatments but as far as I am conserned if she gets lonesome driveing she will half to talk to the spare tire.

Your pal, Jack.

MINERAL WELLS,
MARCH 26.

Friend Al:  Well Al if nerve was all that a bird needed to make good in the big league they’s 1 bird down here trying to be a pitcher on our club that has all ready made good. But it takes something besides nerve Al but listen to what come off today and you will say this bird is chesty enough if he only had something to go with it.

Well this bird’s name is Belden and he was a semi pro up in Chi but he got catched in the draft and went to France and he just got back from over there last month and somebody recomended him to Comiskey and so he is down here on the trip. Well he is a right hander so he is a rival of mine you might say but to look at him I guess they’s no hurry about me packing up my grip and go home.

Well the rain had stopped this A. M. and Gleason said everybody must be out to the pk. at 10 bells so we started out about 9:30 and I was walking with Buck Weaver and Eddie Cicotte and this here Belden. They was about a ft. of mud on the road and Cicotte made some remark about the mud and Belden said “This isn’t nothing to what it was in France and over there we would think this was a drout.” Well they’s a cemetery on the way out to the pk. and wile we was going past it Buck Weaver made the remark that that was where we left most of the young pitchers every spring so Belden said “You can’t scare me with no stuff about cemeterys as I seen to many of them in France.” So then Buck says “Is they any subject we can talk about that won’t remind you of something you seen in France?” So that shut him up for a wile but after a wile Cicotte asked him what battles he was in over there and he said he was in the Marne and the Oregon forest and Bellow Woods. So Cicotte says “Its no wonder the Germans took such a licking in them places as the whole American army was there.” So Belden said oh no they wasn’t and what made him think that. So Cicotte said “Because every soldier I have seen that’s came back from France was in the Oregon forest and Bellow Woods.”

Well we finely got out to the pk. and they wasn’t no chance for a real practice on acct. of the mud but Gleason found a dry spot over in 1 corner and marked off the pitching distants and had us all throw a few and honest Al my old super never felt better in my life and I cut loose a couple that pretty near knocked Schalk for a gool but Gleason finely come up and stopped me and told me to not go to strong the 1st. day. Well I watched this Belden wile he throwed a few and I was standing along side of Cicotte and he was watching him to so I asked him what he thought of him. So Cicotte said “He looks like he will make a mighty valuable man for us as when he is in there pitching Schalk can set on the bench and rest as he won’t never get nothing past the batter.”

Well we finely come out of the pk. and started back towards the hotel and the 1st. thing you know they was a machine come hunking up behind us and it was Miss Krug the St. Louis heiress that’s stopping at the hotel and she slowed up and asked if anybody wanted a ride. Well Al she was looking right at me but I pretended like I didn’t understand but I just give her a kind of a smile and the next thing you know Belden had ran out and jumped in the drivers seat with her and away they went.

How is that for nerve Al when it was me she was looking at and this other bird that’s been in the league about 5 minutes you might say jumps in and rides with her and I bet the little gal felt pretty sick when she seen what she had got wished on to and she didn’t come in for supper tonight as I suppose she thought some of the boys would make fun of her though she needn’t have no fears on that score as if any of them tried it I would knock them for a gool.

Your pal, Jack.

MINERAL WELLS,
MARCH 20.

Friend Al:  Well old pal I guess they’s no more question about me makeing good and sticking with the club and you will say the same thing when I tell you what Gleason said yesterday. We played a game out to the pk. between the 1st. and 2d. clubs and the game was to go 7 innings and Gleason told me I could pitch a part of it for the 2d. club so my arm was feeling so good that I asked him to let me work 4 of the 7 innings. Well Al when I got through the 1st. club had 1 hit and never found out where 2d. base was located. So when it was over Gleason come up to me and said “Well Jack I don’t know what the war done to you but I never seen you look better then that in the spring and right now you look like the best man I have got down here pitching.” He said “Now don’t go and swell up but keep working hard and do like I tell you and you may turn out to be the bird I need to round out my pitching staff.” Well the club was going over to play Ft. Worth and Dallas Saturday and Sunday and I thought of course we would all go along but after my showing yesterday Gleason figured he wouldn’t take no chances so he left me here to work out with Faber and Wolfgang wile the rest of the boys is gone. He said “I wouldn’t pitch you in either of them games after working you yesterday and I want you to do a little work here with these other 2 boys and behave just like I was here watching you.” So I said “What and the he – ll could a man do only behave himself in this town?” Well he said “I mean for you to not try and eat for the whole club just because they are not here to eat for themself.”

So you see Al it looks like I had made good right from the start this time and that means they will half to come acrost with more jack before long as Gleason promised before I come south that he would give me more then my contract calls for if I show him the right kind of stuff.

Well the bunch went away early this A. M. and was gone before I got up and I had breakfast with Faber and Wolfgang and we decided to go out and work about 11 o’clock so I and the other 2 went out to the pk. and throwed the ball around a wile and done some running but I got tired pretty quick on acct. of pitching yesterday so pretty soon I said I thought I would call it a day so I started back to the hotel and I hadn’t no sooner then got outside of the pk. and all of a sudden along come Miss Krug in her machine.

Well they wasn’t no getting away from her this time without turning her down cold so I kind of waved to her and she stopped the machine and I got in and we drove back to the hotel.

Well Al she is some gal and it is a pleasure to talk to a gal like she as you take most gals and they can’t kid along with a man but about all as they can do is giggle and act silly but this baby can give you as good as you send.

Well I said “You must be pretty lonesome today with Belden gone.” So she said “Oh I don’t know.” So then I said “He is sure some lady killer.” So she said “I’ll say so. But you notice I am still alive.” So after a wile she said “Belden tells me you was in France too.” So I said “You and Belden seems to of talked together a whole lot.” “Well” she said “I haven’t had no one else to talk to.” So I said “Well you have got some one else to talk to now.” “Yes” she says “but you always run away from me. I suppose you real stars gets tired of haveing girls run after you.” So I said “Oh I don’t know.”

Well we kidded back and 4th. like that till we come to the hotel and then I asked her was she doing anything this P. M. and she said she had a date with her mother but I took her to the picture show tonight and tomorrow she is going to take me for another ride. Well Al it does a man good to be around with a gal like that that keeps a man on edge what to say next as she always gives you as good as you send and from what she said she must be kind of tired of hearing Belden tell how he win the battle of Bellow Woods and etc. and any way I feel like a little rest would be the best thing for me after pitching them 4 innings yesterday. So I will play around with her tomorrow and then forget her when the bunch gets back Monday A. M. and go to work in ernest but if a man works to hard right at the start you are libel to go stale.

Well Al I had a letter from Florrie today and little Florrie has got 1 tooth and another 1 showing and she says little Al misses me pretty bad and asks every day why daddy don’t hurry up and come home. Well they will all be proud of daddy before this season is over eh Al.

Your pal, Jack

MINERAL WELLS,
MARCH 31.

Friend Al:  Well Al the boys is back from Ft. Worth and Dallas and I guess they didn’t show up any to good over there and any way Gleason don’t look like he enjoyed the trip and he told the boys out to the pk. this P. M. they would half to show a whole lot more pep or he would leave some of them in Texas all summer to graze.

Well he give us a long work out and he stood behind me wile I throwed a few to Schalkie and he said I didn’t look as fast as when I pitched them 4 innings last Friday but he wasn’t throwing no boquets at any of the boys today so I didn’t pay no tension. But I couldn’t help from laughing at 1 of the young catchers name Cosgrove that was standing up there catching in the batting pracice and Joe Jackson hit a foul ball straight up and Cosgrove throwed off his mask and begin running a mile around a 4 ft. track and finely the ball came down and hit him in the cheek bone and knocked him for a gool. Well he layed there and the trainer come running out to tend to him but Gleason says “Get away from him as he is just as good laying there as standing up and maybe after this he will know enough to keep his mask on after a high foul ball.”

Well it was pretty near supper time when he let us off and I tried to be 1 of the 1st. out of the pk. but they was a whole bunch out ahead of me and when Miss Krug come along with her car they all seen me jump in and you ought to of seen Belden when he seen us drive away together and all the boys yelled their head off.

Well I come back here to the hotel and got dressed and come down for supper and after a wile Gleason come in and I was setting with 3 of the other boys but he made 1 of them get up and give him his seat so as he could set down and kid me.

“Well Jack” he says “I hear you worked pretty hard wile we was gone and I suppose you can pretty near run the car by this time.”

Well I knew he wasn’t sore at me but just sore on acct. of how rotten the young fellows was showing up so I just give him a smile.

“After this” he says “you and all the whole rest of the club will ride back and 4th. between the ball pk. and back on your own dogs. They’s to much rideing on this club but after this I will do all of it and everybody on this club will get rode to death if they don’t quit loafing on me. So remember every one of you will stay out of machines going to the ball pk. and comeing back and besides that when you go up to your rms. you can use the stairs and take a load off the elevator.”

Well Al he may be my mgr. out on the old ball field but he can’t tell me how to get upstairs or from 1 place to another but I left him get away with it rather then start trouble in the dinning rm. of the hotel in front of the other boys to say nothing of the guests.

But I wonder what he would say if he knew how I spent Sunday. Well old pal I had some time. Miss Krug knows all the roads and we drove pretty near all day and she is some gal Al and smart as a whip. Everything you say to her she has got a come back and for inst. wile we was driveing yesterday she happened to ask me where I come from and I told her Indiana and she said “That’s a good place to come from.” She meant it was a good place to get away from. So I said “I guess it hasn’t got nothing on St. Louis at that.” “Oh I don’t know” she said.

Well it looks like I had Belden’s time beat and I suppose I ought to of left him a clear field on acct. of him being single but the gal says herself that she can’t stand him on acct. of him talking about himself all the wile and besides his looks is against him and besides a man has got to amuse themself some way in a burg like this or it would take more then the crazy wells to stop you from turning in to squirrel meat.

Your pal, Jack.

MINERAL WELLS,
APRIL 3.

Friend Al:  Well Al tomorrow is the last day here as we leave for Houston and play there Saturday and Sunday and then Austin and Georgetown and after that we go to Dallas for a few days and play a couple games there before we start north. Gleason was kidding me again tonight and said he wanted to apologize for the schedule that takes us away from here so soon and if he had of known how I was going to enjoy Mineral Wells he would of arranged to stay here longer. But he said I was to be sure and start in saying good by soon enough so as I would be through by train time. Well Al I wonder what he would say if I told him Miss Krug is going to be in Dallas wile we are there as she is going to drive over there with her mother. It kind of looks like she hates me eh Al?

Well we played another ball game today between the 1st. and 2d. club and I pitched 5 innings for the 1st. club and they got 5 runs off of me but most of them was on acct. of the way Weaver and Collins was kicking the ball around the infield and then when they had filled up the bases on me Shano Collins caught a hold of 1 that was a mile over his head and the wind blowed it down in the right field corner and the right field fence in this pk. is as far as from here to France and the ground was hard and of course the dam ball rolled and Shano could of ran around the bases twice so when the inning was over Gleason said to me “When you are pitching to a man like Collins you want to say to yourself I am pitching to Collins and not be thinking about some garbage contractor’s daughter from St. Louis.” So I said “He hit a ball that was over his head.” So Gleason said “Yes and over Liebold’s head too.” He says “The next time I pick out a spot to train a ball club it will be in a man’s convent where they’s no gals.” So I walked away from him.

But wait till you hear what this Belden pulled today Al. Dureing the game some of the boys was trying their hit and run signs and etc. and they got them all balled up so Gleason made us stay out there after the game was over and practice up on our signs and wile he was talking to some of the boys this Belden cut in and said he thought it would be a good idear if instead of slideing their hand up and down the bat or pulling their cap or something if they would learn a few French words and give their signs in French out loud and they couldn’t none of the other clubs understand them and for inst. if a man was up there hitting and wanted the man on 1st. base to go down on the next ball he would holler allay at him on acct. of that being the French for go. So Cicotte said it was a great idear only about the 9th. or 10th. time we worked it on some club and they seen the man go every time they might maybe suspect what it meant and then we would half to find out the Russian word for go and use that and he thought the only Russian word for go meant go back and the base runner would get mixed up and think the batter meant he was going to hit a foul ball.

Well Miss Krug had some engagement with her mother tonight so I went with some of the boys to a picture show and Belden went along with us an 1 of the pictures was old last yr. stuff that showed a lot of different places in France and etc. and every time they would show a picture Cicotte would ask Belden if he was there and he said yes every time and finely Cicotte asked him how long he was in France all together and he said 4 mos, so Cicotte said “Well if you was only in France 4 mos. and seen all them places its no wonder you wasn’t shot as you never stood still a minute.”

Well Al this is the last letter you will get from me here as I will be busy packing up tomorrow and saying good by to my friends but I will try and drop you a line from Houston or somewheres along the line and let you know how things is comeing on.

Your pal, Jack.

GEORGETOWN,
APRIL 8.

Friend Al:  Well I guess Gleason won’t half to worry no more about at least 1 member of his pitching staff after what I done over in Houston Saturday and here again today. I worked 5 innings against the Houston club Saturday and believe me Al they have got some club but I made them look like they ought to of paid their way in. They was only 1 ball got out of the infield and Weaver could of nailed that only he didn’t start in time and the rest of the wile they was popping them up in the air or missing them all together. Well Williams the left hander followed me and he was pretty good to though he didn’t have anywheres near the stuff I showed but we trimmed them 6 to o and Gleason was all smiles.

Well of course I didn’t work there again Sunday or yesterday at Austin and the boys didn’t look so good behind the pitching they got but today we was up against a bunch of collegers and Gleason sent me the whole distants to see how I could stand it and I guess I showed him. Well Al I honestly felt sorry for some of these college boys and they couldn’t of got a base hit off me with a shovel only their teachers and friends was watching them so I eased up in the last 2 innings and they got a couple of base hits and they felt so good about them that I wished I had of let them get some more.

Well Gleason come to me afterwards and he said “Now Jack you look like that 1st. day at the Wells and if you can just keep going like that I have got the 4 pitchers I want to work regular and you are 1 of them. You showed me in Houston and here what you can do when you haven’t got your mind on some millionaire janitor’s daughter from St. Louis with rheumatism on the mother’s side. You had a fast ball in there today that looked like Johnson at his best and you have pretty near got where you can slow ball them without everybody in the pk. calling it on you. You just keep pitching that way and I will get you some dough that is some dough.”

So it looks like I was all set Al and the only thing now is to keep him from finding out about Miss Krug and her mother comeing to Dallas and I don’t care if I see her or not only it wouldn’t seem hardly fair to have she and her mother come all the way over there and then me not even take her to a picture show. But what Gleason don’t know won’t hurt him and that stuff about girls bothering me is all in his eye as I can pitch when my arm feels good and I can’t pitch when it don’t feel good girls or no girls.

Your pal, Jack.

FORT WORTH,
APRIL 13.

Friend Al:  Well Al I don’t know whether to quit baseball or not and maybe I won’t quit if I can get away to some other club but I can’t work no more under Gleason and do myself justice.

Wait till you hear what come off in Dallas yesterday and I bet you will say I would be a sucker to stand for the kind of stuff he is trying to put over.

Well Al the second day we was there I got a phone call and it was Miss Krug and her and her mother was stopping at a certain hotel so I asked her would she like to go to a picture show or somewheres and she said she would so I said I would meet her that night and we would go somewheres and see a show. Well I was in the lobby of our hotel when the phone call come and of course they had to page me and Gleason heard them so after I got through phoneing he come up to me and asked if the bell of St. Louis was folling me around. So I said no I supposed she was in Mineral Wells. So he said where was I going that evening and I said nowheres and he said all right he wanted me to go to a picture show with him. So then I said I had forgot I had a date to go with 1 of the other boys on the club so he said all right he would go along with us. Well Al they wasn’t no shakeing lose from him so finely I had to own up that I was going to take Miss Krug to a show so he said he would go along and pay for it. Well he went along all right and it was the worst picture I ever seen and when it was over Gleason asked Miss Krug and I if we wouldn’t have a soda or something.

Well they wasn’t nothing to do only go with him and we hadn’t no sooner then give our order when he said to her “What do you think of big Jack here?” Well she said she thought I was all right. So Gleason said “Well I never thought so myself but I guess he must be or he couldn’t of never got such a sweet wife like he’s got up in Chi.” Well I couldn’t say nothing or neither could the gal. So then Gleason asked me did I have the Mrs. picture with me or either 1 of the 2 kids. Well Al they’s no use telling you any more about it only we had our soda and took the gal back to her hotel and then I and Gleason come back to our hotel together and he never said a word all the way home or neither did I only just before he left me to go up to his rm. he said “You pitch tomorrow Jack” and that’s all he said.

Well of course they won’t be no more picture shows for Miss Krug and I and of course it don’t make no differents to me as I was just going to tell her about me being married and everything and her and I was just good friends and liked to talk to each other but its haveing him cut in on my private affairs and try to run them that makes me sore and he must think this is the army the way he acts.

Well Al I pitched the game in Dallas yesterday and they couldn’t do nothing with me but I wouldn’t of never pitched it at all only they had me advertised and I have got a whole lot of good friends there that I wouldn’t disapoint them. But as for sticking with the club after that kind of business I couldn’t do myself justice and as soon as we get home I will put it up to Comiskey and ask him to trade me to some other club or else I will quit and go in to some business where a man does his work and gets through and when he is through the mgr. of the store don’t go noseing around in to your private affairs.

Your pal, Jack.

LOUISVILLE,
APRIL l8.

Friend Al:  Well Al I have only got time for a few lines as we are leaveing in a little wile for Cincy for games tomorow and Sunday and I am going to pitch 5 innings Sunday and then rest till Wednesday when we open up the season in St. Louis. Gleason hasn’t gave it out to the papers yet Al but between you and I it looks like a cinch I would pitch the opening game in St. Louis. Gleason and all the rest of the boys admits that I have been going better then any other pitcher on the club and you know how crazy every club is to win the opening game and that is why it looks like I would be the man that is chose.

Well Al I will give them everything I have got and if I only feel as good as I felt yesterday in Nashville why the St. Louis boys might just as well leave their bats in the bag.

Well I guess the last time I wrote you I was kind of on the outs with Gleason and I didn’t speak to him for pretty near a wk. but a man can’t stay sore at him very long on acct. of the stuff he pulls and 1st. thing you know you half to bust right out laughing and then of course its good night.

I guess I told you about Belden the young pitcher from Chi that was in France and tried to get us to give our signs in French. Well he was with the 2d. club that left us before we come away from Texas and they went up north the other way and yesterday I was setting in the hotel at Nashville talking to Felsch and Gleason come along and Felsch asked him if he had heard how Belden was comeing along with the 2d. club. So Gleason said “He got along a whole lot faster then the club he was with as he is all ready back in Chi.” He said “I wired to Shano Collins and asked him if they was anybody on his 2d. club that looked like he could get along without them so he wired back that he could rap Belden up and send him home because though they wasn’t no doubt that he had beat Germany it didn’t look like he would ever last 2 innings vs. Boston and Cleveland.” So when Gleason pulled that I couldn’t help from laughing and then he kicked me in the shins like old times and now we are pals again.

Well I haven’t no more time to write from here but will try and drop you a line from Cincy but in the mean wile you can tell the boys that it looks like a cinch I will open the season in St. Louis and if any of them has a chance to get a bet down on your old pal they can’t go wrong. I wasn’t never as good as I am this spring Al and I will knock them for a gool.

Your pal, Jack.

CINCY,
APRIL 20.

Friend Al:  Well Al just a few words before we go out to the pk. and this will be my last game before the opening and Gleason says I and Lefty Williams will pitch 5 and 4 innings today for a final work out so it looks like a cinch I will open up Wednesday in St. Louis.

Speaking about St. Louis Al I guess I told you about that Miss Krug that was down to the Wells wile we was there and kind of lost her head over me and finely I had to get Gleason to tell her I was a married man. Well I had forgot all about her but this A. M. when I come down for breakfast they was a letter in my box and it was from this same gal and she is back in St. Louis and wanted to know if maybe I couldn’t call her up when I get there just for old time sake and any way she said she would be out to the opening game Wednesday and pulling for us even if she is a St. Louis gal.

Well I was reading the letter at breakfast and Gleason come in and asked me what was the news from home and I said I hadn’t heard nothing from home since we was in Memphis so he said who was the letter from then. So I said “You may be the mgr. of this ball club but you are not my mother.” So he said “No and if I was I would give you a spanking.” He says “You don’t half to tell me who the letter is from because I can tell by your rosy cheeks who it is from and I can just about tell what’s in it.” So then I said “All right if you are such a smart Alex they’s no use in me telling you anything.” So then he asked me what was my home address in Chi as he said he wanted all the boys addresses and phone numbers. So I give him mine and he walked away.

Well Al I have got to get ready to go out to the pk. and give these National Leaguers a treat and I bet by the time I get through with them they will be thanking god that they don’t half to look at this kind of pitching all summer or they would hit about 6 and 7-8.

Your pal, Jack.

ST. LOUIS,
APRIL 24.

Friend Al:  Well old pal I suppose by this time you have got a hold of the Chi papers and seen what I done yesterday and all as I have seen so far is the St. Louis papers and every 1 of them says it was 1 of the best pitched games they ever seen for an opening game.

Well Al they couldn’t of nobody beat me yesterday and either 1 of the 2 hits I give them could of been scored either way and a specially Sisler’s but I guess he ain’t bragging much this A. M. at that as I sent him back twice for a drink of water.

Well old pal I have had lots of big days in my career both in baseball and in Uncle Sam’s service but I don’t believe I was ever so happy in my life as when Schalkie caught that foul ball off of Gedeon and made the last out and the way Gleason and the rest of the boys slapped me on the back.

But wait till I tell you the funny part of it Al. Gleason sent us all to bed early Tuesday night and before I went to the hay he told me to get plenty of rest as he was going to pitch me if I looked good out there before the game.

So I didn’t get up till pretty near 9 o’clock and it was a quarter to 10 when I come down for breakfast and when I got in the lobby who do you think was there waiting for me? Well Al it was Florrie, all dolled up like the state fair.

Well to make a short story out of it it seems like Gleason had wrote her a letter from Cincy and asked her to come down here at the club’s expense and watch me open up the season but to not say nothing to me about she was comeing and believe me Al it was some surprise and pleasant surprise to see her and I never seen her look prettier in her life.

Well Al I guess with the stuff I had I could of beat them without her setting there in the stand but just the same I worked a whole lot harder for knowing she was up there watching me and I guess the club won’t grudge the jack they spent getting her down here.

Well when we come back to the hotel for dinner last night Gleason come in the dinning rm. with us and insisted on buying us a bottle of wine and I never seen nobody in my life so tickled over winning 1 ball game as him. Well of course he has got a good reason to be tickled as he will need all the pitching he can get and me makeing this showing means about half his worrys is gone.

Well you will read about the game in the papers and they isn’t much more to write about only I can’t help from kind of wondering if Miss Krug was out there and seen it but after all what and the he – ll do I care if she was or wasn’t?

Your pal, Jack.

• 3 •

Along Came Ruth

ST. LOUIS,
APRIL 26.

Friend Al:  Well Al this is our last day here and we win the 1st. 2 games and lose yesterday and have got 1 more game to play and tonight we leave for Detroit. Well if we lose today we will have a even break on the serious and a club that can’t do no better then break even with this St. Louis club better take up some other line of business but Gleason instead of useing a little judgement sent a left hander in against them yesterday and they certainly give him a welcome and the more I see of left handers I am certainly glad I pitch with my right arm the way God intended for a man.

Well the boys on our club was feeling pretty cocky the 1st. 2 days about how they could hit but yesterday they could of played in a 16 ft. ring without no ground rules as the most of the time they was missing the ball all together and when they did hit it it acted like a geyser and it was Bert Gallia pitching against us and they all kept saying he didn’t have nothing but when he got through with us we didn’t have nothing either and that’s the way it always goes when a pitcher makes a sucker out of a club he didn’t have nothing but when they knock him out of the park he’s pretty good.

Well any way I told Gleason last night that it looked like we wouldn’t get no better then a even break here unless he stuck me in there to pitch the last game today. So he says “No I was figureing on you to open up in Detroit Sunday but of course if you are afraid of Detroit I can make different plans.” So I said “I am not afraid of Detroit or nobody else and you know yourself that they can’t no club beat me the way I am going whether its Detroit or no matter who it is.” So he said “All right then keep your mouth shut about who is going to pitch because if you are going to manage the club I won’t have no job left.” Well let him try and run the ball club the way he wants to but if I was running the ball club and had a pitcher that is going the way I am going I would work him every other day and get a start on the other clubs as the games we win now counts just as much as the games we win in Sept.

Well Al Florrie went back to Chi last night though I wanted her to stick with the club and go on to Detroit with us but she said she had to get back, and tend to business at the beauty parlor so I told Gleason that and he said he was sorry she was going to leave us as it was a releif for him to look at something pretty once in a wile when most of the time he had to watch ball players but he admired her for tending to business and he wished it run in the family. He says “You should ought to be thankfull that your Mrs. is what she is as most wifes is a drug on their husband but your Mrs. makes more jack then you and if she give up her business it would keep you hustleing to make both ends meet the other, where if you missed a meal some time and died from it your family would be that much ahead.” So I said “Yes and that is because your cheap skate ball club is only paying me a salary of $2400.00 per annum instead of somewheres near what I am worth.” So he said “I have all ready told you that if you keep working hard and show me something I will tear up your contract and give you a good one but before I do it I will half to find out if you are going to win ball games for me or just use up 1 lower birth like in old times.” So I told him to shut his mouth.

Well Al I thought the war with Germany was all over but Joe Jenkins joined the club here and now the whole war is being played over again. He is 1 of the catchers on the club and he was in France and if they was any battles he wasn’t in its because he can’t pronounce them but anybody that thinks the U. S. troop movements was slow over there ought to listen to some of these birds that’s came back and some of them was at Verdun 1 evening and Flanders the next A. M. then down to Nice the next day for a couple hours rest and up in the Oregon forest the folling afternoon and etc. till its no wonder the Germans was dazzled. If some of these birds that was in the war could get around the bases like they did around the western front all as the catchers would dast do when they started to steal second base would be walk up the base line towards third with the ball in their hand and try to scare them from comeing all the way home.

Well its Detroit tomorrow and 3 more days after that and then home and I haven’t been there since the middle of March and I guess they’s 2 kids that won’t be tickled to death to see sombeody eh Al?

Your pal, Jack.

DETROIT,
APRIL 28.

Friend Al:  Well old pal I suppose you read in the papers whai come off here yesterday and I guess Gleason won’t have no more to say after this about me being afraid of Detroit. The shoe points the other way now and Detroit is the one that’s afraid of me and no wonder.

I didn’t have the stuff that I had down to St. Louis for the opening but I had enough to make a monkey out of Cobb and Veach and I couldn’t help from feeling sorry for this new outfielder they have got name Flagstaff or something and I guess he was about half mast before I got through with him.

Well its a cinch now that I will open in Chi Thursday and I will give St. Louis another spanking and then I will make Gleason come acrost with the contract he has been promiseing me and if he trys to stall I will tell him he must either give me the jack or trade me to some other club and he has got good sence even if he don’t act like it sometimes and they’s a fine chance of him tradeing me though they’s 7 other clubs in this league that would jump at it and Detroit is 1 of them though the Detroit club would be takeing a big chance if they got a hold of somebody that would realy pitch as the fans up here would die from surprise.

Well I had a letter from Florrie today and it was just like the most of her letters when you got through reading it you wondered what she had in mind and about all as she said was that she had a surprise to tell me when I got home and I use to get all excited when she wrote about them surprises but now I can guess what it is. She probably seen a roach in the apartment or something and any way I guess I can wait till I get home and not burn up the wires trying to find out before hand.

Your pal, Jack.

DETROIT,
APRIL 30.

Friend Al:  Well Al we leave for home tonight and open up the season in Chi tomorrow but I won’t be out there pitching unless Gleason apologizes for what he pulled on me last night. It was more rotten weather yesterday just like we been haveing ever since the 1st. day in St. Louis and I near froze to death setting out there on the bench so when we come back to the hotel they was a friend of mine here in Detroit waiting for me here in the lobby and he come up in the room with me and I was still shivering yet with the cold and he said how would I like something to warm me up. So I said “That’s a fine line of talk to hand out in a dry town.” So he said I could easy get a hold of some refreshments if I realy wanted some and all as I would half to do would be call a bell hop and tell him what I wanted.

Well I felt like a good shot would just about save my life so I called a boy and told him to go fetch me some bourbon and he said O.K. and he went out and come back in about a half hr. and he had a qt. with him and I asked him how much did we owe him and he said $15.00. How is that for reasonable Al and I guess it was the liquor men themselfs that voted Michigan dry and you can’t blame them. Well my friend seemed to of had a stroke in his arm so as he couldn’t even begin to reach in his pocket so I dug down and got 15 berrys and handed it to the kid and he still stood there yet like he expected a tip so I told him to beat it or I would tip him 1 in the jaw.

Well I asked my friend would he have a shot and his arm was O.K. again and he took the bottle and went to it without waiting for no glass or nothing but he got the neck of the bottle caught in his teeth and before he could pry it loose they was about a quarter of the bourbon gone.

Well I was just going to pore some of it out for myself and all of a sudden they come a rap at the door and I said come in and who walked in but Gleason. So I asked him what did he want.

So he said “Well you wasn’t the 1st. one in the dinning rm. so I thought you must be pretty sick so I come up to see what was the matter.” Well it was to late to hide the bottle and he come over to the table where I was setting and picked it up and looked at it and then he pored out a couple drops in the glass and tasted it and said it tastes like pretty good stuff. So I said it ought to be pretty good stuff as it cost enough jack so he asked me how much and I told him $15.00.

So he said “Well they’s some of the newspaper boys has been asking me to try and get a hold of some stuff for them so I will just take this along.”

So I said I guest the newspaper boys could write crazy enough without no help from the Michigan boot legs and besides the bottle belongs to me as I payed good money for it. So Gleason said “Oh I wouldn’t think of stealing it off of you but I will take it and pay you for it. You say it cost $15.00 but they’s only about $11.00 and a half worth of it left so I will settle with you for $11.00 and a half.” Well I didn’t want to quarrel with him in the front of a outsider so I didn’t say nothing and he took the bottle and started out of the rm. and I said hold on a minute where is my $11.00 and a half? So he said “Oh I am going to fine you $11.00 and a half for haveing liquor in your rm. but instead of takeing the fine out of your check I will take what’s left in the bottle and that makes us even.” So he walked out.

Well Al only for my friend being here in the rm. I would of took the bottle away from Gleason and cracked his head open with it but I didn’t want to make no seen before a outsider as he might tell it around and people would say the White Sox players was fighting with their mgr. So I left Gleason get away with $11.00 and a half worth of bourbon that I payed $15.00 for it and never tasted it and don’t know now if it was bourbon or cat nip.

Well my friend said “What kind of a bird are you to let a little scrimp like that make a monkey out of you?” So I said I didn’t want to make no seen in the hotel. So he said “Well if it had of been me I would of made a seen even if it was in church.” So I says “Well they’s no danger of you ever haveing a chance to make a seen in church and a specialy with Gleason but if you did make a seen with Gleason you would be in church 3 days later and have a box right up close to the front.”

Well Al I have told Gleason before this all ready that I would stand for him manageing me out on the old ball field but I wouldn’t stand for him trying to run my private affairs and this time I mean it and if he don’t apologize this P. M. or tonight on the train he will be shy of a pitcher tomorrow and will half to open up the home season with 1 of them other 4 flushers that claims they are pitchers but if Jackson and Collins didn’t hit in 7 or 8 runs every day they would be beating rugs in the stead of ball clubs.

Well any way we go home tonight and tomorrow I will be where it don’t cost no $15.00 per qt. and if Gleason walks in on me he can’t only rob me of $.20 worth at a time unless he operates.

Your pal, Jack.

CHI, MAY 3.

Friend Al:  Well Al I have just now came back from the ball pk. and will set down and write you a few lines before supper. I give the St. Louis club another good trimming today Al and that is 3 games I have pitched and win them all and only 1 run scored off of me in all 3 games together and that was the 1 the St. Louis club got today and they wouldn’t of never had that if Felsch had of been playing right for Tobin. But 1 run off of me in 3 games is going some and I should worry how many runs they scratch in as long as I win the ball game.

Well you know we was to open up here Thursday and it rained and we opened yesterday and I was waiting for Gleason to tell me I was going to pitch and then I was going to tell him I would pitch if he would apologize to me for what he done in Detroit but instead of picking me to pitch he picked Lefty Williams and the crowd was sore at him for not picking me and before the 1st inning was over he was sore at himself and Lefty was enjoying the shower bath. Gallia give us another beating and after it was over Gleason come up to me in the club house and said he was going to start me today. So I said “How about what you pulled on me in Detroit?” So he says “Do you mean about grabbing that bottle off of you?” So I said yes and he says “Look at here Jack you have got a great chance to get somewheres this yr. and if you keep on pitching like the way you started you will make a name for yourself and I will see that you get the jack. But you can’t do it and be stewed all the wile so that is the reason I took that bottle off of you.” So I said “They’s no danger of me being stewed all the wile or any part of the wile when bourbon is $15.00 per qt. and me getting a bat boy’s salery.” So he said “Well you lay off of the old burb and pitch baseball and you won’t be getting no bat boy’s salery. And besides I have told the newspaper boys that you are going to pitch and it will be in the morning papers and if you don’t pitch the bugs will jump out of the stand and knock me for a gool.” So as long as he put it up to me that way I couldn’t do nothing only say all right.

So sure enough it come out in the papers this A. M. that I was going to pitch and you ought to seen the crowd out there today Al and you ought to heard them when my name was gave out to pitch and when I walked out there on the field. Well I got away to a bad start you might say as Felsch wasn’t laying right for Tobin and he got a two base hit on a ball that Felsch ought to of caught in his eye and then after I got rid of Gedeon this Sisler hit at a ball he couldn’t hardly reach and it dropped over third base and Tobin scored and after that I made a monkey out of them and the 1st. time I come up to bat the fans give me a traveling bag and I suppose they think I have been running around the country all these yrs. with my night gown in a peach basket but I suppose we can give it to 1 of Florrie’s friends next xmas and besides it shows the fans of old Chi have got a warm spot for old Jack.

Speaking about Florrie Al when we was in Detroit she wrote and said she had a surprise for me and I thought little Al had picked up a couple hives or something but no it seems like wile I was on the road she met some partys that runs a beauty parlor down town and they wanted she should sell her interest in the one out south and go in pardners with them and they would give her a third interest for $3000.00 and pay her a salery of $300.00 per mo. and a share of the receits and she could pay for her interest on payments. So she asked me what I thought about it and I said if I was her I would stick to what she had where she was makeing so good but no matter what I thought she would do like she felt like so what was the use of asking me so she said she didn’t like to make a move without consulting me. That’s a good one Al as the only move she ever made and did consult me about it was when we got married and then it wouldn’t of made no differents to her what I said.

Well she will do as she pleases and if she goes into this here down town parlor and gets stung we should worry as I will soon be getting real jack and it looks like a cinch we would be in the world serious besides, and besides that the kids would be better off if she was out of business and could be home with them more as the way it is now they don’t hardly ever see anybody only the Swede nurse and 1st. thing as we know they will be saying I ban this and I ban that and staying away from the bldg, all the wile like the janitor.

Your pal, Jack.

CHI, MAY 6.

Friend Al:  4 straight now Al. How is that for a way to start out the season? It was Detroit again today and that is twice I have beat them and twice I have beat St. Louis and it don’t look like I was never going to stop. They got 2 runs off of me today but it was after we had 7 and had them licked and I kind of eased up to save the old souper for the Cleveland serious. But I wished you could of heard the 1 I pulled on Cobb. You know I have always kind of had him on the run ever since I come in the league and he would as leaf have falling archs as see me walk out there to pitch.

Well the 1st. time he come up they was 2 out and no one on and I had him 2 strikes and nothing and in place of monking with him I stuck a fast one right through the groove and he took it for a third strike. Well he come up again in the 4th. inning and little Bush was on third base and 1 out and Cobb hit the 1st. ball and hit it pretty good towards left field but Weaver jumped up and stabbed it with his glove hand and then stepped on third base and the side was out. Well Cobb hollered at me and said “You didn’t put that strike acrost on me.” So I said “No why should I put strikes acrost on you when I can hit your bat and get 2 out at a time? You ought to of heard the boys give him the laugh.

Well he hit one for 3 bases in the 7th. inning with Bush and Ellison both on and that’s how they got their 2 runs but he wouldn’t of never hit the ball only I eased up on acct. of the lead we had and besides I felt sorry for him on acct. of the way the crowd was rideing him. So wile he was standing over there on third base I said “You wouldn’t of hit that one Ty only I eased up.” So he said “Yes I knew you was easeing up and I wouldn’t take advantage of you so that’s why I bunted.”

Well 1 more game with Detroit and then we go down to Cleveland and visit Mr. Speaker and the rest of the boys and Speaker hasn’t been going any to good against them barbers that’s supposed to pitch for Detroit and St. Louis so God help him when he runs up against Williams and Cicotte and I.

Your pal, Jack.

CLEVELAND,
MAY 9.

Friend Al:  Well Gleason told me today he wasn’t going to pitch me here till the Sunday game to get the crowd. We have broke even on the 2 games so far and ought to of win them both only for bad pitching but we can’t expect to win them all and you really can’t blame the boys for not pitching baseball when we run into weather like we have got down here and it seems like every place we go its colder then where we just come from and I have heard about people going crazy with the heat but we will all be crazy with the cold if it keeps up like this way and Speaker was down to our hotel last night and said the Cleveland club had a couple of bushers from the Southren league that’s all ready lost their mind and he told us what they pulled off wile the St. Louis club was here.

Well it seems like Cleveland was beat to death 1 day and they thought they would give some of the regulars a rest and they put in a young catcher name Drew and the 1st. time he come up to bat they was men on first and second and 1 out and Sothoron was pitching for St. Louis and 1 of the St. Louis infielders yelled at him “Don’t worry about this bird as he will hit into a double play.” Well Drew stood up there and took 3 strikes without never takeing the bat off his shoulder so then he come back to the bench and said “Well I crossed them on their double play.”

Well in another game Bagby was pitching and he had them licked 8 to 1 in the 7th inning and he had a bad finger so they took him out and sent in a busher name Francis to finish the game. Well he got through 1 inning and when he come up to hit they was a man on 3d. base and 2 out and Davenport was pitching for St. Louis and he was kind of wild and he throwed 3 balls to Francis. So then he throwed a strike and Francis took it and then he throwed one that was over the kid’s head but he took a cut at it and hit it over Tobin’s head and made 3 bases on it. So when the inning was over Larry Gardner heard him calling himself names and balling himself out and Larry asked him what was the matter and he said he was just thinking that if he had of left that ball go by he would of had a base on balls.

Well I had a letter from Florrie today and she has closed up that deal and sold out her interest in the place out near home and went in pardners in that place down town and she said she thought it was a wise move and she would clean up a big bunch of jack and it won’t only take her a little wile to pay for her interest in the new parlor as with what she had saved up and what she got out of the other joint she had over $2000.00 cash to start in with.

Well I don’t know who her new pardners is but between you and I it looks to me like she was pulling a boner to leave a place where she knew her pardners was friends and go into pardners with a couple women that’s probably old hands at the game and maybe wanted some new capital or something and are libel to get her role and then can her out of the firm but as I say they’s no use me trying to tell her what to do and I might just is well tell Gleason to take Collins off of second base and send for Jakey Atz. o

Well Al nothing to do till Sunday and if I beat them it will make me 5 straight and you can bet I will beat them Al as I am going like a crazy man and they can’t no club stop me.

Your pal, Jack.

CHI, MAY 12.

Friend Al:  Well old pal its kind of late to be setting up writeing a letter but I had a little run in with Florrie tonight and I don’t feel like I could go to sleep and besides I don’t half to work tomorrow as I win yesterday’s game in Cleveland and Gleason is saveing me for the Boston serious.

Well we got in from Cleveland early this A. M. and of course I hurried right home and I was here before 8 o’clock but the Swede said Florrie had left home before 7 as she didn’t want to be late on the new job and she would call me up dureing the forenoon. Well it got pretty near time to start over to the ball pk. before the phone rung and it was Florrie and I asked her if she wasn’t going to congratulate me and she says what for and I said for what I done in Cleveland yesterday and she said she hadn’t had time to look at the paper. So I told her I had win my 5th straight game and she acted about as interested as if I said we had a new mail man so I got kind of sore and told her I would half to hang up and go over to the ball pk. So she said she would see me at supper and we hung up.

Well we had a long game this P. M. and it seemed longer on acct. of how anxious I was to get back home and when I finely got here it was half past 6 and no Florrie. Well the Swede said she had called up and said she had to stay down town and have supper with some business friends and she would try and be home early this evening.

Well the kids was put in bed and I tried to set down and eat supper alone and they didn’t nothing taste right and finaly I give it up and put on my hat and went out and went in a picture show but it was as old as Pat and Mike so I blew it and went in Kramer’s to get a couple drinks but I had kind of promised Gleason to lay off of the hard stuff and you take the beer you get now days and its cheaper to stay home and draw it out of the sink so I come back here and it was 8 bells and still no Florrie.

Well I set down and picked up the evening paper and all of a sudden the phone rung and it was a man’s voice and he wanted to know if Mrs. Keefe had got home. So I done some quick thinking and I said “Yes she is here who wants her?” So he said “That’s all right. I just wanted to know if she got home O.K.” So I said who is it but he had hung up. Well I rung central right back and asked her where that party had called from and she said she didn’t know and I asked her what and the he – ll she did know and she begun to play some jazz on my ear drum so I hung up.

Well in about 10 minutes more Florrie come in and come running over to give me a smack like usual when I get back off a trip. But she didn’t get by with it. So she asked what was the matter. So I said “They’s nothing the matter only they was a bird called up here a wile ago and wanted to know it you was home.” So she says “Well what of it?” So I said “I suppose he was 1 of them business friends that you had to stay down town to supper with them.” So she said “Maybe he was.” So I said “Well you ought to know if he was or not.” So she says “Do you think I can tell you who all the people are that calls me up when I haven’t even heard their voice? I don’t even know a one of the girls that keeps calling up and asking for you.” So I said “They don’t no gals call up here and ask for me because they have got better sence but even if they did I couldn’t help it as they see me out there on the ball field and want to get aquainted.”

Then she swelled up and says “It may be hard for you to believe but there is actualy men that want to get aquainted with me even if they never did see me out there on the ball field.” So I said “You tell me who this bird is that called up on the phone.” So she said “I thought they was only the 2 babys in this apartment but it seems like there is 3.” So then she went in her rm. and shut the door.

Well Al that’s the way it stands and if it wasn’t for the kiddies I would pack up and move somewheres else but kiddies or no kiddies she has got to explain herself tomorrow morning and meanwile Al you should ought to thank God that you married a woman that isn’t flighty and what if a wife ain’t the best looker in the world if she has got something under her hat besides marcel wavers?

Your pal, Jack.

CHI, MAY 14.

Friend Al:  Well old pal it looks like your old pal was through working for nothing you might say and by tomorrow night I will be signed up to a new contract calling for a $600.00 raise or $3000.00 per annum. I guess I have all ready told you that Gleason promised to see that I got real jack provide it I showed I wasn’t no flash out of the pan and this noon we come to a definite understanding.

We was to open against the Boston club and I called him to 1 side in the club house and asked him if I was to pitch the game. So he says you can suit yourself. So I asked him what he meant and he said “I am going to give you a chance to get real money. If you win your game against the Boston club I will tear up your old contract and give you a contract for $3000.00. And you can pick your own spot. You can work against them today or you can work against them tomorrow just as you feel like. They will probably pitch Mays against us today and Ruth tomorrow and you can take your choice.” Well Al Mays has always been good against our club and besides my old souper is better this kind of weather the longer I give it a rest so after I thought it over I said I would wait and pitch against Ruth tomorrow. So tomorrow is my big day and you know what I will do to them old pal and if the boys only gets 1 run behind me that is all as I ask.

That’s all we got today Al was 1 run but Eddie Cicotte was in there with everything and the 1 run was a plenty. They was only 1 time when they had a chance and it looked that time like they couldn’t hardly help from scoreing but Eddie hates to beat this Boston club on acct. they canned him once and he certainly give a exhibition in there that I would of been proud of myself. This inning I am speaking of Scott got on and Schang layed down a bunt and Eddie tried to force Scott at second base but he throwed bad and the ball went to center field and Scott got around to third and Schang to second and they wasn’t nobody out. Well Mays hit a fly ball to Jackson but it was so short that Scott didn’t dast go in. Then Hooper popped up to Collins and Barry hit the 1st. ball and fouled out to Schalkie. Some pitching eh Al and that is the kind I will show them tomorrow. And another thing Eddie done was make a monkey out of Ruth and struck him out twice and they claim he is a great hitter Al but all you half to do is pitch right to him and pitch the ball anywheres but where he can get a good cut at it.

Well they never had another look in against Eddie and we got a run when Barry booted one on Collins and Jackson plastered one out between Ruth and Strunk for 2 bases.

Well Al I am feeling pretty good again as I and Florrie kind of made up our quarrel last night. She come home to supper and I was still acting kind of cross and she asked me if I was still mopping over that bird that called her up and I didn’t say nothing so she said “Well that was a man that was the husband of 1 of the girls I had supper with and he was there to and him and his wife wanted to bring me home but I told them I didn’t want nobody to bring me home so his wife probably told him to call up and see if I got home all right as they was worried.” So she asked me if I was satisfied and I said I guessed I was but why couldn’t she of told me that in the 1st. place and she said because she liked to see me jealous. Well I left her think I was jealous but between you and I it was just a kind of a kid on my part as of course I knew all the wile that she was O.K. only I wanted to make her give in and I knew she would if I just held out and pretended like I was sore. Make them come to you Al is the way to get along with them.

I haven’t told Florrie what this game tomorrow means to us as I want to surprise her and if I win I will take her out somewheres on a party tomorrow night. And now old pal I must get to bed as I want to get a good rest before I tackle those birds. Oh you $600.00 baseball game.

Your pal, Jack.

CHI, MAY 16.

Friend Al:  Well Al I don’t care if school keeps or not and all as I wish is that I could get the flu or something and make a end out of it. I have quit the ball club Al and I have quit home and if I ever go back again to baseball it depends on whether I will have my kiddies to work for or whether they will be warded to her.

It all happened yesterday Al and I better start at the start and tell you what come off. Florrie had eat her breakfast and went down town before I got up but she left word with the ski jumper that she was going to try and get out to the ball game and maybe bring the rest of her pardners with her and show me off to them.

Well to make it a short story I was out to the pk. early and Gleason asked me how I felt and I told him fine and I certainly did Al and Danforth was working against us in batting practice to get us use to a left hander and I was certainly slapping the ball on the pick and Gleason said it looked like I was figureing on winning my own game. Well we got through our batting practice and I looked up to where Florrie usualy sets right in back of our bench but she wasn’t there but after a wile it come time for me to warm up and I looked over and Ruth was warming up for them so then I looked up in the stand again and there was Florrie. She was just setting down Al and she wasn’t alone.

Well Al I had to look up there twice to make sure I wasn’t looking cock eyed. But no I was seeing just what was there and what I seen was she and a man with her if that’s what you want to call him.

Well I guess I couldn’t of throwed more than 4 or 5 balls when I couldn’t stand it no more so I told Lynn to wait a minute and Gleason was busy hitting to the infield so I snuck out under the bench and under the stand and I seen 1 of the ushers and sent word up to Florrie to come down a minute as I wanted to see her. Well I waited and finely she come down and we come to the pt. without waisting no time. I asked her to explain herself and do it quick. So she said “You needn’t act so crazy as they’s nothing to explain. I said I was going to bring my pardner out here and the gentleman with me is him.” “Your pardner” I said “What does a man do in a beauty parlor?” “Well” she said “This man happens to do a whole lot.

“Besides owning two thirds of the business he is 1 of the best artists in the world on quaffs.” Well I asked her what and the he – ll was quaffs and she said it meant fixing lady’s hair.

Well by this time Gleason had found out I wasn’t warming up and sent out to find me. So all as I had time to say was to tell her she better get that bird out of the stand before I come up there and quaffed him in the jaw. Then I had to leave her and go back on the field.

Well I throwed about a dozen more balls to Lynn and then I couldn’t throw no more and Gleason come over and asked me what was the matter and I told him nothing so he said “Are you warmed up enough?” and I said “I should say I am.”

Well Al to make it a short story pretty soon our names was announced to pitch and I walked out there on the field.

Well when I was throwing them practice balls to Schalk I didn’t know if he was behind the plate or up in Comiskey’s office and when Hooper stepped in the batters box I seen a dozen of him. Well I don’t know what was signed for but I throwed something up there and Hooper hit it to right field for 2 bases. Then I throwed something else to Barry and he cracked it out to Jackson on the 1st. hop so fast that Hooper couldn’t only get to third base. Well wile Strunk was up there I guess I must of looked up in the stand again and any way the ball I pitched come closer to the barber then it did to Strunk and before they got it back in the game Hooper had scored and Barry was on third base.

Then Schalkie come running out and asked me what was the matter so I said I didn’t know but I thought they was getting our signs. “Well,” he said “you certainly crossed them on that one as I didn’t sign you for no bench ball.” Then he looked over at Gleason to have me took out but Gleason hollered “Let him stay in there and see what kind of a money pitcher he is.”

Well Al I didn’t get one anywheres near close for Strunk and walked him and it was Ruth’s turn. The next thing I seen of the ball it was sailing into the right field bleachers where the black birds sets. And that’s all I seen of the ball game.

Well old pal I didn’t stop to look up in the stand on the way out and I don’t remember changing clothes or nothing but I know I must of rode straight down town and when I woke up this A. M. I was still down town and I haven’t called up home or the ball pk. or nowheres else and as far is I am concerned I am through with the both of them as a man can’t pitch baseball and have any home life and a man can’t have the kind of home life I have got and pitch baseball.

All that worrys me is the kiddies and what will become of them if they don’t ward them to me. And another thing I would like to know is who put me to bed in this hotel last night as who ever undressed me forgot to take off my clothes.

Your pal, Jack.

CHI, MAY 20.

Friend Al:  Well Al I am writeing this from home and that means that everything is O.K. again as I decided to give in and let bygones be bygones for the kiddies sake and besides I found out that this bird that Florrie is pardners with him is O.K. and got a Mrs. of his own and she works down there with him and Florrie is cleaning up more jack then she could of ever made in the old parlor out south so as long as she is makeing good and everything is O.K. why they would be no sence in me makeing things unpleasant.

Well I told you about me staying down town 1 night and I stayed down till late the next P. M. and finely I called up the Swede and told her to pack up my things as I was comeing out there the next day and get them. Well the Swede said that Gleason had been there the night before looking for me and he left word that I was to call him up at the ball pk. So I thought maybe he might have a letter out there for me or something or maybe I could persuade him to trade me to some other club so I called him up and just got him before he left the pk. and he asked me where I was at and said he wanted to see me so I give him the name of the hotel where I was stopping and he come down and met me there at 6 o’clock that night.

“Well” he says “I was over to see your little wife last night and I have got a notion to bust you in the jaw.” So I asked him what he meant and he said “She sported your kids wile you was in the war and she is doing more than you to sport them now and she goes in pardners with a man that’s O.K. and has got a wife of his own that works with him and you act like a big sap and make her cry and pretty near force her out of a good business and all for nothing except that you was born a busher and can’t get over it.”

So I said to him “You mind your own business and keep out of my business and trade me to some ball club where I can get a square deal and we will all get along a hole lot better.” So he said where did I want to be traded and I said Boston. “Oh no” he said. “I would trade you to Boston in a minute only Babe Ruth wouldn’t stand for it as he likes to have you on our club.” But he said “The 1st. thing is what are you going to do about your family?” So I said I would go back to my family if Florrie would get out of that down town barber shop. So Gleason said “Now listen you are going back home right now tonight and your Mrs. isn’t going to sacrifice her business neither.” So I said “You can’t make me do nothing I don’t want to do.” So he says “No I can’t make you but I can tell your Mrs. about that St. Louis janitor’s daughter that was down in Texas and then if she wants to get rid of you she can do it and be better off.”

Well Al I thought as long as Florrie was all rapped up in this new business it wasn’t right to make her drop it and pull out and besides there was the kiddies to be considered so I decided to not make no trouble. So I promised Gleason to go home that night.

So then I asked him about the ball club. “Well,” he said “you still belong to us.” “Yes” I said “but I can’t work for no $2400.00.”

“Well” he said “we are scheduled against a club now that hasn’t no Ruths on it and its a club that even you should ought to beat and if you want to try it again why I will leave you pick your day to work against the Philadelphia club and the same bet goes.”

So yesterday was the day I picked Al and Roth got a base hit and Burns got a base hit and that’s all the base hits they got and the only 2 runs we got I drove in myself. But they was worth $600.00 to me Al and I guess Gleason knows now what kind of a money pitcher I am.

Your pal, Jack.

• 4 •

The Courtship of T. Dorgan

CHI, MAY 22

Friend Al:  Well Al I suppose you seen what I done to the N. Y. bunch yesterday and when it was over Gleason called me to 1 side in the clubhouse and says he thought it was about time I was getting the real jack so if I would bring my old contract over to the pk. today he would give me a new 1 calling for $3000.00 per annum. So today I took my old contract over to the pk. and Gleason told me to take it up in the office and I took it up there and the old man give me my new 1 and says now go ahead and show me you are worth it. Well I will show him Al and when a man gets fair treatment from a club why you work all the harder for them.

Well Gleason told me to not say nothing to none of the other ballplayers about the matter as they might maybe take it in their head to hold up the club for more jack so I didn’t tell nobody only Tom Dorgan that rooms with me when we are out on the road and the best pal a man ever had and they’s no danger of him asking for more jack as he is just a 3th string catcher and all the closer he ever gets to the ball game is down in the bull pen warming up somebody but he is a regular guy and I only wished he could get in there and show them something.

Well when I told him about my new contract he said I was a lucky stiff to be getting all that jack and besides that have a beautiful wife and a couple kiddies and a nice home where all as he has got is 1 dinky little rm. over on Grand Blvd. that he can’t squeeze in or out of it without barking his ears. So I told him I said “I can’t get you no more jack old pal but the next gal that looks X eyed at me I will turn her over to you and welcome as 1 wife is about all as I can handle and then some.”

At that I would like to find him some nice gal Al as a man don’t know they are liveing till you get married and I can’t help from feeling sorry for a bird that has to go home nights after the ball game and open up the close closet and talk to his other suit.

Well when I told Florrie about me getting the $600.00 raise she asked me what would we do with it and I said I didn’t know yet and she says why not buy a car as we could have some time rideing around old Chi in a car evenings and take in the different pks. and etc. and take our friends along and show them a time. So I said “You have got a fine idear of what cars costs these days and for $600.00 you can’t even buy a tire rench.” So she begin telling me about the 2d hand car the Dumonts which is her new pardners in the beauty parlor down town and they got it for $700.00 and its a 1917 5 passenger Peel and runs and looks like new and they must be a whole lot more bargains if a person would just get out and look for them so just to stall her I said I would keep my eyes open and if I seen a real bargain I would grab it off but what and the he – ll is the use of us blowing our jack on a car when the Dumonts has all ready got 1 and all as we half to do is call them up and ask for the correct time and they would probably invite us out for a spin.

Personly Al I don’t see no use in anybody buying a car now as they won’t be nowheres to go after the 1 of July and besides when I am out on the road with the club Florrie would want to drive it herself and we would half to hire a steeplejack to get she and the car down off in the top of the Boston store.

Well Al I won’t half to work no more vs. the N. Y. club this serious but will probably work vs. the Washington club which comes next and he will save me for the game Walter pitchs as Walter is going pretty good now and a man has just about got to shut them out to beat him.

Your pal, Jack.

CHI, MAY 27.

Friend Al:  Well Al the way some people runs a ball club its a wonder we can stay in the U. S. let alone 1st place. Well yesterday Griffith started Jim Shaw against us and Gleason thought it was a good spot to try out big Lowdermilk so the 2 of them went to it but pretty soon they was both out of there and it come along the 8th inning with the Washington club a couple runs ahead and he stuck me in there to stop them and next thing you know Johnson was in there for them to try and hold the lead but we knocked his can off and beat them out. Well of course I hadn’t no idear that Gleason would send me back at them today after the work I done so the Dumonts was out to the game with Florrie and after the game I come out and the Dumonts had a mighty sweet looking doll with them named Miss Mulvihill or something so Dumont made the remark that it was pretty dry in Chi on a Sunday so why didn’t we all hop in his car and go out to Lyons where they was plenty to eat and drink.

Well then Florrie said it didn’t seem right for Miss Mulvihill to not have no man along when her and Mrs. Dumont both had their husband so Dumont asked me if they wasn’t 1 of the ball players that was single that would like to go along. So I happened to think about Tom Dorgan so I went back in the club house and got him and you ought to seen his eyes pop out when he got a look at the Mulvihill trick. Well we went out to the car and it was the 1st time I seen it and Florrie had told me it looked like new but if it does why Jack Lapp has got a pompador. And when they said it was a 5 passenger car they meant 4 people and a weather strip.

Well the next thing was how was we going to set and Mrs. Dumont said she always set in the front seat to keep her husband from driveing to fast so that left I and Florrie and Miss Mulvihill and Tom for the soap box in back so Florrie said it looked like Miss Mulvihill would half to set on Tom’s lap. Well both partys had a hemorage to the cheek when they heard that and Miss Mulvihill said she guessed not and why didn’t Florrie set on my lap and Florrie said she had tried that to many times so any way the way we went was with Florrie and Miss Mulvihill squeezed along the side of me and Tom on my lap and I don’t know how far it is to Lyons but by the time we got there I thought we must be all of us in the Coast League.

Well we set out on the porch of the joint out there and ordered up a few drinks and everybody acted like they had came to the morgue to identify a body till finely I begin pulling some of my stuff and I wished you could of heard Miss Mulvihill split her sides only I kind of felt sorry for poor Dorgan as he acted like the cat had his tongue or something and the gal must of thought she had been pared off with Dummy Taylor. Well we had some more drinks and a chicken dinner and when the check come around Dorgan was still speechless and Dumont was danceing with Florrie so I was elected on the 1st ballad and Miss Mulvihill made the remark that I shouldn’t ought to pay for everything and just jokeing I said I was tickled to death to pay for being in her company and she blushed up like a school girl and give me a smile and I couldn’t help from feeling sorry for Dorgan but I can’t help it if that’s the way the gals feels Al and I only wished I could be just friends with them and nothing more.

Well when it come time to go home I made the remark that I wasn’t crazy about holding Tom on my lap again along with the extra load he had picked up in the mean wile so what does Miss Mulvihill do but say that if Florrie did not mind she would just as leaf set on my lap and Florrie said go ahead so that’s the way we come home and even with Dumont zig zaging all over the road and hitting her up about 12 miles per hr. all the way it didn’t seem more then 5 minutes when we come to where Miss Mulvihill lived and dropped her off and I seen her to the door and I said to her how did she like my friend Mr. Dorgan and she said “Why don’t you speak for yourself John?” How is that Al she calling me John the 1st time she ever seen me and I didn’t know they was anybody realy knew my name was John as they all been calling me Jack ever since I was a knee high grass hopper you might say.

Well when I and Florrie got home I got the silent treatmunt but she will get over it Al like they all do and anybody would think it was my fault that I wasn’t born with a hair lip or something.

But wait till I tell you what come off today. It wasn’t till pretty near 5 this A. M. when we rolled in this A. M. and I got up about 11 this A. M. and finely got over to the ball pk. and I felt like the supper dishs and finely it come time for batting practice and Gleason said you work today and I said what was he talking about as I worked yesterday and he said yes but it wasn’t only 2 innings just long enough to warm up so I had to get in there and try and pitch and of course it had to be the day when Weaver and Collins and all of them went to he – ll behind me and the Washington club went mad and got 4 runs which is more then they usually get all through May and Harper shut us out with 3 hits though he didn’t even have a nightgown on the ball and after the game Gleason asked me where I was last night and I told him I was out and he said yes and you are out today again to the amt. of $50.00. Well Al if he makes that fine stick I will quit baseball and go in some business where a man can get fair treatmunt and sometimes I think I better get out of baseball any way as a man that is a star in the game if he has got any looks at all why the gals all loose their nut about him and bother you to death even if you turn your back every time they look at you and a man hasn’t no business being before the public in a position where the gals can look you over and make a fool out of themself when you have got a wife and 2 kiddies.

Your pal, Jack.

CHI, JUNE 1 .

Friend Al:  Well Al I just come back from the pk. and Cleveland give us a trimming but it was about time as we win the 1st 3 we played with them. We leave for Detroit tonight and go east from there and won’t be back in old Chi till the last of the mo.

Well Al they was some excitement out in the old ball yard yesterday but beleive me it wouldn’t of never came off if I had of been in there pitching or even down there on the bench. The way that it come off was that I pitched the P. M. game Decoration Day and give them a good licking and Gleason called off the $50.00 fine he plastered on me last wk. and said I didn’t need to dress yesterday but could set up in the stand with Florrie. Well the Dumonts and Miss Mulvihill was also out to the game and we all set together and I kind of explained the game to Miss Mulvihill and I kept talking fast for the fear she would bring up something personal. Well the game wasn’t much of a game as we had them licked to death but along in the 8th inning the Cleveland bunch was sore on acct. of the way we was makeing them like it and Speaker hit a ball down towards Gandil and Chick made quite a stop of the ball and run over and stepped on the bag long before Spoke got there but Spoke was kind of sore so he slid in to the bag and that made Gandil sore and they begin barking at each other and next thing you know they was at each other and the rest of the boys was all scared and left them go to it and finely Gandil had his shirt tore off and the umps put them both off of the field. Well Al it wouldn’t of never of happened if I had of been in there as the minute Speaker had of started anything I would knocked him for a gool and it would of been good night Mr. Speaker. Just like I told Jack Graney out there on the field today I said “Speaker better not never try no monkey business like that on me or Fohl will be scarring the bushs for a new center fielder.”

Well Miss Mulvihill was setting next to me when the fight come off and I could feel her kind of tremble so I guess I must of kind of squeezed her hand and I told her to not worry because if I seen that either 1 of them was realy going to get hurt I would run down there and knock them both for a gool. So she give me a smile and made some remarks about how nice it must be to be so big and I kind of laughed it off and then I seen Florrie kind of looking at us so I cut it out.

Well the fight must of kind of went to Dumont’s bean and any way he asked us all down to the Dearborn for supper and Mrs. Dumont said we better get Tom Dorgan along so as Miss Mulvihill would have somebody to play with and she kind of made a face but didn’t say nothing so I got a hold of him and we went down there. Well Tom is a pretty fair dancer and he kept asking Miss Mulvihill to dance and of course she couldn’t say no though I guess she would of rather set at the table and talk things over but I was glad he kept her danceing at that as I was afraid things might get to personal if her and I was left at the table alone. Well finely we started home and on the way she managed to ask me where we was going to stop in Detroit and I told her so I suppose she will be sending me a post card or a night letter or something and if she does why all as I can do is just pretend like I didn’t get it. But any way we are on our way tonight Al and if we can come back from this trip in 1st place why the race is as good as win you might say as the way I and Cicotte and Williams is going they’s no club in the league can catch us in the stretch. Personly Al wile I don’t never like to leave home I am kind of glad we are going this time for Miss Muvihill’s sakes if nothing else as the less she sees of me for a wile she will be better off.

I will write to you from Detroit or somewheres in the east.

Your pal, Jack.

N. Y., JUNE 5.

Friend Al:  Well Al we just got in from Detroit and we played against Jennings club like we was the Red X 2d team and if we finish up the trip like we started we will be lucky to come home in a passenger train. I suppose you read about how they beat me Al and it looks like they was enough bad breaks against me to last a whole season and the only peace of luck I had all the while we was there didn’t have nothing to do with baseball but I did happen to run acrost a bird that wants to sell a car and its a 1918 Blaine that hasn’t only been drove 4000 miles and it looks like it was just out of the shop. I took Cracker Schalk out to see it and he said I would be a sucker to not grab it off but the bird wants $1200.00 which is about twice as much is I figured on paying for a car so I didn’t do nothing but I kind of think he took a fancy to me and if I hold off a wile he will come down to somewheres near my price. Any way I have got his name and address and if I decide I want to pay somewheres near his price why all as I half to do is wire him.

Well Al I didn’t get no word from that little gal Miss Mulvihill wile we was in Detroit and I hope she finely got some sence in her head but speaking about Miss Mulvihill I have kind of got a idear that this here Tom Dorgan is stuck on her as whenever we get up in the rm. together that is about all as he can talk about and the day we left Detroit he asked me if I thought it would do any harm him writeing her and of course I said why no it wouldn’t and I felt like telling him it wouldn’t do no good neither one but I guess he will find that out for himself soon enough without me telling him. Only I can’t help from kind of feeling sorry for the both of them and I feel sorry for him because he has fell for a gal that has left her heart run away from her to a place where it won’t get her nothing and I feel sorry for her for looseing her nut over a man that has all ready got a wife and troubles of my own.

But Dorgan of course don’t know nothing about what has past between her and I and wile we was setting together on the train comeing east he asked me if I thought they was anything I could do to help him get in right with her. Well I told him I would do the best I could as I would like to see them both happy but between you and I Al about the only thing I could do to help his case along would be to put myself out of the way and maybe in time she would forget me but I have got Florrie and the kiddies to think of and after all a man’s family comes before your friends.

Well old pal I expect to pitch 1 of the games here and the N. Y. club is going like wild men wile we act like we was trying to see who could hit the highest foul but after the luck I had in Detroit I should ought to get some kind of luck here and all as I ask is a even break and I will make Pipp and some of the rest of them think they have got the pip eh Al?

Your pal, Jack.

BOSTON,
JUNE 11.

Friend Al:  Well old pal it looks like your old pal should ought to start a matrimony burro and charge a commission for fixing it up between couples that wants to get married though this time I guess the want to is all on 1 side and I am afraid my efforts is going to be waisted. I suppose you will wonder what am I talking about. Well I guess I told you about Josie Mulvihill that little queen out in Chi that Tom Dorgan went nuts over her well instead of them hitting it off why she kind of lost her noodle over me without me never looking X eyed at her and of course she is waisting her time over me as I have all ready got a wife and beleive me 1 of them is enough.

Well any way Dorgan can’t think of nothing else only she and this A. M. up in the rm. he asked me did I think they was any chance for him in that direction and of course I couldn’t come out and tell him what I realy thought so I said “Well you can’t never tell till you try.” So he says “Yes but I am a busher in the lady league and I don’t know how to go about it and if I was to ask her and she node me I wouldn’t never dast face 1 of them again.” He said “How would it be if you was to just drop her a friendily letter and kind of mention my name in it and ask her what she thinks about me and kind of give me a boost and feel her out and if she answers you back why we can come pretty close to telling if I have got a chance or have not got a chance.”

Well Al I couldn’t do nothing only say O.K. so I have wrote her a letter giveing Tom a boost and I am going to mail it to her special and here is what it says in it.

Dear Miss Mulvihill:  Well Miss Mulvihill I suppose you will be surprised recieveing a letter from 1 who you have hardily had time to get acquainted and a specially a married man but I am writeing this in behalf of a pal of mine who I won’t half to tell you his name as you can guess who it is when I say that you have been out a couple times on partys with him which I was along at the same time with the wife and the Dumonts.

This man Miss Mulvihill has not yet win his spurrs in the big league yet and might do better if traded to another club as a young catcher breaking in has not got much of a chance on our club with a man like Ray Schalk a specially when you have got a couple of faults that a youngster has got to over come before they will make a big league catcher. I know you don’t know a whole lot about baseball and if you seen this boy stand up there behind the plate and catch you might think he was O.K. and as good as anybody where a man that knew baseball could tell you what was the matter with him. 1 thing wile he has got a fair arm he has got to get in a certain position to peg and looses time before he can cut the ball loose and another thing he is what we call spike shy that is when a man is comeing in to the plate it seems like he has not got the nerve to block them off but trys to stand to 1 side and tag them as they are slideing past. But this boy may overcome these faults or he might make a grand catcher for some minor league club.

Well Miss Mulvihill I and this boy has been rooming together on the road ever since the season opened and wile he don’t draw no star salery I wouldn’t ask for a better roomy and when we have a little beer or something up in the rm. I am always glad to pay for it and I feel towards him like he was a young brother that hasn’t got started yet in a money way you might say but if he keeps his eyes open and works hard he has got a chance to make good in the big league or at lease in Class A.

Now I don’t want you to feel like as if I am butting in and trying to run your fairs but this boy asked me would I put in a word for him and try and find out how he stands with you and I can say to you Miss Mulvihill that you could do a whole lot worse then give this boy a chance and wile you may not like him just at the 1st he is 1 of these birds that the more you see of him he is just the same all the wile so if he gives you a ring on the phone when we get home why it won’t hurt nothing if you make a date with him.

As for you and I personly girlie you know how matters stands with me and some times its to late to mend like in this case but a person can forget anybody if they try and we can be just good friends like I am with other girlies that is friends of my wife and all go out and have a good time together and no harm done. So if you will give this boy a chance and let by gones be by gones why it looks to me like it would be a good move both ways and remember that looks is not everything or money neither one.

With my personal regards and of course I don’t half to tell you to not let this go no father and if you can’t see your way clear why no harm done but I wished you would try and find time to write and tell me: how you feel in regards to this matter and beleive me your sinsere friend.

So that is what I wrote her Al and I signed my name and I feel like I had killed 2 birds with the same stone as she won’t make no more fuss over me and she will either give this boy a chance when he gets home or else she will tell him right off in the real where to head in at and the sooner he gets the bad news he will get over it that much sooner.

Well I suppose you seen in the paper what I done to Babe Ruth yesterday and its no wonder they call him Babe Al as I had him swinging like a baby in a cradle and the only 2 times he even fouled the ball was when Liebold run back and catched the fly ball and another time when Gandil speered that line drive off in him but he would of struck out on that ball only it was a bran new ball and I tried to curve it and it didn’t break like I intend it.

Well we leave here for Philly Friday night and after we get through with them we go to Washington and then Detroit for 1 game and then home. In the mean wile kindest regards to Bertha and don’t take no bad money.

Your pal, Jack.

DETROIT,
JUNE 2 2.

Friend Al:  Well Al we leave in a couple hrs. for old Chi and play the Cleveland club there tomorrow and I thought I was going to work here today but I guess Gleason wanted to save me up for the Cleveland club. Well I will make them like it and maybe they won’t feel so cocky after I get done with them.

Well Al it looks like I would soon be a Barney Oldfield or something. I guess I told you that they was a bird here in Detroit that wants to sell me a 1918 Blaine car for $1200.00 and all the boys that seen it said I was a sucker if I didn’t grab it off. Well when we got here today the 1st bird I seen was the bird that owns this car and he wanted to know if I had made up my mind or not. So I told him no I had not and he would half to give me a little more time or else cut down on the price. So he said he couldn’t do neither as he had a offer from a man here in Detroit to take it off in his hands at $1200.00 and the man wants it right away and will pay cash and the only reason why he hadn’t sold it to him was on acct. of takeing a kind of a fancy to me and he would rather see me get it then anybody else as he felt like we was old friends on acct. of him seeing me on the ball field so often. So I said well I only had about $800.00 in the bank and I would half to talk it over with the wife 1st any way so finely he said that if I would give him a $100.00 for a option on it he would hold on to it for a wk. before he sold it to somebody else and then I could wire him if I want it or not and that will give me plenty of time to talk it over with Florrie.

Well Al it looks like such a bargain that I would be a fool to not take it and Florrie will feel the same way when I tell her about it and I have gave the bird my check for a $100.00 and if Florrie will go in with me 50 50 why I will wire the bird and tell him the deal is closed and then I will ask Gleason to leave me run over here from Chi some night and drive it back the next day and that way I won’t only loose 1 day all together and when I get that old car back in old Chi beleive me I will burn up old Michigan Ave. only they will be 1 understanding and that is that Florrie can’t drive the car neither wile I am in Chi or out on the road as I don’t trust no woman to drive a car and a specially 1 that is always looking all over the st. to see if they’s some dame that has got sporter close then her.

The bird took me out to the ball pk. this P. M. in the machine and it run like a watch charm and he asked me if I didn’t want to try and run it a wile to see how easy it run but I don’t want to take no chance of running a machine that don’t belong to me and besides it won’t take me no time to learn how to run it by myself as they’s nothing I ever tried yet that I couldn’t pick it up like childs play.

Well its pretty near train time Al and besides they isn’t much news to write. I guess I told you about me writeing to Josie Mulvihill in Chi that Tom Dorgan is nuts over her and I wrote to try and give him a boost and see how he stood with her. Well the last day we was in Washington I had a night letter from her and all as it said was “Tell Mr. Dorgan the same thing I told you once why don’t he speak for himself.” So I showed him the message and his face kind of fell and I couldn’t help from feeling sorry for him as it looks like he is barking on the wrong tree but I guess he will get over it and I hope the poor little gal will have sence enough to get over something herself as she must know they can’t be nothing only friendship between her and I and the sooner she forgets all about me so everybody will be better off.

Your pal, Jack.

CHI, JUNE 24.

Friend Al:  Well Al from all I ever seen of Bertha I wouldn’t never accuse her from being a spend drift but beleive me she has not got nothing on Florrie. When I got back from Detroit yesterday A. M. and told her about this here car that I had took a option on it and could get it for $1200.00 and everybody said it was a bargain and I would be sucker to not grab it off so she said well why don’t you buy it. So I said that is all right to talk about buying it but I am about $600.00 shy and I figured that as long as I and you is both going to get the benefits out of the car you would go in with me 50 50 and pay for half of the car. So she said “All right I will pay for half of the car if you will agree that it belongs to the both of us and not just you and I can take it out and drive it when ever I feel like it.” So I said nothing doing as I wouldn’t trust her to drive a lawn more let alone a car and a specially in town like Chi where its a dull day when a 100 people don’t get bumped off in a automobile wreck.

So she said all right then nothing doing and you can either pay for the car yourself or go without it so I thought if she was going to be stubborn why I would be stubborn to as 2 could play in that game so it looks like we wouldn’t have no car as I am not going to buy no cheap 1 for no $600.00 after seen that Blaine that is worth $2000.00 or better and the bird trying to give it to me for $1200.00 you might say.

So it looks like I would do my motoring in a 60 passenger 35th st. limousine eh Al?

Well Gleason started me vs. the Cleveland club yesterday and as usual the boys wasn’t hitting behind me and it come up to the 7th inning with the score 3 and 2 against us and we had a couple men on and 2 out and Gleason takes me out and sends Jack Collins up to hit and Coumbe made a monkey out of him and that’s the way it always goes and some day Gleason will get wise to himself and find out that I can hit as good as anybody on the club against left handers. Any way Danforth went in to finish and they got a couple more off in him and finely beat us 5 and 3.

But beleive me Al they come near being more excitement out there then just the baseball game. I was warming up before the game and Speaker come over towards our bench and I thought he was going in the club house or somewheres but he stopped along side of me and he said “Jack Graney said you wanted to see me.” So I said I hadn’t told Graney nothing of the kind so he said “Well what he said was that if I ever started anything with you Fohl would half to start scarring the bushs for a new center fielder.” So I said “I never said nothing like that Spoke and if Graney told you that he was just kidding.” So then Speaker hollered to Graney to come over and he come over and Speaker says “This big goof says he never said what you said.” So Graney says “Well he did and if he says he didn’t he is a liar.” So I said “You better not call me a liar or I will liar you all over the ball pk.” So Graney said it looked like I and him would half to settle it but Speaker said “No I will take it off in your hands.”

Well Al it was all as I could do to keep from socking the both of them and I was just going to sock Speaker when I happened to think that it would probably mean I would get put off in the field and Gleason was depending on me to work the game so I pretended like I thought they was jokeing and I said “I don’t want no trouble with neither of you 2 boys out here on the field but if you are looking for trouble I will come down to your hotel tonight and we can settle it there.” So Spoke said all right and don’t forget where we are stopping at and the clerk will give you the rm. No.

Well what they was trying to do Al was start a fight with me and get me put off the field and Gleason is up against it for pitchers and besides he didn’t have nobody else warmed up but I was to smart for them and didn’t fall for it. But beleive me if it hadn’t of been for us being up in the race and every game counts I would of socked the both of them.

Well finely the game started and the 1st ball I throwed come pretty close to Graney’s bean and he said I better not try none of that business or he would hit me with a bat so I just laughed at him and I tried to throw the next 1 at his head but the ball kind of slipped and went right in his groove and he happened to catch it just right and hit it to left field and made 2 bases. Well I got the next bird but Speaker come up and said to throw 1 at his head and see what would happen. Well I wasn’t going to leave him bluff me so I tried to get 1 close enough to scare him but I wasn’t warmed up good yet and kind of wild and I got the ball outside and he hit it down the left foul line for 2 bases and at that Jackson should ought to of held him to a single but any way Graney scored and then Liebold let a fly ball get away from him and Speaker scored and that is how they got 2 of their runs. Well Graney and Speaker tried to ride me all the P. M. but I give them back what they sent and what they was trying to do was start a scrap so as I would get suspend it but I was to foxy for them. Well Al I was going down to their hotel last night and call their bluff and knock the both of them for a gool but when I got home the baby was acting kind of croopy and I was afraid to leave the house.

Well we play Cleveland here once more tomorrow and then we go to St. Louis and I will work 1 of the games there and I will make a monkey out of them.

Tom Dorgan told me tonight that he had called up Josie Mulvihill and was going to take her out somewheres tonight to a picture or somewheres and dance and I suppose she made the date so as she could tell him once in for all that they wasn’t no chance for him and I only hope she lets him down easy as he is 1 of these silent birds that takes it mighty hard when the gals treats you rough.

Your pal, Jack.

ST. LOUIS,
JUNE 28.

Friend Al:  Well Al it looks like I am going to be a demon motorist after all Florrie or no Florrie. I just wired a telegram to the bird in Detroit saying I would buy the Blaine for $1200.00 if he would hold on to it for me till the 7 of July. We have got a off day in the schedule that day and I can easy get leaf from Gleason to run over to Detroit and get the old boat and drive her back to Chi and won’t even loose a day.

Well I suppose you will wonder what has happened to change my mind and if somebody has gave me a birthday present of $600.00 or something. Well nothing like that old pal but still and all its going to be just the same like a birthday present and instead of the whole amt. comeing out of our family I am going to spend the $600.00 like I planned and 3 poor suckers is comeing through with the rest of it.

Well I suppose you will wonder have I went crazy or what am I talking about. Well Al I have went crazy like a fox and you will say so to when I tell you what I am going to pull off. Well they’s a bird here in St. Louis name Jack Casey that I have ran around with him ever since I been comeing here and maybe you have heard of him but any way he has got a stable of fighters and he has put on some bouts himself here in St. Louis and he knows the game from A to Z. Well he has gave me a steer on a whole lot of fights how to bet on them and I never loose a nickle yet on his dope. Well I was out with him last night and we was all over St. Louis lapping them up and we run in to a bunch of boxers and boys that is interested in the fight game and as soon is they heard who I was they popped their eyes out and said they had been a admirer of mine for a long wile and always wanted to meet me and if Jimmy Burke had a few pitchers like myself maybe the St. Louis club could get somewheres.

Well finely the talk got around to the Willard Dempsey fight in Toledo the 4 of July and I asked some of the boys how they thought it was comeing out and they all kind of stalled and said it looked pretty even and it looked like a even money bet and etc. but I could see they was stalling and finely Casey come out with it. Well Al these birds is all in a position to know and they couldn’t have nothing only the right dope and here is what they give me.

It seems like Tex Ricketts that is running the fight has spent a whole lot of jack building the arena in Toledo and he can’t expect to break better than even on the 1 fight and if Dempsey was to win why they wouldn’t be nobody left for him to fight so they are going to leave the arena up and Willard is going to get the decision in this fight and then they are going to match them up again for Labor Day and get the crowd back there a 2d time and clean up a bunch of jack and the 2d time they fight it will be on the level but this time the cards is all stacked for the big fellow to win and any way he is to big for this other guy to reach him. So Casey said if he was I and wanted to clean up a peace of jack why to go ahead and bet my head off on the big fellow to win this bout and they wasn’t no way I could loose unless Willard drops dead from cramps or something when they get in the ring.

Well I said I would think it over and 1 of the boys said I better not think to long as it might be to late as it is only 5 more days now before the fight and he said if I wanted to put up my jack he knew a friend of his that wasn’t on the inside and he couldn’t see nothing only Dempsey and this friend would take any bet I would make and this bird said he would see that I got the jack when I win. Well I said I didn’t want to rob no friend of his and besides I didn’t have the jack along with me to put it up and he said he would take my check but I said I would rather wait till I get to Cleveland and maybe the odds would be different and I could get some odds on the big fellow instead of even money.

Well that’s the dope Al and these birds know what they are talking about and if I was you and had a few dollars to bet why I would put it up on big Jess and not say nothing about what I have told you as the more people that knows about it why it will effect the betting.

Personly when I was through with Casey and his friends I come back to the hotel and some of the boys was still setting around the lobby in the hotel and I set down with them and told them what I had found out and Buck Weaver is 1 of these smart Alex that always knows more then anybody else so he says “Well I will tell you what I think of your dope I will take all the jack you want to bet on the big fellow.” So 1 word lead to another and I said I didn’t want to rob no pals that was on the same club with me but they kept acting smarty and finely I kind of loose my temper and I said I would bet $600.00 even money if I didn’t half to put it up and Weaver said he would take $200.00 of it and a couple more of the boys took $200.00 a peace and they covered the whole $600.00 and God help them but it will learn them not to be so smarty in the future.

So you see Al that I am going to have the big car after all and I am glad I can get it without Florrie putting in her jack as now I will own the car all myself and she won’t half nothing to say only ask me to take her rideing and when I am out on the road with the club I will have the old buggy locked up in some garage where she can’t get a hold of it and try to clime trees.

Well I made a monkey out of this club today and won’t half to work no more till we get to Cleveland where I can get another whack at Speaker and Graney and if they try any more of their smart business on me I will give them the Jess Willard only they won’t want to come back for no 2d dose on Labor Day or no other day and speaking about Cleveland reminds me that they are going to make us go there Sunday night and play a postpone game Monday and I can’t see no sence to it only that is the last day before the country goes dry and I suppose they want us to spend it in a dry town for the fear we might enjoy ourself.

That is 1 place where poor Tom Dorgan has got it on us as Gleason has left him home this trip and he will be in old Chi the night of the 30 of June where he can get all as he wants to drink so he isn’t so unlucky after all even if the ladys don’t go nuts over him.

Well Al its time to go to bed and don’t forget what I said about betting your jack on the big fellow if you have got any to spare and in the mean wile come on you big Jessica.

Your pal, Jack.

CHI, JULY 5.

Friend Al:  Well Al its good night car and good night everything else and the way I feel I don’t care if school keeps or not. I am glad I didn’t advise you to bet no dough on the big fellow and if you bet some on your own hook why all as I have got to say is that I am sorry and it wasn’t my fault or them boys down to St. Louis neither one as I have knew Casey several yrs. and I know he wouldn’t give me no bad steer and the way it looks like to me is that Dempsey double crossed the big fellow and everybody else and of course only for what they told me down there I would of bet my jack on Dempsey instead of on the other fellow as in the 1st place Jess wasn’t in no shape to fight and besides when a bird 24 yrs. old fights a man pretty near 40 why its 10 to 1 he will knock him for a gool.

Well Al your old pal will do his rideing around on st. cars this summer at lease unless we win the world serious and then of course I will have enough jack to buy the finest car made and not no broke down 2d hand Blaine and they say it costs a million dollars to run a Blaine any way as they are he – ll on tires and the cylinders keeps getting gumed up. Well they’s 1 good thing and that is that Florrie don’t know nothing about it and if she did why I wouldn’t never hear the last of it but I am not the kind to cry over sour milk and whatever is comeing to me why I take it with a smile and go on my way. I suppose that bird in Detroit will try and hold on to the $100.00 I give him for a option but he won’t never get away with that Al and I have all ready wired him a telegram to send it back to me at once and if he don’t why the next time we hit Detroit I will knock him for a gool.

Speaking about Detroit I suppose you seen what happened in the game yesterday P. M. and when a busher like Flagstead can get to me for 3 hits why you know I am not myself.

Well Al I am to sick in tired of everything to write you much of a letter and besides they’s nothing to write about you might say only except 1 thing and that is that Tom Dorgan called me to 1 side in the club house after the game this P. M. and said to not leave till he was ready to go with me so we come down under the stand together and there was this Mulvihiil dame waiting for him and grinning like a monkey and Tom couldn’t hardily talk he was so fussed up but finely it come out that they are engaged to be married and they wanted to thank me for kind of helping them fix it up and she is wearing a big diamond solitary stone that he just bought for her this A. M. and he told me on the quite that he bought it with some of the jack he win on the fight down to Toledo.

Well good luck to them Al and they can have each other as far is I am concerned and I am glad she is off in my hands as she was getting to be a kind of a pest writeing me letters and night telegrams and 1 thing another and she might of knew that a married man don’t want nothing to do with even a young gal let alone 1 that’s way up in the paints. So I say good luck to them both Al and God help them.

Well the boys on the club has began calling me Jess and I guess they think its a joke or something but 1 of these days when I ain’t feeling my best they won’t think its such a joke when they pull some of their funny stuff on me and I Jess them in the jaw.

Your pal, Jack.

• 5 •

The Busher Pulls a Mays

N. Y., JULY 29.

Friend Al:  Well old pal here we are on the gay white way but they don’t nobody on this ball club feel gay and no wonder. In the 1st. place to look at our club you would think we had just came back from the Marne as Gandil was left home in a hospital with appendix and Felsch is so lame that he can’t cover no more ground then where his clogs is parked and Cracker Schalk has to be wheeled up to the plate and back you might say and to cap off the climax I got stomach trouble from something I eat or something and wile I don’t pitch with my stomach a man can’t do themself justice when the old feed bag acts up.

To make it worse Detroit has got a hold of a couple pitchers that can do something besides make 9 men on the field and Jennings club is comeing like a house on fire and all and all it looks like we was a bad bet and will be mighty lucky to get back off of this trip in 1st. place. For inst. Cicotte pitched a nice game today and lose it because they was a couple fly balls hit to center field that Felsch only had to take 3 or 4 steps to get under them but his sick dog layed down on him and wouldn’t buge and zowey they went for 3 base hits. So as I say they can call this the gay white way but they can’t hardily call us the gay White Sox eh Al.

Well I suppose you seen in the paper what Carl Mays the Boston pitcher pulled off and you will half to hand it to him. He walked out on the Boston club wile they was playing us out in Chi and said he wouldn’t pitch no more baseball for them and of course they was out of the race for the pennant though when the season opened up and they had all their men back from the service we all of us thought they would be the club we would half to beat as they had 2 stars for every position you might say and they could stick 1 club in the field 1 day and a whole different club the next day and 1 of them as good is the other but any way they blowed up like Willard and it got so as they felt cocky when they only lose 1 game per day so Mays said he was through and instead of the club suspending him why they pretty near kissed him you might say and all the other clubs in the league begun biding for him.

Well we would of had him only I guess the Boston club insisted on Gleason giveing them Cocky Collins or Schalk or myself or somebody so of course Gleason give them the razz and finely Huggins got him for the N. Y. club for 4 or 5 ball players and the liberty loan and now Mr. Mays is with a club that has got a chance to get in the world serious and it shows what a sucker a ball player is to stick with a club where you can’t get nothing only the worst of it.

Well Al I guess if I was to have a run in now with Gleason or something I will know what to do as the minute he looks X eyed at me I will Mays him and I guess they wouldn’t some clubs jump at the chance to get a hold of me and specially Detroit as Jennings is makeing a great fight for the old rag without hardily any pitching at all you might say and what would he do with a man like I on the club to go in there every 3d. day and take my own turn besides helping the other birds out when they begin to weaken.

Well old N. Y. is some dry town since the 1 of July and the only way a man can get a drink here is go in a saloon and the only differents between old times is what they soak you for it now which is plenty but when a man has got to have it he has got to have like today after the game for inst. my old stomach was freting pretty bad and I got myself 6 high balls on the way back from the pk. and it set me back $2.40 but as I say what is $2.40 compared to a man’s health.

Your pal, Jack.

BOSTON,
AUG. 2.

Friend Al:  Well Al we are haveing a fine trip and the way we been going you would think we must of clumb in to 1st. place some night after dark but we won’t be there long if Gleason don’t wake up and use his pitchers right. He acts like Cicotte and Williams was Adam and Eve and they wasn’t nobody else in the world and he keeps yelping about what tough shape he is in on acct. of not only haveing 2 pitchers and as far is the rest of us is conserned we might as well be takeing tickets.

Well a man can’t hardily blame him for going slow with birds like Kerr and Faber and Lowdermilk that when they do throw a ball somewheres close to the plate somebody’s bat gets in the way but just because I lose them games to the St. Louis and N. Y. clubs in Chi with my stomach why that isn’t no reason I should spend August with my feet on the water cooler and as I said to Gleason today he might as well of left me home and he says yes and the rest of the club to.

Well you don’t see Jennings trying to cop the old rag with 2 pitchers but he works his staff in turn like a mgr. should and some A. M. we will wake up and find ourself a few laps behind Detroit instead of leading them and all because Jennings gives his pitchers a chance but instead of Gleason giveing me a chance he sets around and mones about what tough shape we are in and if he could only get a hold of some pitcher like Page with the Phila. club but it looks to me like if Page was so dam good the Athaletics would get rid of him. We have all ready signed up Pat Ragan that every club in the National League tried him and I don’t know what and the he – ll they can expect him to do here where a man has got to have something besides acquaintences in all the big citys and it looks to me like Gleason has went plain cuckoo and it wouldn’t surprise me to see him bark like a dog.

Well I suppose you seen where Ban Johnson stepped in and suspend it Mays after it come out that the N. Y. club had boughten him and I don’t see what Ban has got to say about it now and I suppose we will be reading pretty soon where he has plastered a $5.00 fine on Hap Felsch for limping.

Ban said a few yrs. ago that Ty Cobb wouldn’t never play another game in this league but the last time we played the Detroit club they had somebody in center field that looked a whole lot like Cobb and Jennings and the rest of the boys called him Ty.

Well this old burg isn’t running as wide open as N. Y. and if a man wants a little refreshmunts they have got to go out and hunt for it like tonight I and 1 of the boys thought we better lay in a qt. to last over the sabath and 1 of the boys on the Boston club told us where to go get it so we got a qt. of it and it cost $7.00 and that means $7.00 a drink as they couldn’t nobody in the world take more then 1 swallow and I wouldn’t be surprised if that is what ails the Boston club. They are poisoned. Well the qt. all but 2 drinks is standing on my burro and that is where it is going to spend the sabath and when we leave here I will give it to the chamber horse for a tip and tell her what it cost and she will know she died a high price death. In the old days when we was here on a Sunday they closed up the bars but you could walk in the hotel cafe and order up a drink as long is you ordered sandwichs with it and if they knowed you they would bring you the same sandwichs every trip.

Well 1 more game here Monday and then we go to Philly and maybe we will win 1 there as we have got 4 to play and if Mack ever win 4 in a row he would put on a auction sale.

Your pal, Jack.

PHILA.,
AUG. 4.

Friend Al:  Well Al just a line to let you know I am here in Philly and the club still up in Boston yet and don’t get here till tomorrow. Well that means that I am going to take my regular turn from now on and will start against this club either tomorrow or the next day and Gleason sent me on ahead to rest up along with Cicotte. You see in the old days the ball clubs use to get a party rate on the R. R. and it saved them money to all travel together from town to town but now everybody has got to pay full fare so if a mgr. wants to send a couple of his star pitchers a day or 2 ahead to the next town to rest them up why it don’t cost nothing so that is how it come that I and Cicotte is here in Phila.

I didn’t have no idear I was comeing on ahead till yesterday A. M. when I run in to Gleason in the hotel dinning rm. up in Boston and he motioned me to come and set down with him. Well he said how is your heart so I asked him what did he mean. “Well” he says “in them last 2 games you pitched vs. St. Louis and N. Y. out in Chi it looked to me like you was missing.” So I said I guest my heart was O.K. but my stomach has been freting me on acct. of something I eat. I said “I would of made them 2 clubs look like a bum only a man can’t work when your stomach aint right.” “No” he says “and your stomach won’t never get right on that liquid diet.” So I asked him what he meant and he says you know what I mean and I should think you would get wise to yourself. So I says I guest I was wise enough so he says “Well if your wise you will cut out the rough stuff and get to work.” So I asked him how could I get to work when he wouldn’t give me no chance and he said “I will tell you what I will do with you. Cicotte is going over to Phila. tonight to rest up and you can go along with him and rest up includeing your stomach and if you aint in shape to pitch when I call on you it won’t be nobody’s fault only your own. And remember they won’t be nobody over there watching you and you can behave yourself or not just as you feel like but when I get there I will know if you been behaveing.”

So he had Joe O’Neill buy me a ticket and birth and I and Cicotte got here this A. M. and have the whole day to ourself and maybe we will go out this P. M. and see the game as the St. Louis club is playing here and besides we will have a chance to study Mack’s batters. They are some study Al but maybe we can set where we can watch foxy Connie waggle his score card and maybe get his signs though it looks to me like he would do a whole lot better if he give up his score card long enough to have a few good ball players names printed on it.

Well 1 of the waiters here in the hotel tells me a man can get all they want to drink here in Phila. if they go at it right but nothing doing Al as I am going to be in shape to give Gleason the best I got though 3 or 4 wouldn’t hurt me and what Gleason don’t know won’t hurt him.

Your pal, Jack.

PHILA.,
AUG. 6.

Friend Al:  Well Al I guess they’s no use of a man trying to go along with a mgr. that has went cuckoo and if it wasn’t for the rest of the boys on the club I would pull a Mays and walk out on the club and go to some club where a man can get a square deal but if I done that it might maybe cost this club the pennant and it wouldn’t be the right thing towards the rest of the boys.

Well I guess I told you that I and Cicotte was sent on here ahead of the rest of the club to rest up so as we would be in good shape for the serious here and we layed around the hotel here all Monday A. M. and after lunch Eddie said he was going out to the ball pk. and did I want to go along. Well I said I guest I seen enough of baseball without spending a P. M. looking at a couple clubs like Burke and Mack has got a hold of and the more a man seen of Mack’s club why the lest he would know about how to pitch to them and besides the best thing for me would be to get my mind off of baseball. So Eddie went out to the game and pretty soon I got kind of lonesome so I called up a friend of mine that is quite a fan and we found a place where you can still get it and we histed a few and then he said how about running down to Atlantic City.

Well Al we went down there and seen the sights and took a dip and my friend says he wondered why all the queens was giveing us the double O as they didn’t never pay no tension to him when he was alone so I just laughed and didn’t say nothing and didn’t even look X eyed at 1 of them as I leave the flirting game to birds that hasn’t no wife or no respect for the ones they have got so we got a dinj to dig us up a qt. and we was comeing back here at 11 P. M. but they must of been sleeping powders or something in that stuff we got and any way we layed down on the beach to rest for a few minutes after supper and the both of us overslept ourselfs and missed the train. Well Al we finely got back here at 9 o’clock yesterday A. M. and the club was all ready here and Gleason was setting in the lobby when I come in. Well he said where have you been. So I told him I had been out for a walk and he didn’t say nothing so I come up to my rm. and layed down.

Well when we got out to the ball pk. he had both Cicotte and I take our turn in batting practice and when it come time to warm up he said it would be me. Well I didn’t feel any to good but I warmed up pretty good and finely the game started and I hadn’t pitched for pretty near 2 wks. and no wonder I couldn’t start right out as good as ever but instead of giveing me a chance to get started he halls me out of there after I walked the 1st. 2 men. Well Cicotte went in and I come in to the bench and Gleason begin to rave and I said how can a man pitch when you don’t even leave him get started. “Well” he says “you was out for 1 walk this morning and you was out for 2 walks this afternoon and I thought 3 walks a day would be enough for you.” “Where was you last night?” he says and I told him nowheres. So he said “Yes you was. You was out for a board walk down to Atlantic City and I have got a notion to board walk you 1 in the jaw.”

Well Al I don’t know how he could of knew where I had been but I am not the kind that trys to lie out of something so I says yes I went down to Atlantic City and took a dip. So he says you mean you took a dipper. Well they’s no use argueing with a crazy man Al so all as I could do was walk away from him before my temper got the best of me so I went in the club house and dressed and went up in the stand and watched the rest of the game. Well they didn’t score off of Cicotte and we got 1 run in the 11th. off of Page and beat them 1 to 0 but I might of shut them out just the way Cicotte done if he had of left me in there but he has went cuckoo Al and to show you how bad he is he has signed up Mayer that has been in the National League 20 or 30 yrs. and the next thing you know he will be sending for Geo. Van Haltren or somebody. Well I only wished I was off this club and I would walk out on them in a minute only for the rest of the boys that has got their heart set on winning.

Your pal, Jack.

WASHINGTON,
AUG. 9.

Friend Al:  Well old pal don’t be surprised if you pick up a paper some A. M. and see where I have walked out on this bunch of cuckoos and pulled a Mays on them only it won’t be no 2 or 3 wks. before I land somewheres else as they’s a certain club in this league that would give their eye to get a hold of me as it would mean the pennant. Don’t think I am bosting Al as I am just giveing you the facts and when I tell you what come off yesterday you will know who I refer. Even if the deal don’t come off I can give Gleason a good scare and maybe come to some kind of a understanding with him.

Well yesterday was our last day in Philly and the Detroit club had finished up their serious in Washington the day before and their whole bunch was over in Philly yesterday and out to see our game. Well afterwards we seen the whole bunch of them and Jennings kind of smiled at me like he wanted to see me alone so I give him the chance and he says what was on my mind. So I seen he was trying to give me a opening so I said I was tired of pitching for Gleason. So he says “Well I been watching the box scores where you pitched lately and it didn’t look to me like you was pitching for Gleason.” He is a great kidder Al but that is just his way.

Well he humed and haud and finely he says they was no use him talking to me as Gleason wouldn’t trade no pitcher to a club that was fighting him for the pennant. So I said maybe he wouldn’t trade me but suppose I walked out on him like Mays done on Boston why then maybe he would give me to the club that made the best offer.

So Jennings said “Yes but we tried to get Mays but all as we could offer for him was jack and we couldn’t offer nothing else for you and when a club offers money to Comiskey why it is like takeing coal to a castle.”

So I said “Well it looks to me like it would be to your int. to offer something besides jack as Gleason could use a couple of your ball players.” Yes said Jennings but when you begin talking trade to Gleason he can’t only talk in words of 1 sylable Cobb and Bush. Well I said if I make up my mind to walk out on him Cleveland or N. Y. will get me either 1 and you know what that means. So he says “I guess you won’t go to neither 1 of them clubs.” That is what he said Al and they’s only 1 way to take it but at that it wasn’t so much what he said as how he looked when he said it. He kind of half smiled and give me a kind of a wink and walked away from me and besides he was scared to make it to strong as a mgr. of a club is not supposed to temper with a player on another club. But last night just before we left for here I seen Bush of the Detroit club and I told him what had came off and he says why didn’t I go ahead and pull a Mays and see what happened. He says “We are going to win the pennant any way so you better take a chance of getting on a live 1.”

Well old pal I am not going to do nothing I will be sorry for and if our club wakes up and begins to show something I won’t leave them in the lerch but Gleason better get help to himself or he will wake up some A. M. and I won’t be around for him to snarl at me.

Well comeing over on the train I set with 1 of the reporters that travels with the club and he told me that Gleason had been trying to get this here Page that pitched the 11 inning game vs. Cicotte and Gleason wanted to pay cash for him but Mack must of been unconsious or something and any way he turned it down so it looks like Gleason would half to struggle along without Mr. Page and I guess we will get along just as good without him as from what I seen of him you could write up the game on his fast ball wile its comeing up there but maybe he would bring us luck as a bird that can make us go 11 innings for 1 run must have god with him.

Well I asked this reporter if Gleason had said anything about me lately and he said nothing that could be printed so I said well maybe I will have a story for you 1 of these mornings so he asked me what I meant and I said well if Gleason didn’t give me a square deal I would maybe pull a Mays on him and go to some club where I can get fair treatmunt. “Well” he says “if I was you I would cut out that line of talk as it may get back to Gleason and he will beat you to it.” Well Al I should worry if it gets back to Gleason or not as it might give him a scare but I don’t want him to know nothing about it yet a wile till I see how things comes along so I haven’t told nobody about my plans only a couple of the boys on the club that knows enough to keep their mouth shut and in the mean wile mum is the word till we see how matters comes along.

Your pal, Jack.

ON TRAIN,
AUG. 12.

Friend Al:  Well old pal we are on our way back to old Chi and everybody is happy even the Washington club though we took 2 out of 3 from them but they made more jack out of our serious then they ever seen before and what is 2 or 3 ball games to them you might say. Well Gleason didn’t start me but you notice he stuck me in there yesterday in the 8th inning when Lefty Williams begin to wilt and put the brakes on them and that ball Judge hit would have been nuts for Ganclil only for him being weak on acct. of his appendix.

Well when Gleason 1st. told me to go in there I had a notion to go in there and dink the ball up there and let the Washington boys get their name in the averages for once in their life and show Gleason I didn’t give a dam but then I thought of the rest of the boys and it wasn’t square to them to not give them the best I got so I cut loose and you see what happened.

Well Gleason patted me on the back when it was over and tried to give me the old oil but I just kind of smiled and pertended like I fell for it but that is the way he is Al when you win you are aces but when you have a bad day your as welcome is a gangrene.

Well it looks now like we would go right through and win the old rag as everybody has got so as they can waggle their legs without groaning and Gandil will soon have his strength back and then look out as about all as we half to do is break even and Detroit will have 1 he – ll of a time catching up with us so it looks like your old pal will get in once on the world serious dough and about time after all I have did for this club and would of been in on it in 1917 only I give up everything for my country wile the rest of the boys stayed home and made nasty remarks about the Kaiser.

Speaking about the world serious Al it looks now like Cincinnati would give the Giants some battle in the other league and if Moran can keep his club going they have got a good chance and I guess that old burg wouldn’t go cuckoo if they win a championship. Well I guess the ball pk. down there can’t handle the crowd that we would draw in the Polo Grounds but even if we can’t make as much jack out of a serious down there all the boys on our club would about as leaf play them as it would save us time as we can get it over in 4 days if we play them where it would probably take 5 days vs. N. Y. on acct. of 1 day to make the jump. The boys was talking this A. M. about what Cicotte and Williams should ought to do to Moran’s club and they would make a bum out of them and etc. but I guess after what I showed in Washington Gleason can’t do no lest then start me in 1 game at the outside and then we will see if Roush and Groh is such wales when they get up vs. real pitching after the dead arm Dicks they been looking at all season.

Well old pal it is pretty near time to stick the old nose in the old feed bag and we land in old Chi this P. M. and no game tomorrow but Thursday we open up vs. Boston and I suppose it will be Cicotte as Gleason sent him on ahead to get ready. Well if he can’t cut her they’s others on the old pitching staff that can and 1 of them is

Your pal, Jack.

CHI, AUG. 15.

Friend Al:  Well Al I suppose you seen what the Boston club done to Cicotte yesterday and Gleason had to take him out so as Felsch and Liebold could stand still and rest a minute but when he come in to the bench all as Gleason said to him was better luck next time Ed instead of fuming at the mouth like he done to me in Philly. So I said to Gleason I says “You send this bird on ahead of the club to be ready for this game and they make a bum out of him and all as you say to him is better luck next time Ed and the same thing came off in Philly the day I started and you went cuckoo and barked like a dog.” So Gleason says “Yes you big stiff but the reason they got to Eddie was because he didn’t have no stuff when he got in there but your trouble was that you had to much stuff before you ever went in.” So I just laughed at him.

Well it looks more then ever like Pat Moran was going to cop in the other league the way his club made a bum out of the Giants in the serious down there and I was just thinking tonight if the big show comes off in Cincinnati why couldn’t you hop on a train and breeze down there for the 1st. game that is scheduled down there and maybe that will be the game I pitch or 1 of them and it would tickle me to death to know my old pal was up there in the stand pulling for me and I promise you won’t be ashamed of saying your my friend when you see me out there. It wouldn’t only cost you about $6.00 or $7.00 R. R. fare and you wouldn’t half to bother about no ticket to the game as the boys on our club can get 2 of them a peace to every game at the regular prices and I would leave you use 1 of mine 1 day and it wouldn’t only cost you $2.00 or $3.00 and after the game we could go somewheres and hist a few as its a cinch they have still got some tucked away somewheres in that old burg as even the babys would die down there without their beer.

Maybe you will think you shouldn’t ought to make no trip like that and leave Bertha home but between you and I Al the ladys is a nusance when it comes to a trip like that and besides no matter how good a man and their wife gets along when you have lived with them a few yrs. its like a sweet dream to be away from them a day or 2. Think it over Al and leave me know how you feel about it and I would say come up to 1 of the games here only what with the Swede and the 2 kids we wouldn’t have no place to park you and besides we could have a better time somewheres where Florrie wasn’t folling us around all the wile like a caboose.

Speaking about Florrie we had a long talk last night and it seems like she is about ready to sell out her share in the beauty parlor as she don’t get along very good with the Dumonts and besides as I always say a womans place is home so I guess she is about through pairing finger nails and etc. and I am glad of it as with my salery and what I pick up in the world serious and etc. I guess they won’t be no over the hills to the poor house for Mr. and Mrs. Keefe yet a wile.

Your pal, Jack.

CHI, AUG. 20.

Friend Al:  Well Al I and Gleason had some words today and I guess he knows now where I stand and if he don’t why it is his own look out. We was playing the Washington club and Nick Altrock was out on the coaching line and I begin to kid him from the bench and I hollered hello handsome at him. So he turned around and hollered why hello Carl I didn’t know you was still with us. So Gleason says why is he calling you Carl and I said I didn’t know so Gleason says “Yes you do he is calling you Carl after Carl Mays because you told some of the boys you was going to Mays me and walk out on the club and Nick has heard about it.” So I said “Well maybe I did say that in a jokeing way.” So Gleason says “What was the joke.” So I said “Well maybe they wasn’t no joke but I just made the remark to some of the boys that I liked to pitch and it looked like they wasn’t no chance for me to pitch here so I wished I was somewheres where I could pitch.” So Gleason said “Well I will send you somewheres where you can pitch.” So I said “I can pitch here if you will give me a chance.” “Well” Gleason says “I am not running this club to muse you but I am trying to win a pennant and I can’t take no chances with a bird that has only turned out 2 good innings for me in a month.” So I said “Well I can’t turn out no more good innings till you stick me in there.” So Gleason said “Well I will stick you in there when I get good in ready and if you want to walk out on me why walk as far is you like.” So I says “I don’t half to walk as the Michigan Central will take me as far is I want to go.” So that shut him up Al as he knows now that if I jumped I would have a place to light and he can’t afford to strengthen a club that is right on our tail you might say.

You have got to hand it to Jennings for the race they are makeing Al though we been going good to thanks to a whole lot of luck like today for inst. Cicotte was in there against a Swede name Erickson that the Washington club got from Detroit and the boys went out and got 10 runs for Eddie and a man that can’t win with 10 runs better study for a janitor or something and a specially vs. the Washington club that if they ever scored 10 runs in 1 day the other clubs would ask for a recount. Well this Erickson certainly was good and the only boys on our club that could hit him was those that batted against him. Well Al you never see them pile up 10 runs behind me when I am in there pitching and about the only way as we can score at all with me in there is 3 bases on balls and a balk.

Well Al Florrie told the Dumonts today that she was going to quit them and sell out her share of the business and they wasn’t no tears shed on neither side. She hasn’t only payed in about $250.00 for the stock they was going to sell her so she will have that comeing besides a few dollars salery as she had drew ahead. Any way I am glad she is out of it and can stay home and pay a little tension to the kiddies and we are going to throw a party Sat. night to celebrate and as long is you can’t be here Al why I suppose I will half to hist a couple for you.

Your pal, Jack.

CHI, AUG. 25.

Friend Al:  Well Al I am through. Not through with pitching but through working for a cuckoo that treats a man like a dog. They’s only 1 condition that I will go back to him Al and that is a contract calling for more money or a bonus or something and he has got to understand that I work in my regular turn which is the only way a pitcher can do themself justice. But he won’t agree to my turns Al as trying to manage a ball club has went to his head and his brains has been A. W. O. L. for the last 2 mos. you might say. So its going to be moveing day pretty soon for your old pal and I guess you know where I am going to move without me telling you. I have all ready wired a telegram to Jennings telling him what come off and things ought to begin to pop by tomorrow at lease.

Well Al I will tell you what come off and you can judge for yourself what kind of a cuckoo this bird is. Well the 1st half of last wk. he had me down in the bull pen every day warming up though he didn’t have no intentions of sticking me in there and God knows I was warm enough without going out and looking for it but every time I would ease up a little and try and rest he would look down there from the bench and motion to me to get busy and by the time the game was over Sat. P. M. my old souper squeeked like a rat every time I throwed a ball.

Well Sat. night we throwed a party over to the house in honor of Florrie retireing from business and I had 4 qts. of the old hard stuff layed away and I and a couple of Florrie’s friends husbands finished 1 of them before supper and after supper we turned on the jazz and triped the life fantastic and I half to be oiled or I can’t dance so by 11 o’clock the serch and sieze her birds could of had the run of the house and welcome. Well 1 of the husbands said he knowed a place where they had escaped from the epidemic so we went down there and they served us rat poison in tea cups and I only histed a couple to be polite but I eat something that didn’t set right and when I finely got home and put on my night gown I wished it was a sroud.

Well Al I couldn’t eat nothing when I got up and whatever it was I had eat the night before had gave me a fever and Florrie wanted I should call up the ball pk. and tell them I was sick but it was Williams’s turn to pitch and I thought all as I would half to do would be get down in the bull pen and go through the motions but when I get to the pk. what does this cuckoo do but tell me to take my turn in the batting practice as I am going to work. So I asked him what was the matter with Williams and Gleason said he don’t feel good. “Well” I said “if he felt like I do his family would be out shopping for 1 left handed casket.” So Gleason said what and the he – ll is the matter with you now. So I told him my stomach. “Well” said Gleason “get in there and give them your fast one and curve and I will tell Schalk not to sign for your stomach.” So that was all as I could get out of him Al and they wasn’t nothing to do only grip my teeth and try and make the best of it.

Well Al to make a short story out of it I went in there so dizzy that Vick of the N. Y. club looked like he was hitting from both sides of the plate and I tried to throw a ball between him. Well I seen him fall over but he couldn’t get out of the way as I catched him right over the ear and if I had of had my regular stuff on the ball they would of been brains splashing clear up in the grand stand. Well I got 1 over for Peck and he past it up and then Schalk thought they was going to hit and run so he signed me to waist 1 and I waisted 4 and then up come Baker and I had 2 balls and nothing on him and I looked in to the bench but Gleason wasn’t looking at me and I looked out to the bull pen and they wasn’t nobody warming up so I pitched again and got 1 over the plate. Well I don’t know what kind of baseball it is for a man to hit with 2 and 0 with birds on 1st. and 2d. and nobody out and the pitcher hog wild but that is what this bird done Al is take a lunge at the ball and Liebold couldn’t of catched it without a pass out check.

Well I looked in to the bench again and Gleason didn’t say yes or no but I wasn’t going to stay out there and faint away for him or no other cuckoo. So I walked in to the dug out and said I’m through. “Through with what” Gleason says. “Through with a mgr. like you that makes a man go in there and try to pitch when I am so sick I don’t know what I am doing.” So Gleason said “That is the way you have always pitched.” So I said “Well I am not going to pitch that way or no other way for you no more but I am going to pitch for a mgr. that don’t ask a man to work when he is only 2 laps this side of a corps.” Who are you going to pitch for? I am going to pitch for Detroit. “Well” says Gleason “that puts them out of the race as Jennings is so crazy now that he eats grass and when you get there he will start in on his ball club.” Well I said something back to him and went in the club house.

That is what come off Al and I will leave it to you if I didn’t do right as how can a man work for a cuckoo that makes a bench lizard out of you for a mo. and then pitchs you 64 innings in 3 days in the bull pen and then when your sick and wore out and your souper whines every time you raise it.

Well he as much is said he wished I would go to Detroit so he can’t go back on that Al or try and block the deal so as I say I wired a telegram to Jennings that I am through here and for him to hurry up with his offer.

Well Gleason and the club leaves tonight for St. Louis and I have been kind of expecting that he would call up and try and square things with me but not a peep out of him and as I say he is so cuckoo that he probably won’t come down off of his horse. But I should worry Al as I will soon be with a club that can win the pennant with a little help and I am the bird that can give them the kind of help they need.

I will keep you posted Al and let you know the minute I hear news. In the mean wile come on you Tigers.

Your pal, Jack.

CHI, AUG. 29.

Friend Al:  Well Al no news yet and I called up the ball pk. today to see if maybe they wasn’t a telegram there for me though I wired Jennings my home address. They wasn’t no telegram there and I don’t know what to think only it may be that Jennings is wireing back and 4th. to Gleason trying to make the trade and they can’t agree on turns. Well Gleason is not a sucker enough to not make some kind of a deal when he knows that I won’t never work for him again but or course its natural for him to hold out for the best man he can get and its natural for Jennings to not give more for me than he has to. But if it comes to a show down you can bet that Jennings will give up anybody he has to outside of Cobb or maybe Bush and I wouldn’t be surprised if the final deal was me for Bob Veach and no money on the side. The White Sox has got room for another outfielder God knows wile on the other hand Veach’s strength is hitting which is wasted in Detroit as they can all hit up there but dam few of them can pitch.

Of course Veach is in the game every day where most pitchers don’t only work about every 4th. day but for a man like Jennings I would go in there every day the rest of the season if he asked me and work my head off to bring the old flag home to Detroit.

In the mean wile I should worry as news is sure to come sooner or later and I and Florrie is enjoying ourselfs and getting acquainted with the kiddies and still got enough jack to keep the wolfs from the door a couple of wks. at the outside.

Your pal, Jack.

CHI, AUG. 31.

Friend Al:  Well Al I suppose you seen the news in the paper Sat. and I am leaveing for the east tonight to join my new pals. Don’t never get it in your head Al that I am not tickled to death to play for Connie Mack as he has always had my respect even if the Athaletics has been tail enders for the last few yrs. He has got the right idear Al and that is to build up a young ball club and learn them the game and by the time they are ready they are still young enough to play their best baseball and when they get good they don’t win 1 championship and then crall back in their hole to die but they win 3 or 4 in a row and get enough jack to live in ease and luxery the rest of their life. Besides Al a man that plays ball for Mack knows that he will be treated like a gentleman and not barked at like a dog when things goes wrong.

Well Al the news come to me in a funny way. I was out late Friday night and overslept myself and when I woke up Florrie was up and dressed and I heard her in the next rm. and it sounded like she was sobing. Well I couldn’t figure what and the he – ll she had to whine about so I hollered to her and she come in with the morning paper in 1 hand and her nose in the other. “Oh Jack” she says “its in the paper.” So I said what was in the paper and she says “They have traded you to Philadelphia you and $5000.00 for Page.”

Well for a minute I felt kind of stuned and then I snatched the paper out of her hand and read it over and over again and finely I got it through my head that it was true and Florrie was still snuffleing and I guess maybe I snuffled a little to.

Well finely I seen they wasn’t no use makeing a baby out of ourselfs so I griped my teeth and I says “Well lets cut out the sob stuff as this here story don’t mean nothing in our young life. They can trade me to Philadelphia for all the Pages in the book but I won’t go.” So Florrie spruced up to and she says “That’s right you just tell them they can either send you to some decent club or you will quit the game for good.”

So for a wile we talked along that line Al but Sat. P. M. I said something about going down town for supper and take in a picture show and Florrie begin to snuffle again. We can’t afford no partys now she said. She says “You haven’t no job and I haven’t and we have got less then $200.00 to our name and what is going to become of us.”

Well we stayed home and we talked things over and to make a short story out of it we seen where we was makeing a sucker out of ourselfs as when you come to think of it they’s no better town in the league to live in then Phila. and its near Atlantic City so as Florrie and the kids can be down there all summer you might say and I can go down nights when the club is playing at home and Florrie thinks maybe she can get in a beauty parlor there and make enough jack to help out this winter.

So all and all Al I am tickled to death the way things has came along and wile I won’t get in the world serious this yr. its the long run that counts after all and when we do get going in Philly it will still be a young ball club yet that can stand the pace and cop the old rag 2 or 3 seasons in a row. And about that time Gleason’s club and Jennings’s to will be in the old folks home lapping up gruel.

Well I have looked up the schedule and Detroit comes to Philly the 9 of Sept, and the White Sox the 13 and I am going to ask Connie to let me work twice against the both of them and then I will show Gleason and Jennings what a fool they made out of themself and what kind of a pitcher old Jack Keefe is when I am working for a man that can talk to you without barking like a dog.

Your pal, Jack.

Batter Up!

1 … My Roomy
2 … Sick ’Em
3 … Horseshoes
4 … Back to Baltimore
5 … Alibi Ike
6 … Harmony
7 … The Poor Simp
8 … Where Do You Get That Noise?
9 … Good for the Soul
10 … The Crook
11 … The Hold-out
12 … The Yellow Kid
13 … Women
14 … Hurry Kane

• 1 •

My Roomy

I

No – I ain’t signed for next year; but there won’t be no trouble about that. The dough part of it is all fixed up. John and me talked it over and I’ll sign as soon as they send me a contract. All I told him was that he’d have to let me pick my own roommate after this and not sick no wild man on to me.

You know I didn’t hit much the last two months o’ the season. Some o’ the boys, I notice, wrote some stuff about me gettin’ old and losin’ my battin’ eye. That’s all bunk! The reason I didn’t hit was because I wasn’t gettin’ enough sleep. And the reason for that was Mr. Elliott.

He wasn’t with us after the last part o’ May, but I roomed with him long enough to get the insomny. I was the only guy in the club game enough to stand for him; but I was sorry afterward that I done it, because it sure did put a crimp in my little old average.

And do you know where he is now? I got a letter today and I’ll read it to you. No – I guess I better tell you somethin’ about him first. You fellers never got acquainted with him and you ought to hear the dope to understand the letter. I’ll make it as short as I can.

He didn’t play in no league last year. He was with some semi-pros over in Michigan and somebody writes John about him. So John sends Needham over to look at him. Tom stayed there Saturday and Sunday, and seen him work twice. He was playin’ the outfield, but as luck would have it they wasn’t a fly ball hit in his direction in both games.

A base hit was made out his way and he booted it, and that’s the only report Tom could get on his fieldin’. But he wallops two over the wall in one day and they catch two line drives off him. The next day he gets four blows and two o’ them is triples.

So Tom comes back and tells John the guy is a whale of a hitter and fast as Cobb, but he don’t know nothin’ about his fieldin’. Then John signs him to a contract – twelve hundred or somethin’ like that. We’d been in Tampa a week before he showed up. Then he comes to the hotel and just sits round all day, without tellin’ nobody who he was. Finally the bellhops was going to chase him out and he says he’s one o’ the ballplayers. Then the clerk gets John to go over and talk to him. He tells John his name and says he hasn’t had nothin’ to eat for three days, because he was broke. John told me afterward that he’d drew about three hundred in advance – last winter sometime. Well, they took him in the dinin’ room and they tell me he inhaled about four meals at once. That night they roomed him with Heine.

Next mornin’ Heine and me walks out to the grounds together and Heine tells me about him. He says:

“Don’t never call me a bug again. They got me roomin’ with the champion o’ the world.”

“Who is he?” I says.

“I don’t know and I don’t want to know,” says Heine; “but if they stick him in there with me again I’ll jump to the Federals. To start with, he ain’t got no baggage. I ast him where his trunk was and he says he didn’t have none. Then I ast him if he didn’t have no suitcase, and he says: ‘No. What do you care?’ I was goin’ to lend him some pajamas, but he put on the shirt o’ the uniform John give him last night and slept in that. He was asleep when I got up this mornin’. I seen his collar layin’ on the dresser and it looked like he had wore it in Pittsburgh every day for a year. So I throwed it out the window and he comes down to breakfast with no collar. I ast him what size collar he wore and he says he didn’t want none, because he wasn’t goin’ out nowheres. After breakfast he beat it up to the room again and put on his uniform. When I got up there he was lookin’ in the glass at himself, and he done it all the time I was dressin’.”

When we got out to the park I got my first look at him. Pretty good-lookin’ guy, too, in his unie – big shoulders and well put together; built somethin’ like Heine himself. He was talkin’ to John when I come up.

“What position do you play?” John was askin’ him.

“I play anywheres,” says Elliott.

“You’re the kind I’m lookin’ for,” says John. Then he says: “You was an outfielder up there in Michigan, wasn’t you?”

“I don’t care where I play,” says Elliott.

John sends him to the outfield and forgets all about him for a while. Pretty soon Miller comes in and says:

“I ain’t goin’ to shag for no bush outfielder!”

John ast him what was the matter, and Miller tells him that Elliott ain’t doin’ nothin’ but just standin’ out there; that he ain’t makin’ no attemp’ to catch the fungoes, and that he won’t even chase ’em. Then John starts watchin’ him, and it was just like Miller said. Larry hit one pretty near in his lap and he stepped out o’ the way. John calls him in and ast him:

“Why don’t you go after them fly balls?”

“Because I don’t want ’em,” says Elliott.

John gets sarcastic and says:

“What do you want? Of course we’ll see that you get anythin’ you want!”

“Give me a ticket back home,” says Elliott.

“Don’t you want to stick with the club?” says John, and the busher tells him, No, he certainly did not. Then John tells him he’ll have to pay his own fare home and Elliott don’t get sore at all. He just says:

“Well, I’ll have to stick, then – because I’m broke.”

We was havin’ battin’ practice and John tells him to go up and hit a few. And you ought to of seen him bust ’em!

Lavender was in there workin’ and he’d been pitchin’ a little all winter, so he was in pretty good shape. He lobbed one up to Elliott, and he hit it ’way up in some trees outside the fence – about a mile, I guess. Then John tells Jimmy to put somethin’ on the ball. Jim comes through with one of his fast ones and the kid slams it agin the right-field wall on a line.

“Give him your spitter!” yells John, and Jim handed him one. He pulled it over first base so fast that Bert, who was standin’ down there, couldn’t hardly duck in time. If it’d hit him it’d killed him.

Well, he kep’ on hittin’ everythin’ Jim give him – and Jim had somethin’ too. Finally John gets Pierce warmed up and sends him out to pitch, tellin’ him to hand Elliott a flock o’ curve balls. He wanted to see if lefthanders was goin’ to bother him. But he slammed ’em right along, and I don’t b’lieve he hit more’n two the whole mornin’ that wouldn’t of been base hits in a game.

They sent him out to the outfield again in the afternoon, and after a lot o’ coaxin’ Leach got him to go after fly balls; but that’s all he did do – just go after ’em. One hit him on the bean and another on the shoulder. He run back after the short ones and ’way in after the ones that went over his head. He catched just one – a line drive that he couldn’t get out o’ the way of; and then he acted like it hurt his hands.

I come back to the hotel with John. He ast me what I thought of Elliott.

“Well,” I says, “he’d be the greatest ballplayer in the world if he could just play ball. He sure can bust ’em.”

John says he was afraid he couldn’t never make an outfielder out o’ him. He says:

“I’ll try him on the infield tomorrow. They must be some place he can play. I never seen a lefthand hitter that looked so good agin lefthand pitchin’ – and he’s got a great arm; but he acts like he’d never saw a fly ball.”

Well, he was just as bad on the infield. They put him at short and he was like a sieve. You could of drove a hearse between him and second base without him gettin’ near it. He’d stoop over for a ground ball about the time it was bouncin’ up agin the fence; and when he’d try to cover the bag on a peg he’d trip over it.

They tried him at first base and sometimes he’d run ’way over in the coachers’ box and sometimes out in right field lookin’ for the bag. Once Heine shot one acrost at him on a line and he never touched it with his hands. It went bam! right in the pit of his stomach – and the lunch he’d ate didn’t do him no good.

Finally John just give up and says he’d have to keep him on the bench and let him earn his pay by bustin’ ’em a couple o’ times a week or so. We all agreed with John that this bird would be a whale of a pinch hitter – and we was right too. He was hittin’ ’way over five hundred when the blowoff come, along about the last o’ May.

II

Before the trainin’ trip was over, Elliott had roomed with pretty near everybody in the club. Heine raised an awful holler after the second night down there and John put the bug in with Needham. Tom stood him for three nights. Then he doubled up with Archer, and Schulte, and Miller, and Leach, and Saier – and the whole bunch in turn, averagin’ about two nights with each one before they put up a kick. Then John tried him with some o’ the youngsters, but they wouldn’t stand for him no more’n the others. They all said he was crazy and they was afraid he’d get violent some night and stick a knife in ’em.

He always insisted on havin’ the water run in the bathtub all night, because he said it reminded him of the sound of the dam near his home. The fellers might get up four or five times a night and shut off the faucet, but he’d get right up after ’em and turn it on again. Carter, a big bush pitcher from Georgia, started a fight with him about it one night, and Elliott pretty near killed him. So the rest o’ the bunch, when they’d saw Carter’s map next mornin’, didn’t have the nerve to do nothin’ when it come their turn.

Another o’ his habits was the thing that scared ’em though. He’d brought a razor with him – in his pocket, I guess – and he used to do his shavin’ in the middle o’ the night. Instead o’ doin’ it in the bathroom he’d lather his face and then come out and stand in front o’ the lookin’-glass on the dresser. Of course he’d have all the lights turned on, and that was bad enough when a feller wanted to sleep; but the worst of it was that he’d stop shavin’ every little while and turn round and stare at the guy who was makin’ a failure o’ tryin’ to sleep. Then he’d wave his razor round in the air and laugh, and begin shavin’ agin. You can imagine how comf’table his roomies felt!

John had bought him a suitcase and some clothes and things, and charged ’em up to him. He’d drew so much dough in advance that he didn’t have nothin’ comin’ till about June. He never thanked John and he’d wear one shirt and one collar till some one throwed ’em away.

Well, we finally gets to Indianapolis, and we was goin’ from there to Cincy to open. The last day in Indianapolis John come and ast me how I’d like to change roomies. I says I was perfectly satisfied with Larry. Then John says:

“I wisht you’d try Elliott. The other boys all kicks on him, but he seems to hang round you a lot and I b’lieve you could get along all right.”

“Why don’t you room him alone?” I ast.

“The boss or the hotels won’t stand for us roomin’ alone,” says John. “You go ahead and try it, and see how you make out. If he’s too much for you let me know; but he likes you and I think he’ll be diff’rent with a guy who can talk to him like you can.”

So I says I’d tackle it, because I didn’t want to throw John down. When we got to Cincy they stuck Elliott and me in one room, and we was together till he quit us.

III

I went to the room early that night, because we was goin’ to open next day and I wanted to feel like somethin’. First thing I done when I got undressed was turn on both faucets in the bathtub. They was makin’ an awful racket when Elliott finally come in about midnight. I was layin’ awake and I opened right up on him. I says:

“Don’t shut off that water, because I like to hear it run.”

Then I turned over and pretended to be asleep. The bug got his clothes off, and then what did he do but go in the bathroom and shut off the water! Then he come back in the room and says:

“I guess no one’s goin’ to tell me what to do in here.”

But I kep’ right on pretendin’ to sleep and didn’t pay no attention. When he’d got into his bed I jumped out o’ mine and turned on all the lights and begun stroppin’ my razor. He says:

“What’s comin’ off?”

“Some o’ my whiskers,” I says. “I always shave along about this time.”

“No, you don’t!” he says. “I was in your room one mornin’ down in Louisville and I seen you shavin’ then.”

“Well,” I says, “the boys tell me you shave in the middle o’ the night; and I thought if I done all the things you do mebbe I’d get so’s I could hit like you.”

“You must be superstitious!” he says. And I told him I was. “I’m a good hitter,” he says, “and I’d be a good hitter if I never shaved at all. That don’t make no diff’rence.”

“Yes, it does,” I says. “You prob’ly hit good because you shave at night; but you’d be a better fielder if you shaved in the mornin’.”

You see, I was tryin’ to be just as crazy as him – though that wasn’t hardly possible.

“If that’s right,” says he, “I’ll do my shavin’ in the mornin’ – because I seen in the papers where the boys says that if I could play the outfield like I can hit I’d be as good as Cobb. They tell me Cobb gets twenty thousand a year.”

“No,” I says; “he don’t get that much – but he gets about ten times as much as you do.”

“Well,” he says, “I’m goin’ to be as good as him, because I need the money.”

“What do you want with money?” I says.

He just laughed and didn’t say nothin’; but from that time on the water didn’t run in the bathtub nights and he done his shavin’ after breakfast. I didn’t notice, though, that he looked any better in fieldin’ practice.

IV

It rained one day in Cincy and they trimmed us two out o’ the other three; but it wasn’t Elliott’s fault.

They had Larry beat four to one in the ninth innin’ o’ the first game. Archer gets on with two out, and John sends my roomy up to hit – though Benton, a lefthander, is workin’ for them. The first thing Benton serves up there Elliott cracks it a mile over Hobby’s head. It would of been good for three easy – only Archer – playin’ safe, o’ course – pulls up at third base. Tommy couldn’t do nothin’ and we was licked.

The next day he hits one out o’ the park off the Indian; but we was ’way behind and they was nobody on at the time. We copped the last one without usin’ no pinch hitters.

I didn’t have no trouble with him nights durin’ the whole series. He come to bed pretty late while we was there and I told him he’d better not let John catch him at it.

“What would he do?” he says.

“Fine you fifty,” I says.

“He can’t fine me a dime,” he says, “because I ain’t got it.”

Then I told him he’d be fined all he had comin’ if he didn’t get in the hotel before midnight; but he just laughed and says he didn’t think John had a kick comin’ so long as he kep’ bustin’ the ball.

“Some day you’ll go up there and you won’t bust it,” I says.

“That’ll be an accident,” he says.

That stopped me and I didn’t say nothin’. What could you say to a guy who hated himself like that?

The “accident” happened in St. Louis the first day. We needed two runs in the eighth and Saier and Brid was on, with two out. John tells Elliott to go up in Pierce’s place. The bug goes up and Griner gives him two bad balls – ’way outside. I thought they was goin’ to walk him – and it looked like good judgment, because they’d heard what he done in Cincy. But no! Griner comes back with a fast one right over and Elliott pulls it down the right foul line, about two foot foul. He hit it so hard you’d of thought they’d sure walk him then; but Griner gives him another fast one. He slammed it again just as hard, but foul. Then Griner gives him one ’way outside and it’s two and three. John says, on the bench:

“If they don’t walk him now he’ll bust that fence down.”

I thought the same and I was sure Griner wouldn’t give him nothin’ to hit; but he come with a curve and Rigler calls Elliott out. From where we sat the last one looked low, and I thought Elliott’d make a kick. He come back to the bench smilin’.

John starts for his position, but stopped and ast the bug what was the matter with that one. Any busher I ever knowed would of said, “It was too low,” or “It was outside,” or “It was inside.” Elliott says:

“Nothin’ at all. It was right over the middle.”

“Why didn’t you bust it, then?” says John.

“I was afraid I’d kill somebody,” says Elliott, and laughed like a big boob.

John was pretty near chokin’.

“What are you laughin’ at?” he says.

“I was thinkin’ of a nickel show I seen in Cincinnati,” says the bug.

“Well,” says John, so mad he couldn’t hardly see, “that show and that laugh’ll cost you fifty.”

We got beat, and I wouldn’t of blamed John if he’d fined him his whole season’s pay.

Up ’n the room that night I told him he’d better cut out that laughin’ stuff when we was gettin’ trimmed or he never would have no payday. Then he got confidential.

“Payday wouldn’t do me no good,” he says. “When I’m all squared up with the club and begin to have a payday I’ll only get a hundred bucks at a time, and I’ll owe that to some o’ you fellers. I wisht we could win the pennant and get in on that World’s Series dough. Then I’d get a bunch at once.”

“What would you do with a bunch o’ dough?” I ast him.

“Don’t tell nobody, sport,” he says; “but if I ever get five hundred at once I’m goin’ to get married.”

“Oh!” I says. “And who’s the lucky girl?”

“She’s a girl up in Muskegon,” says Elliott; “and you’re right when you call her lucky.”

“You don’t like yourself much, do you?” I says.

“I got reason to like myself,” says he. “You’d like yourself too, if you could hit ’em like me.”

“Well,” I says, “you didn’t show me no hittin’ today.”

“I couldn’t hit because I was laughin’ too hard,” says Elliott.

“What was it you was laughin’ at?” I says.

“I was laughin’ at that pitcher,” he says. “He thought he had somethin’ and he didn’t have nothin’.”

“He had enough to whiff you with,” I says.

“He didn’t have nothin’!” says he again. “I was afraid if I busted one off him they’d can him, and then I couldn’t never hit agin him no more.”

Naturally I didn’t have no comeback to that. I just sort o’ gasped and got ready to go to sleep; but he wasn’t through.

“I wisht you could see this bird!” he says.

“What bird?” I says.

“This dame that’s nuts about me,” he says.

“Good-looker?” I ast.

“No,” he says; “she ain’t no bear for looks. They ain’t nothin’ about her for a guy to rave over till you hear her sing. She sure can holler some.”

“What kind o’ voice has she got?” I ast.

“A bear,” says he.

“No,” I says; “I mean is she a barytone or an air?”

“I don’t know,” he says; “but she’s got the loudest voice I ever hear on a woman. She’s pretty near got me beat.”

“Can you sing?” I says; and I was sorry right afterward that I ast him that question.

I guess it must of been bad enough to have the water runnin’ night after night and to have him wavin’ that razor round; but that couldn’t of been nothin’ to his singin’. Just as soon as I’d pulled that boner he says, “Listen to me!” and starts in on Silver Threads Among the Gold. Mind you, it was after midnight and they was guests all round us tryin’ to sleep!

They used to be noise enough in our club when we had Hofman and Sheckard and Richie harmonizin’; but this bug’s voice was louder’n all o’ their’n combined. We once had a pitcher named Martin Walsh – brother o’ Big Ed’s – and I thought he could drownd out the Subway; but this guy made a boiler factory sound like Dummy Taylor. If the whole hotel wasn’t awake when he’d howled the first line it’s a pipe they was when he cut loose, which he done when he come to “Always young and fair to me.” Them words could of been heard easy in East St. Louis.

He didn’t get no encore from me, but he goes right through it again – or starts to. I knowed somethin’ was goin’ to happen before he finished – and somethin’ did. The night clerk and the house detective come bangin’ at the door. I let ’em in and they had plenty to say. If we made another sound the whole club’d be canned out o’ the hotel.

I tried to salve ’em, and I says:

“He won’t sing no more.”

But Elliott swelled up like a poisoned pup.

“Won’t I?” he says. “I’ll sing all I want to.”

“You won’t sing in here,” says the clerk.

“They ain’t room for my voice in here anyways,” he says. “I’ll go outdoors and sing.”

And he puts his clothes on and ducks out. I didn’t make no attemp’ to stop him. I heard him bellowin’ Silver Threads down the corridor and down the stairs, with the clerk and the dick chasin’ him all the way and tellin’ him to shut up.

Well, the guests make a holler the next mornin’; and the hotel people tells Charlie Williams that he’ll either have to let Elliott stay somewheres else or the whole club’ll have to move. Charlie tells John, and John was thinkin’ o’ settlin’ the question by releasin’ Elliott.

I guess he’d about made up his mind to do it; but that afternoon they had us three to one in the ninth, and we got the bases full, with two down and Larry’s turn to hit. Elliott had been sittin’ on the bench sayin’ nothin’.

“Do you think you can hit one today?” says John.

“I can hit one any day,” says Elliott.

“Go up and hit that lefthander, then,” says John, “and remember there’s nothin’ to laugh at.”

Sallee was workin’ – and workin’ good; but that didn’t bother the bug. He cut into one, and it went between Oakes and Whitted like a shot. He come into third standin’ up and we was a run to the good. Sallee was so sore he kind o’ forgot himself and took pretty near his full wind-up pitchin’ to Tommy. And what did Elliott do but steal home and get away with it clean!

Well, you couldn’t can him after that, could you? Charlie gets him a room somewheres and I was relieved of his company that night. The next evenin’ we beat it for Chi to play about two weeks at home. He didn’t tell nobody where he roomed there and I didn’t see nothin’ of him, ’cep’ out to the park. I ast him what he did with himself nights and he says:

“Same as I do on the road – borrow some dough some place and go to the nickel shows.”

“You must be stuck on ’em,” I says.

“Yes,” he says; “I like the ones where they kill people – because I want to learn how to do it. I may have that job some day.”

“Don’t pick on me,” I says.

“Oh,” says the bug, “you never can tell who I’ll pick on.”

It seemed as if he just couldn’t learn nothin’ about fieldin’, and finally John told him to keep out o’ the practice.

“A ball might hit him in the temple and croak him,” says John.

But he busted up a couple o’ games for us at home, heatin’ Pittsburgh once and Cincy once.

V

They give me a great big room at the hotel in Pittsburgh; so the fellers picked it out for the poker game. We was playin’ along about ten o’clock one night when in come Elliott – the earliest he’d showed up since we’d been roomin’ together. They was only five of us playin’ and Tom ast him to sit in.

“I’m busted,” he says.

“Can you play poker?” I ast him.

“They’s nothin’ I can’t do!” he says. “Slip me a couple o’ bucks and I’ll show you.”

So I slipped him a couple o’ bucks and honestly hoped he’d win, because I knowed he never had no dough. Well, Tom dealt him a hand and he picks it up and says:

“I only got five cards.”

“How many do you want?” I says.

“Oh,” he says, “if that’s all I get I’ll try to make ’em do.”

The pot was cracked and raised, and he stood the raise. I says to myself: “There goes my two bucks!” But no – he comes out with three queens and won the dough. It was only about seven bucks; but you’d of thought it was a million to see him grab it. He laughed like a kid.

“Guess I can’t play this game!” he says; and he had me fooled for a minute – I thought he must of been kiddin’ when he complained of only havin’ five cards.

He copped another pot right afterward and was sittin’ there with about eleven bucks in front of him when Jim opens a roodle pot for a buck. I stays and so does Elliott. Him and Jim both drawed one card and I took three. I had kings or queens – I forget which. I didn’t help ’em none; so when Jim bets a buck I throws my hand away.

“How much can I bet?” says the bug.

“You can raise Jim a buck if you want to,” I says.

So he bets two dollars. Jim comes back at him. He comes right back at Jim. Jim raises him again and he tilts Jim right back. Well, when he’d boosted Jim with the last buck he had, Jim says:

“I’m ready to call. I guess you got me beat. What have you got?”

“I know what I’ve got, all right,” says Elliott. “I’ve got a straight.” And he throws his hand down. Sure enough, it was a straight, eight high. Jim pretty near fainted and so did I.

The bug had started pullin’ in the dough when Jim stops him.

“Here! Wait a minute!” says Jim. “I thought you had somethin.’ I filled up.” Then Jim lays down his nine full.

“You beat me, I guess,” says Elliott, and he looked like he’d lost his last friend.

“Beat you?” says Jim. “Of course I beat you! What did you think I had?”

“Well,” says the bug, “I thought you might have a small flush or somethin’.”

When I regained consciousness he was beggin’ for two more bucks.

“What for?” I says. “To play poker with? You’re barred from the game for life!”

“Well,” he says, “if I can’t play no more I want to go to sleep, and you fellers will have to get out o’ this room.”

Did you ever hear o’ nerve like that? This was the first night he’d came in before twelve and he orders the bunch out so’s he can sleep! We politely suggested to him to go to Brooklyn.

Without sayin’ a word he starts in on his Silver Threads; and it wasn’t two minutes till the game was busted up and the bunch – all but me – was out o’ there. I’d of beat it too, only he stopped yellin’ as soon as they’d went.

“You’re some buster!” I says. “You bust up ball games in the afternoon and poker games at night.”

“Yes,” he says; “that’s my business – bustin’ things.”

And before I knowed what he was about he picked up the pitcher of ice-water that was on the floor and throwed it out the window – through the glass and all.

Right then I give him a plain talkin’ to. I tells him how near he come to gettin’ canned down in St. Louis because he raised so much Cain singin’ in the hotel.

“But I had to keep my voice in shape,” he says. “If I ever get dough enough to get married the girl and me’ll go out singin’ together.”

“Out where?” I ast.

“Out on the vaudeville circuit,” says Elliott.

“Well,” I says, “if her voice is like yours you’ll be wastin’ money if you travel round. Just stay up in Muskegon and we ll hear you, all right!”

I told him he wouldn’t never get no dough if he didn’t behave himself. That, even if we got in the World’s Series, he wouldn’t be with us – unless he cut out the foolishness.

“We ain’t goin’ to get in no World’s Series,” he says, “and I won’t never get a bunch o’ money at once; so it looks like I couldn’t get married this fall.”

Then I told him we played a city series every fall. He’d never thought o’ that and it tickled him to death. I told him the losers always got about five hundred apiece and that we were about due to win it and get about eight hundred. “But,” I says, “we still got a good chance for the old pennant; and if I was you I wouldn’t give up hope o’ that yet – not where John can hear you anyway.”

“No,” he says, “we won’t win no pennant, because he won’t let me play reg’lar; but I don’t care so long as we’re sure o’ that city-series dough.”

“You ain’t sure of it if you don’t behave,” I says.

“Well,” says he, very serious, “I guess I’ll behave.” And he did – till we made our first Eastern trip.

VI

We went to Boston first, and the crazy bunch goes out and piles up a three-run lead on us in seven innin’s the first day. It was the pitcher’s turn to lead off in the eighth, so up goes Elliott to bat for him. He kisses the first thing they hands him for three bases; and we says, on the bench: “Now we’ll get ’em!” – because, you know, a three-run lead wasn’t nothin’ in Boston.

“Stay right on that bag!” John hollers to Elliott.

Mebbe if John hadn’t said nothin’ to him everythin’ would of been all right; but when Perdue starts to pitch the first ball to Tommy, Elliott starts to steal home. He’s out as far as from here to Seattle.

If I’d been carryin’ a gun I’d of shot him right through the heart. As it was, I thought John’d kill him with a bat, because he was standin’ there with a couple of ’em, waitin’ for his turn; but I guess John was too stunned to move. He didn’t even seem to see Elliott when he went to the bench. After I’d cooled off a little I says:

“Beat it and get into your clothes before John comes in. Then go to the hotel and keep out o’ sight.”

When I got up in the room afterward, there was Elliott, lookin’ as innocent and happy as though he’d won fifty bucks with a pair o’ treys.

“I thought you might of killed yourself,” I says.

“What for?” he says.

“For that swell play you made,” says I.

“What was the matter with the play?” ast Elliott, surprised. “It was all right when I done it in St. Louis.”

“Yes,” I says; “but they was two out in St. Louis and we wasn’t no three runs behind.”

“Well,” he says, “if it was all right in St. Louis I don’t see why it was wrong here.”

“It’s a diff’rent climate here,” I says, too disgusted to argue with him.

“I wonder if they’d let me sing in this climate?” says Elliott.

“No,” I says. “Don’t sing in this hotel, because we don’t want to get fired out o’ here – the eats is too good.”

“All right,” he says. “I won’t sing.” But when I starts down to supper he says: “I’m li’ble to do somethin’ worse’n sing.”

He didn’t show up in the dinin’ room and John went to the boxin’ show after supper; so it looked like him and Elliott wouldn’t run into each other till the murder had left John’s heart. I was glad o’ that – because a Mass’chusetts jury might not consider it justifiable hommercide if one guy croaked another for givin’ the Boston club a game.

I went down to the corner and had a couple o’ beers; and then I come straight back, intendin’ to hit the hay. The elevator boy had went for a drink or somethin’, and they was two old ladies already waitin’ in the car when I stepped in. Right along after me comes Elliott.

“Where’s the boy that’s supposed to run this car?” he says. I told him the boy’d be right back; but he says: “I can’t wait. I’m much too sleepy.”

And before I could stop him he’d slammed the door and him and I and the poor old ladies was shootin’ up.

“Let us off at the third floor, please!” says one o’ the ladies, her voice kind o’ shakin’.

“Sorry, madam,” says the bug; “but this is a express and we don’t stop at no third floor.”

I grabbed his arm and tried to get him away from the machinery; but he was as strong as a ox and he throwed me agin the side o’ the car like I was a baby. We went to the top faster’n I ever rode in an elevator before. And then we shot down to the bottom, hittin’ the bumper down there so hard I thought we’d be smashed to splinters.

The ladies was too scared to make a sound durin’ the first trip; but while we was goin’ up and down the second time – even faster’n the first – they begun to scream. I was hollerin’ my head off at him to quit and he was makin’ more noise than the three of us – pretendin’ he was the locomotive and the whole crew o’ the train.

Don’t never ask me how many times we went up and down! The women fainted on the third trip and I guess I was about as near it as I’ll ever get. The elevator boy and the bellhops and the waiters and the night clerk and everybody was jumpin’ round the lobby screamin’; but no one seemed to know how to stop us.

Finally – on about the tenth trip, I guess – he slowed down and stopped at the fifth floor, where we was roomin’. He opened the door and beat it for the room, while I, though I was tremblin’ like a leaf, run the car down to the bottom.

The night clerk knowed me pretty well and knowed I wouldn’t do nothin’ like that; so him and I didn’t argue, but just got to work together to bring the old women to. While we was doin’ that Elliott must of run down the stairs and slipped out o’ the hotel, because when they sent the officers up to the room after him he’d blowed.

They was goin’ to fire the club out; but Charlie had a good standin’ with Amos, the proprietor, and he fixed it up to let us stay – providin’ Elliott kep’ away. The bug didn’t show up at the ball park next day and we didn’t see no more of him till we got on the rattler for New York. Charlie and John both bawled him, but they give him a berth – an upper – and we pulled into the Grand Central Station without him havin’ made no effort to wreck the train.

VII

I’d studied the thing pretty careful, but hadn’t come to no conclusion. I was sure he wasn’t no stew, because none o’ the boys had ever saw him even take a glass o’ beer, and I couldn’t never detect the odor o’ booze on him. And if he’d been a doper I’d of knew about it – roomin’ with him.

There wouldn’t of been no mystery about it if he’d been a lefthand pitcher – but he wasn’t. He wasn’t nothin’ but a whale of a hitter and he throwed with his right arm. He hit lefthanded, o’ course; but so did Saier and Brid and Schulte and me, and John himself; and none of us was violent. I guessed he must of been just a plain nut and li’ble to break out any time.

They was a letter waitin’ for him at New York, and I took it, intendin’ to give it to him at the park, because I didn’t think they’d let him room at the hotel; but after breakfast he come up to the room, with his suitcase. It seems he’d promised John and Charlie to be good, and made it so strong they b’lieved him.

I give him his letter, which was addressed in a girl’s writin’ and come from Muskegon.

“From the girl?” I says.

“Yes,” he says; and, without openin’ it, he tore it up and throwed it out the window.

“Had a quarrel?” I ast.

“I guess you ain’t so stuck on her,” I says.

He swells up and says:

“Of course I’m stuck on her! If I wasn’t, do you think I’d be goin’ round with this bunch and gettin’ insulted all the time? I’m stickin’ here because o’ that series dough, so’s I can get hooked.“

“Do you think you’d settle down if you was married?” I ast him.

“Settle down?” he says. “Sure, I’d settle down. I’d be so happy that I wouldn’t have to look for no excitement.”

Nothin’ special happened that night ’cep’ that he come in the room about one o’clock and woke me up by pickin’ up the foot of the bed and droppin’ it on the floor, sudden-like.

“Give me a key to the room,” he says.

“You must of had a key,” I says, “or you couldn’t of got in.”

“That’s right!” he says, and beat it to bed.

One o’ the reporters must of told Elliott that John had ast for waivers on him and New York had refused to waive, because next mornin’ he come to me with that dope.

“New York’s goin’ to win this pennant!” he says.

“Well,” I says, “they will if some one else don’t. But what of it?”

“I’m goin’ to play with New York,” he says, “so’s I can get the World’s Series dough.”

“How you goin’ to get away from this club?” I ast.

“Just watch me!” he says. “I’ll be with New York before this series is over.”

Well, the way he goes after the job was original, anyway. Rube’d had one of his good days the day before and we’d got a trimmin’; but this second day the score was tied up at two runs apiece in the tenth, and Big Jeff’d been wabblin’ for two or three innin’s.

Well, he walks Saier and me, with one out and Mac sends for Matty, who was warmed up and ready. John sticks Elliott in in Brid’s place and the bug pulls one into the right-field stand.

It’s a cinch McGraw thinks well of him then, and might of went after him if he hadn’t went crazy the next afternoon. We’re tied up in the ninth and Matty’s workin’. John sends Elliott up with the bases choked; but he doesn’t go right up to the plate. He walks over to their bench and calls McGraw out. Mac tells us about it afterward.

“I can bust up this game right here!” says Elliott.

“Go ahead,” says Mac; “but be careful he don’t whiff you.”

Then the bug pulls it.

“If I whiff,” he says, “will you get me on your club?”

“Sure!” says Mac, just as anybody would.

By this time Bill Klein was hollerin’ about the delay; so up goes Elliott and gives the worst burlesque on tryin’ to hit that you ever see. Matty throws one a mile outside and high, and the bug swings like it was right over the heart. Then Matty throws one at him and he clucks out o’ the way – but swings just the same. Matty must of been wise by this time, for he pitches one so far outside that the Chief almost has to go to the coachers’ box after it. Elliott takes his third healthy and runs through the field down to the clubhouse.

We got beat in the eleventh; and when we went in to dress he has his street clothes on. Soon as he seen John comin’ he says: “I got to see McGraw!” And he beat it.

John was goin’ to the fights that night; but before he leaves the hotel he had waivers on Elliott from everybody and had sold him to Atlanta.

“And,” says John, “I don’t care if they pay for him or not.”

My roomy blows in about nine and got the letter from John out of his box. He was goin’ to tear it up, but I told him they was news in it. He opens it and reads where he’s sold. I was still sore at him; so I says: “Thought you was goin’ to get on the New York club?”

“No,” he says. “I got turned down cold. McGraw says he wouldn’t have me in his club. He says he’d had Charlie Faust – and that was enough for him.”

He had a kind o’ crazy look in his eyes; so when he starts up to the room I follows him.

“What are you goin’ to do now?” I says.

“I’m goin’ to sell this ticket to Atlanta,” he says, “and go back to Muskegon, where I belong.”

“I’ll help you pack,” I says.

“No,” says the bug. “I come into this league with this suit o’ clothes and a collar. They can have the rest of it.” Then he sits down on the bed and begins to cry like a baby. “No series dough for me,” he blubbers, “and no weddin’ bells! My girl’ll die when she hears about it!”

Of course that made me feel kind o’ rotten, and I says:

“Brace up, boy! The best thing you can do is go to Atlanta and try hard. You’ll be up here again next year.”

“You can’t tell me where to go!” he says, and he wasn’t cryin’ no more. “I’ll go where I please – and I’m li’ble to take you with me.”

I didn’t want no argument, so I kep’ still. Pretty soon he goes up to the lookin’-glass and stares at himself for five minutes. Then, all of a sudden, he hauls off and takes a wallop at his reflection in the glass. Naturally he smashed the glass all to pieces and he cut his hand somethin’ awful.

Without lookin’ at it he come over to me and says: “Well, good-by, sport!” – and holds out his other hand to shake. When I starts to shake with him he smears his bloody hand all over my map. Then he laughed like a wild man and run out o’ the room and out o’ the hotel.

VIII

Well, boys, my sleep was broke up for the rest o’ the season. It might of been because I was used to sleepin’ in all kinds o’ racket and excitement, and couldn’t stand for the quiet after he’d went – or it might of been because I kep’ thinkin’ about him and feelin’ sorry for him.

I of’en wondered if he’d settle down and be somethin’ if he could get married; and finally I got to b’lievin’ he would. So when we was dividin’ the city-series dough I was thinkin’ of him and the girl. Our share o’ the money – the losers’, as usual – was twelve thousand seven hundred sixty bucks or somethin’ like that. They was twenty-one of us and that meant six hundred seven bucks apiece. We was just goin’ to cut it up that way when I says:

“Why not give a divvy to poor old Elliott?”

About fifteen of ’em at once told me that I was crazy. You see, when he got canned he owed everybody in the club. I guess he’d stuck me for the most – about seventy bucks – but I didn’t care nothin’ about that. I knowed he hadn’t never reported to Atlanta, and I thought he was prob’ly busted and a bunch o’ money might make things all right for him and the other songbird.

I made quite a speech to the fellers, tellin’ ’em how he’d cried when he left us and how his heart’d been set on gettin’ married on the series dough. I made it so strong that they finally fell for it. Our shares was cut to five hundred eighty apiece, and John sent him a check for a full share.

For a while I was kind o’ worried about what I’d did. I didn’t know if I was doin’ right by the girl to give him the chance to marry her.

He’d told me she was stuck on him, and that’s the only excuse I had for tryin’ to fix it up between ’em; but, b’lieve me, if she was my sister or a friend o’ mine I’d just as soon of had her manage the Cincinnati Club as marry that bird. I thought to myself:

“If she’s all right she’ll take acid in a month – and it’ll be my fault; but if she’s really stuck on him they must be somethin’ wrong with her too, so what’s the diffrence?”

Then along comes this letter that I told you about. It’s from some friend of his’n up there – and they’s a note from him. I’ll read ’em to you and then I got to beat it for the station:

“Dear Sir: They have got poor Elliott locked up and they are goin’ to take him to the asylum at Kalamazoo. He thanks you for the check, and we will use the money to see that he is made comf’table.

“When the poor boy come back here he found that his girl was married to Joe Bishop, who runs a soda fountain. She had wrote to him about it, but he did not read her letters. The news drove him crazy – poor boy – and he went to the place where they was livin’ with a baseball bat and very near killed ’em both. Then he marched down the street singin’ Silver Threads Among the Gold at the top of his voice. They was goin’ to send him to prison for assault with intent to kill, but the jury decided he was crazy.

“He wants to thank you again for the money.

“Yours truly, Jim ——— ”

I can’t make out his last name – but it don’t make no diff’rence. Now I’ll read you his note:

“Old Roomy: I was at bat twice and made two hits; but I guess I did not meet ’em square. They tell me they are both alive yet, which I did not mean ’em to be. I hope they got good curve-ball pitchers where I am goin’. I sure can bust them curves – can’t I, sport?

“Yours, B. Elliott.

“P. S. – The B stands for Buster.”

That’s all of it, fellers; and you can see I had some excuse for not hittin’. You can also see why I ain’t never goin’ to room with no bug again – not for John or nobody else!

• 2 •

Sick ’Em

This is just between I and you. I don’t want it to go no further. In the first place a feller that’s had rotten luck as long as Red is entitled to the credit when his club fin’lly comes through and cops. In the second place if I was to tell the newspapers or the public that I was the one that really done it they’d laugh at me. They’d say: “How could you of did it when you was sittin’ on the bench all summer?”

But you know I wouldn’t lie to you, Jake, and you know I don’t care nothin’ about the honor or that bunk.

The little old World’s Serious check is honor enough for me. So let ’em say that it was Red’s managin’ and them two guys’ pitchin’ that won for us, and let it go at that. I’m just tellin’ you this to get it offen my chest.

Well, you must of read about Lefty Smith last fall, after we’d grabbed him. He’s a wop and Smith ain’t his real name, but it’s the one he’s went under ever since he started pitchin’. I heard his right name oncet, but I ain’t got time to tell it to you today. It’s longer’n Eppa Rixey. Anyway, the papers was full o’ what him and Fogarty had did at Fort Wayne; how they’d worked a hundred games between ’em and copped the Central League pennant, and how all the scouts had went after ’em.

Pat had stopped off there when we was goin’ West one trip and had saw ’em both work, and they’d looked so good to him that he’d advised Red to buy the both o’ them. Well, Red told the big boss and he bought Smitty; paid five thousand for him, they say. They wanted even more for Fogarty; so we just put in a draft for him. But pretty near all the other clubs done the same and the Cubs got him.

Red thought Smitty’d fit in nice with our bunch. We needed all the pitchers we could get after what the Feds done to us. Most o’ these guys with all the toutin’ turns out to be dubs; but Smitty had a whale of a record, full o’ no-hit games and shut-outs. He’d whiffed more guys than Rube Waddell or Johnson, and had tooken part in fifty games. Besides, he had some pitchin’ sense, which is more’n you can say for most o’ them bushers. Fogarty’s record was just as good as Smitty’s; but, o’ course we wasn’t so much interested in him. We figured from what Smitty’d did and from what Pat said about him that he’d come right through from the jump and show enough to make Red stick him in there in his reg’lar turn.

Well, we got down South and had a chancet to look him over. You could spot him right off the reel for a wop, but he was a handsome devil, big as a house, and with black eyes and black hair.

He didn’t show nothin’ for a couple o’ weeks, but nobody lost no sleep over that; we thought he was takin’ it easy and was one o’ them careful birds that comes slow. Along in the third week we had some practice games between ourselves and Red starts Smitty agin the second club in one o’ them. Say, he had a fast one like Waddell’s and a cross fire like Sallee’s! But he seemed to be afraid he’d show too much. He’d begin an innin’ by puttin’ more stuff on the ball than I ever seen, but after he’d threw two or three he’d ease up and lob ’em over. Them goofs couldn’t see ’em when he was tryin’; but, say, they hit ’em acrost the state line when he let up. That didn’t bother us none, neither, for we figured that he had the stuff when he wanted to use it, and when he got in shape he’d burn up the league.

We played a few games with them Southern clubs and Smitty kept on the same way. Maybe he’d pitch hard to one guy in a innin’, but then he’d quit workin’ and just float ’em up there like a balloon. Red told him one day to cut loose and see if he could go the route. He might just as well of told him to shave himself with a dish o’ prunes. He went right along the way he’d been doin’, pitchin’ like a bear cat oncet in a while and sloppin’ ’em over the rest o’ the time. We was playin’ the Richmond Club and they scored eleven runs, but Red wouldn’t take him out.

After the game Red give him a bawlin’ and ast him what was the matter. He said, Nothin’; he was doin’ the best he knowed how. Red says: “You ain’t doin’ no such a thing. You’ve got the stuff, but you won’t let go of it. Are you lazy or what?” Smitty didn’t say a word. Then Red ast him if he wasn’t in shape, and he said, Yes, he guessed he was. “Well,” says Red, “you’ll have to cut out the monkey business or I’ll put the rollers under you!”

We stopped off in Washin’ton for a couple of exhibition games and broke even with ’em. Then we went home and tackled the Athaletics in the spring serious. Alexander trimmed ’em and they licked Mayer. Red sent Smitty at ’em in the third game and he was worse’n ever. I thought he’d be massacreed.

For two innin’s they couldn’t touch him and then he pulled the old stuff. Cy Young could of run to the plate as fast as the balls this bird throwed. It was just like hittin’ fungoes for them Athaletics. A slow ball’s all right in its place, but it’s got to be mixed up with somethin’ else. The way Smitty mixed ’em up was to throw one slow, and then one slower, and then one slower yet. Along in the fourth, before Red took him out, you could of went on one o’ them street cars from the hotel to the ball park in St. Louis between the time he let go o’ the pill and when one o’ them Mackmen kissed it. Pat was crazy. He says:

“I’d give my glove to know what’s the matter with him. He was the best pitcher in the world when I looked him over, and now he couldn’t hold a job with a high school. He must of been full o’ dope at Fort Wayne.”

Meantime I got a hold o’ one o’ the Chi papers and seen where they was pannin’ Fogarty. They said he seemed to be as fast as Johnson and to have a lot o’ stuff, but he didn’t show no more ambish than a horse car. I read the piece to Smitty.

“Your old sidekick don’t seem to be cuttin’ up much,” I says.

“He ain’t no sidekick o’ mine,” Smitty says.

“You and him was together at Fort Wayne, wasn’t you?” says I.

“Yes,” says Smitty; “and he’s a false alarm.”

I thought I’d bruise him.

“He ain’t got nothin’ on you,” I says.

But he took it just as calm as though I’d told him his collar was dirty. Then I says:

“You and Fogarty must of pawned your pepper when you left Fort Wayne. Or maybe you can’t get along without your Hoosier hops. Somethin’s wrong. You couldn’t of won all them games if you worked there like you’re doin’ here. What’s the matter?”

“Matter with who?” he says.

“Both o’ you – you and Fogarty,” I says.

“They’s nothin’ the matter with me,” says Smitty. “I’m all right; but that slob never had no business tryin’ to pitch.”

“How did he win them games?” I ast.

“I guess they felt sorry for him,” says Smitty.

“They’ll be feelin’ sorry for you if you don’t go and get some ginger,” says I.

The season opened and we started off like we always do, playin’ ’em off their feet and lookin’ like champs. Alexander and Rixey was better’n I’d ever saw ’em, and the boys was all hittin’. It was a rotten day when Cravath or Magee or Luderus, or some o’ them, didn’t pole a couple out o’ the park. We didn’t get excited about it, though. We’d been May champions too often. We was wonderin’ when the Old Jinx was goin’ to hit us in the eye, and whether we’d get smashed up in a railroad wreck or have a epidemic o’ lepersy. The papers was sayin’ that we was up to our old tricks and that we’d blow higher’n a kite when the annual cyclone struck us.

Red had started Smitty just oncet. That was agin the Boston bunch, and he’d tooken him out in the first innin’ so’s we could finish the game that day. The first ball he throwed made a noise like a cannon when it hit Bill’s glove. The rest o’ them never got that far. One was all he had the strength to pitch. The first seven guys that come up was expresses – they didn’t stop at first or second base. Paskert ast Red to send him a taxi. Smitty fin’lly was invited to the bench and sat there blinkin’ while Red sprung a monologue.

“You’re layin’ down on me,” says Red, “and it’s goin’ to cost you a month’s pay. If you’re playin’ for your release you’re wastin’ time. I’d get rid o’ you if I could, but nobody’ll take you. I’ve ast for waivers and I know what I’m talkin’ about. You’re wished on to us for the summer, but you ain’t goin’ to do no more pitchin’. I wouldn’t even let you work in battin’ practice, ’cause the fellers couldn’t see a real pitcher’s stuff after lookin’ at your’n. You can help the clubhouse boy, and you can hustle out the canvas when it rains, and you can stand and hold the bottle while the real ball players is gettin’ rubbed. And you can stick round after the games and hang up the undershirts.

“We’d ought to sue the Fort Wayne club for swindlin’ us! I’d like to manage a team in that league if fellers like you can win a pennant there. I’d give the ground keeper a dollar a day extra to do the pitchin’ for me, and I’d go in myself when he was too busy. They give you a salary for playin’ ball, but they pinch a man for stealin’ a loaf o’ bread!

If you’re the best pitcher in the Central League the rest o’ them is paralytics. If we’d spent five thousand for the middle of a doughnut we’d have a better chancet o’ realizin’ on our investment. If pepper was worth a million dollars a ounce you’d be rated at ten cents!”

“Can I go in and dress?” says Smitty.

“I doubt it,” says Red. “You better take somebody along to help you.”

Well, that might of been the end o’ the bird if he was with any club but our’n. Red had the waivers all right, but couldn’t make no deal that’d bring us within four thousand bucks of even. Still, we wasn’t gettin’ no service out of him and was payin’ him salary all the time.

So Red was just about to sell him to a old-clo’es man when the old hoodoo hit us. Alexander strained his souper and Rixey got a pair o’ busted fingers, all in the same serious. We was left with one fair pitcher and a gang o’ kids that’d never saw no big-league games till last spring. The bust-up didn’t surprise nobody. We figured that we’d been lucky to go till the first o’ June without none o’ the boys gettin’ killed. It was the same old gag with us: Right up near the top and happy for a couple o’ months. Then, Blooie! – and the club all shot to pieces.

It wouldn’t of been sensible to turn even a rotten pitcher loose at that stage. We had to keep a hold of all o’ them, so’s when some got their bumps they’d be plenty to take their place. That’s how Smitty happened to hang on. Red didn’t start him, but he let him finish for some o’ the others that wasn’t much better. And he kept lookin’ worse all the while.

Well, it was the second week in June when Red sent me from Cincy to Dayton to look at a big spitter.

“I ain’t strong for the Central League after what they handed me,” he says; “but maybe this guy’s better’n most o’ them, and you can see where we’re up agin it. We got to get somebody or we’ll go to the bottom so fast they’ll pinch us for speedin’. If he’s got anything at all and looks like as if he was alive we can use him; but if he’s a dope, like this other boob, we don’t need him. I don’t want to run no lodgin’ house for vagrants.”

So I beat it over there and seen a double-header between the home club and Evansville. The guy I was sent after worked one game and had about as much action as a soft drink. I voted No! before he’d went two innin’s. Evansville had a lefthander who knowed how to pitch, but they told me he’d been in the league six years; and, besides, he was a little feller.

Well, I spotted old Jack Barnett on the Evansville bench, so I waited to shake hands with him when the game was over. You know’ him and me broke in together at Utica. I found out while we rode downtown that he’d been with the Fort Wayne Club the last year and was traded to Evansville durin’ the winter. I’d sort o’ lost track of old Jack ’cause he hadn’t been playin’ enough in recent years to get his name in the book.

“I see your club’s still lucky,” he says. “We all thought you had a grand chancet till them two fellers got hurt.”

“Yes,” I says, “but we’re gone now. The young guys we got ought to of been dressmakers instead o’ pitchers.” Then I happened to think o’ Smitty. “Maybe you can tell me somethin’,” says I. “How did this here Smitty ever win all them games for you?”

Barnett started to laugh.

“What’s the matter?” he ast. “Ain’t the big wop worth five thousand?” “He ain’t worth a cigar coupon,” I says. “He’s a big, lazy tramp.” Barnett kept on laughin’.

“I knowed what’d come off,” he says. “I told the fellers what’d happen. I bet Punch Knoll fifty bucks that Smitty wouldn’t last the season. You guys can talk about McGraw and Mack, and them other big-league managers, all you want to, but it’s us fellers down here in the sticks that knows how to get the work out of a man.”

I ast him what he meant.

“Well,” he says, “we had Smitty two years ago and he was a bum. He was sloppin’ along with us like he’s doin’ with you now. At that time the Grand Rapids Club had Fogarty, the guy the Cubs got now. Fogarty’s a big right-hander, with a spitter and a good hook and just as good a fast ball as Smitty. He’s a big, handsome brute, too, and maybe he don’t know it! Up to Grand Rapids he was doin’ nothin’ but look pretty and draw his pay. He was just as valuable to them as Smitty was to us; but we used to have all kinds o’ fun with ’em both, kiddin’ ’em about their looks. We’d say to Smitty: ‘You’d be the handsomest guy in this league if it wasn’t for Fogarty.’ And we’d pull the same stuff on Fogarty when we was playin’ Grand Rapids. And the both o’ them would get as sore as a boil. I never seen nothin’ like it.

“At the schedule meetin’ a year ago last winter, our club and Grand Rapids pulled off a trade, Bill Peck comin’ to us for Joe Hammond and Bull Harper, a couple of infielders. Jack Burke, our manager, told the owner o’ the Grand Rapids Club that it didn’t look fair, givin’ up two men for one. So he says: ‘All right; I’ll throw in Fogarty and then you’ll have the two handsomest ball players in the business.’Jack thought he was jokin’; but, sure enough, he turned Fogarty over to us.

“We started in on the pair o’ them right off the reel, tryin’ to make their life miserable. When Smitty was round we’d talk about Fogarty’s pretty red hair; and when Fogarty was with us we’d be wishin’ we had big black eyes like Smitty’s. I done the most of it, but I didn’t have no idea what’d happen.

“Well, to make it short, Smitty come up to Jack a week before the season opened and ast if he could pitch the first game. Jack pretty near dropped dead, ’cause it’d been all he could do the year before to get him to put on his uniform. Mind you, we all knowed then that Smitty had the stuff if he’d only use it. Burke told him he’d think it over and was wonderin’ whether to turn him down or not, when up come Fogarty and ast the same thing. Burke decided to take a chancet, so he had the two o’ them toss a coin, and Smitty won the toss. He opened up for us and shut Terre Haute out with two hits. And the next day Fogarty worked and shut ’em out again, but give ’em one more hit than Smitty. They was nothin’ to it after that. We kept up the good work, gettin’ ’em madder and madder at each other. And the madder they got the harder they worked. Either one o’ them would of pitched every day if Burke had of let ’em. While Fogarty was workin’ Smitty’d slide up and down the bench cussin’ to himself and pullin’ his head off for the other club. And Fogarty’d do the same thing when Smitty was in there.

“Both o’ them was strong for the skirts; and o’ course, a pair o’ fine-lookin’ slobs like them could cop one out in every town. We took up that end of it, too, tellin’ Smitty that Fogarty’s Marie was prettier than his Julia, and that kind o’ stuff.

“You know what they done for us. We’d of finished about sixth without ’em. I never seen such pitchin’ in my life, and I never seen two fellers hate each other the way them two done. When you guys bought Smitty and didn’t get Fogarty I called the turn. Some o’ the boys figured they both might of got the habit o’ workin’ and might keep it up when they was separated; but I knowed different. And that’s why I made the bet with Punch Knoll. Looks like I’ll win it easy don’t it?”

“Looks like it,” I says. “Alexander and Rixey’d both ought to be ready again in a month and then Smitty’ll lose his home sure. And we’ll be absolutely last by that time.”

We was goin’ to Chi that night and I didn’t see no use o’ stickin’ in Dayton when I hadn’t had no orders to look at no one else but that one guy. Besides, Barnett told me they wasn’t nobody else on neither club worth lampin’. I’d of liked to of listened to some more o’ the stuff about the two jealous cats, but I had to beat it back to Cincy.

Well, on the way I done some thinkin’; but I was afraid to spring anything on Red for fear he’d laugh at me. We’ve all knew o’ cases where jealousy’d helped a ball club, and a lot more cases where it’d hurt ’em; but I hadn’t never heard o’ no case like this here one.

We got to Chi and the Cubs proceeded to murder us. Red was desp’rate and so was the rest o’ the gang. We dropped the first three and didn’t have no hopes o’ winnin’ the fourth unless Hank lost his mind and pitched the bat boy agin us.

I hadn’t never saw Fogarty. He’d been left to home when the Cubs come East in May. But I spotted him the first day out there to the Cubs’ park. He sure was a nice-lookin’ devil and big enough to pitch every afternoon and twicet on Sundays. He wasn’t doin’ no pitchin’ for them, though. They was lucky enough to have their reg’lars in shape and wasn’t obliged to fill up the box score with ornaments.

Well, I went up to Schulte durin’ battin’ practice and ast him what was the matter with Fogarty.

“Nothin’ at all,” says Frank, “I don’t figure they can be nothin’ the matter with a guy that chaws his pay for sittin’ on the bench and lookin’ beautiful. I wisht I could get away with it.“

“Don’t he work none?” I ast.

“He pitches to the batters about oncet in two weeks,” says Frank. “He does it when Hank can get his consent. And on the days he pitches to us I manage to hide somewheres till the practice is over.”

“Why?” I ast.

“’Cause,” says Frank, “I figure that, barrin’ accidents, I got many happy years before me. If he was to happen to put all his stuff on the ball oncet and hit me in the head, they wouldn’t be nobody to drive the mules on my peach ranch in Georgia.”

“He’s got a lot o’ stuff, then?” I says.

“Yes,” says Frank; “and he’s savin’ it up for somethin’ – maybe to give it away for a birthday present. All he does now is sit and wait for everybody to look away from him, so’s he can pull out his pocket mirror and enjoy himself.”

This dope fit in perfect with what Jack Barnett had been tellin’ me. I made up my mind right there that the thing was worth tryin’; but it took all the nerve I had to spring it on Red. My chancet soon come. He was put off the field in the second innin’ and I got myself chased right afterward. He was sittin’ in the clubhouse with his head in his hands when I come in.

“Red,” I says, “we couldn’t be worse off’n we are, could we?” He didn’t pay no attention. “We’d be better off if we had somebody that could pitch, wouldn’t we?” I says.

“What are you drivin’ at?” he ast.

“I want you to try a experiment,” I says. “It may not do no good, and then again it might. It might pull us through O.K. if you was willin’ to take a chancet.”

“Shoot,” says Red. “I’ll try anything oncet.”

“Do you think you could get Fogarty offen the Cubs?” I says.

“Could I get him?” says Red. “Sure I could get him! They just give me notice that they’d ast waivers. But what do I want with Fogarty? He’s another one just like this Smitty we got. I give him the oncet over today on their bench, and if they’s anybody in the world that’s lazier’n Smitty, he’s him. Don’t you think we’re carryin’ enough excess baggage?”

Then I told him what Barnett’d told me, only I made it even stronger. At first he called me a nut, and it took me pretty near till the game was over to coax him into it. He’d just gave up when the gang come in.

“How bad did they trim us?” ast Red.

“I don’t know,” says Magee; “but I know I chased back to that fence a hundred and sixteen times.”

“Better go see Hank,” says I to Red.

I had to pretty near drag him to get him out o’ the clubhouse. Hank was just goin’ in their door.

“Wait a minute, Hank,” I says. “Red wants to see you.”

“Just heard you was askin’ waivers on Fogarty,” says Red. “What do you want for him?”

“I guess you can get him for the waiver price,” says Hank; “but you’ll have to see the boss.”

So me and Red went up to the office and sprung it on ’em. They seemed surprised, but said Red could have him. So Red wired home and got the deal O.K.’d. And Fogarty went with us to St. Louis.

Before we got on the train. Red told me I’d have to do the funny work. I said I’d tackle it, and then I went to Pat and explained the thing to him and ast for help. He was willin’ and we fixed it up that I was to room with Fogarty and Pat with Smitty.

Smitty was in his berth, gettin’ his beauty sleep, when Fogarty clumb aboard that night. So they didn’t see each other till next mornin’. Smitty nailed me comin’ out o’ the Union Station in St. Louis.

“What’s that guy doin’ with us?” he says.

“Who do you mean?” I says.

“That big, ugly Mick,” says he.

“Ugly!” I says. “If I was you I wouldn’t call him ugly. He’s a big, handsome boy, and he looks handsomer’n ever alongside a homely wop like you.”

He never said a word. He turned away from me like as if I’d ast him for a hundred bucks. Red told me afterward that he come and sat with him in the dinin’ room at the hotel and ast if Fogarty was goin’ to be with us.

“Sure!” says Red. “I thought it was about time we was gettin’ a pitcher.”

“A pitcher!” says Smitty. “If they sold him to you for a pitcher you got cheated. He’s only a swell-headed pup that don’t think about nothin’ but the part in his hair.”

“Well,” says Red, “if I had hair as pretty as his’n I’d be proud of it too.”

That shut up Smitty and he left the table without finishin’ his Java; but he come to Red in the lobby an hour later and ast if he could work that afternoon! It took Red five minutes to come to. He hadn’t had no such request as that from nobody for pretty near three weeks, and Smitty was the last guy on earth he expected it from. You can bet he give his consent.

When our grips come I went to my room to take a nap and a shave; but I didn’t get no nap. My new roomy, Fogarty, followed me in and begin talkin’ right away.

“What kind o’ burg is Philly?” he says.

“Swell!” says I. “You can get anything you want there.”

“How about the female population?” he says. “Lots of good lookers?”

“Well,” I says, “I guess there’s plenty o’ pretty girls; but I’m a married man and I ain’t got no time for ’em. If you’re after information on that subject you better ast Smitty.”

“Smitty!” he says. “What does he know about girls?”

“He must know how to grab ’em,” says I. “All the real dolls in the burg is bugs over him.”

“They must be a fine bunch!” says Fogarty. “It must be they never seen nobody.”

“Well,” I says, “they ain’t looked at nobody since they seen him.”

“I can’t figure it out,” he says.

“That’s easy,” says I. “In the first place he’s a fine-lookin’ boy, and in the second place he’s a swell pitcher.”

“Where do you get that stuff?” says Fogarty. “Don’t you think I know nothin’? If he’s fine-lookin’ I’m a snake. And if he’s a swell pitcher, why don’t they never start him?”

“He’s had a sore arm,” I says; “but he’s all O.K. now and Red’s goin’ to work him today.”

He left the room right after that and I didn’t see no more of him till we got out to the park; but Red tipped me that he’d came to him and ast if he could work the game. Red told him he was goin’ to start Smitty.

“Good night!” says Fogarty. “They’ll get a hundred runs.”

But, say, I never seen such a change in a man as they was in Smitty that afternoon. He warmed up with Pat first and was so fast that Pat couldn’t hardly keep his glove on. Then Red took him a while and was so pleased that he forgot to get sore when he catched one right on the meat hand.

Well, he didn’t shut ’em out – he hadn’t had no real work for a long time and he was hog wild; but, say, they couldn’t hit him with a shovel! Two blows was what they got, an’ we licked ’em, five to two. It was the first game we’d win since we left home; and all through it Fogarty was frothin’ at the mouth. Every little while he’d say: “He can’t keep it up – the lucky bum! He’s slippin’. Better let me warm up!” But Red didn’t pay no attention to him.

Maybe you think we didn’t feel good in that clubhouse – ’specially me and Pat and Red! We was the only ones in on the secret. We’d decided not to ask no help from the other boys for fear they’d make it too raw. I felt the best of anybody, ’cause it was my scheme and I’d been scared that it wouldn’t work. It made me look good to myself and to Red too. Before we was dressed, Fogarty’d drew Red aside and got him to promise to pitch him next day.

I wasn’t sure yet that success was goin’ to be permanent. Still, it was up to I and Pat to go through with our end of it, and my job was to stick close to Fogarty all that evenin’ and keep goadin’ him. I braced him outside o’ the hotel after supper and ast him to take a walk.

“Grand game Smitty pitched today!” I says.

“What was grand about it?” says he. “Who couldn’t beat that bunch? He’d ought to of been ashamed of himself for lettin’ ’em score.”

“He only give ’em two hits,” says I.

“Sure!” says Fogarty. “And how was they goin’ to get hits when he didn’t throw nothin’ near the plate?”

“Well,” I says, “I don’t see no harm in a few walks so long’s a feller can get ’em over when he has to. It’s pretty hard for a guy with all that smoke to control it right along.”

“Yes,” he says; “but I claim it takes a lucky bird to give eight bases on balls and get away with the ball game. It don’t show no pitchin’ on his part; all it shows is that the other club’d ought to try some easier game than baseball. All they had to do was go up there without their bats and they’d of trimmed us; but they didn’t even make him pitch. It looked to me like as if their manager’d offered a prize to the one that could miss ’em the furthest. They looked like a vaudeville team rehearsin’ a club-swingin’ act. At that, Smitty’s got a big advantage over most pitchers. He’s so dam’ homely that it scares a feller to look at him.”

“If that’s a advantage,” I says, “nobody’d never even bunt one safe off o’ you.”

“You’re kiddin’ me now,” he says. “I ain’t stuck on my looks, but they wouldn’t be no sense in me pretendin’ that I didn’t have him beat. I and him was together in the Central, y’know; and I was one o’ the most pop’lar if not the pop’larest feller that ever played ball in Fort Wayne. It takes the skirts to judge if a man’s good-lookin’ or not; and I’m here to tell you without no boastin’ that I could of married any dame in that burg. So far’s Smitty was concerned, he couldn’t get no girl to look at him.”

“Fort Wayne girls ain’t like the ones in Philly, then,” says I.

“Girls is the same everywheres,” says Fogarty. “You can’t never make me believe that they’d chase him, unless it’s out o’ curiosity. You’ll often see a crowd round a monkey cage, but it ain’t ’cause the monkeys is handsome.”

“Some girls likes them big, dark fellers,” I says.

“Yes,” he says, “and some people likes the smell o’ garlic.”

“I s’pose we’ll get a lickin’ tomorrow,” I says. “Red ain’t got nobody left to work, outside of a few bushers.”

“This busher right here works tomorrow,” says Fogarty; “and you can bet a month’s pay that he won’t give no eight bases on balls.”

“Maybe you won’t be in there long enough,” I says.

“I’ll be in there just nine innin’s,” says he; “and at the end o’ that time the St. Louis Club won’t have nothin’ to show they been in a ball game.”

“All you need to do,” says I, “is to work as good as Smitty done today; but that’s too much to look for from most bushers.”

That stung him.

“They ain’t no homely wop got nothin’ on me!” he says. “If I can’t do no better’n he done I’ll quit pitchin’ and peddle bananas, which is what he’d ought to be doin’.”

Well, I kept him goin’ till bedtime and all the next forenoon. He was out to the park and dressed before anybody, and he warmed up enough for three games. Red ast him oncet if he wasn’t workin’ too hard.

“Not me,” he says. “I ain’t delicate like some o’ these here pitchers. Work’s my middle name and you’ll find it out before I get through.”

Say, they wasn’t no kick comin’ on the way he done his job! One o’ the St. Louis guys got as far as second base and was so surprised that Bill caught him off o’ there flatfooted. Three little singles he give ’em and not a man did he walk. Bill told me afterward that it was fast one, fast one, fast one, and hardly three hooks or spitters all through the game. Bill said them fast ones stung right through his big mitt like he’d been barehanded.

And Smitty, on the bench, acted just like Fogarty’d did the day before. He called them St. Louis hitters everything he could think of. When the big Turk whiffed the hull side in the seventh Smitty was so sore he kicked a hole in the ball bag and throwed away his chew.

The rest o’ the bunch couldn’t help noticin’ the way he acted, and I seen where they’d be wise to the whole game before long.

That night Pat took Smitty took a bunch o’ nickel shows and entertained him with conversation about Fogarty’s grand performance. The result was that the wop got Red out o’ bed at seven the next mornin’ and ast him whether he could pitch the game. Red stalled him, ’cause he didn’t know then how strong the both o’ them was – him and Fogarty.

Anyway, it rained, so Smitty’d had two days’ rest before we played again, and Red sent him in to wind up the serious. Gavvy saved St. Louis another whitewashin’ by droppin’ a fly ball with a guy on; but that run was all they got. Fogarty’s game wasn’t a bit better’n this second one o’ Smitty’s, and I kept rubbin’ that into Fogarty all the way back to Philly.

They ain’t no use goin’ on and tellin’ you about all the rest o’ the games they pitched. They was both beat a few times, but it wasn’t ’cause they didn’t try. Every pitcher with a arm and a glove’d cop more’n two-thirds of his games if he’d work as hard as these babies done. Some o’ the papers come out and said that Red was overworkin’ ’em, but the reporters that wrote that didn’t know what they was talkin’ about. It was all Red could do to keep either o’ them on the bench. If they’d of had their way about it they’d of both been out there in the middle o’ the diamond every day, fightin’ for possession o’ the ball.

When Red sent Mayer or one o’ the other boys in, the pair o’ them’d sit on the bench growlin’ and makin’ remarks about each other. The minute the feller in there workin’ showed any signs o’ weakenin’, Fogarty and Smitty’d both jump up and race down to the bull pen. And when Red got ready to take the guy out and sent for one or the other o’ the two handsome birds the one he didn’t pick would slam his glove on the ground and start kickin’ it. Everybody on the ball club kept at ’em on the bench; but Red, figurin’ they might get suspicious, give orders that nobody but I and Pat was to ride ’em in private.

We was right up on the Giants’ heels by the first of August. Then Rixey and Alexander joined us, but all they was ast to do was fill in when Red could persuade Fogarty and Smitty to take a rest. We was about the only club that was beatin’ New York, or else we’d of had the flag cinched long before we did. We was runnin’ through the rest o’ the league like soup through a sieve.

One day Smitty held the Brooklyn Club to six hits in a double-header and beat ’em both games. Fogarty ast me a hundred times in the next few days when we was goin’ to have another double-header. And a week before it come off he made Red promise to let him tackle it alone. It was agin the Cubs and he beat ’em clean as a whistle; but they got a couple more hits than Brooklyn’d made agin Smitty. So the big Turk was just as discontented as though he hadn’t did nothin’ at all. You ought to of heard Hank rave, though! He couldn’t figure how Red could get so much work out of a guy who’d been on his bench two or three months and hadn’t did nothin’ but sleep.

But you know what they done. What I set out to tell you was how I and Pat kept ’em goin’. We soon found out that they wasn’t only jealous of each other’s looks and their pitchin’. Neither one o’ them would let the other have anything on him at all. If I’d make a remark about what a classy necktie Smitty was wearin’, Fogarty’d go out and buy the loudest one he could find. If Pat mentioned to Smitty that Fogarty always kept his shoes shined up nice, Smitty’d sneak away to a shine parlor and make the boy work his fool head off for a hour. They just naturally hated each other and acted like a pair o’ grand opery stars or a couple o’ schoolgirls that was both tryin’ to be teacher’s pet.

I and Pat would get together and figure out different things to rile ’em up with. Pat was singin’ The River Shannon in the clubhouse one day. Fogarty was standin’ right by me.

“Pat’s got a good voice,” he says.

“Fair,” says I; “but the best singer on the club is Smitty.”

Now I hadn’t heard Smitty sing – didn’t know whether he could or not. Fogarty’d ought to of knew somethin’ about it, as they’d been at Fort Wayne together a hull season; but, regardless o’ the fact that neither one o’ the two had a voice – as we soon learned – the Turk joined right in with Pat, and it wasn’t two seconds before Smitty was whinin’ too. Pat quit when he seen he had competition. Everybody stopped talkin’ and listened.

I wisht you could of heard it! It was like as though all the ferryboats in East River had got into trouble at once. Their idea o’ singin’ was to see how many sour notes they could hit and how loud they could hit ’em. The bunch give ’em a hand when they got through, and each o’ them figured it was on the square and was for him personally. Well, that was a big laugh with us for a while; but it got so’s it was no joke when they done it every day and yelled different songs at the same time.

Another thing we done was to write letters to both o’ them and sign a girl’s name. The letters was just the same, and they said that she was a great fan and was pullin’ for our club and just loved to see them two pitch. We wound them up somethin’ like this:

“I think you’re so handsome and I would love to meet you. I’ve already met Mr. Smith.” We said Mr. Smith in one and Mr. Fogarty in the other. “I think he’s the handsomest man I ever seen, but maybe you’re just as handsome when a person sees you up close. I sit in the third or fourth row o’ the stand, right back o’ your bench, every afternoon.”

Say, you’d ought to of seen them birds fall for that! They rubbered for that dame every day we played at home for the last two months o’ the season. Sometimes, when neither o’ them was working, they’d both get up and lean on the roof o’ the bench and try to get a smile from every skirt in the place, thinkin’ one o’ them must be the girl who’d wrote.

On the road we’d get the telephone girls in the hotels to call up Smitty and ask him if he was Mr. Fogarty. When he’d say no she’d ring off; but she’d call him up again in about ten minutes and ask him the same question. We worked this on Fogarty, too, and both o’ them pretty near went nuts ’cause the other was gettin’ so many calls.

Pat pulled a hot one in Pittsburgh. He told Smitty that Fogarty was the most generous guy he’d ever met.

“Why?” says Smitty.

“He’s so good to the waiters and bell hops,” says Pat. “He gives the waiters a quarter tip at every meal and slips the boys two bits when they bring him ice water.”

That started a battle that was pretty costly to the both o’ them, but mighty sweet for the hops and waiters. If I’d of been Pat I’d of made ’em slip me a commission.

We had ’em both ridin’ in taxis to and from all the parks on the last trip West. We had ’em gettin’ their clo’es pressed every night, and buyin’ new shirts and collars in every burg we blowed into, and gettin’ shaved twicet a day, till Red made us cut some of it out, sayin’ they was touchin’ the club for too much dough. And all season I never seen ’em speak to each other, though neither one couldn’t talk about nothin’ else but the other when they was separated.

The pennant race was settled when we won a double-header in Cincy on the fifteenth o’ September. When we got back to the hotel Red told us the lid was off for that night – that we could do anything we wanted to and stay out until breakfast. So they can’t blame neither Pat nor I for what come off. One o’ the other boys – I never found out who – told Fogarty that Smitty could hold more wine than a barrel. Then he pulled the same thing on Smitty about Fogarty.

I and Pat went to a show. When we blowed back, about eleven, they was a noise like New Year’s Eve in the café. We went in to see what it was. They was a gang o’ fellers at one table with Smitty, and another bunch at another table with Fogarty. They was four or five empty quart bottles in front o’ each o’ them. They’d had five or six more pints than they could carry comfortable and was hollerin’ for more, but was broke. We got ’em both at one table and ast ’em to sing. Before they was halfway through the first verse o’ whatever it was, the night clerk horned in and stopped ’em. Then we took ’em out in the street and told ’em to finish it, but they was too many coppers round.

Most of us was roomin’ on the tenth floor and one o’ the boys talked the pair into racin’ upstairs instead of usin’ the elevator. They both fell down at the first landin’ and when they hit the floor they was all in. They’d of slept there for a week if we hadn’t of carried ’em to the elevator and got ’em up the rest o’ the way. Then what did we do but steer ’em both into Pat’s room and put ’em to bed together. They was no danger o’ them gettin’ wise till the next day; they was dead to the world. I and Pat slept in my room and we was up bright and early so’s not to miss nothin’. We walked in and found ’em both poundin’ their ear. It must of tooken us fifteen minutes to get ’em roused.

“Well, boys,” says Pat, “I’m glad to see you friendly and lookin’ so fresh.”

They looked about as fresh as a old dray horse.

“How did you happen to be roomin’ together?” I says.

It wasn’t till then that they wised up. Smitty jumped out o’ bed like the hotel was afire.

“I’ll murder the guy that done this!” he hollered.

“What do you mean?” says Pat. “Don’t you know who you went to bed with?”

“You must of been in bad shape,” I says. “Fogarty was all right; he knowed what he was doin’.”

Fogarty wanted to deny it, but he couldn’t, ’cause if he had of he’d be admittin’ that the wine was too much for him. So he just had to shut up and take it.

“I was all right too,” says Smitty.

“Then what are you crabbin’ about?” says Pat.

They wasn’t no answer to that.

“I’m goin’ to ring for some ice water,” says Fogarty.

“Nobody never wants ice water at this time o’ the mornin’ unless they had a bad night,” I says. “You don’t hear Smitty askin’ for no ice water.”

Smitty’d of gave his right eye for a barrel of it, but he didn’t have the nerve to say so.

Well, we made Fogarty get up and we stuck in there while they was dressin’. Fogarty had to go to his own room to get a clean shirt and collar, and we could hear him ringin’ for water the minute he got in there. Fin’lly we took pity on Smitty and got him some too. He complained o’ headache, and I says:

“That’s a funny thing about Fogarty – no matter how much wine he laps up he don’t never have no headache the next mornin.’”

We didn’t hear no more complaints from Smitty. They both went down to breakfast and tried to eat somethin’, but it was hard work. And I noticed that neither o’ them bothered Red with requests to pitch that day.

They went to bed – separated – right after supper and was as good as ever the followin’ mornin’. I don’t s’pose neither o’ them had never drank no wine before, and, so far as I know, they didn’t tackle it again. They both wanted to pitch in Chi, but Red was anxious to try out some kids; so he told both o’ them, on the quiet, that they was the ones he was dependin’ on for the World’s Serious and he didn’t want to risk gettin’ ’em hurt.

Well, we wound up the season in Boston, and it was the next to the last day that we got into a awful jam! You remember readin’ about Davis, the infielder Red bought from the New England League? Well, he’d got married the week before he joined us – married a Boston girl. He’d left her with her folks while he went West with us and she stuck to home till we hit Boston on that last trip. She was goin’ to Philly with us to take in the serious.

Davis was a fast little cuss, not much bigger’n Maranville. Red had tried him out at short agin Pittsburgh and he’d looked good; but he was usin’ the reg’lars most o’ the time to keep ’em in shape for the big show. Davis had more nerve than any little feller I ever seen. He wouldn’t break ground for none o’ them Pittsburgh guys when they come into second base. In one o’ the games there big Honus had told him to keep out o’ the way or he’d get killed.

“It won’t be no big slob like you that’ll kill me!” says Davis.

Honus had a license to get sore at that, ’cause he was just slippin’ the kid a friendly warnin’; but it shows you what a game little devil Davis was.

Well, as I was sayin’, it was the next to the last day up in Boston that somethin’ come off that pretty near cost us the big money. Mayer was pitchin’ the game and we had the reg’lar club in agin ’em.

In one o’ the boxes, right down next to the field, they was the prettiest girl I ever looked at. She was all alone and she was dressed up like a million bucks. She was sittin’ where we could lamp her from our bench and all the boys had gave her the oncet over before the game ever started. Fogarty and Smitty wiped the dirt offen their faces and smoothed their hair the minute they piped her.

She was a lot more interestin’ than the national pastime and I guess we was all gettin’ a eyeful when, all of a sudden, she smiled right at us. Our club was in the field and they was only a few of us on the bench – me and Pat and Davis and the pitchers and one or two others. Well, I was one of a number that returned the salute; but after doin’ it oncet I remembered I was a old married man and cut it out. But Fogarty and Smitty give a correct imitation of a toothpaste advertisement all the rest o’ the time they sat there. Every three or four minutes she’d smile and then they’d smile back. They was wise to each other and it was a battle to see which one could give her the prettiest grin.

Just before the last half o’ the eighth Fogarty ast Red whether he could go in and dress. He hadn’t no more’n got permission when Smitty wanted to go too. I had ’em guessed right, and I and Pat was wonderin’ which one’d cop. They raced to the clubhouse and Smitty beat him in. Now them two birds was usually awful slow about gettin’ their clo’es changed, ’cause they was so partic’lar; but they beat the world’s record this time. They was in their street clo’es and down in front o’ that box just as the game ended.

Smitty was there first, but lots o’ good it done him! He tipped his hat to the girl and got a cold stare. Then Fogarty come up and spoke to her. He was gave just as much encouragement as Smitty.

I begin to laugh, but I stopped quick. Before I knowed what was comin’ off, little Davis grabbed a bat and started for the stand. Smitty was leanin’ agin the box, with his left hand flat on the rail. Without a word o’ warnin’ Davis swung the bat overhand and it come down on poor Smitty’s hand like a ton o’ brick. Smitty yelled and fell over on the ground. Fogarty tried to duck, but he was too late. The little busher aimed the bat at his bean and catched him square on the right arm as he throwed it up to protect himself.

That’s all they was to the bout. The first punch is a lot – ’specially if you use a baseball bat. Neither o’ them showed signs o’ fightin’ back. Besides, we was all on the job by that time and grabbed Davis. Little as he was, it took three of us to hold him. But, say, they was the devil to pay in the clubhouse! Red was goin’ to shoot Davis till the truth come out.

“They went too far with it,” says Davis. “They ain’t no man can go up and talk to my wife without a introduction! I seen ’em tryin’ to flirt with her. Them big bugs is so swell-headed that they think no girl could smile at nobody but them.”

“You’d ought to of tipped ’em off,” says Red.

“I hadn’t ought to of did no such a thing,” says Davis. “They’d ought to of knew by lookin’ that she wasn’t the kind o’ girl that’d flirt. But I didn’t feel in no danger o’ havin’ my home broke up, so I let ’em go.”

Then Red jumped on me.

“That’s what you get for eggin’ ’em on,” he says. “Where’s our chancet in the World’s Serious now?”

“Have some sense!” I says. “You wouldn’t be thinkin’ o’ no World’s Serious if I hadn’t of egged ’em on.”

We called a doctor for Smitty and Fogarty, and the news he give us didn’t cheer us up none. He said he thought Smitty’s hand was broke, but he’d have to take a X ray. The mitt was swole up as big as a ham. Fogarty’s souper was hangin’ limp as a rag, and the doc didn’t believe he’d be able to raise it for a month. Afterward he found out that they was no bones busted in Smitty’s hand, but it was in such shape that he couldn’t hold a han’kerchief, let alone a baseball. There we was, three days before the start o’ the serious, and our pitchin’ staff shot to hellangone!

Red sent me and Pat and the trainer home that night with the pair o’ cripples. We was to report up to the club’s offices next mornin’ and have all the doctors in Philly called in. Me and Pat was so sore that we couldn’t talk to each other, and I don’t think they was a word said on the trip. Yes, they was too; just before Smitty went to sleep he ast me a question:

“Who was that girl?”

“You’d ought to know by this time,” I says. “That wasn’t nobody but Davis’ wife.”

“Then what was she smilin’ at me for?” he says.

Well, the Philly doctors told us they was absolutely no chancet o’ havin’ either o’ them in shape for the serious and we was gettin’ ready to count the losers’ share. Red’d been figurin’ on alternatin’ the two, ’cause none o’ the rest was in real shape; but now we didn’t have nothin’ that you could call a air-tight pitcher.

Rixey and Alexander and Mayer would of made ’em step some if they’d been right, but they wasn’t.

I says to Pat:

“Looks like as though I and you and the bat boy would have to work.”

“Looks that way,” he says, “unless we can bring them two fellers round.”

“How can we do that?” I says. “You heard what them doctors said.”

“Yes,” says Pat; “but they’re the only hope we got, and I ain’t goin’ to give up till I have to.”

Red and the bunch got in the next mornin’, which was a Sunday. Most o’ the gang went to church, and if the Lord’d never heard o’ Fogarty and Smitty before I bet He knowed who they was when we got through prayin’. We practiced Monday and went over to Washin’ton that night.

Well, you know what come off. Johnson beat us there and Boehling beat us Wednesday in Philly. With Johnson to come back, twicet if necessary, it looked like a short serious.

And then it begin to rain. It’s a wonder the District o’ Columbia wasn’t washed away. Four straight days of it, includin’ Sunday; and I never seen it come down so hard. A cleanin’ like that might do Pittsburgh or Chi some good, but it looked like wastin’ it in Washin’ton. We was anxious to get the serious over with; and the more it rained, the worse we hated it. We never figured that it was the best thing that could of happened to us!

I’m the guy they’d ought to thank for coppin’ the league pennant. And the rain and me together was what saved us from a awful lickin’ for the big dough. On Sunday night, while we was still layin’ round the hotel in Washin’ton, where we’d been stalled since Thursday, I got my hunch. I went to Red with it.

“Maybe one o’ them fellers could help us out now,” I says.

“What makes you think so?” says Red.

“Well,” I says, “they’ve had time to get back in shape.”

“No use,” says Red. “I was just talkin’ to Smitty in the dinin’ room. He couldn’t even hold his knife. He says his mitt feels just as bad as it did the first day.”

“How about Fogarty?” I ast.

“He ain’t no better off,” says Red. “The worst of it is that neither one o’ them seems to care.”

“Maybe I can wake ’em up,” I says.

“You got my permission to try,” says Red.

Me and Fogarty wasn’t roomin’ together. The trainer was doubled up with him and they had another guy lookin’ out for Smitty. Neither o’ them had put on a suit, but they’d saw us get our two beatin’s from the stand. I found Smitty first and took him into the bar.

“How does it look to you?” I says.

“We’re licked,” says he.

“Don’t be too sure!” I says.

“What do you mean?” he ast me. “What chancet have we got with nobody to pitch?”

“We got somebody to pitch now,” I says.

“Who?” says Smitty.

“Fogarty,” says I. “The doctor says he’s all right and Red’s goin’ to start him tomorrow.”

“You’re crazy!” says Smitty. “The doctor said he wouldn’t be no good till next year.”

“That was pretty near a week ago,” I says. “Besides, that doctor didn’t know nothin’. We had the best doctor in Washin’ton up to see him tonight – the doctor that looks after the President and all the congressmen. He says they’s nothin’ at all the matter with him.”

I left Smitty then and went lookin’ for Fogarty.

I found him in his room gettin’ his poor souper rubbed. I spoke my piece over again. I told him Smitty’d been pronounced cured by the President’s special surgeon and that he was goin’ to start the next day’s game.

An hour later I run into Red, and he was smilin’ like Davis’ wife.

“You’ve did it, old boy!” he says. “They both been after me till I had to duck out in the wet to get away from ’em. They both insist on workin’ tomorrow, and I told ’em I wasn’t goin’ to decide on my pitcher till mornin’.”

“I guess I don’t know nothin’!” I says. “Which one are you goin’ to start?”

“The one that can throw a ball with the least pain,” says Red.

You know the rest of it. The sun shined on us next day, and Smitty shut ’em out and beat Johnson on the wettest grounds I ever seen! I don’t know yet how he gripped a wet ball with that hand, but he done it. And Fogarty’s game Tuesday was even better. If his arm hurt he kept it to himself.

Smitty come back agin Johnson Wednesday and pitched the prettiest game that was ever pitched. Milan and Gandil and them might just as well of used jackstraws as bats, for all the good their swingin’ done. He whiffed plain sixteen men and Johnson’s two-bagger was their only wallop. Nobody didn’t grudge Walter that one, ’cause he pitched a grand game too.

Well, the honor o’ coppin’ the final pastime and winnin’ the title went to Fogarty; and it pleased him about as much as a toothache. Do you know why? ’Cause the papers was full o’ Smitty’s two victories over Johnson and didn’t say much about nothin’ else. Fogarty told me afterward that if he’d thought at the time he’d of refused to pitch Thursday and made Red work him agin the big blond in the seventh game.

“But,” I says, “s’pose Red had pitched Smitty right back and he’d of trimmed ’em and they hadn’t been no seventh game anyway. Then where’d you of been at?”

“That’s right!” he says. “That wop is just lucky enough to of did it, too, even if he can’t pitch up an alley.”

Well, I made a little speech in the clubhouse and collected a purse of a hundred and fifty bucks. I’m goin’ to send it to Jack Barnett as soon as I can get his address. That’ll fix him up on that bet he made with Punch Knoll and give him a little spendin’ money besides. If he hadn’t of told me that stuff in Dayton we’d of been fightin’ the Cardinals for seventh place. And if he’d of told it to some guys they wouldn’t of had sense enough to of tooken advantage of it.

One o’ the Philly doctors told Red, and Red told me, that we’d prob’ly ruined both o’ them guys for the next season by workin’ ’em in the shape they was in. But I should worry! Between me and you, I ain’t goin’ to be with the Phillies next year. I’m goin’ to manage the Mobile Club; and maybe I can play some in that climate. And I guess I don’t know nothin’ about managin’ a ball club. No; I guess not!

• 3 •

Horseshoes

The series ended Tuesday, but I had stayed in Philadelphia an extra day on the chance of there being some follow-up stuff worth sending. Nothing had broken loose; so I filed some stuff about what the Athletics and Giants were going to do with their dough, and then caught the eight o’clock train for Chicago.

Having passed up supper in order to get my story away and grab the train, I went to the buffet car right after I’d planted my grips. I sat down at one of the tables and ordered a sandwich. Four salesmen were playing rhum at the other table and all the chairs in the car were occupied; so it didn’t surprise me when somebody flopped down in the seat opposite me.

I looked up from my paper and with a little thrill recognized my companion. Now I’ve been experting round the country with ballplayers so much that it doesn’t usually excite me to meet one face to face, even if he’s a star. I can talk with Tyrus without getting all fussed up. But this particular player had jumped from obscurity to fame so suddenly and had played such an important though brief part in the recent argument between the Macks and McGraws that I couldn’t help being a little awed by his proximity.

It was none other than Grimes, the utility outfielder Connie been forced to use in the last game because of the injury to Joyce – Grimes, whose miraculous catch in the eleventh inning had robbed Parker of a home run and the Giants of victory, and whose own homer – a fluky one – had given the Athletics another World’s Championship.

I had met Grimes one day during the spring he was with the Cubs, but I knew he wouldn’t remember me. A ball player never recalls a reporter’s face on less than six introductions or his name on less than twenty. However, I resolved to speak to him, and had just mustered sufficient courage to open a conversation when he saved me the trouble.

“Whose picture have they got there?” he asked, pointing to my paper.

“Speed Parker’s,” I replied.

“What do they say about him?” asked Grimes.

“I’ll read it to you,” I said:

“Speed Parker, McGraw’s great third baseman, is ill in a local hospital with nervous prostration, the result of the strain of the World’s Series, in which he played such a stellar role. Parker is in such a dangerous condition that no one is allowed to see him. Members of the New York team and fans from Gotham called at the hospital today, but were unable to gain admittance to his ward. Philadelphians hope he will recover speedily and will suffer no permanent ill effects from his sickness, for he won their admiration by his work in the series, though he was on a rival team. A lucky catch by Grimes, the Athletics’ substitute outfielder, was all that prevented Parker from winning the title for New York. According to Manager Mack, of the champions, the series would have been over in four games but for Parker’s wonderful exhibition of nerve and—”

“That’ll be a plenty,” Grimes interrupted. “And that’s just what you might expect from one o’ them doughheaded reporters. If all the baseball writers was where they belonged they’d have to build an annex to Matteawan.”

I kept my temper with very little effort – it takes more than a peevish ball player’s remarks to insult one of our fraternity; but I didn’t exactly understand his peeve.

“Doesn’t Parker deserve the bouquet?” I asked.

“Oh, they can boost him all they want to,” said Grimes; “but when they call that catch lucky and don’t mention the fact that Parker is the luckiest guy in the world, somethin’ must be wrong with ’em. Did you see the serious?”

“No,” I lied glibly, hoping to draw from him the cause of his grouch.

“Well,” he said, “you sure missed somethin’. They never was a serious like it before and they won’t never be one again. It went the full seven games and every game was a bear. They was one big innin’ every day and Parker was the big cheese in it. Just as Connie says, the Ath-a-letics would of cleaned ’em in four games but for Parker; but it wasn’t because he’s a great ball player – it was because he was born with a knife, fork and spoon in his mouth, and a rabbit’s foot hung round his neck.

“You may not know it, but I’m Grimes, the guy that made the lucky catch. I’m the guy that won the serious with a hit – a home-run hit; and I’m here to tell you that if I’d had one-tenth o’ Parker’s luck they’d of heard about me long before yesterday. They say my homer was lucky. Maybe it was; but, believe me, it was time things broke for me. They been breakin’ for him all his life.”

“Well,” I said, “his luck must have gone back on him if he’s in a hospital with nervous prostration.”

“Nervous prostration nothin’,” said Grimes. “He’s in a hospital because his face is all out o’ shape and he’s ashamed to appear on the street. I don’t usually do so much talkin’ and I’m ravin’ a little tonight because I’ve had a couple o’ drinks; but—”

“Have another,” said I, ringing for the waiter, “and talk some more.”

“I made two hits yesterday,” Grimes went on, “but the crowd only seen one. I busted up the game and the serious with the one they seen. The one they didn’t see was the one I busted up a guy’s map with – and Speed Parker was the guy. That’s why he’s in a hospital. He may be able to play ball next year; but I’ll bet my share o’ the dough that McGraw won’t reco’nize him when he shows up at Marlin in the spring.”

“When did this come off?” I asked. “And why?”

“It come off outside the clubhouse after yesterday’s battle,” he said; “and I hit him because he called me a name – a name I won’t stand for from him.”

“What did he call you?” I queried, expecting to hear one of the delicate epithets usually applied by conquered to conqueror on the diamond.

“‘Horseshoes!’” was Grimes’ amazing reply.

“But, good Lord!” I remonstrated, “I’ve heard of ballplayers calling each other that, and Lucky Stiff, and Fourleaf Clover, ever since I was a foot high, and I never knew them to start fights about it.”

“Well,” said Grimes, “I might as well give you all the dope; and then if you don’t think I was justified I’ll pay your fare from here to wherever you’re goin’. I don’t want you to think I’m kickin’ about trifles – or that I’m kickin’ at all, for that matter. I just want to prove to you that he didn’t have no license to pull that Horseshoes stuff on me and that I only give him what was comin’ to him.”

“Go ahead and shoot,” said I.

“Give us some more o’ the same,” said Grimes to the passing waiter. And then he told me about it.

—

Maybe you’ve heard that me and Speed Parker was raised in the same town – Ishpeming, Michigan. We was kids together, and though he done all the devilment I got all the lickin’s. When we was about twelve years old Speed throwed a rotten egg at the teacher and I got expelled. That made me sick o’ schools and I wouldn’t never go to one again, though my ol’ man beat me up and the truant officers threatened to have me hung.

Well, while Speed was learnin’ what was the principal products o’ New Hampshire and Texas I was workin’ round the freighthouse and drivin’ a dray.

We’d both been playin’ ball all our lives; and when the town organized a semi-pro club we got jobs with it. We was to draw two bucks apiece for each game and they played every Sunday. We played four games before we got our first pay. They was a hole in my pants pocket as big as home plate, but I forgot about it and put the dough in there. It wasn’t there when I got home. Speed didn’t have no hole in his pocket – you can bet on that! Afterward the club hired a good outfielder and I was canned. They was huntin’ for another third baseman too; but, o’ course, they didn’t find none and Speed held his job.

The next year they started the Northern Peninsula League. We landed with the home team. The league opened in May and blowed up the third week in June. They paid off all the outsiders first and then had just money enough left to settle with one of us two Ishpeming guys. The night they done the payin’ I was out to my uncle’s farm, so they settled with Speed and told me I’d have to wait for mine. I’m still waitin’!

Gene Higgins, who was manager o’ the Battle Creek Club, lived in Houghton, and that winter we goes over and strikes him for a job. He give it to us and we busted in together two years ago last spring.

I had a good year down there. I hit over .300 and stole all the bases in sight. Speed got along good too, and they was several big-league scouts lookin’ us over. The Chicago Cubs bought Speed outright and four clubs put in a draft for me. Three of ’em – Cleveland and the New York Giants and the Boston Nationals – needed outfielders bad, and it would of been a pipe for me to of made good with any of ’em. But who do you think got me? The same Chicago Cubs; and the only outfielders they had at that time was Schulte and Leach and Good and Williams and Stewart, and one or two others.

Well, I didn’t figure I was any worse off than Speed. The Cubs had Zimmerman at third base and it didn’t look like they was any danger of a busher beatin’ him out; but Zimmerman goes and breaks his leg the second day o’ the season – that’s a year ago last April – and Speed jumps right in as a regular. Do you think anything like that could happen to Schulte or Leach, or any o’ them outfielders? No, sir! I wore out my uniform slidin’ up and down the bench and wonderin’ whether they’d ship me to Fort Worth or Siberia.

Now I want to tell you about the miserable luck Speed had right off the reel. We was playin’ at St. Louis. They had a one-run lead in the eighth, when their pitcher walked Speed with one out. Saier hits a high fly to center and Parker starts with the crack o’ the bat. Both coachers was yellin’ at him to go back, but he thought they was two out and he was clear round to third base when the ball come down. And Oakes muffs it! O’ course he scored and the game was tied up.

Parker come in to the bench like he’d did something wonderful.

“Did you think they was two out?” ast Hank.

“No,” says Speed, blushin’.

“Then what did you run for?” says Hank.

“I had a hunch he was goin’ to drop the ball,” says Speed; and Hank pretty near falls off the bench.

The next day he come rip with one out and the sacks full, and the score tied in the sixth. He smashes one on the ground straight at Hauser and it looked like a cinch double play; but just as Hauser was goin’ to grab it the ball hit a rough spot and hopped a mile over his head. It got between Oakes and Magee and went clear to the fence. Three guys scored and Speed pulled up at third. The papers come out and said the game was won by a three-bagger from the bat o’ Parker, the Cubs’ sensational kid third baseman. Gosh!

We go home to Chi and are havin’ a hot battle with Pittsburgh. This time Speed’s turn come when they was two on and two out, and Pittsburgh a run to the good – I think it was the eighth innin’. Cooper gives him a fast one and he hits it straight up in the air. O’ course the runners started goin’, but it looked hopeless because they wasn’t no wind or high sky to bother anybody. Mowrey and Gibson both goes after the ball; and just as Mowrey was set for the catch Gibson bumps into him and they both fall down. Two runs scored and Speed got to second. Then what does he do but try to steal third – with two out too! And Gibson’s peg pretty near hits the left field seats on the fly.

When Speed comes to the bench Hank says:

“If I was you I’d quit playin’ ball and go to Monte Carlo.”

“What for?” says Speed.

“You’re so dam’ lucky!” says Hank.

“So is Ty Cobb,” says Speed. That’s how he hated himself!

First trip to Cincy we run into a couple of old Ishpeming boys. They took us out one night, and about twelve o’clock I said we’d have to go back to the hotel or we’d get fined. Speed said I had cold feet and he stuck with the boys. I went back alone and Hank caught me comin’ in and put a fifty-dollar plaster on me. Speed stayed out all night long and Hank never knowed it. I says to myself: “Wait till he gets out there and tries to play ball without no sleep!” But the game that day was called off on account o’ rain. Can you beat it?

I remember what he got away with the next afternoon the same as though it happened yesterday. In the second innin’ they walked him with nobody down, and he took a big lead off first base like he always does. Benton throwed over there three or four times to scare him back, and the last time he throwed, Hobby hid the ball. The coacher seen it and told Speed to hold the bag; but he didn’t pay no attention. He started leadin’ right off again and Hobby tried to tag him, but the ball slipped out of his hand and rolled about a yard away. Parker had plenty o’ time to get back; but, instead o’ that, he starts for second. Hobby picked up the ball and shot it down to Groh – and Groh made a square muff.

Parker slides into the bag safe and then gets up and throws out his chest like he’d made the greatest play ever. When the ball’s throwed back to Benton, Speed leads off about thirty foot and stands there in a trance. Clarke signs for a pitch-out and pegs down to second to nip him. He was caught flatfooted – that is, he would of been with a decent throw; but Clarke’s peg went pretty near to Latonia. Speed scored and strutted over to receive our hearty congratulations. Some o’ the boys was laughin’ and he thought they was laughin’ with him instead of at him.

It was in the ninth, though, that he got by with one o’ the worst I ever seen. The Reds was a run behind and Marsans was on third base with two out. Hobby, I think it was, hit one on the ground right at Speed and he picked it up clean. The crowd all got up and started for the exits. Marsans run toward the plate in the faint hope that the peg to first would be wild. All of a sudden the boys on the Cincy bench begun yellin’ at him to slide, and he done so. He was way past the plate when Speed’s throw got to Archer. The bonehead had shot the ball home instead o’ to first base, thinkin’ they was only one down. We was all crazy, believin’ his nut play had let ’em tie it up; but he comes tearin’ in, tellin’ Archer to tag Marsans. So Jim walks over and tags the Cuban, who was brushin’ off his uniform.

“You’re out!” says Klein. “You never touched the plate.”

I guess Marsans knowed the umps was right because he didn’t make much of a holler. But Speed sure got a pannin’ in the clubhouse.

“I suppose you knowed he was goin’ to miss the plate!” says Hank sarcastic as he could.

Everybody on the club roasted him, but it didn’t do no good.

Well, you know what happened to me. I only got into one game with the Cubs – one afternoon when Leach was sick. We was playin’ the Boston bunch and Tyler was workin’ against us. I always had trouble with lefthanders and this was one of his good days. I couldn’t see what he throwed up there. I got one foul durin’ the afternoon’s entertainment; and the wind was blowin’ a hundred-mile gale, so that the best outfielder in the world couldn’t judge a fly ball. That Boston bunch must of hit fifty of ’em and they all come to my field.

If I caught any I’ve forgot about it. Couple o’ days after that I got notice o’ my release to Indianapolis.

Parker kept right on all season doin’ the blamedest things you ever heard of and gettin’ by with ’em. One o’ the boys told me about it later. If they was playin’ a double-header in St. Louis, with the thermometer at 130 degrees, he’d get put out by the umps in the first innin’ o’ the first game. If he started to steal the catcher’d drop the pitch or somebody’d muff the throw. If he hit a pop fly the sun’d get in somebody’s eyes. If he took a swell third strike with the bases full the umps would call it a ball. If he cut first base by twenty feet the umps would be readin’ the mornin’ paper.

Zimmerman’s leg mended, so that he was all right by June; and then Saier got sick and they tried Speed at first base. He’d never saw the bag before; but things kept on breakin’ for him and he played it like a house-afire. The Cubs copped the pennant and Speed got in on the big dough, besides playin’ a whale of a game through the whole serious.

Speed and me both went back to Ishpeming to spend the winter – though the Lord knows it ain’t no winter resort. Our homes was there; and besides, in my case, they was a certain girl livin’ in the old burg.

Parker, o’ course, was the hero and the swell guy when we got home. He’d been in the World’s Serious and had plenty o’ dough in his kick.

I come home with nothin’ but my suitcase and a hard-luck story, which I kept to myself. I hadn’t even went good enough in Indianapolis to be sure of a job there again.

That fall – last fall – an uncle o’ Speed’s died over in the Soo and left him ten thousand bucks. I had an uncle down in the Lower Peninsula who was worth five times that much – but he had good health!

This girl I spoke about was the prettiest thing I ever see. I’d went with her in the old days, and when I blew back I found she was still strong for me. They wasn’t a great deal o’ variety in Ishpeming for a girl to pick from. Her and I went to the dance every Saturday night and to church Sunday nights. I called on her Wednesday evenin’s, besides takin’ her to all the shows that come along – rotten as the most o’ them was.

I never knowed Speed was makin’ a play for this doll till along last Feb’uary. The minute I seen what was up I got busy. I took her out sleigh-ridin’ and kept her out in the cold till she’d promised to marry me. We set the date for this fall – I figured I’d know better where I was at by that time.

Well, we didn’t make no secret o’ bein’ engaged; down in the poolroom one night Speed come up and congratulated me. He says:

“You got a swell girl, Dick! I wouldn’t mind bein’ in your place. You’re mighty lucky to cop her out – you old Horseshoes, you!”

“Horseshoes!” I says. “You got a fine license to call anybody Horseshoes! I suppose you ain’t never had no luck?”

“Not like you,” he says.

I was feelin’ too good about grabbin’ the girl to get sore at the time; but when I got to thinkin’ about it a few minutes afterward it made me mad clear through. What right did that bird have to talk about me bein’ lucky?

Speed was playin’ freeze-out at a table near the door, and when I started home some o’ the boys with him says:

“Good night, Dick.”

I said good night and then Speed looked up.

“Good night, Horseshoes!” he says.

That got my nanny this time.

“Shut up, you lucky stiff!” I says. “If you wasn’t so dam’ lucky you’d be sweepin’ the streets.” Then I walks on out.

I was too busy with the girl to see much o’ Speed after that. He left home about the middle o’ the month to go to Tampa with the Cubs. I got notice from Indianapolis that I was sold to Baltimore. I didn’t care much about goin’ there and I wasn’t anxious to leave home under the circumstances, so I didn’t report till late.

When I read in the papers along in April that Speed had been traded to Boston for a couple o’ pitchers I thought: “Gee! He must of lost his rabbit’s foot!” Because, even if the Cubs didn’t cop again, they’d have a city serious with the White Sox and get a bunch o’ dough that way. And they wasn’t no chance in the world for the Boston Club to get nothin’ but their salaries.

It wasn’t another month, though, till Shafer, o’ the Giants, quit baseball and McGraw was up against it for a third baseman. Next thing I knowed Speed was traded to New York and was with another winner – for they never was out o’ first place all season.

I was gettin’ along all right at Baltimore and Dunnie liked me; so I felt like I had somethin’ more than just a one-year job – somethin’ I could get married on. It was all framed that the weddin’ was comin’ off as soon as this season was over; so you can believe I was pullin’ for October to hurry up and come.

One day in August, two months ago, Dunnie come in the clubhouse and handed me the news.

“Rube Oldring’s busted his leg,” he says, “and he’s out for the rest o’ the season. Connie’s got a youngster named Joyce that he can stick in there, but he’s got to have an extra outfielder. He’s made me a good proposition for you and I’m goin’ to let you go. It’ll be pretty soft for you, because they got the pennant cinched and they’ll cut you in on the big money.”

“Yes,” I says; “and when they’re through with me they’ll ship me to Hellangone, and I’ll be draggin’ down about seventy-five bucks a month next year.”

“Nothin’ like that,” says Dunnie. “If he don’t want you next season he’s got to ask for waivers; and if you get out o’ the big league you come right back here. That’s all framed.”

So that’s how I come to get with the Ath-a-letics. Connie give me a nice, comf’table seat in one corner o’ the bench and I had the pleasure o’ watchin’ a real ball club perform once every afternoon and sometimes twice.

Connie told me that as soon as they had the flag cinched he was goin’ to lay off some o’ his regulars and I’d get a chance to play.

Well, they cinched it the fourth day o’ September and our next engagement was with Washin’ton on Labor Day. We had two games and I was in both of ’em. And I broke in with my usual lovely luck, because the pitchers I was ast to face was Boehling, a nasty lefthander, and this guy Johnson. o

The mornin’ game was Boehling’s and he wasn’t no worse than some o’ the rest of his kind. I only whiffed once and would of had a triple if Milan hadn’t run from here to New Orleans and stole one off me.

I’m not boastin’ about my first experience with Johnson though. They can’t never tell me he throws them balls with his arm. He’s got a gun concealed about his person and he shoots ’em up there. I was leadin’ off in Murphy’s place and the game was a little delayed in startin’, because I’d watched the big guy warm up and wasn’t in no hurry to get to that plate. Before I left the bench Connie says:

“Don’t try to take no healthy swing. Just meet ’em and you’ll get along better.”

So I tried to just meet the first one he throwed; but when I stuck out my bat Henry was throwin’ the pill back to Johnson. Then I thought: Maybe if I start swingin’ now at the second one I’ll hit the third one. So I let the second one come over and the umps guessed it was another strike, though I’ll bet a thousand bucks he couldn’t see it no more’n I could.

While Johnson was still windin’ up to pitch again I started to swing – and the big cuss crosses me with a slow one. I lunged at it twice and missed it both times, and the force o’ my wallop throwed me clean back to the bench. The Ath-a-letics was all laughin’ at me and I laughed too, because I was glad that much of it was over.

Mclnnes gets a base hit off him in the second innin’ and I ast him how he done it.

“He’s a friend o’ mine,” says Jack, “and he lets up when he pitches to me.”

I made up my mind right there that if I was goin’ to be in the league next year I’d go out and visit Johnson this winter and get acquainted.

I wished before the day was over that I was hittin’ in the catcher’s place, because the fellers down near the tail-end of the battin’ order only had to face him three times. He fanned me on three pitched balls again in the third, and when I come up in the sixth he scared me to death by pretty near beanin’ me with the first one.

“Be careful!” says Henry. “He’s gettin’ pretty wild and he’s liable to knock you away from your uniform.”

“Don’t he never curve one?” I ast.

“Sure!” says Henry. “Do you want to see his curve?”

“Yes,” I says, knowin’ the hook couldn’t be no worse’n the fast one. So he give me three hooks in succession and I missed ’em all; but I felt more comf’table than when I was duckin’ his fast ball. In the ninth he hit my bat with a curve and the ball went on the ground to McBride. He booted it, but throwed me out easy – because I was so surprised at not havin’ whiffed that I forgot to run!

Well, I went along like that for the rest o’ the season, runnin’ up against the best pitchers in the league and not exactly murderin’ ’em. Everything I tried went wrong, and I was smart enough to know that if anything had depended on the games I wouldn’t of been in there for two minutes. Joyce and Strunk and Murphy wasn’t jealous o’ me a bit; but they was glad to take turns restin’, and I didn’t care much how I went so long as I was sure of a job next year.

I’d wrote to the girl a couple o’ times askin’ her to set the exact date for our weddin’; but she hadn’t paid no attention. She said she was glad I was with the Ath-a-letics, but she thought the Giants was goin’ to beat us. I might of suspected from that that somethin’ was wrong, because not even a girl would pick the Giants to trim that bunch of our’n. Finally, the day before the serious started, I sent her a kind o’ sassy letter sayin’ I guessed it was up to me to name the day, and askin’ whether October twentieth was all right. I told her to wire me yes or no.

I’d been readin’ the dope about Speed all season, and I knowed he’d had a whale of a year and that his luck was right with him; but I never dreamed a man could have the Lord on his side as strong as Speed did in that World’s Serious! I might as well tell you all the dope, so long as you wasn’t there.

The first game was on our grounds and Connie give us a talkin’ to in the clubhouse beforehand.

“The shorter this serious is,” he says, “the better for us. If it’s a long serious we’re goin’ to have trouble, because McGraw’s got five pitchers he can work and we’ve got about three, so I want you boys to go at ’em from the jump and play ’em off their feet. Don’t take things easy, because it ain’t goin’ to be no snap. Just because we’ve licked ’em before ain’t no sign we’ll do it this time.”

Then he calls me to one side and ast me what I knowed about Parker.

“You was with the Cubs when he was, wasn’t you?” he says.

“Yes,” I says; “and he’s the luckiest stiff you ever seen! If he got stewed and fell in the gutter he’d catch a fish.”

“I don’t like to hear a good ball player called lucky,” says Connie. “He must have a lot of ability or McGraw wouldn’t use him regular. And he’s been hittin’ about .340 and played a bang-up game at third base. That can’t be all luck.”

“Wait till you see him,” I says; “and if you don’t say he’s the luckiest guy in the world you can sell me to the Boston Bloomer Girls. He’s so lucky,” I says, “that if they traded him to the St. Louis Browns they’d have the pennant cinched by the Fourth o’ July.”

And I’ll bet Connie was willin’ to agree with me before it was over.

Well, the Chief worked against the Big Rube in that game. We beat ’em, but they give us a battle and it was Parker that made it close. We’d gone along nothin’ and nothin’ till the seventh, and then Rube walks Collins and Baker lifts one over that little old wall. You’d think by this time them New York pitchers would know better than to give that guy anything he can hit.

In their part o’ the ninth the Chief still had ’em shut out and two down, and the crowd was goin’ home; but Doyle gets hit in the sleeve with a pitched ball and it’s Speed’s turn. He hits a foul pretty near straight up, but Schang misjudges it. Then he lifts another one and this time Mclnnes drops it. He’d ought to of been out twice. The Chief tries to make him hit at a bad one then, because he’d got him two strikes and nothin’. He hit at it all right – kissed it for three bases between Strunk and Joyce! And it was a wild pitch that he hit. Doyle scores, o’ course, and the bugs suddenly decide not to go home just yet. I fully expected to see him steal home and get away with it, but Murray cut into the first ball and lined out to Barry.

Plank beat Matty two to one the next day in New York, and again Speed and his rabbit’s foot give us an awful argument. Matty wasn’t so good as usual and we really ought to of beat him bad. Two different times Strunk was on second waitin’ for any kind o’ wallop, and both times Barry cracked ’em down the third base line like a shot. Speed stopped the first one with his stomach and extricated the pill just in time to nail Barry at first base and retire the side. The next time he throwed his glove in front of his face in self-defense and the ball stuck in it.

In the sixth innin’ Schang was on third base and Plank on first, and two down, and Murphy combed an awful one to Speed’s left. He didn’t have time to stoop over and he just stuck out his foot. The ball hit it and caromed in two hops right into Doyle’s hand on second base before Plank got there. Then in the seventh Speed bunts one and Baker trips and falls goin’ after it or he’d of threw him out a mile. They was two gone; so Speed steals second, and, o’ course, Schang has to make a bad peg right at that time and lets him go to third. Then Collins boots one on Murray and they’ve got a run. But it didn’t do ’em no good, because Collins and Baker and Mclnnes come up in the ninth and walloped ’em where Parker couldn’t reach ’em.

Comin’ back to Phily on the train that night, I says to Connie:

“What do you think o’ that Parker bird now?”

“He’s lucky, all right,” says Connie smilin’; “but we won’t hold it against him if he don’t beat us with it.”

“It ain’t too late,” I says. “He ain’t pulled his real stuff yet.”

The whole bunch was talkin’ about him and his luck, and sayin’ it was about time for things to break against him. I warned ’em that they wasn’t no chance – that it was permanent with him.

Bush and Tesreau hooked up next day and neither o’ them had much stuff. Everybody was hittin’ and it looked like anybody’s game right up to the ninth. Speed had got on every time he come up – the wind blowin’ his fly balls away from the outfielders and the infielders bootin’ when he hit ’em on the ground.

When the ninth started the score was seven apiece. Connie and McGraw both had their whole pitchin’ staffs warmin’ up. The crowd was wild, because they’d been all kinds of action. They wasn’t no danger of anybody’s leavin’ their seats before this game was over.

Well, Bescher is walked to start with and Connie’s about ready to give Bush the hook; but Doyle pops out tryin’ to bunt. Then Speed gets two strikes and two balls, and it looked to me like the next one was right over the heart; but Connolly calls it a ball and gives him another chance. He whales the groove ball to the fence in left center and gets round to third on it, while Bescher scores. Right then Bush comes out and the Chief goes in. He whiffs Murray and has two strikes on Merkle when Speed makes a break for home – and, o’ course, that was the one ball Schang dropped in the whole serious!

They had a two-run lead on us then and it looked like a cinch for them to hold it, because the minute Tesreau showed a sign o’ weakenin’ McGraw was sure to holler for Matty or the Rube. But you know how quick that bunch of our’n can make a two-run lead look sick. Before McGraw could get Jeff out o’ there we had two on the bases.

Then Rube comes in and fills ’em up by walkin’ Joyce. It was Eddie’s turn to wallop and if he didn’t do nothin’ we had Baker comin’ up next. This time Collins saved Baker the trouble and whanged one clear to the woods. Everybody scored but him – and he could of, too, if it’d been necessary.

In the clubhouse the boys naturally felt pretty good. We’d copped three in a row and it looked like we’d make it four straight, because we had the Chief to send back at ’em the followin’ day.

“Your friend Parker is lucky,” the boys says to me, “but it don’t look like he could stop us now.”

I felt the same way and was consultin’ the time-tables to see whether I could get a train out o’ New York for the West next evenin’. But do you think Speed’s luck was ready to quit? Not yet! And it’s a wonder we didn’t all go nuts durin’ the next few days. If words could kill, Speed would of died a thousand times. And I wish he had!

They wasn’t no record-breakin’ crowd out when we got to the Polo Grounds. I guess the New York bugs was pretty well discouraged and the bettin’ was eight to five that we’d cop that battle and finish it. The Chief was the only guy that warmed up for us and McGraw didn’t have no choice but to use Matty, with the whole thing dependin’ on this game.

They went along like the two swell pitchers they was till Speed’s innin’, which in this battle was the eighth. Nobody scored, and it didn’t look like they was ever goin’ to till Murphy starts off that round with a perfect bunt and Joyce sacrifices him to second. All Matty had to do then was to get rid o’ Collins and Baker – and that’s about as easy as sellin’ silk socks to an Eskimo.

He didn’t give Eddie nothin’ he wanted to hit, though; and finally he slaps one on the ground to Doyle. Larry made the play to first base and Murphy moved to third. We all figured Matty’d walk Baker then, and he done it. Connie sends Baker down to second on the first pitch to Mclnnes, but Meyers don’t pay no attention to him – they was playin’ for Mclnnes and wasn’t takin’ no chances o’ throwin’ the ball away.

Well, the count goes to three and two on Mclnnes and Matty comes with a curve – he’s got some curve too; but Jack happened to meet it and – Blooie! Down the left foul line where he always hits! I never seen a ball hit so hard in my life. No infielder in the world could of stopped it. But I’ll give you a thousand bucks if that ball didn’t go kerplunk right into the third bag and stop as dead as George Washington! It was child’s play for Speed to pick it up and heave it over to Merkle before Jack got there. If anybody else had been playin’ third base the bag would of ducked out o’ the way o’ that wallop; but even the bases themselves was helpin’ him out.

The two runs we ought to of had on Jack’s smash would of been just enough to beat ’em, because they got the only run o’ the game in their half – or, I should say, the Lord give it to ’em.

Doyle’d been throwed out and up come Parker, smilin’. The minute I seen him smile I felt like somethin’ was comin’ off and I made the remark on the bench.

Well, the Chief pitched one right at him and he tried to duck. The ball hit his bat and went on a line between Jack and Eddie. Speed didn’t know he’d hit it till the guys on the bench wised him up. Then he just had time to get to first base. They tried the hit-and-run on the second ball and Murray lifts a high fly that Murphy didn’t have to move for. Collins pulled the old bluff about the ball bein’ on the ground and Barry yells, “Go on! Go on!” like he was the coacher. Speed fell for it and didn’t know where the ball was no more’n a rabbit; he just run his fool head off and we was gettin’ all ready to laugh when the ball come down and Murphy dropped it!

If Parker had stuck near first base, like he ought to of done, he couldn’t of got no farther’n second; but with the start he got he was pretty near third when Murphy made the muff, and it was a cinch for him to score. The next two guys was easy outs; so they wouldn’t of had a run except for Speed’s boner. We couldn’t do nothin’ in the ninth and we was licked.

Well, that was a tough one to lose; but we figured that Matty was through and we’d wind it up the next day, as we had Plank ready to send back at ’em. We wasn’t afraid o’ the Rube, because he hadn’t never bothered Collins and Baker much.

The two lefthanders come together just like everybody’d doped it and it was about even up to the eighth. Plank had been goin’ great and, though the score was two and two, they’d got their two on boots and we’d hit our’n in. We went after Rube in our part o’ the eighth and knocked him out. Demaree stopped us after we’d scored two more.

“It’s all over but the shoutin’!” says Davis on the bench.

“Yes,” I says, “unless that seventh son of a seventh son gets up there again.”

He did, and he come up after they’d filled the bases with a boot, a base hit and a walk with two out. I says to Davis:

“If I was Plank I’d pass him and give ’em one run.”

“That wouldn’t be no baseball,” says Davis – “not with Murray comin’ up.”

Well, it mayn’t of been no baseball, but it couldn’t of turned out worse if they’d did it that way. Speed took a healthy at the first ball; but it was a hook and he caught it on the handle, right up near his hands. It started outside the first-base line like a foul and then changed its mind and rolled in. Schang run away from the plate, because it looked like it was up to him to make the play. He picked the ball up and had to make the peg in a hurry.

His throw hit Speed right on top o’ the head and bounded off like it had struck a cement sidewalk. It went clear over to the seats and before Mclnnes could get it three guys had scored and Speed was on third base. He was left there, but that didn’t make no difference. We was licked again, and for the first time the gang really begun to get scared.

We went over to New York Sunday afternoon and we didn’t do no singin’ on the way. Some o’ the fellers tried to laugh, but it hurt ’em. Connie sent us to bed early, but I don’t believe none o’ the bunch got much sleep – I know I didn’t; I was worryin’ too much about the serious and also about the girl, who hadn’t sent me no telegram like I’d ast her to. Monday mornin’ I wired her askin’ what was the matter and tellin’ her I was gettin’ tired of her foolishness. O’ course I didn’t make it so strong as that – but the telegram cost me a dollar and forty cents.

Connie had the choice o’ two pitchers for the sixth game. He could use Bush, who’d been slammed round pretty hard last time out, or the Chief, who’d only had two days’ rest. The rest of ’em – outside o’ Plank – had a epidemic o’ sore arms. Connie finally picked Bush, so’s he could have the Chief in reserve in case we had to play a seventh game. McGraw started Big Jeff and we went at it.

It wasn’t like the last time these two guys had hooked up. This time they both had somethin’, and for eight innin’s runs was as scarce as Chinese policemen. They’d been chances to score on both sides, but the big guy and Bush was both tight in the pinches. The crowd was plumb nuts and yelled like Indians every time a fly ball was caught or a strike called. They’d of got their money’s worth if they hadn’t been no ninth; but, believe me, that was some round!

They was one out when Barry hit one through the box for a base. Schang walked, and it was Bush’s turn. Connie told him to bunt, but he whiffed in the attempt. Then Murphy comes up and walks – and the bases are choked. Young Joyce had been pie for Iesreau all day or else McGraw might of changed pitchers right there. Anyway he left Big Jeff in and he beaned Joyce with a fast one. It sounded like a tire blowin’ out. Joyce falls over in a heap and we chase out there, thinkin’ he’s dead; but he ain’t, and pretty soon he gets up and walks down to first base. Iesreau had forced in a run and again we begun to count the winners’ end. Matty comes in to prevent further damage and Collins flies the side out.

“Hold ’em now! Work hard!” we says to young Bush, and he walks out there just as cool as though he was goin’ to hit fungoes.

McGraw sends up a pinch hitter for Matty and Bush whiffed him. Then Bescher flied out. I was prayin’ that Doyle would end it, because Speed’s turn come after his’n; so I pretty near fell dead when Larry hit safe.

Speed had his old smile and even more chest than usual when he come up there, swingin’ five or six bats. He didn’t wait for Doyle to try and steal, or nothin’. He lit into the first ball, though Bush was tryin’ to waste it. I seen the ball go high in the air toward left field, and then I picked up my glove and got ready to beat it for the gate. But when I looked out to see if Joyce was set, what do you think I seen? He was lyin’ flat on the ground! That blow on the head had got him just as Bush was pitchin’ to Speed. He’d flopped over and didn’t no more know what was goin’ on than if he’d croaked.

Well, everybody else seen it at the same time; but it was too late. Strunk made a run for the ball, but they wasn’t no chance for him to get near it. It hit the ground about ten feet back o’ where Joyce was lyin’ and bounded way over to the end o’ the foul line. You don’t have to be told that Doyle and Parker both scored and the serious was tied up.

We carried Joyce to the clubhouse and after a while he come to. He cried when he found out what had happened. We cheered him up all we could, but he was a pretty sick guy. The trainer said he’d be all right, though, for the final game.

They tossed up a coin to see where they’d play the seventh battle and our club won the toss; so we went back to Philly that night and cussed Parker clear across New Jersey. I was so sore I kicked the stuffin’ out o’ my seat.

You probably heard about the excitement in the burg yesterday mornin’. The demand for tickets was somethin’ fierce and some of ’em sold for as high as twenty-five bucks apiece. Our club hadn’t been lookin’ for no seventh game and they was some tall hustlin’ done round that old ball park.

I started out to the grounds early and bought some New York papers to read on the car. They was a big story that Speed Parker, the Giants’ hero, was goin’ to be married a week after the end o’ the serious. It didn’t give the name o’ the girl, sayin’ Speed had refused to tell it. I figured she must be some dame he’d met round the circuit somewheres.

They was another story by one o’ them smart baseball reporters sayin’ that Parker, on his way up to the plate, had saw that Joyce was about ready to faint and had hit the fly ball to left field on purpose. Can you beat it?

I was goin’ to show that to the boys in the clubhouse, but the minute I blowed in there I got some news that made me forget about everything else. Joyce was very sick and they’d took him to a hospital. It was up to me to play!

Connie come over and ast me whether I’d ever hit against Matty. I told him I hadn’t, but I’d saw enough of him to know he wasn’t no worse’n Johnson. He told me he was goin’ to let me hit second – in Joyce’s place – because he didn’t want to bust up the rest of his combination. He also told me to take my orders from Strunk about where to play for the batters.

“Where shall I play for Parker?” I says, tryin’ to joke and pretend I wasn’t scared to death.

“I wisht I could tell you,” says Connie. “I guess the only thing to do when he comes up is to get down on your knees and pray.”

The rest o’ the bunch slapped me on the back and give me all the encouragement they could. The place was jammed when we went out on the field. They may of been bigger crowds before, but they never was packed together so tight. I doubt whether they was even room enough left for Falkenberg to sit down.

The afternoon papers had printed the stuff about Joyce bein’ out of it, so the bugs was wise that I was goin’ to play. They watched me pretty close in battin’ practice and give me a hand whenever I managed to hit one hard. When I was out catchin’ fungoes the guys in the bleachers cheered me and told me they was with me; but I don’t mind tellin’ you that I was as nervous as a bride.

They wasn’t no need for the announcers to tip the crowd off to the pitchers. Everybody in the United States and Cuba knowed that the Chief’d work for us and Matty for them. The Chief didn’t have no trouble with ’em in the first innin’. Even from where I stood I could see that he had a lot o’ stuff. Bescher and Doyle popped out and Speed whiffed.

Well, I started out makin’ good, with reverse English, in our part. Fletcher booted Murphy’s ground ball and I was sent up to sacrifice. I done a complete job of it – sacrificin’ not only myself but Murphy with a pop fly that Matty didn’t have to move for. That spoiled whatever chance we had o’ gettin’ the jump on ’em; but the boys didn’t bawl me for it.

“That’s all right, old boy. You’re all right!” they said on the bench – if they’d had a gun they’d of shot me.

I didn’t drop no fly balls in the first six innin’s – because none was hit out my way. The Chief was so good that they wasn’t hittin’ nothin’ out o’ the infield. And we wasn’t doin’ nothin’ with Matty, either. I led off in the fourth and fouled the first one. I didn’t molest the other two. But if Connie and the gang talked about me they done it internally. I come up again – with Murphy on third base and two gone in the sixth, and done my little whiffin’ specialty. And still the only people that panned me was the thirty thousand that had paid for the privilege!

My first fieldin’ chance come in the seventh. You’d of thought that I’d of had my nerve back by that time; but I was just as scared as though I’d never saw a crowd before. It was just as well that they was two out when Merkle hit one to me. I staggered under it and finally it hit me on the shoulder. Merkle got to second, but the Chief whiffed the next guy. I was gave some cross looks on the bench and I shouldn’t of blamed the fellers if they’d cut loose with some language; but they didn’t.

They’s no use in me tellin’ you about none o’ the rest of it – except what happened just before the start o’ the eleventh and durin’ that innin’, which was sure the big one o’ yesterday’s pastime – both for Speed and yours sincerely.

The scoreboard was still a row o’ ciphers and Speed’d had only a fair amount o’ luck. He’d made a scratch base hit and robbed our bunch of a couple o’ real ones with impossible stops.

When Schang flied out and wound up our tenth I was leanin’ against the end of our bench. I heard my name spoke, and I turned round and seen a boy at the door.

“Right here!” I says; and he give me a telegram.

“Better not open it till after the game,” says Connie.

“Oh, no; it ain’t no bad news,” I said, for I figured it was an answer from the girl. So I opened it up and read it on the way to my position. It said:

“Forgive me, Dick – and forgive Speed too. Letter follows.”

Well, sir, I ain’t no baby, but for a minute I just wanted to sit down and bawl. And then, all of a sudden, I got so mad I couldn’t see. I run right into Baker as he was pickin’ up his glove. Then I give him a shove and called him some name, and him and Barry both looked at me like I was crazy – and I was. When I got out in left field I stepped on my own foot and spiked it. I just had to hurt somebody.

As I remember it the Chief fanned the first two of ’em. Then Doyle catches one just right and lams it up against the fence back o’ Murphy. The ball caromed round some and Doyle got all the way to third base. Next thing I seen was Speed struttin’ up to the plate. I run clear in from my position.

“Kill him!” I says to the Chief. “Hit him in the head and kill him, and I’ll go to jail for it!”

“Are you off your nut?” says the Chief. “Go out there and play ball – and quit ravin’.”

Barry and Baker led me away and give me a shove out toward left. Then I heard the crack o’ the bat and I seen the ball comin’ a mile a minute. It was headed between Strunk and I and looked like it would go out o’ the park. I don’t remember runnin’ or nothin’ about it till I run into the concrete wall head first. They told me afterward and all the papers said that it was the greatest catch ever seen. And I never knowed I’d caught the ball!

Some o’ the managers have said my head was pretty hard, but it wasn’t as hard as that concrete. I was pretty near out, but they tell me I walked to the bench like I wasn’t hurt at all. They also tell me that the crowd was a bunch o’ ravin’ maniacs and was throwin’ money at me. I guess the ground-keeper’ll get it.

The boys on the bench was all talkin’ at once and slappin’ me on the back, but I didn’t know what it was about. Somebody told me pretty soon that it was my turn to hit and I picked up the first bat I come to and starts for the plate. Mclnnes come runnin’ after me and ast me whether I didn’t want my own bat. I cussed him and told him to mind his own business.

I didn’t know it at the time, but I found out afterward that they was two out. The bases was empty. I’ll tell you just what I had in my mind:

I wasn’t thinkin’ about the ball game; I was determined that I was goin’ to get to third base and give that guy my spikes. If I didn’t hit one worth three bases, or if I didn’t hit one at all, I was goin’ to run till I got round to where Speed was, and then slide into him and cut him to pieces!

Right now I can’t tell you whether I hit a fast ball, or a slow ball, or a hook, or a fader – but I hit somethin’. It went over Bescher’s head like a shot and then took a crazy bound. It must of struck a rock or a pop bottle, because it hopped clear over the fence and landed in the bleachers.

Mind you, I learned this afterward. At the time I just knowed I’d hit one somewheres and I starts round the bases. I speeded up when I got near third and took a runnin’ jump at a guy I thought was Parker. I missed him and sprawled all over the bag. Then all of a sudden, I come to my senses. All the Ath-a-letics was out there to run home with me and it was one o’ them I’d tried to cut. Speed had left the field. The boys picked me up and seen to it that I went on and touched the plate. Then I was carried into the clubhouse by the crazy bugs.

Well, they had a celebration in there and it was a long time before I got a chance to change my clothes. The boys made a big fuss over me. They told me they’d intended to give me five hundred bucks for my divvy, but now I was goin’ to get a full share.

“Parker ain’t the only lucky guy!” says one of ’em. “But even if that ball hadn’t of took that crazy hop you’d of had a triple.”

A triple! That’s just what I’d wanted; and he called me lucky for not gettin’ it!

The Giants was dressin’ in the other part o’ the clubhouse; and when I finally come out there was Speed, standin’ waitin’ for some o’ the others. He seen me comin’ and he smiled. “Hello, Horseshoes!” he says.

He won’t smile no more for a while – it’ll hurt too much. And if any girl wants him when she sees him now – with his nose over shakin’ hands with his ear, and his jaw a couple o’ feet foul – she’s welcome to him. They won’t be no contest!

Grimes leaned over to ring for the waiter.

“Well,” he said, “what about it?”

“You won’t have to pay my fare,” I told him.

“I’ll buy a drink anyway,” said he. “You’ve been a good listener – and I had to get it off my chest.”

“Maybe they’ll have to postpone the wedding,” I said.

“No,” said Grimes. “The weddin’ will take place the day after tomorrow – and I’ll bat for Mr. Parker. Did you think I was goin’ to let him get away with it?”

“What about next year?” I asked.

“I’m goin’ back to the Ath-a-letics,” he said. “And I’m goin’ to hire somebody to call me ‘Horseshoes!’ before every game – because I can sure play that old baseball when I’m mad.”

• 4 •

Back to Baltimore

Well, boys, I’m goin’ right through to Pittsburgh with you if you don’t mind, and I aint been traded to your bunch nor the Pirates neither. It’ll be in all the papers tonight or tomorrow mornin’, so they aint no use o’ me keepin’ it a secret. I’ve jumped to the Baltimore Feds, and whether Knabe is figurin’ on usin’ me regular or settin’ me on the bench or givin’ me a job washin’ undershirts, I don’t know or I don’t givadam. I couldn’t be no worse off than I was up there.

Managin’ a club may be all O.K. if the directors is all bachelors and has all o’ them tooken a oath not to never get married. But when a man’s got a wife, they aint no tellin’ when he’s goin’ to die, and when he dies and she gets a hold o’ the ball club, good night. If they ever is a skirt elected President o’ the United States, I’ll move to Paris or Europe or somewheres, if I have to walk.

As for this here Mrs. Hayes, the dope about her lettin’ the directors run the club was all bunk. She’s been the boss ever since the old bird croaked, or else I’d of stuck there and finished higher with that gang than they finished since Frank Selee had ’em.

Well, sir, I’m canned out of a managin’ job, and I’m through with the big league, I guess, and I’m goin’ back where I started in at – Baltimore. But you don’t need to waste no sympathy on me. I’m gettin’ as much dough as they give me up there, and they wont be no chancet o’ me bein’ drove crazy by a skirt. Them Baltimore people used to like me O.K. when Dunnie had me, and I guess I aint did nothin’ since to make ’em sore. I’ll give ’em the best I got, and I’ll let Knabe do all the worryin’. I’m off’n that stuff, and if any boob ever offers me another managin’ job, I’ll bean him with a crowbar or somethin’.

I bet you’ll see in a few days where Mrs. Hayes gets through bein’ a widow, and her next name’s goin’ to be Mrs. William Baker Junior. They aint no danger o’ me forgettin’ that name. The guy that owns it is a ball player, but the only thing alike about he and the Baker Connie Mack’s got is that they both listen with their ears. You fellas didn’t never get a look at this bird because he was so good that we didn’t only play him in one game, and that was against the Philly club. If him and her does hook up, he wont need to play no more. With them runnin’ the team together, they’ll be enough comedy without him puttin’ on a uniform any more.

—

You knowed Old Man Hayes, o’ course. He was a good old scout, but he pulled a lot o’ boners, one o’ which was him marryin’ this doll. She’s a handsome devil all right; I’ll slip her that much. But he should ought to of knew that he didn’t cop her because she was a-stuck on him. She had it doped that he was about all in, and it wouldn’t be long till the dough was all her’n. His heart was bad, and they was two or three other things the matter with him, and havin’ her round didn’t make him no healthier. At that, he’d of croaked sooner or later without no female help.

He was sure nuts over his ball club, and it hurt him every time we lose a game. You can see where he was hurt pretty often last year. At that, Bill Fox was gettin’ by all right with the managin’ job, when you figure the bunch he had. But finishin’ seventh didn’t make no hit with the old man, even if we thought we done pretty well to stay in the league and not get arrested. Anyway, Bill got canned and the job was gave to me. If I hadn’t’ve needed the money pretty bad, I wouldn’t never’ve tooken it.

Them deals I made last winter helped us a whole lot, and when we got down South this spring, we wasn’t a bad lookin’ club, barrin’ one or two positions. We was such a improvement over the old gang that the old man lost his needle and was countin’ the world’s serious receipts along in March. He kept a-askin’ me who did I think would be in the race with us. If I had of told him the truth and says we couldn’t win no pennant unless your bunch and the New York club was killed in a railroad wreck, he’d of canned me. So what was I to do but tell him we had a good fightin’ chancet to cop, when we didn’t have no more chancet than a rabbit or somethin’. I says the luck would have to be with us and if it was, we might surprise everybody. That luck stuff was to be my alibi when we landed where we belonged.

The season opened and we got away good. McGraw’s pitchers was in no shape, and we skun ’em three out o’ the first four. We broke even with Philly and give Brooklyn a good lickin’. We was right out in front along with you fellas. Then we struck a slump, and you guys and Philly both goes ahead of us. The old man called me in and ast me why didn’t we stay in first place. I might of told him it was because we knowed we didn’t have no business there. But I stalled and says I didn’t want to have my club go too fast at first or they might maybe get tired out.

Then we come West in May, and the old boy come along with us. We opened up in Cincy and broke even with ’em, though they looked like the worst club in the world. The old man wasn’t feelin’ well, and a doctor told him he should ought to go home, but he says he would go to St. Louis with us. Higgins trimmed us four straight, and that finished the boss. He grabbed a train for home, but croaked on the way there.

It was gave out in the papers that young Mrs. Hayes would be president o’ the club, but I didn’t take no stock in that till we come in off’n the road. I was like everybody else; I figured that Williams, the vice president, and them other directors would run things.

But when we got home, after a rotten trip, she ast me to come and see her at the office. I goes, and there she is, walkin’ up and down the rug just like her husband was always doin’. When we had shooken hands, she says:

“Well, Mr. Dixon, you didn’t have no success in the West.”

“No,” I says. “We run into some tough luck.”

Then she ast me was it tough luck or rotten ball playin’, and I says it was some o’ both. Then she says:

“We’ll try and stren’then your team. I and Mr. Williams, the vice president, has decided we got to spend some dough for new players. I have gave Mr. Sullivan orders to go scoutin’ round the colleges.”

“Lay off’n the colleges,” I says. “We don’t need no more ornaments. What we should ought to have is some ball players. Besides that, you can’t buy no men off’n the colleges. They don’t sell ’em.”

She says: “I guess we can get a hold of’em if we slip ’em big sal’ries.” Then she says: “I’d like to make this here club a team of gentlemen, and they’re more gentlemen in the colleges than anywheres else.”

They was nuthin’ for me to do then but beat it out o’ the office and get a drink o’ brandy.

—

We kept on playin’ our best, and that was about good enough to get us beat oftener than we win. But I was satisfied with the way we was goin’. I knowed we wasn’t topheavy with class. Sullivan came in from scoutin’, and I ast him where was his collegers. He says:

“I’ve been everywhere in the rah-rah circuit, and I aint saw no ball player that could carry bats in the Japanese League.”

So I figured we wasn’t goin’ to be pestered with none o’ them there birds that does nothin’ but kick the ball round because they got the habit playin’ football.

The skirt had been travelin’ a lot and hadn’t gave me no bother to speak of. But when she come back, my troubles begin. She come out to the games and set in a box clos’t up to our bench. We was playin’ Brooklyn one day, and Rucker was good. We was a couple o’ runs behind along in the eighth and no hope o’ catchin’ up, with him goin’ that way. They was two of us out, and then Rucker walks somebody and Red Smith boots one, so they was two on when it come my turn to hit. I starts up, but she calls me over to the box.

“Mr. Dixon,” she says, “this would be a good place for a home run.”

I says: “Yes, this is the right spot. I s’pose you’d like to see me hit one.”

“You bet I would,” she says.

“Well,” I says, “which fence do you think I should ought to hit it over?

“I don’t care which fence,” she says.

Well, I goes up there and done my best to obey orders. Nobody never swung no harder’n me, and the way I was wallopin’ at ’em, I’d of knocked one o’ them walls down if I had of connected. But I missed three and we didn’t score.

Do you remember the day you fellas give us that awful beatin’ – twelve to nothin’? Cheney worked for you and we didn’t never have a look-in. What do you think she pulled after that game? She waited for me outside o’ the park and says she wished I’d tell Mr. O’Day not to never let Cheney pitch there no more.

I says: “It wouldn’t hurt my feelin’s if he never pitched nowheres.”

“Well,” she says, “I hope you’ll see to it, because my doctor tells me the spitball aint sanitary.”

Then, one day, she ast me what made Hub’s cheek bulge out so when he worked. I told her he had a ulcer on his teeth. She ast why his face was swole up that way only when he was pitchin’, and I told her I didn’t never work him only on days when his teeth was pretty sore, so’s the batters’d feel sorry for him. She must of knew I was kiddin’, but she never called me for it.

She had me worried to death with stuff like that. She wanted the suits sent to the laundry after all the games and says all of us should ought to quit slidin’ because it dirtied us up so much. I got so’s I stuck in the club-house a couple of hours after the games, so’s to be sure and not run into her when I come out.

Well, she goes down to Yale college on some party or somethin’, and when she come back, we was just finishin’ up with the Western clubs. We was out in practice one day when I seen her beckonin’ to me. I goes over to where she was settin’, and she says:

“I’ve got you a new player.”

“Who is he?” I says.

She says: “His name is Mr. Baker, and he has just went through Yale. He will meet you in New York.”

Then I ast her what position did he play, and she says: “He aint made up his mind yet. He has been busy learnin’ his lessons.”

Then I ast her wasn’t he on the Yale team, and she says: “No, but he could of been if he had of wanted to. The coach told him so, but he didn’t have no time to play. You could tell the minute you seen him that he was a born ath-a-lete and he’s a gentleman too, and I b’lieve he will help you in more ways than just one way.”

“Well,” I says, “they’s only one way he could help us and that is to get in there and play ball. If he can do that, I don’t care if he’s a gentleman or a policeman.”

Then I ast her what sal’ry was he goin’ to get.

“Oh,” she says, “you wont need to bother about that. I’ve already fixed that up already. I have gave him a contract for five thousand.”

I ast her did she mean five thousand for five years, and she says: “No, I meant five thousand for this year.”

Then I says: “That’s as much as I’m gettin’, and this here guy aint even made good yet.”

“He’ll make good all right,” she says. “You can tell that from just lookin’ at him, and he comes off’n a good fam’ly.”

—

Well, we goes to New York, and I was waitin’ round the lobby o’ the hotel for the baggage to come in, when Kelly, the secretary, calls me over to the desk. He pointed out a name on the hotel book and ast me who was it, because the guy was registered as belongin’ to us. “William Baker Junior, Boston Baseball Nine,” was what it says. Do you get that? “Boston Baseball Nine!” Before I ever seen him, I knowed just what he was goin’ to look like, and when I seen him, he looked just like I knowed he was goin’ to. But he was a big bird – so big he couldn’t get no clo’es big enough. He looked like as if he was goin’ to bust right through ’em. His hair was plastered back off’n his forehead, and his shirt and tie would’ve made a rainbow jealous.

He come up to me and says: “Is this the head coach?”

I says: “Yes, whetever that is, I’m it.”

“What time does the game start?” he says.

“Three-thirty,” I says, “but we get out there about a quarter after two.”

Then he ast me couldn’t they start it some other time because he had a engagement. I says I would excuse him, and he says: “Thanks.” Then I says: “I’ll excuse you all the time if you say the word.” But he says no, that wouldn’t be right, because he felt like as if he should ought to do some work oncet in a while to earn his pay. Then he says he was pleased to of met me and walked away.

I guess he must of kept his date at a soda fountain or wherever it was he had a date at, because he didn’t show up out to the park and I never seen no more of him till the next mornin’. Then he come to see me while I was writin’ a letter and ast me could he have six passes to the game. I says: “You’d better take ten,” and I writes out a pass for ten on one o’ the hotel letter-heads, and I signs Otto Hess’ name to it.

He says “Thanks,” and walked away. If I’d of signed President Bryan’s name, he’d of thanked me just the same. And the pass would of been just as good.

I come out o’ the hotel about one o’clock and starts for the elevated, but the colleger was standin’ on the sidewalk and he hollered at me. He ast me was I goin’ out and I says yes, I thought I would, because I didn’t have no other date. Then he ast me would I ride out with him because he’d ordered a taxi. They wasn’t none o’ my ball players had ever tooken me to the park in a taxi before, but I didn’t have no objection, so I and him piled in, and out we goes together.

When we got through ridin’, I says, “You better let me split with you,” but he says, “They aint no splittin’ to be did. It’s in my contract that I use cabs to and from the grounds,” and he tells the driver to charge it to the club. Well, I butts in and says, “Here! You can’t get by with that stuff. If you’re out to give the club a trimmin’, you better pull it when I aint round.” Then what does he do but pull his contract out of his pocket and show it to me, and there it was, in black and white, that he was to be gave rides on the club to and from the parks where we played. Can you beat that?

We come into the grounds and I took him in the club-house and had Doc give him a unie. He made a holler because they wasn’t no feet in the stockin’s and I told him he was supposed to wear socks besides the stockin’s. So he leaves on the reg’lar socks he’d wore with his street clo’es, and they was purple!

I wisht you could of heard the ball players ride him. They pulled some awful raw stuff, and if he hadn’t of been such a boob, he’d of lost his temper and tried to lick somebody. But I don’t b’lieve he never wised up that he was gettin’ kidded. Even when Hub called him “Gertie,” it didn’t seem to make no difference to him.

We goes out to warm up and I notice that he don’t have no cap on. I was goin’ to tell him about it, but the boys says: “No. Let him play bareheaded and give the crowd a treat.” They wasn’t much practicin’ done. The New York bunch come over round our bench so’s they wouldn’t miss nothin’. I give him a ball and a catcher’s glove and told Tyler to throw him a few. George just lobbed one at him and he got it on the meat hand. He raised a holler and tells Tyler he shouldn’t ought to throw so hard. I yells at him to use his mitt, but he says the ball stung his hand right through it, and after tryin’ all the wrong ways they is o’ catchin’ a ball, he quit and set down on the bench. McGraw calls me over and ast was I startin’ a chorus or what. I told him how I happened to get a-hold o’ the bird, and then I ast him did he want to make a trade. He says:

“What’ll you take for him?”

I says: “Oh, I’ll give him to you for Matty and a piece o’ money.”

“No,” he says, “I don’t want to cheat you. Take the grandstand and a chew o’ tobacco.”

Well, I sends him up to take his turn in battin’ practice, and he acted like as if the bat was as heavy as one o’ these here steel rails. Hess slops a slow one up to him, and instead o’ swingin’, he ducks out o’ the way and tells me he aint used to battin’ at such swift balls. Hess hears him pull that and the next one he throwed was a fast one, just as fast as he could throw it. Mr. Baker turns white as a sheet and drops his bat and walks to the bench.

I stuck him in the outfield in fieldin’ practice, but he looked so rotten that I took him out o’ there for fear o’ gettin’ him killed. I called him in and says:

“You’ve did enough for one day, so go in and change your clo’es and you can watch the game from the stand. Maybe you’ll run acrost that crowd I give you the passes for.”

He was willin’ to quit, all right, and the fun was over for the day. After the game, I send a long telegram to Williams, the vice president, and tells him what a joke our new player was and that it was throwin’ money away to even pay his board, let alone that Fed’ral League sal’ry he was gettin’. I didn’t get no answer from Williams, but a letter come from the skirt. She give me a call for not sendin’ the telegram to her instead o’ Williams and ast me how could I judge if a man was a ball player when I hadn’t only saw him one day.

Well, I wires to Williams that I was through, because I’d signed to manage a ball club and not to run no burlesque show, but he jumps on a train and comes over to New York to see me. He says they was tryin’ to get her to sell out her stock and that him and the other directors appreciated what I’d did for the club and wanted me to stick.

So I stuck and went along the best I could. I didn’t pay no more attention to “Gertie” except to tell him to beat it to the club-house before the games started. He kept on comin’ out to the park, wherever we was playin’, and puttin’ on his unie, without no cap, and settin’ on the bench till the practice was over. Then he’d go in and put on one of his eight or nine different suits o’ clo’es, and go up in the stand and watch the game from there or else go to the matinee or somewheres.

I didn’t hardly ever say nothin’ to him, but I couldn’t make the rest o’ the bunch lay off. They tipped their hats whenever they seen him. While he was settin’ on the bench, they’d take a shot at him with the ball, and oncet or twicet they hit him, but not wheres it hurt him bad. He thought it was a accident when he got hit, but I knowed better. Every oncet in a while, somebody’d happen to step on his feet with their spikes, and then they’d beg his pardon. Some o’ them left their caps off while they was practicin’ and hollered “Ouch!” when they catched the ball. And on the train they’d get together and give college yells. He didn’t never get sore, and I don’t s’pose I would of neither if I’d been gettin’ five thousand for changin’ my clo’es a couple o’ times a day.

They tried to get him in the poker game, but they wasn’t nothin’ doin’. He says he liked to play bridge w’ist but that was all the cards he knowed. When we was on trains, he spent the time lookin’ at the scenery or readin’ magazines.

I remember one night when we was goin’ to Philly and he was settin’ acrost the aisle from I and Hub. He was readin’, and pretty soon he looks up from off of his magazine and says:

“You guys should ought to read this here story in here. It’s a baseball story and it’s about two teams bein’ tied for the pennant on the last day o’ the season, and one o’ the teams had a star pitcher that was sure to win the decidin’ game if nothin’ didn’t happen to him, so they stuck him in to pitch but in the first innin’ he strained his arm so it hurt him every ball he throwed but he didn’t say nothin’ about it, but kept on pitchin’ and win his game and the pennant, though he was sufferin’ terrible pain all the while. I call that nerve!”

“Nerve!” says Hub. “Say, that wasn’t nothin’ to what I seen come off in the Southern League the last year I was down there. The Nashville club that I was with and the New Orleans club was tied for first place, and we had to play a extra game to settle it. We had a first sacker named Smith that was the greatest I ever see. Up to the first of August he was battin’ .600 and it got so’s the pitchers wouldn’t give him nothin’ more to hit but walked him every time he come up. He offered to bat with one hand if they’d pitch strikes to him, but they wouldn’t take a chancet, and finally the umps’d just give him his base every time he come up without waitin’ for the four balls to be throwed.

“Well, it come time for this final game and we knowed we had it won if Smith was all right. The New Orleans club knowed it too, and they was out to get him. So when he got on in the first innin’ on a base on balls, their first baseman deliberately stepped on his foot and spiked him somethin’ awful. He couldn’t walk on that foot no more, but he wouldn’t quit, and after he’d drawed one of his bases on balls, every so often, he stole all the rest o’ the bases hoppin’ on his good foot.

“It come along the twenty-first innin’ and the score was six to six. He’d scored every one of our six runs by walkin’ to first and then hoppin’ the rest o’ the way. Well, he walked in the twenty-first and starts hoppin’ to second. The catcher knowed they was no use to throw to second or to third neither, because Smith was so fast, even on one foot, that he was bound to beat it. So the catcher just kept a hold o’ the ball, knowin’ Smith wouldn’t never stop till he got clear home. Along come Smith, hoppin’ for the plate, and the catcher run out to meet him, but he hopped clean over the catcher’s head and scored the run that beat ’em and won us the pennant. They was about sixty thousand people out there, and they tried to carry Smith off o’ the field on their shoulders, but he hopped into the club-house before they could catch him. And when he took off his shoe, two toes dropped out!”

“My!” says the colleger, with his mouth wide open. “I should say that was nerve. And didn’t this here Smith never get into the big league?”

“No,” says Hub. “He got blood-poisonin’ in that foot and they had to cut his whole leg off, and the National Commission’s got a rule that you can’t play in neither big league unless you got two legs.”

—

After that, Baker and Hub hung round together all the time. He fell for everything Hub told him, no matter how raw. He was givin’ Hub a good time, and it’d’ve been all right if we could of stayed on the road all the while, but I knowed when we got home, the doll’d ast me why wasn’t I playin’ him and then the trouble’d start.

Sure enough, when we come in off o’ the trip, she called me to the office and put it up to me.

“Well,” I says, “I don’t think he’s got enough experience yet. You just let me handle him and keep him on the bench awhile, and maybe he’ll develop into a pretty fair ball player.”

I suppose I should ought not to of gave her no encouragement about him, but I was figurin’ all the time that she’d be boughten out o’ the club pretty soon, and then I could can him. At that, I didn’t have no objections to keepin’ him except that I knowed he was cheatin’ the club out of about two hundred bucks every first and fifteenth. If I had to let him go, the gang’d of missed him, especially Hub.

I run into Williams one day and ast him when was the skirt goin’ to sell out, and he says they’d tried hard to get her stock away from her, but she’d made up her mind to stick it out till the end o’ the season, but that Williams and the other directors was thinkin’ about takin’ it up with the rest o’ the league and tryin’ to force her out, but she’d gave ’em her promise that she’d sell in the fall if they still thought she should ought to. So they was nothin’ for me to do but make as good a showin’ as I could and figure on next year.

It was after the mornin’ game on the Fourth o’ July that she horned in again. She tells me that her brother and bunch of his friends from Yale college is comin’ to the afternoon game, and they want to see their pal perform. I says I’d let him practice and they could watch him if they come out early enough, but she says, no, that wouldn’t do; some o’ them boys was sayin’ that they didn’t b’lieve he could play ball, and she wanted to show ’em that he could.

Well, I thought awhile, and then I made up my mind that if he had to be gave some position, he might as well have mine and I could take a rest. So I tells the umps about the change and then I goes back to the bench and sits in a corner where they wasn’t nobody could see me.

I wisht you could of been there. The papers had a lot o’ stuff about it, but they didn’t tell more’n half. Hub was pitchin’ and we was playin’ Philly. He got the first two of’em out, and then Cravath hits one down to the colleger on a perfect hop. I was lookin’ for him to throw it wild after he got it, but Pat Moran was coachin’ at first base, and he hollers to him to throw it to second. So what does he do but just like Pat tells him to and naturally Maranville wasn’t there to cover because they wasn’t no play. So the ball goes out in the outfield, and Cravath got clear round to third base. Then Magee busts one, and they got a run.

I thought Hub’d be sore, but he wasn’t. When he come in to the bench, he was laughin’ his head off, and he says:

“Don’t never take me out o’ this game. This is one battle I want to see all the way through.”

Well, Devore leads off for us, and he walks. The colleger’s up next, and I tells him to bunt. The first two Rixey throwed him was a mile outside, but he bunts at ’em just the same. Then Rixey curves one, and he tries to duck, but he can’t get out o’ the way. The ball hit him in the sleeve or somewheres, and Rigler tells him to take his base, but he wouldn’t move.

“No,” says the colleger, “but the manager says I was to bunt.”

Well, we had to drive him to first base, and then he steals second, or tries to, with Devore standin’ right there. Devore don’t move off’n the bag, so they tagged “Gertie” out. When he comes in, I ast him what was he tryin’ to pull off. He says Luderus had told him to steal. Then I says:

“Don’t never pay no attention to what them Philly guys tells you. If I want you to steal a base. I’ll send you a night letter.”

—

We didn’t score, and nobody hit nothin’ at him in their half o’ the second, though they was all tryin’ to. Hub was tryin’ to let ’em, too.

The third innin’ was a bear. Dooin hits one at him, and he jumps out o’ the way. Rixey struck out, and then Dooin starts to steal. I’d told Maranville to take all the pegs, but he thought it’d be more fun to leave ’em to “Gertrude.” So he hollers to him to cover. Whalin makes a perfect peg, and the colleger surprises everybody by catchin’ it. But when he’d catched it, he steps on the bag instead of tryin’ to tag Red. Then Red says to him:

“I bet I can beat you to third base.”

Red starts runnin’ with the ball right in Baker’s hands, and instead o’ throwin’ it, he holds right on to it and goes after Red. He wasn’t no slouch runner at that, and he made it a clos’t race, but Red beat him. The bugs was a-hollerin’ their heads off, and most o’ the ball players was so sick from laughin’ that they couldn’t do nothin’. Rig’ kept lookin’ over at me to see if I wasn’t goin’ to take the bird out o’ the game, but I didn’t have no stren’th left to shake my head, even.

After the sprintin’ race, they took the ball away from him and throwed it back to Hub. Byrne hits one at Hub, but he jumps out o’ the way so our “star” can get it, and he goes over and sticks his feet in front o’ the ball and it stops right clost to him. Byrne kept on runnin’ past first base and yelled at him to leave the ball lay, so he left it lay and Byrne goes all the way home. After that, when anybody got a hold o’ the ball, they’d throw it to him and he catched one or two o’ the throws, but most o’ them he got out o’ the way of, and even when he catched ’em, he held onto the ball till everybody’d scored. They made twelve runs in that one innin’, and we wouldn’t never of got the side out if it hadn’t only of been for the umpires. They was tired from workin’ the mornin’ game and this one, too, so they pulled a couple o’ raw ones and wound it up.

Rig’ come over to me between innin’s and ast me did I think this was a joke. I told him it wasn’t no fault o’ mine, and explained how it had came off.

“Well,” he says, “I’ve got to catch the midnight train for New York, and we won’t never get through in time if this keeps up.”

“I can’t help it,” I says.

Then he says: “I can,” and he goes back to his position.

The colleger’s turn to bat come in our half, and Rixey rolls one up to him on the ground. Rig’ calls it a strike, tryin’ to get Baker sore, but he don’t never even look round. It’d of been O.K. with him if they’d called a strike before the ball was throwed. Rixey rolled another one up, and Rig’ calls it another strike. Then before Baker could say a word, and he wasn’t goin’ to say nothin’ neither, Rig’ puts him out of the game for kickin’. Most o’ the crowd started home when they seen the show was over, but I didn’t blame the umps none – I’d of did the same if I’d of been in their place. We finished up pretty fast after that, because they wasn’t no chancet for us to ever come near catchin’ up.

After I dressed, I forgot what I was doin’ and walked right out o’ the club-house without givin’ the doll a chancet to make a get-away. There she was, layin’ for me.

“What did you take him out o’ the game for?” she says.

“I didn’t take him out o’ no game,” I says. “The umps didn’t like his language.”

Then she ast me what was the matter with his language, and I says I didn’t think the umps could understand it right.

“Well,” she says, “if a umpire can’t understand plain English, he should not ought to be no umpire, and I will write to the president o’ the league and have both o’ these here men discharged.” Then she says: “Mr. Baker was doin’ splendid and would of did still better if he had of been left in longer. He didn’t catch all them balls that was throwed to him, but that’s because he aint had no practice.” Then she says: “I am goin’ out of town tonight, but I want you to keep on lettin’ Mr. Baker play every day, and I’ll watch the papers, and if I see where he aint playin’, you’ll hear from me.”

—

Well, I couldn’t see no joke in it when I got home that night. The ball players was wise and knowed it wasn’t my fault. But I was a-scared that the bugs and these here reporters would get after me if I let the boob play every day. And I was a little bit proud o’ the work we’d did and didn’t want to have it all wasted. I figured it all out, the way I was goin’ to get rid of him. I was goin’ to have one o’ the pitchers hit him with the ball in battin’ practice – not hard enough to kill him, but just so’s it would scare him out of baseball. I thought he couldn’t stand the gaff and would quit in a minute.

I gets out there early the next mornin’ for practice and frames it up with Young, a big busher we had that was fast as a streak and hog wild. I sends him out to pitch to us and then tells the colleger to go up there and swing till he learned how to bat. It was prob’ly a dirty trick, but I couldn’t think o’ no other way.

Well, I pulled a boner when I says anything to this here Young.

What I should ought to of did was say nothin’, but just stick him in there to pitch natural, and then he’d of hit the bird by accident. But when he was tryin’ to hit him, he couldn’t even come clost. He was tryin’ to be wild, and he pitched more strikes than he ever done before in his life. Gertrude didn’t hit nothin’, and nothin’ hit him. So fin’lly I give up and sent Young to the club-house and started the reg’lar practice.

Fallin’ down on that made me meaner’n ever, and I doped out something else. I tells the colleger he stood too far from the plate when he swung at a ball. I says: “When you go up to bat in the game, keep one foot on the plate,” figurin’ that the guy that pitched for Philly would try to drive him away and either wound him or scare him to death.

Alexander worked for them, and Baker stood right on top o’ the plate. Dooin called the umps’ attention, and the umps warned him, but he wouldn’t move. Fin’lly Alexander shot one up there and he didn’t duck in time. It catched him in front o’ the ear, and he dropped like as if he was shot. I bet I was the most scared guy in the world. For a minute I felt like a murderer, and I wasn’t never so glad in my life as when I seen him get up. He staggered round a little, and I had ’em bring him over to the bench. I stuck myself in to run for him, and some o’ the boys took him in the club-house and got him fixed up. He wasn’t hurt bad, though he got a mean lookin’ bump.

—

We was startin’ West again that night and I didn’t never expect him to show up for no trip. But there he was, down to the train, with his wagonload o’ scenery.

“Well,” I says, “you got your nerve.”

“Yes,” he says, “I’m goin’ to show Hub that they’s more’n one game ball player in the world.”

He was still thinkin’ about that one-legged guy in the Southern League.

We opened up in Pittsburgh, and I kept him on the bench. I knowed Mrs. Hayes would wire and ask me why wasn’t he playin’, and when she did, I wrote to her sayin’ he was hurt by that there blow on the head. But that alibi wouldn’t get by very long, and I figured I’d have to frame somethin’ new.

The first night in St. Louis, I thought up somethin’ and got Doc, the trainer, to help me pull it. I buys two tickets to a show and gives ’em to Doc with instructions to ask the colleger to go along. After the show, they was to go to Tony’s for lunch. He was to order two beers, and then I was to drop in and catch Baker with a big stein in front of him. Then I was to swell up and suspend him for drinkin’. Doc done his best, but the bird says beer made him sick and he wouldn’t have nothin’ to do with it. So when I come in, he was eatin’ some kind o’ fancy sandwich and lappin’ up a lemonade or somethin’.

He ast me the next afternoon why didn’t I let him play, and I says: “You aint no ball player and you wouldn’t be no ball player if you kept at it a thousand years. You should ought to be trimmin’ hats.”

“Mrs. Hayes thinks I’m all O.K.,” he says.

“Yes,” I says, “and you could start one o’ these here Carnegie liberries with what she don’t know about baseball.” I says: “Why don’t you quit?”

Then he says: “I can’t quit because I can’t afford to lose this here sal’ry.”

I says: “What do you mean, you can’t afford? You had plenty o’ clo’es when you joined us,” I says, “and you must of had money o’ your own or you couldn’t of boughten them clo’es.”

Then he says his old man give him a allowance of a hundred a month and he spent all o’ that on his clo’es, and that the old man had told him he would double this here allowance if the boy showed he could earn five thousand bucks a year when he got out o’ college, and the old man didn’t care how he earned it. So he’d told Mrs. Hayes the whole story and she’d tooken pity on him and give him the job. I ast him wasn’t they no other way he could “earn” the money, and he says he s’posed they was lots o’ ways, only this here way was easiest.

I says: “Yes, but you aint earnin’ nothin’ here. You might just as well stick fellas up on the street as draw a sal’ry as a ball player. You’re stealin’ it either way.”

He just laughed, and then I says:

“Don’t your old man care if you mix up with us tough guys?”

“No,” he says, “the old man don’t care, but the old lady does. I told her you was a nice, polite bunch o’ fellas and she fell for it, or else she’d of made me cut this out and come home.”

The hunch come to me all of a sudden, and I says:

“What’s your old lady’s name and where does she live at?”

He told me, and I couldn’t hardly wait till I got back to the hotel.

—

I don’t know now just what I wrote, but it was some letter. I told her we was a bunch o’ stews and that when we wasn’t lushin’ beer or playin’ poker, we was going to burlesque shows. I says her son was pickin’ up a awful bunch o’ language and chinkin’ his fool head off. I says he was stuck on a burlesque queen and was spendin’ all his dough on her. And I wound it up by sayin’ that Dixon, the manager, had killed his wife and they wasn’t no tellin’ when he’d cut loose and kill somebody else. I didn’t sign no name, but just put “From a Friend in Need” down at the bottom.

It was in your town that he heard from her, and he showed me the letter. She says he was to come home at oncet and that she’d made the old man promise to come through with a extra allowance without makin’ him do no work for it. But if he didn’t cut out the ball playin’ and beat it for home he wouldn’t never get another nickel out o’ none o’ them. She hadn’t gave no reason for writin’ this way, and he was up in the air. I told him we was sorry to lose him, but maybe it was best for him to quit playin’ ball, even if he hadn’t never started. He left us the second night in Chi. Hub was good and sore at me. He says I’d spoiled the season for him.

I felt so good about gettin’ him off’n my hands that I went out there and played like Cobb or somebody the rest o’ the trip. Maybe you fellas remember how I hit ag’in’ you them last two days. I done even better’n that in Cincinnati and New York. It was the best trip we’d made in a good many years, and the bugs at home went crazy over us. They was ten thousand out to the first game of our serious at home with St. Louis – on a Thursday, at that.

O’ course I knowed they’d be a argument with the skirt. Our winnin’ streak wouldn’t make her forget to ask me what had become o’ Baker. When she ast me, I sprung the stuff about him gettin’ a letter from his mother, but I didn’t tell her nothin’ about the letter I’d wrote. She didn’t say nothin’, but she looked pretty sore, and she forgot all about givin’ me the glad hand for what we’d did in the West.

We done pretty well at home ag’in’ St. Louis and Pittsburgh. Then you fellas come along and I guess I don’t need to tell you that we was goin’ good. I was beginnin’ to think we maybe might keep it up and throw a scare into some o’ you birds.

She didn’t never come out to yesterday’s game, but I didn’t suspect nothin’ wrong till Kelly, the secretary, come into the club-house after me. He tells me that she wants to see me down to the down-town office. “All right,” I says. “I’ll beat it down there right after the game.” “No,” says Kelly, “she wants you right now.”

So I took my unie off and beat it down there in a taxi. The girl in the front office told me to go right on in, and in I went. There was the dame, settin’ at the desk where poor old Hayes used to set. And they was two big coppers with her. Without sayin’ “How d’ya do” or nothin’, she opens right up on me and says:

“These here officers is here to protect me. If you start somethin’, you’ll get nothin’ but the worst of it.” Then she pulls a letter out o’ the desk and says: “This here letter is from Mr. Baker’s mother, and in it she tells me why she made her boy come home. Somebody has tooken the trouble to tell her some fac’s about this here ball club – my ball club that I was proud of! But I aint proud of it no more. I aint proud o’ no gang o’ hoodlums that don’t do nothin’ but gamble and drink and run round with actresses and lead young men astray.”

“Is that all?” I says.

“No,” she hollers, “that aint all. Mr. Dixon, you killed your wife!” “That’s a whole lot o’ bunk,” I says. “I didn’t never have no wife, so how could I kill my wife when I didn’t never have none?”

“Don’t lie to me!” she says. “Even if you didn’t never have no wife, you killed somebody, maybe a innocent girl that was wronged.”

“Cut the comedy,” I says. “They’s nothin’ to that stuff. Somebody’s went and gave the old lady a bum steer.”

“What for?” she ast.

“Prob’ly,” I says, “because somebody was tired o’ having that boob on the ball club and figured that was the best way to get rid of him.”

“We wont discuss it no fu’ther,” she says. “I called you up to tell you you aint managin’ the club no longer. You can stay here under the terms o’ your contract and play ball if you want to, but maybe you wouldn’t want to work for the new manager.”

“Who is it?” I says.

“That’s none o’ your business,” she says. “I will tell you when the proper time comes.”

Then I says: “Is the seamstress comin’ back?”

“The who?” she hollers.

“That there colleger,” I says. “If I was you, I’d get him back, because you and him is certainly a grand combination. It’s hard to tell which one o’ you knows the most about baseball, you or that bird. Even if you couldn’t use him as no ball player, you could chop up his head and build a new grandstand.”

“He was smart enough to go through Yale college,” she says.

“No,” says I. “He didn’t never go through no Yale college. If they was any college that he went through, it was this here Wellesley college.” Then I turns and beats it for the door.

—

Well, sir, they aint nothin’ more to tell except one thing. When I come out o’ the door into the outside office, I bumped right square into “Gertie.” He was smilin’ like a big kid, and he says: “Hello, there!” Well, I didn’t say nothin’ to him, but I give him a good kick in the shin, and I stepped all over his patent-leather shoes. Then I went on about my business.

I wired Knabe, and they wasn’t nothin’ to it. He told me to come on and join ’em in Pittsburgh, and I just had time to get my stuff together and catch this train.

I guess she wont try and get no injunction out agin’ me. But I wisht she would. I’d like to tell my story to a judge, provided the judge wasn’t no woman.

You know who’s goin’ to manage that club, don’t you? And you know who’s going to be president of it. Well, sir, I’ll bet you anything you want to bet that they wont even finish in Mass’chusetts.

• 5 •

Alibi Ike

I

His right name was Frank X. Farrell, and I guess the X stood for “Excuse me.” Because he never pulled a play, good or bad, on or off the field, without apologizin’ for it.

“Alibi Ike” was the name Carey wished on him the first day he reported down South. O’ course we all cut out the “Alibi” part of it right away for the fear he would overhear it and bust somebody. But we called him “Ike” right to his face and the rest of it was understood by everybody on the club except Ike himself.

He ast me one time, he says:

“What do you all call me Ike for? I ain’t no Yid.”

“Carey give you the name,” I says. “It’s his nickname for everybody he takes a likin’ to.”

“He mustn’t have only a few friends then,” says Ike. “I never heard him say ‘Ike’ to nobody else.”

But I was goin’ to tell you about Carey namin’ him. We’d been workin’ out two weeks and the pitchers was showin’ somethin’ when this bird joined us. His first day out he stood up there so good and took such a reef at the old pill that he had everyone lookin’. Then him and Carey was together in left field, catchin’ fungoes, and it was after we was through for the day that Carey told me about him.

“What do you think of Alibi Ike?” ast Carey.

“Who’s that?” I says.

“This here Farrell in the outfield,” says Carey.

“He looks like he could hit,” I says.

“Yes,” says Carey, “but he can’t hit near as good as he can apologize.”

Then Carey went on to tell me what Ike had been pullin’ out there. He’d dropped the first fly ball that was hit to him and told Carey his glove wasn’t broke in good yet, and Carey says the glove could easy of been Kid Gleason’s gran’father. He made a whale of a catch out o’ the next one and Carey says “Nice work!” or somethin’ like that, but Ike says he could of caught the ball with his back turned only he slipped when he started after it and, besides that, the air currents fooled him.

“I thought you done well to get to the ball,” says Carey.

“I ought to been settin’ under it,” says Ike.

“What did you hit last year?” Carey ast him.

“I had malaria most o’ the season,” says Ike. “I wound up with .356.”

“Where would I have to go to get malaria?” says Carey, but Ike didn’t wise up.

I and Carey and him set at the same table together for supper. It took him half an hour longer’n us to eat because he had to excuse himself every time he lifted his fork.

“Doctor told me I needed starch,” he’d say, and then toss a shovelful o’ potatoes into him. Or, “They ain’t much meat on one o’ these chops,” he’d tell us, and grab another one. Or he’d say: “Nothin’ like onions for a cold,” and then he’d clip into the perfumery.

“Better try that apple sauce,” says Carey. “It’ll help your malaria.”

“Whose malaria?” says Ike. He’d forgot already why he didn’t only hit .356 last year.

I and Carey begin to lead him on.

“Whereabouts did you say your home was?” I ast him.

“I live with my folks,” he says. “We live in Kansas City – not right down in the business part – outside a ways.”

“How’s that come?” says Carey. “I should think you’d get rooms in the post office.”

But Ike was too busy curin’ his cold to get that one.

“Are you married?” I ast him.

“No,” he says. “I never run round much with girls, except to shows oncet in a wile and parties and dances and roller skatin’.”

“Never take ’em to the prize fights, eh?” says Carey.

“We don’t have no real good bouts,” says Ike. “Just bush stuff. And I never figured a boxin’ match was a place for the ladies.”

Well, after supper he pulled a cigar out and lit it. I was just goin’ to ask him what he done it for, but he beat me to it.

“Kind o’ rests a man to smoke after a good work-out,” he says. “Kind o’ settles a man’s supper, too.”

“Looks like a pretty good cigar,” says Carey.

“Yes,” says Ike. “A friend o’ mine give it to me – a fella in Kansas City that runs a billiard room.”

“Do you play billiards?” I ast him.

“I used to play a fair game,” he says. “I’m all out o’ practice now – can’t hardly make a shot.”

We coaxed him into a four-handed battle, him and Carey against Jack Mack and I. Say, he couldn’t play billiards as good as Willie Hoppe, not quite. But to hear him tell it, he didn’t make a good shot all evenin’. I’d leave him an awful-lookin’ layout and he’d gather ’em up in one try and then run a couple o’ hundred, and between every carom he’d say he’d put too much stuff on the ball, or the English didn’t take, or the table wasn’t true, or his stick was crooked, or somethin’. And all the time he had the balls actin’ like they was Dutch soldiers and him Kaiser William. We started out to play fifty points, but we had to make it a thousand so as I and Jack and Carey could try the table.

The four of us set round the lobby a wile after we was through playin’, and when it got along toward bedtime Carey whispered to me and says:

“Ike’d like to go to bed, but he can’t think up no excuse.”

Carey hadn’t hardly finished whisperin’ when Ike got up and pulled it.

“Well, good night, boys,” he says. “I ain’t sleepy but I got some gravel in my shoes and it’s killin’ my feet.”

We knowed he hadn’t never left the hotel since we’d came in from the grounds and changed our clo’es. So Carey says:

“I should think they’d take them gravel pits out o’ the billiard room.”

But Ike was already on his way to the elevator, limpin’.

“He’s got the world beat,” says Carey to Jack and I. “I’ve knew lots o’ guys that had an alibi for every mistake they made; I’ve heard pitchers say that the ball slipped when somebody cracked one off’n ’em; I’ve heard infielders complain of a sore arm after heavin’ one into the stand, and I’ve saw outfielders tooken sick with a dizzy spell when they’ve misjudged a fly ball. But this baby can’t even go to bed without apologizin’, and I bet he excuses himself to the razor when he gets ready to shave.”

“And at that,” says Jack, “he’s goin’ to make us a good man.”

“Yes,” says Carey, “unless rheumatism keeps his battin’ average down to .400.”

Well, sir, Ike kept whalin’ away at the ball all through the trip till everybody knowed he’d won a job. Cap had him in there regular the last few exhibition games and told the newspaper boys a week before the season opened that he was goin’ to start him in Kane’s place.

“You’re there, kid,” says Carey to Ike, the night Cap made the ’nnouncement. “They ain’t many boys that wins a big league berth their third year out.”

“I’d of been up here a year ago,” says Ike, “only I was bent over all season with lumbago.”

II

It rained down in Cincinnati one day and somebody organized a little game o’ cards. They was shy two men to make six and ast I and Carey to play.

“I’m with you if you get Ike and make it seven-handed,” says Carey.

So they got a hold of Ike and we went up to Smitty’s room.

“I pretty near forgot how many you deal,” says Ike. “It’s been a long wile since I played.”

I and Carey give each other the wink, and sure enough, he was just as ig’orant about poker as billiards. About the second hand, the pot was opened two or three ahead of him, and they was three in when it come his turn. It cost a buck, and he throwed in two.

“It’s raised, boys,” somebody says.

“Gosh, that’s right, I did raise it,” says Ike.

“Take out a buck if you didn’t mean to tilt her,” says Carey.

“No,” says Ike, “I’ll leave it go.”

Well, it was raised back at him and then he made another mistake and raised again. They was only three left in when the draw come. Smitty’d opened with a pair o’ kings and he didn’t help ’em. Ike stood pat. The guy that’d raised him back was flushin’ and he didn’t fill. So Smitty checked and Ike bet and didn’t get no call. He tossed his hand away, but I grabbed it and give it a look. He had king, queen, jack and two tens. Alibi Ike he must have seen me peekin’, for he leaned over and whispered to me.

“I overlooked my hand,” he says. “I thought all the wile it was a straight.”

“Yes,” I says, “that’s why you raised twice by mistake.”

They was another pot that he come into with tens and fours. It was tilted a couple o’ times and two o’ the strong fellas drawed ahead of Ike. They each drawed one. So Ike throwed away his little pair and come out with four tens. And they was four treys against him. Carey’d looked at Ike’s discards and then he says:

“This lucky bum busted two pair.”

“No, no, I didn’t,” says Ike.

“Yes, yes, you did,” says Carey, and showed us the two fours.

“What do you know about that?” says Ike. “I’d of swore one was a five spot.”

Well, we hadn’t had no pay day yet, and after a wile everybody except Ike was goin’ shy. I could see him gettin’ restless and I was wonderin’ how he’d make the get-away. He tried two or three times. “I got to buy some collars before supper,” he says.

“No hurry,” says Smitty. “The stores here keeps open all night in April.”

After a minute he opened up again.

“My uncle out in Nebraska ain’t expected to live,” he says. “I ought to send a telegram.”

“Would that save him”? says Carey.

“No, it sure wouldn’t,” says Ike, “but I ought to leave my old man know where I’m at.”

“When did you hear about your uncle?” says Carey.

“Just this mornin’,” says Ike.

“Who told you?” ast Carey.

“I got a wire from my old man,” says Ike.

“Well,” says Carey, “your old man knows you’re still here yet this afternoon if you was here this mornin’. Trains leavin’ Cincinnati in the middle o’ the day don’t carry no ball clubs.”

“Yes,” says Ike, “that’s true. But he don’t know where I’m goin’ to be next week.”

“Ain’t he got no schedule?” ast Carey.

“I sent him one openin’ day,” says Ike, “but it takes mail a long time to get to Idaho.”

“I thought your old man lived in Kansas City,” says Carey.

“He does when he’s home,” says Ike.

“But now,” says Carey, “I s’pose he’s went to Idaho so as he can be near your sick uncle in Nebraska.”

“He’s visitin’ my other uncle in Idaho.”

“Then how does he keep posted about your sick uncle?” ast Carey.

“He don’t,” says Ike. “He don’t even know my other uncle’s sick. That’s why I ought to wire and tell him.”

“Good night!” says Carey.

“What town in Idaho is your old man at?” I says.

Ike thought it over.

“No town at all,” he says. “But he’s near a town.”

“Near what town?” I says.

“Yuma,” says Ike.

Well, by this time he’d lost two or three pots and he was desperate. We was playin’ just as fast as we could, because we seen we couldn’t hold him much longer. But he was tryin’ so hard to frame an escape that he couldn’t pay no attention to the cards, and it looked like we’d get his whole pile away from him if we could make him stick.

The telephone saved him. The minute it begun to ring, five of us jumped for it. But Ike was there first.

“Yes,” he says, answerin’ it. “This is him. I’ll come right down.”

And he slammed up the receiver and beat it out o’ the door without even sayin’ good-by.

“Smitty’d ought to locked the door,” says Carey.

“What did he win?” ast Carey.

We figured it up – sixty-odd bucks.

“And the next time we ask him to play,” says Carey, “his fingers will be so stiff he can’t hold the cards.”

Well, we set round a wile talkin’ it over, and pretty soon the telephone rung again. Smitty answered it. It was a friend of his’n from Hamilton and he wanted to know why Smitty didn’t hurry down. He was the one that had called before and Ike had told him he was Smitty.

“Ike’d ought to split with Smitty’s friend,” says Carey.

“No,” I says, “he’ll need all he won. It costs money to buy collars and to send telegrams from Cincinnati to your old man in Texas and keep him posted on the health o’ your uncle in Cedar Rapids, D. C.”

Ill

And you ought to heard him out there on that field! They wasn’t a day when he didn’t pull six or seven, and it didn’t make no difference whether he was goin’ good or bad. If he popped up in the pinch he should of made a base hit and the reason he didn’t was so-and-so. And if he cracked one for three bases he ought to had a home run, only the ball wasn’t lively, or the wind brought it back, or he tripped on a lump o’ dirt, roundin’ first base.

They was one afternoon in New York when he beat all records. Big Marquard was workin’ against us and he was good.

In the first innin’ Ike hit one clear over that right field stand, but it was a few feet foul. Then he got another foul and then the count come to two and two. Then Rube slipped one acrost on him and he was called out.

“What do you know about that!” he says afterward on the bench. “I lost count. I thought it was three and one, and I took a strike.”

“You took a strike all right,” says Carey. “Even the umps knowed it was a strike.”

“Yes,” says Ike, “but you can bet I wouldn’t of took it if I’d knew it was the third one. The score board had it wrong.”

“That score board ain’t for you to look at,” says Cap. “It’s for you to hit that old pill against.”

“Well,” says Ike, “I could of hit that one over the score board if I’d knew it was the third.”

“Was it a good ball?” I says.

“Well, no, it wasn’t,” says Ike. “It was inside.”

“How far inside?” says Carey.

“Oh, two or three inches or half a foot,” says Ike.

“I guess you wouldn’t of threatened the score board with it then,” says Cap.

“I’d of pulled it down the right foul line if I hadn’t thought he’d call it a ball,” says Ike.

Well, in New York’s part o’ the innin’ Doyle cracked one and Ike run back a mile and a half and caught it with one hand. We was all sayin’ what a whale of a play it was, but he had to apologize just the same as for gettin’ struck out.

“That stand’s so high,” he says, “that a man don’t never see a ball till it’s right on top o’ you.”

“Didn’t you see that one?” ast Cap.

“Not at first,” says Ike; “not till it raised up above the roof o’ the stand.”

“Then why did you start back as soon as the ball was hit?” says Cap.

“I knowed by the sound that he’d got a good hold of it,” says Ike.

“Yes,” says Cap, “but how’d you know what direction to run in?”

“Doyle usually hits ’em that way, the way I run,” says Ike.

“Why don’t you play blindfolded?” says Carey.

“Might as well, with that big high stand to bother a man,” says Ike. “If l could of saw the ball all the time I’d of got it in my hip pocket.”

Along in the fifth we was one run to the bad and Ike got on with one out. On the first ball throwed to Smitty, Ike went down. The ball was outside and Meyers throwed Ike out by ten feet.

You could see Ike’s lips movin’ all the way to the bench and when he got there he had his piece learned.

“Why didn’t he swing?” he says.

“Why didn’t you wait for his sign?” says Cap.

“He give me his sign,” says Ike.

“What is his sign with you?” says Cap.

“Pickin’ up some dirt with his right hand,” says Ike.

“Well, I didn’t see him do it,” Cap says.

“He done it all right,” says Ike.

Well, Smitty went out and they wasn’t no more argument till they come in for the next innin’. Then Cap opened it up.

“You fellas better get your signs straight,” he says.

“Do you mean me?” says Smitty.

“Yes,” Cap says. “What’s your sign with Ike?”

“Slidin’ my left hand up to the end o’ the bat and back,” says Smitty.

“Do you hear that, Ike?” ast Cap.

“What of it?” says Ike.

“You says his sign was pickin’ up dirt and he says it’s slidin’ his hand. Which is right?”

“I’m right,” says Smitty. “But if you’re arguin’ about him goin’ last innin’, I didn’t give him no sign.”

“You pulled your cap down with your right hand, didn’t you?” ast Ike.

“Well, s’pose I did,” says Smitty. “That don’t mean nothin’. I never told you to take that for a sign, did I?”

“I thought maybe you meant to tell me and forgot,” says Ike.

They couldn’t none of us answer that and they wouldn’t of been no more said if Ike had of shut up. But wile we was settin’ there Carey got on with two out and stole second clean.

“There!” says Ike. “That’s what I was tryin’ to do and I’d of got away with it if Smitty’d swang and bothered the Indian.”

“Oh!” says Smitty. “You was tryin’ to steal then, was you? I thought you claimed I give you the hit and run.”

“I didn’t claim no such a thing,” says Ike. “I thought maybe you might of gave me a sign, but I was goin’ anyway because I thought I had a good start.”

Cap prob’ly would of hit him with a bat, only just about that time Doyle booted one on Hayes and Carey come acrost with the run that tied.

Well, we go into the ninth finally, one and one, and Marquard walks McDonald with nobody out.

“Lay it down,” says Cap to Ike.

And Ike goes up there with orders to bunt and cracks the first ball into that right-field stand! It was fair this time, and we’re two ahead, but I didn’t think about that at the time. I was too busy watchin’ Cap’s face. First he turned pale and then he got red as fire and then he got blue and purple, and finally he just laid back and busted out laughin’. So we wasn’t afraid to laugh ourselfs when we seen him doin’ it, and when Ike come in everybody on the bench was in hysterics.

But instead o’ takin’ advantage, Ike had to try and excuse himself. His play was to shut up and he didn’t know how to make it.

“Well,” he says, “if I hadn’t hit quite so quick at that one I bet it’d of cleared the center-field fence.”

Cap stopped laughin’.

“It’ll cost you plain fifty,” he says.

“What for?” says Ike.

“When I say ‘bunt’ I mean ‘bunt,’” says Cap.

“You didn’t say ‘bunt,’” says Ike.

“I says ‘Lay it down,’” says Cap. “If that don’t mean ‘bunt,’ what does it mean?”

“‘Lay it down’ means ‘bunt’ all right,” says Ike, “but I understood you to say ‘Lay on it.’”

“All right,” says Cap, “and the little misunderstandin’ will cost you fifty.”

Ike didn’t say nothin’ for a few minutes. Then he had another bright idear.

“I was just kiddin’ about misunderstandin’ you,” he says. “I knowed you wanted me to bunt.”

“Well, then, why didn’t you bunt?” ast Cap.

“I was goin’ to on the next ball,” says Ike. “But I thought if I took a good wallop I’d have ’em all fooled. So I walloped at the first one to fool ’em, and I didn’t have no intention o’ hittin’ it.”

“You tried to miss it, did you?” says Cap.

“Yes,” says Ike.

“How’d you happen to hit it?” ast Cap.

“Well,” Ike says, “I was lookin’ for him to throw me a fast one and I was goin’ to swing under it. But he come with a hook and I met it right square where I was swingin’ to go under the fast one.”

“Great!” says Cap. “Boys,” he says, “Ike’s learned how to hit Marquard’s curve. Pretend a fast one’s comin’ and then try to miss it. It’s a good thing to know and Ike’d ought to be willin’ to pay for the lesson. So I’m goin’ to make it a hundred instead o’ fifty.”

The game wound up 3 to 1. The fine didn’t go, because Ike hit like a wild man all through that trip and we made pretty near a clean-up. The night we went to Philly I got him cornered in the car and I says to him:

“Forget them alibis for a wile and tell me somethin’. What’d you do that for, swing that time against Marquard when you was told to bunt?”

“I’ll tell you,” he says. “That ball he throwed me looked just like the one I struck out on in the first innin’ and I wanted to show Cap what I could of done to that other one if I’d knew it was the third strike.”

“But,” I says, “the one you struck out on in the first innin’ was a fast ball.”

“So was the one I cracked in the ninth,” says Ike.

IV

You’ve saw Cap’s wife, o’ course. Well, her sister’s about twicet as good-lookin’ as her, and that’s goin’ some.

Cap took his missus down to St. Louis the second trip and the other one come down from St. Joe to visit her. Her name is Dolly, and some doll is right.

Well, Cap was goin’ to take the two sisters to a show and he wanted a beau for Dolly. He left it to her and she picked Ike. He’d hit three on the nose that afternoon – off’n Sallee, too.

They fell for each other that first evenin’. Cap told us how it come off. She begin flatterin’ Ike for the star game he’d played and o’ course he begin excusin’ himself for not doin’ better. So she thought he was modest and it went strong with her. And she believed everything he said and that made her solid with him – that and her make-up. They was together every mornin’ and evenin’ for the five days we was there. In the afternoons Ike played the grandest ball you ever see, hittin’ and runnin’ the bases like a fool and catchin’ everything that stayed in the park.

I told Cap, I says: “You’d ought to keep the doll with us and he’d make Cobb’s figures look sick.”

But Dolly had to go back to St. Joe and we come home for a long serious.

Well, for the next three weeks Ike had a letter to read every day and he’d set in the clubhouse readin’ it till mornin’ practice was half over. Cap didn’t say nothin’ to him, because he was goin’ so good. But I and Carey wasted a lot of our time tryin’ to get him to own up who the letters was from. Fine chanct!

“What are you readin’?” Carey’d say. “A bill?”

“No,” Ike’d say, “not exactly a bill. It’s a letter from a fella I used to go to school with.”

“High school or college?” I’d ask him.

“College,” he’d say.

“What college?” I’d say.

Then he’d stall a wile and then he’d say:

“I didn’t go to the college myself, but my friend went there.”

“How did it happen you didn’t go?” Carey’d ask him.

“Well,” he’d say, “they wasn’t no colleges near where I lived.”

“Didn’t you live in Kansas City?” I’d say to him.

One time he’d say he did and another time he didn’t. One time he says he lived in Michigan.

“Where at?” says Carey.

“Near Detroit,” he says.

“Well,” I says, “Detroit’s near Ann Arbor and that’s where they got the university.”

“Yes,” says Ike, “they got it there now, but they didn’t have it there then.”

“I come pretty near goin’ to Syracuse,” I says, “only they wasn’t no railroads runnin’ through there in them days.”

“Where’d this friend o’ yours go to college?” says Carey.

“I forget now,” says Ike.

“Was it Carlisle?” ast Carey.

“No,” says Ike, “his folks wasn’t very well off.”

“That’s what barred me from Smith,” I says.

“I was goin’ to tackle Cornell’s,” says Carey, “but the doctor told me I’d have hay fever if I didn’t stay up North.”

“Your friend writes long letters,” I says.

“Yes,” says Ike; “he’s tellin’ me about a ball player.”

“Where does he play?” ast Carey.

“Down in the Texas League – Fort Wayne,” says Ike.

“It looks like a girl’s writin’,” Carey says.

“A girl wrote it,” says Ike. “That’s my friend’s sister, writin’ for him.” “Didn’t they teach writin’ at this here college where he went?” says Carey.

“Sure,” Ike says, “they taught writin’, but he got his hand cut off in a railroad wreck.”

“How long ago?” I says.

“Right after he got out o’ college,” says Ike.

“Well,” I says, “I should think he’d of learned to write with his left hand by this time.”

“It’s his left hand that was cut off,” says Ike; “and he was left-handed.”

“You get a letter every day,” says Carey. “They’re all the same writin’. Is he tellin’ you about a different ball player every time he writes?” “No,” Ike says. “It’s the same ball player. He just tells me what he does every day.”

“From the size o’ the letters, they don’t play nothin’ but double-headers down there,” says Carey.

We figured that Ike spent most of his evenin’s answerin’ the letters from his “friend’s sister,” so we kept tryin’ to date him up for shows and parties to see how he’d duck out of ’em. He was bugs over spaghetti, so we told him one day that they was goin’ to be a big feed of it over to Joe’s that night and he was invited.

“How long’ll it last?” he says.

“Well,” we says, “we’re goin’ right over there after the game and stay till they close up.”

“I can’t go,” he says, “unless they leave me come home at eight bells.”

“Nothin’ doin’,” says Carey. “Joe’d get sore.”

“I can’t go then,” says Ike.

“Why not?” I ast him.

“Well,” he says, “my landlady locks up the house at eight and I left my key home.”

“You can come and stay with me,” says Carey.

“No,” he says, “I can’t sleep in a strange bed.”

“How do you get along when we’re on the road?” says I.

“I don’t never sleep the first night anywheres,” he says. “After that I’m all right.”

“You’ll have time to chase home and get your key right after the game,” I told him.

“The key ain’t home,” says Ike. “I lent it to one o’ the other fellas and he’s went out o’ town and took it with him.”

“Couldn’t you borry another key off’n the landlady?” Carey ast him.

“No,” he says, “that’s the only one they is.”

Well, the day before we started East again, Ike come into the clubhouse all smiles.

“Your birthday?” I ast him.

“No,” he says.

“What do you feel so good about?” I says.

“Got a letter from my old man,” he says. “My uncle’s goin’ to get well.”

“Is that the one in Nebraska?” says I.

“Not right in Nebraska,” says Ike. “Near there.”

But afterwards we got the right dope from Cap. Dolly’d blew in from Missouri and was goin’ to make the trip with her sister.

V

Well, I want to alibi Carey and I for what come off in Boston. If we’d of had any idear what we was doin’, we’d never did it. They wasn’t nobody outside o’ maybe Ike and the dame that felt worse over it than I and Carey.

The first two days we didn’t see nothin’ of Ike and her except out to the park. The rest o’ the time they was sight-seein’ over to Cambridge and down to Revere and out to Brook-a-line and all the other places where the rubes go.

But when we come into the beanery after the third game Cap’s wife called us over.

“If you want to see somethin’ pretty,” she says, “look at the third finger on Sis’s left hand.”

Well, o’ course we knowed before we looked that it wasn’t goin’ to be no hangnail. Nobody was su’prised when Dolly blew into the dinin’ room with it – a rock that Ike’d bought off’n Diamond Joe the first trip to New York. Only o’ course it’d been set into a lady’s-size ring instead o’ the automobile tire he’d been wearin’.

Cap and his missus and Ike and Dolly ett supper together, only Ike didn’t eat nothin’, but just set there blushin’ and spillin’ things on the tablecloth. I heard him excusin’ himself for not havin’ no appetite. He says he couldn’t never eat when he was clost to the ocean. He’d forgot about them sixty-five oysters he destroyed the first night o’ the trip before.

He was goin’ to take her to a show, so after supper he went upstairs to change his collar. She had to doll up, too, and o’ course Ike was through long before her.

If you remember the hotel in Boston, they’s a little parlor where the piano’s at and then they’s another little parlor openin’ off o’ that. Well, when Ike come down Smitty was playin’ a few chords and I and Carey was harmonizin’. We seen Ike go up to the desk to leave his key and we called him in. He tried to duck away, but we wouldn’t stand for it.

We ast him what he was all duded up for and he says he was goin’ to the theayter.

“Goin’ alone?” says Carey.

“No,” he says, “a friend o’ mine’s goin’ with me.”

“What do you say if we go along?” says Carey.

“I ain’t only got two tickets,” he says.

“Well,” says Carey, “we can go down there with you and buy our own seats; maybe we can all get together.”

“No,” says Ike. “They ain’t no more seats. They’re all sold out.”

“We can buy some off’n the scalpers,” says Carey.

“I wouldn’t if I was you,” says Ike. “They say the show’s rotten.” “What are you goin’ for, then?” I ast.

“I didn’t hear about it bein’ rotten till I got the tickets,” he says. “Well,” I says, “if you don’t want to go I’ll buy the tickets from you.” “No,” says Ike, “I wouldn’t want to cheat you. I’m stung and I’ll just have to stand for it.”

“What are you goin’ to do with the girl, leave her here at the hotel?” I says.

“What girl?” says Ike.

“The girl you ett supper with,” I says.

“Oh,” he says, “we just happened to go into the dinin’ room together, that’s all. Cap wanted I should set down with ’em.”

“I noticed,” says Carey, “that she happened to be wearin’ that rock you bought off’n Diamond Joe.”

“Yes,” says Ike. “I lent it to her for a wile.”

“Did you lend her the new ring that goes with it?” I says.

“She had that already,” says Ike. “She lost the set out of it.”

“I wouldn’t trust no strange girl with a rock o’ mine,” says Carey.

“Oh, I guess she’s all right,” Ike says. “Besides, I was tired o’ the stone. When a girl asks you for somethin’, what are you goin’ to do?” He started out toward the desk, but we flagged him.

“Wait a minute!” Carey says. “I got a bet with Sam here, and it’s up to you to settle it.”

“Well,” says Ike, “make it snappy. My friend’ll be here any minute.”

“I bet,” says Carey, “that you and that girl was engaged to be married.”

“Nothin’ to it,” says Ike.

“Now look here,” says Carey, “this is goin’ to cost me real money if I lose. Cut out the alibi stuff and give it to us straight. Cap’s wife just as good as told us you was roped.”

Ike blushed like a kid.

“Well, boys,” he says, “I may as well own up. You win, Carey.”

“Yatta boy!” says Carey. “Congratulations!”

“You got a swell girl, Ike,” I says.

“She’s a peach,” says Smitty.

“Well, I guess she’s O.K.,” says Ike. “I don’t know much about girls.”

“Didn’t you never run round with ’em?” I says.

“Oh, yes, plenty of ’em,” says Ike. “But I never seen none I’d fall for.”

“That is, till you seen this one,” says Carey.

“Well,” says Ike, “this one’s O.K., but I wasn’t thinkin’ about gettin’ married yet a wile.”

“Who done the askin’ – her?” says Carey.

“Oh, no,” says Ike, “but sometimes a man don’t know what he’s gettin’ into. Take a good-lookin’ girl, and a man gen’ally almost always does about what she wants him to.”

“They couldn’t no girl lasso me unless I wanted to be lassoed,” says Smitty.

“Oh, I don’t know,” says Ike. “When a fella gets to feelin’ sorry for one of ’em it’s all off.”

Well, we left him go after shakin’ hands all round. But he didn’t take Dolly to no show that night. Some time wile we was talkin’ she’d came into that other parlor and she’d stood there and heard us. I don’t know how much she heard. But it was enough. Dolly and Cap’s missus took the midnight train for New York. And from there Cap’s wife sent her on her way back to Missouri.

She’d left the ring and a note for Ike with the clerk. But we didn’t ask Ike if the note was from his friend in Fort Wayne, Texas.

VI

When we’d came to Boston Ike was hittin’ plain .397. When we got back home he’d fell off to pretty near nothin’. He hadn’t drove one out o’ the infield in any o’ them other Eastern parks, and he didn’t even give no excuse for it.

To show you how bad he was, he struck out three times in Brooklyn one day and never opened his trap when Cap ast him what was the matter. Before, if he’d whiffed oncet in a game he’d of wrote a book tellin’ why.

Well, we dropped from first place to fifth in four weeks and we was still goin’ down. I and Carey was about the only ones on the club that spoke to each other, and all as we did was remind ourself o’ what a boner we’d pulled.

“It’s goin’ to beat us out o’ the big money,” says Carey.

“Yes,” I says. “I don’t want to knock my own ball club, but it looks like a one-man team, and when that one man’s dauber’s down we couldn’t trim our whiskers.”

“We ought to knew better,” says Carey.

“Yes,” I says, “but why should a man pull an alibi for bein’ engaged to such a bearcat as she was?”

“He shouldn’t,” says Carey. “But I and you knowed he would or we’d never started talkin’ to him about it. He wasn’t no more ashamed o’ the girl than I am of a regular base hit. But he just can’t come clean on no subjec’.”

Cap had the whole story, and I and Carey was as pop’lar with him as an umpire.

“What do you want me to do. Cap?” Carey’d say to him before goin’ up to hit.

“Use your own judgment,” Cap’d tell him. “We want to lose another game.”

But finally, one night in Pittsburgh, Cap had a letter from his missus and he come to us with it.

“You fellas,” he says, “is the ones that put us on the bum, and if you’re sorry I think they’s a chancet for you to make good. The old lady’s out to St. Joe and she’s been tryin’ her hardest to fix things up. She’s explained that Ike don’t mean nothin’ with his talk; I’ve wrote and explained that to Dolly, too. But the old lady says that Dolly says that she can’t believe it. But Dolly’s still stuck on this baby, and she’s pinin’ away just the same as Ike. And the old lady says she thinks if you two fellas would write to the girl and explain how you was always kiddin’ with Ike and leadin’ him on, and how the ball club was all shot to pieces since Ike quit hittin’, and how he acted like he was goin’ to kill himself, and this and that, she’d fall for it and maybe soften down. Dolly, the old lady says, would believe you before she’d believe I and the old lady, because she thinks it’s her we’re sorry for, and not him.“

Well, I and Carey was only too glad to try and see what we could do. But it wasn’t no snap. We wrote about eight letters before we got one that looked good. Then we give it to the stenographer and had it wrote out on a typewriter and both of us signed it.

It was Carey’s idear that made the letter good. He stuck in somethin’ about the world’s serious money that our wives wasn’t goin’ to spend unless she took pity on a “boy who was so shy and modest that he was afraid to come right out and say that he had asked such a beautiful and handsome girl to become his bride.”

That’s prob’ly what got her, or maybe she couldn’t of held out much longer anyway. It was four days after we sent the letter that Cap heard from his missus again. We was in Cincinnati.

“We’ve win,” he says to us. “The old lady says that Dolly says she’ll give him another chancet. But the old lady says it won’t do no good for Ike to write a letter. He’ll have to go out there.”

“Send him tonight,” says Carey.

“I’ll pay half his fare,” I says.

“I’ll pay the other half,” says Carey.

“No,” says Cap, “the club’ll pay his expenses. I’ll send him scoutin’.”

“Are you goin’ to send him tonight?”

“Sure,” says Cap. “But I’m goin’ to break the news to him right now. It’s time we win a ball game.”

So in the clubhouse, just before the game, Cap told him. And I certainly felt sorry for Rube Benton and Red Ames that afternoon! I and Carey was standin’ in front o’ the hotel that night when Ike come out with his suitcase.

“Sent home?” I says to him.

“No,” he says, “I’m goin’ scoutin’.”

“Where to?” I says. “Fort Wayne?”

“No, not exactly,” he says.

“Well,” says Carey, “have a good time.”

“I ain’t lookin’ for no good time,” says Ike. “I says I was goin’ scoutin’.”

“Well, then,” says Carey, “I hope you see somebody you like.”

“And you better have a drink before you go,” I says.

“Well,” says Ike, “they claim it helps a cold.”

• 6 •

Harmony

Even a baseball writer must sometimes work. Regretfully I yielded my seat in the P. G., walked past the section where Art Graham, Bill Cole, Lefty Parks and young Waldron were giving expert tonsorial treatment to “Sweet Adeline,” and flopped down beside Ryan, the manager.

“Well, Cap,” I said, “we’re due in Springfield in a little over an hour and I haven’t written a line.”

“Don’t let me stop you,” said Ryan.

“I want you to start me,” I said.

“Lord!” said Ryan. “You oughtn’t to have any trouble grinding out stuff these days, with the club in first place and Young Waldron gone crazy. He’s worth a story any day.”

“That’s the trouble,” said I. “He’s been worked so much that there’s nothing more to say about him. Everybody in the country knows that he’s hitting .420, that he’s made nine home runs, twelve triples and twenty-some doubles, that he’s stolen twenty-five bases, and that he can play the piano and sing like Carus’. They’ve run his picture oftener than Billy Sunday and Mary Pickford put together. Of course, you might come through with how you got him.”

“Oh, that’s the mystery,” said Ryan.

“So I’ve heard you say,” I retorted. “But it wouldn’t be a mystery if you’d let me print it.”

“Well,” said Ryan, “if you’re really hard up I suppose I might as well come through. Only there’s really no mystery at all about it; it’s just what I consider the most remarkable piece of scouting ever done. I’ve been making a mystery of it just to have a little fun with Dick Hodges. You know he’s got the Jackson club and he’s still so sore about my stealing Waldron he’ll hardly speak to me.

“I’ll give you the dope if you want it, though it’s a boost for Art Graham, not me. There’s lots of people think the reason I’ve kept the thing a secret is because I’m modest.

“They give me credit for having found Waldron myself. But Graham is the bird that deserves the credit and I’ll admit that he almost had to get down on his knees to make me take his tip. Yes, sir, Art Graham was the scout, and now he’s sitting on the bench and the boy he recommended has got his place.”

“That sounds pretty good,” I said. “And how did Graham get wise?”

“I’m going to tell you. You’re in a hurry; so I’ll make it snappy.

“You weren’t with us last fall, were you? Well, we had a day off in Detroit, along late in the season. Graham’s got relatives in Jackson; so he asked me if he could spend the day there. I told him he could and asked him to keep his eyes peeled for good young pitchers, if he happened to go to the ball game. So he went to Jackson and the next morning he came back all excited. I asked him if he’d found me a pitcher and he said he hadn’t, but he’d seen the best natural hitter he’d ever looked at – a kid named Waldron.

“‘Well,’ I said, ‘you’re the last one that ought to be recommending outfielders. If there’s one good enough to hold a regular job, it might be your job he’d get.’

“But Art said that didn’t make any difference to him – he was looking out for the good of the club. Well, I didn’t see my way clear to asking the old man to dig up good money for an outfielder nobody’d ever heard of, when we were pretty well stocked with them, so I tried to stall Art; but he kept after me and kept after me till I agreed to stick in a draft for the kid just to keep Art quiet. So the draft went in and we got him. Then, as you know, Hodges tried to get him back, and that made me suspicious enough to hold onto him. Hodges finally came over to see me and wanted to know who’d tipped me to Waldron. That’s where the mystery stuff started, because I saw that Hodges was all heated up and wanted to kid him along. So I told him we had some mighty good scouts working for us, and he said he knew our regular scouts and they couldn’t tell a ball-player from a torn ligament. Then he offered me fifty bucks if I’d tell him the truth and I just laughed at him. I said: ‘A fella happened to be in Jackson one day and saw him work. But I won’t tell you who the fella was because you’re too anxious to know.’ Then he insisted on knowing what day the scout had been in Jackson. I said I’d tell him that if he’d tell me why he was so blame curious. So he gave me his end of it.

“It seems his brother, up in Ludington, had seen this kid play ball on the lots and had signed him right up for Hodges and taken him to Jackson, and of course, Hodges knew he had a world beater the minute he saw him. But he also knew he wasn’t going to be able to keep him in Jackson, and naturally he began to figure how he could get the most money for him. It was already August when the boy landed in Jackson; so there wasn’t much chance of getting a big price last season. He decided to teach the kid what he didn’t know about baseball and to keep him under cover till this year. Then everybody would be touting him and there’d be plenty of competition. Hodges could sell to the highest bidder.

“He had Waldron out practising every day, but wouldn’t let him play in a game, and every player on the Jackson club had promised to keep the secret till this year. So Hodges wanted to find out from me which one of his players had broken the promise.

“Then I asked him if he was perfectly sure that Waldron hadn’t played in a game, and he said he had gone in to hit for somebody just once. I asked him what date that was and he told me. It was the day Art had been in Jackson. So I said:

“‘There’s your mystery solved. That’s the day my scout saw him, and you’ll have to give the scout a little credit for picking a star after seeing him make one base hit.’

“Then Hodges said:

“‘That makes it all the more a mystery. Because, in the first place, he batted under a fake name. And, in the second place, he didn’t make a base hit. He popped out.’

“That’s about all there is to it. You can ask Art how he picked the kid out for a star from seeing him pop out once. I’ve asked him myself, and he’s told me that he liked the way Waldron swung. Personally, I believe one of those Jackson boys got too gabby. But Art swears not.”

“That is a story,” I said gratefully. “An old outfielder who must know he’s slipping recommends a busher after seeing him pop out once. And the busher jumps right in and gets his job.”

I looked down the aisle toward the song birds. Art Graham, now a bench warmer, and young Waldron, whom he had touted and who was the cause of his being sent to the bench, were harmonizing at the tops of their strong and not too pleasant voices.

“And probably the strangest part of the story,” I added, “is that Art doesn’t seem to regret it. He and the kid appear to be the best of friends.”

“Anybody who can sing is Art’s friend,” said Ryan.

I left him and went back to my seat to tear off my seven hundred words before we reached Springfield. I considered for a moment the advisability of asking Graham for an explanation of his wonderful bit of scouting, but decided to save that part of it for another day. I was in a hurry and, besides, Waldron was just teaching them a new “wallop,” and it would have been folly for me to interrupt.

“It’s on the word ‘you,’” Waldron was saying. “I come down a tone; Lefty goes up a half tone, and Bill comes up two tones. Art just sings it like always. Now try her again,” I heard him direct the song birds. They tried her again, making a worse noise than ever:

“I only know I love you;

Love me, and the world (the world) is mine (the world is mine).”

“No,” said Waldron. “Lefty missed it. If you fellas knew music, I could teach it to you with the piano when we get to Boston. On the word ‘love,’ in the next to the last line, we hit a regular F chord. Bill’s singing the low F in the bass and Lefty’s hitting middle C in the baritone, and Art’s on high F and I’m up to A. Then, on the word ‘you,’ I come down to G, and Art hits E, and Lefty goes up half a tone to C sharp, and Cole comes up from F to A in the bass. That makes a good wallop. It’s a change from the F chord to the A chord. Now let’s try her again,” Waldron urged.

They tried her again:

“I only know I love you—”

“No, no!” said young Waldron. “Art and I were all right; but Bill came up too far, and Lefty never moved off that C. Half a tone up, Lefty. Now try her again.”

—

We were an hour late into Springfield, and it was past six o’clock when we pulled out. I had filed my stuff, and when I came back in the car the concert was over for the time, and Art Graham was sitting alone.

“Where are your pals?” I asked.

“Gone to the diner,” he replied.

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

“No,” he said, “I’m savin’ up for the steamed clams.” I took the seat beside him.

“I sent in a story about you,” I said.

“Am I fired?” he asked.

“No, nothing like that.”

“Well,” he said, “you must be hard up when you can’t find nothin’ better to write about than a old has-been.”

“Cap just told me who it was that found Waldron,” said I.

“Oh, that,” said Art. “I don’t see no story in that.”

“I thought it was quite a stunt,” I said. “It isn’t everybody that can pick out a second Cobb by just seeing him hit a fly ball.”

Graham smiled.

“No,” he replied, “they’s few as smart as that.”

“If you ever get through playing ball,” I went on, “you oughtn’t to have any trouble landing a job. Good scouts don’t grow on trees.”

“It looks like I’m pretty near through now,” said Art, still smiling. “But you won’t never catch me scoutin’ for nobody. It’s too lonesome a job.”

I had passed up lunch to retain my seat in the card game; so I was hungry. Moreover, it was evident that Graham was not going to wax garrulous on the subject of his scouting ability. I left him and sought the diner. I found a vacant chair opposite Bill Cole.

“Try the minced ham,” he advised, “but lay off’n the sparrow-grass. It’s tougher’n a double-header in St. Louis.”

“We’re over an hour late,” I said.

“You’ll have to do a hurry-up on your story, won’t you?” asked Bill. “Or did you write it already?”

“All written and on the way.”

“Well, what did you tell ’em?” he inquired. “Did you tell ’em we had a pleasant trip, and Lenke lost his shirt in the poker game, and I’m goin’ to pitch tomorrow, and the Boston club’s heard about it and hope it’ll rain?”

“No,” I said. “I gave them a regular story tonight – about how Graham picked Waldron.”

“Who give it to you?”

“Ryan,” I told him.

“Then you didn’t get the real story,” said Cole, “Ryan himself don’t know the best part of it, and he ain’t goin’ to know it for a w’ile. He’ll maybe find it out after Art’s got the can, but not before. And I hope nothin’ like that’ll happen for twenty years. When it does happen, I want to be sent along with Art, ’cause I and him’s been roomies now since 1911, and I wouldn’t hardly know how to act with him off’n the club. He’s a nut all right on the singin’ stuff, and if he was gone I might get a chanct to give my voice a rest. But he’s a pretty good guy, even if he is crazy.”

“I’d like to hear the real story,” I said.

“Sure you would,” he answered, “and I’d like to tell it to you. I will tell it to you if you’ll give me your promise not to spill it till Art’s gone. Art told it to I and Lefty in the club-house at Cleveland pretty near a month ago, and the three of us and Waldron is the only ones that knows it. I figure I’ve did pretty well to keep it to myself this long, but it seems like I got to tell somebody.”

“You can depend on me,” I assured him, “not to say a word about it till Art’s in Minneapolis, or wherever they’re going to send him.”

“I guess I can trust you,” said Cole. “But if you cross me, I’ll shoot my fast one up there in the press coop some day and knock your teeth loose.”

“Shoot,” said I.

“Well,” said Cole, “I s’pose Ryan told you that Art fell for the kid after just seein’ him pop out.”

“Yes, and Ryan said he considered it a remarkable piece of scouting.”

“It was all o’ that. It’d of been remarkable enough if Art’d saw the bird pop out and then recommended him. But he didn’t even see him pop out.”

“What are you giving me?”

“The fac’s,” said Bill Cole. “Art not only didn’t see him pop out, but he didn’t even see him with a ball suit on. He wasn’t never inside the Jackson ball park in his life.”

“Waldron?”

“No. Art I’m talkin’ about.”

“Then somebody tipped him off,” I said, quickly.

“No, sir. Nobody tipped him off, neither. He went to Jackson and spent the ev’nin’ at his uncle’s house, and Waldron was there. Him and Art was together the whole ev’nin’. But Art didn’t even ask him if he could slide feet first. And then he come back to Detroit and got Ryan to draft him. But to give you the whole story, I’ll have to go back a ways. We ain’t nowheres near Worcester yet, so they’s no hurry, except that Art’ll prob’ly be sendin’ for me pretty quick to come in and learn Waldron’s lost chord.

“You wasn’t with this club when we had Mike McCann. But you must of heard of him; outside his pitchin’, I mean. He was on the stage a couple o’ winters, and he had the swellest tenor voice I ever heard. I never seen no grand opera, but I’ll bet this here C’ruso or McCormack or Gadski or none o’ them had nothin’ on him for a pure tenor. Every note as clear as a bell. You couldn’t hardly keep your eyes dry when he’d tear off ‘Silver Threads’ or ‘The River Shannon.’

“Well, when Art was still with the Washin’ton club yet, I and Lefty and Mike used to pal round together and oncet or twicet we’d hit up some harmony. I couldn’t support a fam’ly o’ Mormons with my voice, but it was better in them days than it is now. I used to carry the lead, and Lefty’d hit the baritone and Mike the tenor. We didn’t have no bass. But most o’ the time we let Mike do the singin’ alone, ’cause he had us outclassed, and the other boys kept tellin’ us to shut up and give ’em a treat. First it’d be ‘Silver Threads’ and then ‘Jerusalem’ and then ‘My Wild Irish Rose’ and this and that, whatever the boys ast him for. Jake Martin used to say he couldn’t help a short pair if Mike wasn’t singin’.

“Finally Ryan pulled off the trade with Griffith, and Graham come on our club. Then they wasn’t no more solo work. They made a bass out o’ me, and Art sung the lead, and Mike and Lefty took care o’ the tenor and baritone. Art didn’t care what the other boys wanted to hear. They could holler their heads off for Mike to sing a solo, but no sooner’d Mike start singin’ than Art’d chime in with him and pretty soon we’d all four be goin’ it. Art’s a nut on singin’, but he don’t care nothin’ about list’nin’, not even to a canary. He’d rather harmonize than hit one past the outfielders with two on.

“At first we done all our serenadin’ on the train. Art’d get us out o’ bed early so’s we could be through breakfast and back in the car in time to tear off a few before we got to wherever we was goin’.

—

“It got so’s Art wouldn’t leave us alone in the different towns we played at. We couldn’t go to no show or nothin’. We had to stick in the hotel and sing, up in our room or Mike’s. And then he went so nuts over it that he got Mike to come and room in the same house with him at home, and I and Lefty was supposed to help keep the neighbors awake every night. O’ course we had mornin’ practice wile we was home, and Art used to have us come to the park early and get in a little harmony before we went on the field. But Ryan finally nailed that. He says that when he ordered mornin’ practice he meant baseball and not no minstrel show.

“Then Lefty, who wasn’t married, goes and gets himself a girl. I met her a couple o’ times, and she looked all right. Lefty might of married her if Art’d of left him alone. But nothin’ doin’. We was home all through June oncet, and instead o’ comin’ round nights to sing with us, Lefty’d take this here doll to one o’ the parks or somewheres. Well, sir, Art was pretty near wild. He scouted round till he’d found out why Lefty’d quit us and then he tried pretty near everybody else on the club to see if they wasn’t some one who could hit the baritone. They wasn’t nobody. So the next time we went on the road, Art give Lefty a earful about what a sucker a man was to get married, and looks wasn’t everything and the girl was prob’ly after Lefty’s money and he wasn’t bein’ a good fella to break up the quartette and spoil our good times, and so on, and kept pesterin’ and teasin’ Lefty till he give the girl up. I’d of saw Art in the Texas League before I’d of shook a girl to please him, but you know these left-handers.

“Art had it all framed that we was goin’ on the stage, the four of us, and he seen a vaudeville man in New York and got us booked for eight hundred a week – I don’t know if it was one week or two. But he sprung it on me in September and says we could get solid bookin’ from October to March; so I ast him what he thought my Missus would say when I told her I couldn’t get enough o’ bein’ away from home from March to October, so I was figurin’ on travelin’ the vaudeville circuit the other four or five months and makin’ it unanimous? Art says I was tied to a woman’s apron and all that stuff, but I give him the cold stare and he had to pass up that dandy little scheme.

“At that, I guess we could of got by on the stage all right. Mike was better than this here Waldron and I hadn’t wore my voice out yet on the coachin’ line, tellin’ the boys to touch all the bases.

“They was about five or six songs that we could kill. ‘Adeline’ was our star piece. Remember where it comes in, ‘Your fair face beams’? Mike used to go away up on ‘fair.’ Then they was ‘The Old Millstream’ and ‘Put on Your Old Gray Bonnet.’ I done some fancy work in that one. Then they was ‘Down in Jungle Town’ that we had pretty good. And then they was one that maybe you never heard. I don’t know the name of it. It run somethin’ like this.”

Bill sottoed his voice so that I alone could hear the beautiful refrain:

“‘Years, years, I’ve waited years

Only to see you, just to call you ‘dear.’

Come, come, I love but thee,

Come to your sweetheart’s arms; come back to me.’

“That one had a lot o’ wallops in it, and we didn’t overlook none o’ them. The boys used to make us sing it six or seven times a night. But ‘Down in the Cornfield’ was Art’s favoright. They was a part in that where I sung the lead down low and the other three done a banjo stunt. Then they was ‘Castle on the Nile’ and ‘Come Back to Erin’ and a whole lot more.

“Well, the four of us wasn’t hardly ever separated for three years. We was practisin’ all the w’ile like as if we was goin’ to play the big time, and we never made a nickel off’n it. The only audience we had was the ball players or the people travelin’ on the same trains or stoppin’ at the same hotels, and they got it all for nothin’. But we had a good time, ’specially Art.

“You know what a pitcher Mike was. He could go in there stone cold and stick ten out o’ twelve over that old plate with somethin’ on ’em. And he was the willin’est guy in the world. He pitched his own game every third or fourth day, and between them games he was warmin’ up all the time to go in for somebody else. In 1911, when we was up in the race for aw’ile, he pitched eight games out o’ twenty, along in September, and win seven o’ them, and besides that, he finished up five o’ the twelve he didn’t start. We didn’t win the pennant, and I’ve always figured that them three weeks killed Mike.

“Anyway, he wasn’t worth nothin’ to the club the next year; but they carried him along, hopin’ he’d come back and show somethin’. But he was pretty near through, and he knowed it. I knowed it, too, and so did everybody else on the club, only Graham. Art never got wise till the trainin’ trip two years ago this last spring. Then he come to me one day.

“‘Bill,’ he says, ‘I don’t believe Mike’s comin’ back.’

“‘Well,’ I says, ‘you’re gettin’s so’s they can’t nobody hide nothin’ from you. Next thing you’ll be findin’ out that Sam Crawford can hit.’

“‘Never mind the comical stuff,’ he says. ‘They ain’t no joke about this!’

“‘No,’ I says, ‘and I never said they was. They’ll look a long w’ile before they find another pitcher like Mike.’

“‘Pitcher my foot!’ says Art. ‘I don’t care if they have to pitch the bat boy. But when Mike goes, where’ll our quartette be?’

“‘Well,’ I says, ‘do you get paid every first and fifteenth for singin’ or for crownin’ that old pill?’

“‘If you couldn’t talk about money, you’d be deaf and dumb,’ says Art.

“‘But you ain’t playin’ ball because it’s fun, are you?’

“‘No,’ he says, ‘they ain’t no fun for me in playin’ ball. They’s no fun doin’ nothin’ but harmonizin’, and if Mike goes, I won’t even have that.’

“‘I and you and Lefty can harmonize,’ I says.

“‘It’d be swell stuff harmonizin’ without no tenor,’ says Art. ‘It’d be like swingin’ without no bat.’

“Well, he ast me did I think the club’d carry Mike through another season, and I told him they’d already carried him a year without him bein’ no good to them, and I figured if he didn’t show somethin’ his first time out, they’d ask for waivers. Art kept broodin’ and broodin’ about it till they wasn’t hardly no livin’ with him. If he ast me oncet he ast me a thousand times if I didn’t think they might maybe hold onto Mike another season on account of all he’d did for ’em. I kept tellin’ him I didn’t think so; but that didn’t satisfy him and he finally went to Ryan and ast him point blank.

“‘Are you goin’ to keep McCann?’ Art ast him.

“‘If he’s goin’ to do us any good, I am,’ says Ryan. “If he ain’t, he’ll have to look for another job.’

—

“After that, all through the trainin’ trip, he was right on Mike’s heels.

“‘How does the old souper feel?’ he’d ask him.

“‘Great!’ Mike’d say.

“Then Art’d watch him warm up, to see if he had anything on the ball.

“‘He’s comin’ fine,’ he’d tell me. ‘His curve broke today just as good as I ever seen it.’

“But that didn’t fool me, or it didn’t fool Mike neither. He could throw about four hooks and then he was through. And he could of hit you in the head with his fast one and you’d of thought you had a rash.

“One night, just before the season opened up, we was singin’ on the train, and when we got through, Mike says:

“‘Well, boys, you better be lookin’ for another C’ruso.’

“‘What are you talkin’ about?’ says Art.

“‘I’m talkin’ about myself,’ says Mike. ‘I’ll be up there in Minneapolis this summer, pitchin’ oncet a week and swappin’ stories about the Civil War with Joe Cantillon.’

“‘You’re crazy,’ says Art. ‘Your arm’s as good as I ever seen it.’

“‘Then,’ says Mike, ‘you must of been playin’ blindfolded all these years. This is just between us, ’cause Ryan’ll find it out for himself; my arm’s rotten, and I can’t do nothin’ to help it.’

“Then Art got sore as a boil.

“‘You’re a yellow, quittin’ dog,’ he says. ‘Just because you come round a little slow, you talk about Minneapolis. Why don’t you resign off’n the club?’

“‘I might just as well,’ Mike says, and left us.

“You’d of thought that Art would of gave up then, ’cause when a ball player admits he’s slippin’, you can bet your last nickel that he’s through. Most o’ them stalls along and tries to kid themself and everybody else long after they know they’re gone. But Art kept talkin’ like they was still some hope o’ Mike comin’ round, and when Ryan told us one night in St. Louis that he was goin’ to give Mike his chanct, the next day, Art was as nervous as a bride goin’ to get married. I wasn’t nervous. I just felt sorry, ’cause I knowed the old boy was hopeless.

“Ryan had told him he was goin’ to work if the weather suited him. Well, the day was perfect. So Mike went out to the park along about noon and took Jake with him to warm up. Jake told me afterwards that Mike was throwin’, just easy like, from half-past twelve till the rest of us got there. He was tryin’ to heat up the old souper and he couldn’t of ast for a better break in the weather, but they wasn’t enough sunshine in the world to make that old whip crack.

“Well, sir, you’d of thought to see Art that Mike was his son or his brother or somebody and just breakin’ into the league. Art wasn’t in the outfield practisin’ more than two minutes. He come in and stood behind Mike w’ile he was warmin’ up and kept tellin’ how good he looked, but the only guy he was kiddin’ was himself.

—

“Then the game starts and our club goes in and gets three runs.

“‘Pretty soft for you now, Mike,’ says Art, on the bench. ‘They can’t score three off’n you in three years.’

“Say, it’s lucky he ever got the side out in the first innin’. Everybody that come up hit one on the pick, but our infield pulled two o’ the greatest plays I ever seen and they didn’t score. In the second, we got three more, and I thought maybe the old bird was goin’ to be lucky enough to scrape through.

“For four or five innin’s, he got the grandest support that was ever gave a pitcher; but I’ll swear that what he throwed up there didn’t have no more on it than September Morning. Every time Art come to the bench, he says to Mike, ‘Keep it up, old boy. You got more than you ever had.’

“Well, in the seventh, Mike still had ’em shut out, and we was six runs to the good. Then a couple o’ the St. Louis boys hit ’em where they couldn’t nobody reach ’em and they was two on and two out. Then somebody got a hold o’ one and sent it on a line to the left o’ second base. I forgot who it was now; but whoever it was, he was supposed to be a right field hitter, and Art was layin’ over the other way for him. Art started with the crack o’ the bat, and I never seen a man make a better try for a ball. He had it judged perfect; but Cobb or Speaker or none o’ them couldn’t of catched it. Art just managed to touch it by stretchin’ to the limit. It went on to the fence and everybody come in. They didn’t score no more in that innin’.

“Then Art come in from the field and what do you think he tried to pull?

“‘I don’t know what was the matter with me on that fly ball,’ he says. ‘I ought to caught it in my pants pocket. But I didn’t get started till it was right on top o’ me.’

“‘You misjudged it, didn’t you?’ says Ryan.

“‘I certainly did,’ says Art without crackin’.

“‘Well,’ says Ryan, ‘I wisht you’d misjudge all o’ them that way. I never seen a better play on a ball.’

“So then Art knowed they wasn’t no more use trying to alibi the old boy.

“Mike had a turn at bat and when he come back, Ryan ast him how he felt.

“‘I guess I can get six more o’ them out,’ he says.

“Well, they didn’t score in the eighth, and when the ninth come Ryan sent I and Lefty out to warm up. We throwed a few w’ile our club was battin’; but when it come St. Louis’ last chanct, we was too much interested in the ball game to know if we was throwin’ or bakin’ biscuits.

“The first guy hits a line drive, and somebody jumps a mile in the air and stabs it. The next fella fouled out, and they was only one more to get. And then what do you think come off? Whoever it was hittin’ lifted a fly ball to center field. Art didn’t have to move out of his tracks. I’ve saw him catch a hundred just like it behind his back. But you know what he was thinkin’. He was sayin’ to himself, ‘If I nail this one, we’re li’ble to keep our tenor singer a w’ile longer.’ And he dropped it.

“Then they was five base hits that sounded like the fourth o’ July, and they come so fast that Ryan didn’t have time to send for I or Lefty. Anyway, I guess he thought he might as well leave Mike in there and take it.

“They wasn’t no singin’ in the clubhouse after that game. I and Lefty always let the others start it. Mike, o’ course, didn’t feel like no jubilee, and Art was so busy tryin’ not to let nobody see him cry that he kept his head clear down in his socks. Finally he beat it for town all alone, and we didn’t see nothin’ of him till after supper. Then he got us together and we all went up to Mike’s room.

“‘I want to try this here “Old Girl o’ Mine,”’ he says.

“‘Better sing our old stuff,’ says Mike. ‘This looks like the last time.’

“Then Art choked up and it was ten minutes before he could get goin’. We sung everything we knowed, and it was two o’clock in the mornin’ before Art had enough. Ryan come in after midnight and set a w’ile listenin’, but he didn’t chase us to bed. He knowed better’n any of us that it was a farewell. When I and Art was startin’ for our room, Art turned to Mike and says:

“‘Old boy, I’d of gave every nickel I ever owned to of caught that fly ball.’

“‘I know you would,’ Mike says, ‘and I know what made you drop it. But don’t worry about it, ’cause it was just a question o’ time, and if I’d of got away with that game, they’d of murdered some o’ the infielders next time I started.’

—

“Mike was sent home the next day, and we didn’t see him again. He was shipped to Minneapolis before we got back. And the rest o’ the season I might as well of lived in a cemetery w’ile we was on the road. Art was so bad that I thought oncet or twicet I’d have to change roomies. Oncet in a w’ile he’d start hummin’ and then he’d break off short and growl at me. He tried out two or three o’ the other boys on the club to see if he couldn’t find a new tenor singer, but nothin’ doin’. One night he made Lefty try the tenor. Well, Lefty’s voice is bad enough down low. When he gets up about so high, you think you’re in the stockyards.

“And Art had a rotten year in baseball, too. The old boy’s still pretty near as good on a fly ball as anybody in the league; but you ought to saw him before his legs begin to give out. He could cover as much ground as Speaker and he was just as sure. But the year Mike left us, he missed pretty near half as many as he got. He told me one night, he says:

“‘Do you know, Bill, I stand out there and pray that nobody’ll hit one to me. Every time I see one comin’ I think o’ that one I dropped for Mike in St. Louis, and then I’m just as li’ble to have it come down on my bean as in my glove.’

“‘You’re crazy,’ I says, ‘to let a thing like that make a bum out o’ you.’

“But he kept on droppin’ fly balls till Ryan was talkin’ about settin’ him on the bench where it wouldn’t hurt nothin’ if his nerve give out. But Ryan didn’t have nobody else to play out there, so Art held on.

“He come back the next spring – that’s a year ago – feelin’ more cheerful and like himself than I’d saw him for a long w’ile. And they was a kid named Burton tryin’ out for second base that could sing pretty near as good as Mike. It didn’t take Art more’n a day to find this out, and every mornin’ and night for a few days the four of us would be together, hittin’ her up. But the kid didn’t have no more idea o’ how to play the bag than Charley Chaplin. Art seen in a minute that he couldn’t never beat Cragin out of his job, so what does he do but take him out and try and learn him to play the outfield. He wasn’t no worse there than at second base; he couldn’t of been. But before he’d practised out there three days they was bruises all over his head and shoulders where fly balls had hit him. Well, the kid wasn’t with us long enough to see the first exhibition game, and after he’d went. Art was Old Man Grump again.

“‘What’s the matter with you?’ I says to him. ‘You was all smiles the day we reported and now you could easy pass for a undertaker.’

“‘Well,’ he says, ‘I had a great winter, singin’ all the w’ile. We got a good quartette down home and I never enjoyed myself as much in my life. And I kind o’ had a hunch that I was goin’ to be lucky and find somebody amongst the bushers that could hit up the old tenor.’

“‘Your hunch was right,’ I says. ‘That Burton kid was as good a tenor as you’d want.’

“‘Yes,’ he says, ‘and my hunch could of played ball just as good as him.’

“Well, sir, if you didn’t never room with a corpse, you don’t know what a whale of a time I had all last season. About the middle of August he was at his worst.

“‘Bill,’ he says, ‘I’m goin’ to leave this old baseball flat on its back if somethin’ don’t happen. I can’t stand these here lonesome nights. I ain’t like the rest o’ the boys that can go and set all ev’nin’ at a pitcher show or hang round them Dutch gardens. I got to be singin’ or I am mis’rable.’

“‘Go ahead and sing,’ says I. ‘I’ll try and keep the cops back.’

“‘No,’ he says, ‘I don’t want to sing alone. I want to harmonize and we can’t do that ’cause we ain’t got no tenor.’

“I don’t know if you’ll believe me or not, but sure as we’re settin’ here he went to Ryan one day in Philly and tried to get him to make a trade for Harper.

“‘What do I want him for?’ says Ryan.

“‘I hear he ain’t satisfied,’ says Art.

“‘I ain’t runnin’ no ball players’ benefit association,’ says Ryan, and Art had to give it up. But he didn’t want Harper on the club for no other reason than because he’s a tenor singer!

—

“And then come that Dee-troit trip, and Art got permission to go to Jackson. He says he intended to drop in at the ball park, but his uncle wanted to borry some money off’n him on a farm, so Art had to drive out and see the farm. Then, that night, this here Waldron was up to call on Art’s cousin – a swell doll, Art tells me. And Waldron set down to the py-ana and begin to sing and play. Then it was all off; they wasn’t no spoonin’ in the parlor that night. Art wouldn’t leave the kid get off’n the py-ana stool long enough to even find out if the girl was a blonde or a brunette.

“O’ course Art knowed the boy was with the Jackson club as soon as they was interduced, ’cause Art’s uncle says somethin’ about the both o’ them bein’ ball players, and so on. But Art swears he never thought o’ recommendin’ him till the kid got up to go home. Then he ast him what position did he play and found out all about him, only o’ course Waldron didn’t tell him how good he was ’cause he didn’t know himself.

“So Art ast him would he like a trial in the big show, and the kid says he would. Then Art says maybe the kid would hear from him, and then Waldron left and Art went to bed, and he says he stayed awake all night plannin’ the thing out and wonderin’ would he have the nerve to pull it off. You see he thought that if Ryan fell for it, Waldron’d join us as soon as his season was over and then Ryan’d see he wasn’t no good; but he’d prob’ly keep him till we was through for the year, and Art could alibi himself some way, say he’d got the wrong name or somethin’. All he wanted, he says, was to have the kid along the last month or six weeks, so’s we could harmonize. A nut? I guess not.

“Well, as you know, Waldron got sick and didn’t report, and when Art seen him on the train this spring he couldn’t hardly believe his eyes. He thought surely the kid would of been canned durin’ the winter without no trial.

“Here’s another hot one. When we went out the first day for practice, Art takes the kid off in a corner and tries to learn him enough baseball so’s he won’t show himself up and get sent away somewheres before we had a little benefit from his singin’. Can you imagine that? Tryin’ to learn this kid baseball, when he was born with a slidin’ pad on.

“You know the rest of it. They wasn’t never no question about Waldron makin’ good. It’s just like everybody says – he’s the best natural ball player that’s broke in since Cobb. They ain’t nothin’ he can’t do. But it is a funny thing that Art’s job should be the one he’d get. I spoke about that to Art when he give me the story.

“‘Well,’ he says, ‘I can’t expect everything to break right. I figure I’m lucky to of picked a guy that’s good enough to hang on. I’m in stronger with Ryan right now, and with the old man, too, than when I was out there playin’ every day. Besides, the bench is a pretty good place to watch the game from. And this club won’t be shy a tenor singer for nine years.’

“‘No,’ I says, ‘but they’ll be shy a lead and a baritone and a bass before I and you and Lefty is much older.’

“‘What of it?’ he says. ‘We’ll look up old Mike and all go somewheres and live together.’”

—

We were nearing Worcester. Bill Cole and I arose from our table and started back toward our car. In the first vestibule we encountered Buck, the trainer.

“Mr. Graham’s been lookin’ all over for you, Mr. Cole,” he said.

“I’ve been rehearsin’ my part,” said Bill.

We found Art Graham, Lefty, and young Waldron in Art’s seat. The kid was talking.

“Lefty missed it again. If you fellas knew music, I could teach it to you on the piano when we get to Boston. Lefty, on the word ‘love,’ in the next to the last line, you’re on middle C. Then, on the word ‘you,’ you slide up half a tone. That’d ought to be a snap, but you don’t get it. I’m on high A and come down to G and Bill’s on low F and comes up to A. Art just sings the regular two notes, F and E. It’s a change from the F chord to the A chord. It makes a dandy wallop and it ought to be a—”

“Here’s Bill now,” interrupted Lefty, as he caught sight of Cole.

Art Graham treated his roommate to a cold stare.

“Where the h——l have you been?” he said angrily.

“Lookin’ for the lost chord,” said Bill.

“Set down here and learn this,” growled Art. “We won’t never get it if we don’t work.”

“Yes, let’s tackle her again,” said Waldron. “Bill comes up two full tones, from F to A. Lefty goes up half a tone, Art sings just like always, and I come down a tone. Now try her again.”

—

Two years ago it was that Bill Cole told me that story. Two weeks ago Art Graham boarded the evening train on one of the many roads that lead to Minneapolis.

The day Art was let out, I cornered Ryan in the club-house after the others had dressed and gone home.

“Did you ever know,” I asked, “that Art recommended Waldron without having seen him in a ball suit?”

“I told you long ago how Art picked Waldron,” he said.

“Yes,” said I, “but you didn’t have the right story.”

So I gave it to him.

“You newspaper fellas,” he said when I had done, “are the biggest suckers in the world. Now I’ve never given you a bad steer in my life. But you don’t believe what I tell you and you go and fall for one of Bill Cole’s hop dreams. Don’t you know that he was the biggest liar in baseball? He’d tell you that Walter Johnson was Jack’s father if he thought he could get away with it. And that bunk he gave you about Waldron. Does it sound reasonable?”

“Just as reasonable,” I replied, “as the stuff about Art’s grabbing him after seeing him pop out.”

“I don’t claim he did,” said Ryan. “That’s what Art told me. One of those Jackson ball players could give you the real truth, only of course he wouldn’t, because if Hodges ever found it out he’d shoot him full of holes. Art Graham’s no fool. He isn’t touting ball players because they can sing tenor or alto or anything else.”

Nevertheless, I believe Bill Cole; else I wouldn’t print the story. And Ryan would believe, too, if he weren’t in such a mood these days that he disagrees with everybody. For in spite of Waldron’s wonderful work, and he is at his best right now, the club hasn’t done nearly as well as when Art and Bill and Lefty were still with us.

There seems to be a lack of harmony.

• 7 •

The Poor Simp

My head ain’t so heavy with brains that I walk stooped over. But I do claim to have more sense than the most o’ them that’s gettin’ by in this league, and when I get the can it won’t be because I don’t know what I’m doin’ out there. Ask anybody in the business what kind of a ball player I am. Some o’ them will say I’m pretty fair, and some o’ them may say I’m rotten’ but they’ll all say I’m smart.

I’ve made my share of errors and I’ve hit many a perpendicular home run in the pinch, but I never lost a game by peggin’ to the wrong base or by not knowin’ how many was out. They ain’t many can claim a record like that without gettin’ called on it.

Well, that record won’t buy me no round steaks when I get through here, and when I think o’ the things that’s happened to me and the things that’s happened to fellas that didn’t hardly know which was right field, I feel like I’d been better off if I’d just been born from my neck down.

Look at Jack Andrews! Bill Garwood, that batted right ahead of him, told me oncet that the calves of his legs was all spike wounds, where Jack had slid into him from behind. It got so finally that every time Bill was on second and Jack on first Bill’d steal third to keep from bein’ cut down. And Bill’d try to stretch every hit he made into a double so’s to be two bases ahead o’ Jack. And now Jack’s runnin’ a halfway house outside o’ Chicago and it’s a dull night when he don’t take in a hundred bucks!

Then look at Red Burns!

Red never knowed how the game come out till he seen the paper next mornin’, and they had to page him when it was his turn to hit. And now he’s in the contractin’ business in Cleveland and the hardest work he does is addin’ up the month’s profits.

And then look at me! S’posed to be one o’ these here brainy ball players that never pulls a bone. Playin’ my seventh year in fast company. Only gettin’ forty-five hundred right now, because I never jumped a contract or spiked an umpire. And when they’re through with me I can starve to death or pick up some nice, soft snap in a foundry.

I read the other day where some doctor says everybody should ought to have their appendixes and their tonsils and their adenoids cut out when they’re still a baby yet. Well, them things didn’t never give me no trouble. But I wisht I’d of had my brains removed before I ever learned to use ’em. They’re the worst handicap a man can have in this business.

The less a guy knows, so much the sooner he can retire and live on his income.

You think I’m just talkin’ against time? No, sir; you’re listenin’ to the truth now. And if you don’t believe me ask Carey. Ask him to tell you about Skull Scoville. Or if you ain’t too sleepy I’ll tell you about him myself.

II

It takes Carey to spot these boobs, and Carey wasn’t with us on the spring trip last year. If you’ll remember he was coachin’ a college team down in Ohio and got permission to report late. Skull was with us all the wile, but I was too busy gettin’ myself in shape to pay much attention to the new ones. All as I noticed about him was that he done a lot of struttin’ and acted like he was more anxious to look pretty than to make good.

But Carey hadn’t been round more’n a day when he braced me about Skull.

“When did we sign Francis X. Bushman?” he says.

“That’s Scoville,” I told him. “Skull Scoville.”

“Some jealous cat must of gave him that nickname,” says Carey.

“It’s what they called him last year in the Carolina League,” I says.

“Is he goin’ back there?” ast Carey.

“I haven’t been watchin’ him much,” I says.

“I hope he sticks,” says Carey. “All our club needs is looks.”

“You don’t care nothin’ about his looks,” I says. “You’re scoutin’ for somebody to pick on.”

“Maybe you’re right,” says Carey. “I wisht I could stay with them college boys all year. A couple o’ them fell for all the old junk I could remember. I run out o’ stale stuff finally and was goin’ to write to you.”

“Thanks,” I says.

“But this here Skull does look promisin’,” says Carey, “and I guess we’ll have to try him out.”

So Carey went over to where the kid was warmin’ up and started in on him. After a wile he come back.

“I guess I can’t pick ’em,” he says. “When they get waivers on me I’m goin’ scoutin’ – not for no ball club, but for some circus that’s shy o’ clowns.”

“What did you pull on him?” I ast.

“Just a couple o’ feelers,” says Carey. “I ast him what league he come from and he says the Carolina League. I says: ‘Oh, yes. Milwaukee won the pennant, didn’t they?’ ‘No,’ he says; ‘Columbia.’ ‘Oh, yes,’ I says. ‘I got it mixed up with the Utah League, where the women manages the teams.’ ‘Where’s that league at?’ he says. ‘The Utah League?’ I says. ‘You take a westbound Hodiamont car in St. Louis and transfer twicet, and then walk a block down to the wharf and get on the steamer goin’ to Michigan City, only you get off when they come to Shreveport, and you can see it from there.’”

“You’re goin’ to have a good season,” I says.

“No, it can’t last,” says Carey. “Some day Cap’ll stick him in there and then it’ll be back to the Carolina you love.”

But Carey had it doped wrong. Cap give Skull a chance the second serious with the Cardinals, up home, and he got by nice. He was a little wild, but it helped him, because his fast one was fast enough to have ’em scared. They was swingin’ with one foot in the bucket. Bill handled him good and Cap was tickled to death with his showin’. “What do you think of him?” Cap ast Carey.

“Best young pitcher I’ve looked at in a long wile,” says Carey. “You’ll make a big mistake if you leave him go.”

“I ain’t goin’ to leave him go,” says Cap.

“You’d be a sucker if you did,” says Carey. “But if I was you I wouldn’t work him too of’en for a wile. He’s nothin’ but a kid and you ought to give him time to get his bearin’s.”

You see Carey was afraid that Skull wouldn’t look as good the next time out, and he was crazy to have him stick on the club so’s we could enjoy him. They wasn’t no need of him bein’ afraid, though, because Skull kept right on mowin’ ’em down. He had everything but a noodle, and a man don’t need to know nothin’ about pitchin’ with Bill behind that bat.

III

It come along May and we was goin’ East. Brooklyn was the first place we was scheduled and we was leavin’ home on the five-thirty, right after a game.

Well, the first thing Carey done when we got on the train was to tell the dinge to make up two berths. Then he took off his coat and collar like he was gettin’ ready to undress. Some o’ the boys went right into the diner and Skull was goin’ to follow ’em when Carey nailed him. “Where are you goin’, kid?” he says.

“To get my supper,” says Skull.

“Take a tip from me and stay where you are,” says Carey. “Them other fellas ain’t goin’ to have nothin’ to eat. They’re tryin’ to stall you.”

“What’s the idear?” says Skull.

“It’s old stuff,” says Carey, “but I’ll explain it to you. This car ain’t only got twelve lowers and they’s twenty-four of us on the trip. That means they can’t only twelve of us have lowers and the rest gets uppers. But the first twelve in bed gets the lowers.”

“Yes,” says Skull, “but the secretary give me a piece o’ paper that says I’m to have a lower.”

“Well,” says Carey, “can you knock somebody out o’ bed with that piece of paper? I’m tellin’ you, kid. The paper don’t make no difference; it’s the fellas that gets there first.”

“Are you goin’ to bed yourself?” says Skull.

“You bet I am,” says Carey.

“But you won’t get no supper,” says Skull.

“Supper!” says Carey. “I’d rather go without twenty suppers than ride in a upper through them Indiana mountains. These other birds is tryin’ to put somethin’ over. They’ll wait till the dinge gets a couple o’ berths made up and then they’ll race fer ’em. He’s makin’ up two right now and you can bet that one is goin’ to be mine.”

Pretty soon Skull was peelin’ his coat.

“Keep some loose change under your pillow,” says Carey. “You’re liable to be awake when we go through Fall River and you can send the porter out for a sandwich.”

Well, Carey hid behind the curtains of his berth and waited till Skull was all set for the night. Then he put his collar and coat back on and come into the diner and told us about it. Only o’ course he didn’t tell Cap.

I was back in our car when Cap come in. He seen the two berths made up and got curious. First he peeked into the one Carey’s been settin’ in and they wasn’t nobody there. Then he looked in at Skull.

“What’s the matter?” he says. “Sick?”

“No, I ain’t sick,” says Skull.

“Been drinkin’ somethin’?” says Cap.

“No,” says Skull.

“Well,” says Cap, “you go to bed nights after this and you won’t be all in in the middle o’ the afternoon.”

I snuck down to Skull’s berth.

“Just lay low in there,” I says. “He was tryin’ to get you out because he wants that berth. It’s the best spot in the car – right over the front wheels. You hold on to it.”

Along about nine o’clock all the berths was made up but one, the seat where the boys was playin’ cards. I and Carey was up in the buffet car, but Smitty told us what come off.

Skull stuck his head out between the curtains and seen the card game. Smitty seen him lookin’.

“Ain’t you goin’ to bed?” says Skull.

“We can’t,” says Smitty. “All the lowers is gone.”

“I’ll set up a wile if you want to lay here,” says Skull.

“Off o’ that noise!” says Smitty. “Cap would fine us a hundred apiece if he catched us tradin’ berths.”

So Skull laid back, but pretty soon he peeked out again and ast for the porter.

“He got sore and quit at South Bend,” says Smitty.

“Have we came to Fall River yet?” ast Skull.

“No, and we ain’t goin’ to,” says Smitty.

“Why not?” says Skull.

“They’s a big storm there,” says Smitty. “So we’re goin’ round the other way, through Evanston.”

“Can a man get a sandwich there?”

“Not a sandwich,” says Smitty. “But they’s a old lady meets this train every night with a basket o’ fried chicken and mashed potatoes – four bits a throw.”

“What time do we get to Evanston?”

“Can’t tell; it ain’t on the regular schedule,” says Smitty. “But you’ll know when we’re pullin’ in – the engine’ll give one long whistle.”

“They done that a wile ago,” says Skull.

“Yes,” says Smitty. “The engineer thought it was Evanston, but it wasn’t. His mistake.”

Smitty come up afterward and joined us in the buffet car. We was all back and undressin’ when we slowed up for Toledo. Carey spoke up loud.

“This must be Evanston,” he says.

Skull popped out of his berth.

“Where’ll I find that woman?” he says to Smitty.

“Up at the head end,” says Smitty. “She’s the fireman’s mother-in-law.”

Skull started up the aisle.

“Here,” I says, “you can’t go callin’ in your nightgown.”

“You won’t have time to dress,” says Smitty. “We’re only here two minutes.”

“You better forget eatin’,” says Carey. “I got hungry at Elkhart and wile I was scoutin’ I lost my berth.”

Skull turned to me.

“Go out and find her for me, will you?” he says. “Get two orders, one for you and one for me, and I’ll pay you for the both.”

“I ain’t hungry,” I says. “I had a pretty good dinner – soup and lake trout and a porterhouse with mushrooms and hashed brown potatoes and poached eggs and salad and apple pie and coffee.”

“I’ll go out for you,” says Carey; “but if I get left you’ll have to pay my fare from here to New York.”

So Carey went out in the vestibule and stalled round till the train started up again. Then he come back, pantin’ like he’d ran a mile.

“That’s fine luck!” he says. “She’d just gave me the stuff when the train began to pull out. If I hadn’t ran clear back here I’d of got left; they wasn’t no other door open. And wile I was runnin’ I dropped your supper.”

Well, I don’t know how much more sleep Skull got that night, but I’ll bet he was No. 1 in the diner next mornin’. And I’ll bet when the chef seen the order he wondered where Jess Willard got on at.

IV

It rained the first two days we was East. The sun was out the third mornin’ and I and Carey was standin’ in front o’ the hotel when Skull showed up.

“Swell day,” he says.

“Yes,” says Carey, “and you know what it means, don’t you? It means we’ll have to beat it for Brooklyn as soon as we digest our breakfast. Three games.”

“Three games,” says Skull. “They won’t play ’em all today, will they?”

“They’re liable to,” says Carey. “You can’t never tell about Brooklyn.”

“I ain’t had no breakfast yet,” says Skull.

“You better hurry it up, then,” says Carey. “We was just goin’ to start.”

“Wait for me, will you?” says Skull.

“Not a chancet,” says Carey. “I got to be there early to help direct the practice.”

“You’ll have to go alone,” I says. “All the rest o’ the boys will be gone before you’re through your breakfast.”

“How do I get there?” says Skull.

“They’ll be a taxi to take you,” says Carey. “You just come out here and look round and when you see a driver lookin’ at you, hop in his car and tell him where you want to go. The club’ll settle for it.”

Well, as soon as Skull had went in to breakfast, Carey tipped off the rest o’ the gang to keep out o’ sight for a wile. I and him went over in the park acrost the street and watched for Skull to come out. Finally he come and they was two taxis standin’ there. He hopped into the nearest one, told the driver to take him to the Brooklyn ball park, and off they went. It wasn’t much of a trip – only from Eighty-first and Columbus to hellangone.

I s’pose he landed there about ten or ten-thirty. When we come, at a quarter to two, he was out in a suit, practicin’ with the Brooklyn bunch.

Robbie seen us and came over.

“What are you fellas pullin’?” he says. “Tryin’ to get our signs? This bird’s been here all day; landed in a taxi this mornin’. And he had a big brawl with the chauffeur about who was goin’ to settle. Finally the chauffeur said he’d have him pinched and then the guy come acrost. But he told me that your club was payin’ for the rig and he’d collect back from your secretary. Then he ast me if we was goin’ to play three games today and I says, No, the first two had been called off. So he’s been out monkeyin’ with my crowd ever since. I thought at first he was lit up, but afterward I seen he wasn’t.”

“We was tryin’ to do you a favor,” says Carey. “A fella that’s managin’ a club in Brooklyn deserves a treat oncet in a wile. We’re doin’ the best we can for you, and we’ll call it square if you don’t pitch Rucker against us.”

“But what’s this bird’s name?” says Robbie.

“That’s Scoville,” I says, “the boy that’s been doin’ all our winnin’.”

“I’m too old to be kidded,” says Robbie. “That fella’s too handsome to be a good pitcher.”

“If you think he can’t pitch, you ain’t too old to make a mistake,” I says.

“It’s a part of his system,” says Carey, “to visit all mornin’ with the club he’s goin’ to work against. He figures he’ll do better if he knows the batters.”

Well, sir, Skull pitched the game and Rucker pitched against him. Rucker outpitched him about two to one, but Skull copped.

“What do you think o’ the visitin’ system?” I says to Robbie, goin’ out.

But he didn’t have no comeback.

I and Carey and Skull rode back to the hotel together.

“Too bad you went over this mornin’ for nothin’,” says Carey. “As soon as we got there and found out they wasn’t only goin’ to play one game, we called you up to tell you about it, but you’d already left.”

“I didn’t go over for nothin’,” says Skull. “It was eight dollars and seventy-five cents. But o’ course the club’ll give it back to me.”

Carey seen where he was liable to get into trouble.

“Don’t say nothin’ to them about it,” he says. “I’ll go to the front for you. I know the sec. better’n you do and I can handle him.”

So after supper, Carey found Skull again and broke the news to him.

“I seen the sec.,” he says, “but they was nothin’ doin’. If you’ll remember, two taxis was settin’ out there when you got ready to go, and you took the wrong one. The other one was already paid for. So you’ll have to stand for it. That’s what you get for bein’ with a cheap club.”

Skull swallowed his medicine without a whimper. But after that you couldn’t get him into a taxi, not if he seen you pay for it in advance.

V

The mornin’ o’ the first day o’ the New York serious he set with us at breakfast.

“You want to get up to the Polo Grounds early,” says Carey. “Maybe you’ll see part o’ the polo game.”

“Are you fellas goin’ early?” he says.

“No,” says Carey, “we’ve saw polo played already, and they won’t let a man in twicet. They’re afraid he’d learn the secrets o’ the game.”

“How do you get there without goin’ in no taxi?” ast Skull.

I guess I already told you where we was stoppin’ – Eighty-first and Columbus. I was just goin’ to tell him to jump on the Elevated and stay on to the end o’ the line, but Carey flagged me.

“Go out here on the corner,” he says, “and take a car goin’ south. If the motorman don’t make no mistake, it’ll keep goin’ till it gets way down to the Battery – that’s where the pitchers and catchers all starts from. But if you don’t see no pitchers and catchers that you know, ask a policeman where the Sixth Avenue Elevated is, and then get on a Harlem train. Ride forward and hold on round the curves. Set near a window if you can, only don’t catch cold in your arm. Better be readin’ a paper, if you can find one in the train; then they won’t no girls talk to you. They’s a couple o’ girls here in New York that’d pick your pockets if they got a chancet. Your looks wouldn’t save you. And get off when you get to the Polo Grounds.”

“How’ll I know when I’m there?” ast Skull.

“You’ll hear a lot o’ yellin’,” says Carey, “the Giants practicin’ what they’re goin’ to say to Klein.”

Skull got lost somewheres, ’way down town; he couldn’t tell us just where. It was afternoon when he finally got to the Polo Grounds, and o’ course the polo game was all over.

“You seen the town, though, didn’t you?” says Carey.

“What town?” says Skull.

“Ishpeming,” says Carey.

“No,” says Skull, “I was right here in New York all the wile.”

He made earlier starts the next two mornin’s, but he never did manage to get there in time for polo. He was to pitch the third game and he was restin’ in the club house when I and Carey come in.

“You work today, don’t you?” says Carey.

“Yes,” he says.

“I got a message for you from Cap,” says Carey. “He had to go back to the hotel after the bag o’ close decisions, and he wanted me to be sure and tell you to have a long talk with McGraw before the game.”

“What should I talk to him about?” says Skull.

“Ask him a lot o’ questions,” says Carey. “He’s a grand fella for a young pitcher to talk to. He’ll help you a lot. Ask him what his men can hit and what they can’t hit, and who’s goin’ to work for them. Ask him anything you can think of, and try and remember everything he tells you.”

Skull got right up and went out to look for McGraw. When we was dressed and come on the field, he was over by their bench, obeyin’ instructions. I don’t know what Mac thought of him; probably didn’t think much of anything. Mac’s saw so many nuts that they don’t excite him no more.

Pretty soon Skull come struttin’ back to where we was.

“What’d you learn?” I ast him.

“He told me Mathewson or Marquard or Tesreau was goin’ to pitch,” says Skull. “Then I ast him what his men could hit and he says they can’t hit nothin’. So I ast him what they couldn’t hit and he says everythin’. Then he ast me what I done for my complexion and I told him I didn’t do nothin’ for it. And I couldn’t think o’ nothin’ more to ask him, so I come away.”

Well, after a wile, Cap showed up and Carey stuck round to change the subject if Skull begun tellin’ about his interview with McGraw. They wasn’t nothin’ said till it was time for their fieldin’ practice.

“You work, Scoville,” says Cap.

“All right,” says Skull.

“Well, warm up with somebody,” says Cap.

“I won’t need much warmin’ up,” says Skull.

“Why not?” says Cap.

“These fellas can’t hit nothin’,” says Skull.

“Who told you so?” ast Cap.

“McGraw,” says Skull. “He’s their manager.”

“Is he?” says Cap. “I thought it was George Cohan.”

“No,” says Skull. “It’s McGraw.”

“When was you talkin’ with him?” ast Cap.

Then Carey horned in. “Mac was kiddin’ you,” he says. “He’s got a good hittin’ club.”

“You bet he has!” says Cap. “You get that other idear out o’ your head.”

“What would he kid me for?” says Skull.

“Get out there and warm up!” says Cap. “McGraw’s got three of ’em doin’ it.”

“Yes,” says Skull. “He’s goin’ to work Mathewson or Marquard or Tesreau.”

“I don’t see how you can guess so good,” says Cap.

“No,” says Skull. “It’s one o’ them three.”

Well, McGraw’d either been kiddin’ him or he was mistaken about his own ball club. Skull didn’t know which. But he knowed before he went to the shower that they could hit.

VI

Skull pitched a one-hit game over in Philly. But he wasn’t in there a whole innin’. He pitched to six men and the other five got bases on balls.

He went better up in Boston. He had two men out before Cap yanked him.

“What time can you get a train for Carolina?” says Carey.

“You goin’ down there?” ast Skull.

“No,” says Carey. “I thought maybe you was goin’.”

“Oh, no,” says Skull. “I’m gettin’ more money up here.”

“Did you get your pockets picked in New York?” says Carey.

“I guess not,” says Skull.

“Just plain lost it, huh?” says Carey.

“Lost what?” ast Skull.

“Your control,” says Carey.

“What’s that?” says Skull.

“You had swell control in New York,” says Carey. “You was hittin’ their bats right in the middle. But the way you’ve went the last two games, you’ve got us all guessin’. We don’t know whether you’re goin’ to hit the coacher at third base or kill a reporter. Pretty soon you’ll have the field umpire wearin’ a mask and protector. Is your arm sore?”

“No,” says Skull.

“I didn’t think it could be,” says Carey, “on account o’ the distance you get. But if your arm ain’t sore, what’s the matter?”

“Matter with who?” says Skull

“You,” says Carey. “You don’t think the umpire’s missin’ ’em all, do you?”

“I’m wild,” says Skull.

“Oh, that’s it!” says Carey. “I’ve been puzzlin’ my brains to find out what it was. But I see now; you’re wild. And what do you s’pose makes you wild?”

“I can’t pitch where I’m aimin’,” says Skull. “I can’t pitch no strikes. I keep givin’ bases on balls.”

“Funny I didn’t think of that,” says Carey. “I knowed they was somethin’ the matter, but I couldn’t put my finger right on it. I’ll tell Cap and maybe we can get them to enlarge the plate.”

“They wouldn’t do that, would they?” says Skull.

“Well,” says Carey, “they probably wouldn’t in most o’ the towns. But they can’t stop us from doin’ it on our own grounds. It’s our own plate there, and I guess we can have any size we want to.”

“But if I kept pitchin’ too high or too low, the size o’ the plate wouldn’t make no difference,” says Skull.

When we was through at Boston we made the cute little jump to St. Louis, and Carey was ridin’ him all the way.

“This line,” he told him, “is the one the James Boys works on. You see one o’ the Jameses pitches for Boston and another pitches for St. Louis in the other league. And the ones that ain’t ball players works back and forth between the two towns. Somebody has to set up all night and keep watch. I’ve been picked to set up the first night because I can shoot so good. Tomorrow mornin’ we’ll draw lots to see who sets up tomorrow night. But if you got somethin’ you don’t want to lose you better sleep with one eye open and keep your suitcase right in the berth with you. O’ course it’s too late for ’em to steal your control, but they might get your fast ball and then you wouldn’t have nothin’ but your complexion.”

“Oh, yes, I would,” says Skull. “I got a little money and a watch and some clo’es.”

“Shut up!” says Carey. “Don’t be boastin’ o’ what you got. Maybe one o’ them Jameses is right in this car now. You can’t never tell where they’re hidin’.”

Well, the next mornin’ we all ast Carey what kind of a night he had and did he see anything suspicious, and so forth. He told us he had one bad scare. Somebody come through the car with a mask on. But as soon as he seen the mask he knowed it wasn’t one o’ the James Boys, because they wasn’t none of them catchers.

“Who was it?” I says.

“Some society fella,” he says, “goin’ to the masquerade ball up in the day coach.”

We drawed lots right after we was through breakfast. They was supposed to be all our names wrote on pieces o’ paper and dropped into a hat. Then the fella that drawed his own name was to keep watch the second night.

Skull was the baby. All the rest of us drawed his name, too, only o’ course he didn’t know that.

“Well,” says Carey, “it looks like it’s up to you. And you don’t want to take it as a joke. Whether we get by or not depends on how you work. You’ll have to take my gun; I’ll show you how it handles. If you see some stranger come into the car, shoot! Don’t throw a baseball at him or you might wound the engineer. You better set up in the washroom all night with the porter, and if he asks you to help him shine shoes you go ahead and help him. Some o’ these here porters is in with the James Boys and if they get sore it’s good night. And be sure and don’t let the robbers get the first shot.”

Skull tried to sleep a little durin’ the day. But he was too nervous.

“Who’s keepin’ watch now?” he ast Carey.

“Nobody, in the daytime,” says Carey. “They’re afraid of bein’ seen by scouts, because, as I say, one o’ them’s with the Braves and another with the Browns, and the next one that gets caught might be hung or sent to the Carolina League.”

Carey had to borry a gun off’n the conductor.

“I’ll be sure it’s empty before I leave the bird have it,” he says. “He’s dangerous enough with a baseball in his hand, let alone a loaded gat.”

Well, sir, I wisht you’d saw the porter when Skull and the gun went on watch at eleven that night. We had to call him out and put him wise or he’d of dove off the train. He told us he never seen a guy as restless as Skull. All night long he was movin’ round – out on the platform, then back in the washroom, then through to the other end o’ the car and then out on the platform again. And jumpin’ sideways at every noise.

“Nothin’ doin’, eh?” says Carey in the mornin’. “Not a sign o’ ’em?”

“Not a sign,” says Skull.

“And ain’t you sleepy?” says Carey.

“Yes, I am,” says Skull. “I hope I don’t have to work this afternoon.”

“What if you do?” says Carey. “It won’t keep you up more’n ten minutes.”

VII

Skull didn’t pitch that afternoon. He didn’t pitch the next day neither, but he was in there tryin’. Rigler could of umpired with his right arm cut off. They wasn’t no strikes to call.

When he’d throwed fourteen without gettin’ one clost, Cap took him out.

“I’d leave you go through with it,” says Cap, “only the public likes to see some hittin’. Did you think just because this is a bad ball town you couldn’t pitch nothin’ but bad balls?”

“I’m wild,” says Skull. “I can’t get ’em over.”

“I’d of guessed it in a few more minutes,” says Cap. “Did you ever try pitchin’ left-handed?”

“Left-handed?” says Skull. “Why, I wouldn’t know where a ball was goin’ if I throwed it left-handed.”

“Then you must be equally good with both hands,” says Cap.

Waivers was ast on Skull before we left St. Louis.

“They’s no use foolin’ along with him,” Cap told us. “He don’t look like he’d ever get a man out, and even if his control come back you couldn’t never learn him nothin’.”

“I knowed it,” says Carey. “I knowed we’d never have him the whole year.”

“It’s better for you this way,” I says. “Your brains would be wore out before fall.”

We went back home and the third day we was there Cap told us that everybody’d waived.

“The next thing’s placin’ him,” he says. “The newspaper boys has advertised him so good that every hick town in the country is wise to him. If I can’t make no deal within a couple o’ weeks I’ll leave him go outright.”

The two weeks was pretty near up when Carey put over his last one on the poor simp. I and Carey was throwin’ in front o’ the stand when a couple o’ girls was showed into a box right clost to us. They was in black from head to foot; pretty as a picture too. But their clo’es was the kind that you don’t see no city-broke dames wearin’ in a ball orchard.

“Come to town just for the day?” says Carey, but they didn’t pay no attention.

Carey come over to me.

“Uncle Zeke died and left ’em three hundred iron men,” he says, “and they’re goin’ to blow it all in one grand good time. I bet they’ll be dancin’ in Dreamland tonight; they’re dressed for it already.”

“The blonde’s a bearcat,” I says.

“Yes,” says Carey, “and you can figure the other one’s the class o’ the pair. That’s the way it always breaks.”

Skull had been shaggin’ in the outfield. Carey spotted him as he was struttin’ back to the bench, and it was all off.

“You lucky stiff!” says Carey.

“What do you mean?” says Skull.

“I guess you know what I mean,” says Carey. “What did you come in for?”

“I’m tired,” says Skull.

“Oh, yes,” says Carey. “I s’pose you didn’t see them dolls lookin’ you over.”

“What dolls?” ast Skull.

“Them two in the box,” says Carey.

Skull give ’em the double-o.

“Who are they?” he says.

“You don’t know who they are?” says Carey. “That’s Lizzie Carnegie and her sister-in-law, and they’s a movin’ van outside with their pocketbooks in it.”

“Well,” says Skull, “that don’t get me nothin’.”

“Don’t get you nothin’ when the richest girl in the country wants to meet you?” says Carey.

“How do you know she wants to meet me?” says Skull.

“Didn’t she call me over and tell me?” says Carey. “She says: ‘Who’s that handsome bird shaggin’ fungoes in the outfield?’ So I told her who you was. Then she ast if you was married and I says you wasn’t. Then she ast how she could get to talk to you, and I told her I’d find out if you was engaged after the game, and if you wasn’t you’d probably be glad to give her a minute’s time. So all as you have to do now is go over there and make the date.”

“Which is Lizzie?” ast Skull.

“The one with the earrings,” says Carey.

They both was wearin’ ’em.

Well, sir, Skull started over toward the box.

“He’s liable to get pinched,” I says.

“If he does I’ll fix it,” says Carey.

Skull didn’t get pinched. He got two nice smiles, and Cap had to send me over to drag him away when the game started. And I and Carey came out o’ the club-house after the game just in time to see Skull and the pair o’ them hikin’ for the exit.

When we got to mornin’ practice next day, Skull had been let out already.

“I told him he was free to sign wherever he wanted to go,” says Cap.

“I told him to get a catcher somewheres and practice till he could pitch one or two strikes per innin’. I told him maybe he could land in the Federal. He says he guessed he would try the Utah League, where the women manages the clubs. He says women almost always gen’ally took a fancy to him.”

“Yes,” says Carey, “most o’ them likes a good-lookin’ fella all the better if he’s a little wild.”

We didn’t see no more o’ Skull till we got in from Cincinnati, the day before the Fourth o’ July. He was standin’ in the station, holdin’ two suit cases.

“Hello there, boy,” says Carey. “Where are you headin’?”

“Just downstate a ways,” he says.

“Joinin’ some club?” says Carey.

“No,” says Skull. “I’m goin’ to get married.”

“Good night!” says Carey. “And who’s the defendant?”

“That there blond girl,” says Skull. “The girl that was out to the park that day with the other girl. Only you had her name wrong. Her name’s Conahan. Mary Conahan. And the other one ain’t her sister-in-law, but just a friend o’ her’n.”

“I must of had ’em mixed up,” says Carey.

“Yes,” says Skull, “you mistook ’em for somebody else. But you had one thing right: She’s got the old kale.”

“A lot of it?” says Carey.

“A plenty,” says Skull. “Her old man makes this here Silver Tip beer; maybe you’ve drank it already.”

“And I s’pose you’re goin’ to drive a wagon,” says Carey.

“No,” says Skull. “The old man’s been feelin’ bad for the last year and I’m goin’ to kind-a look after the business.”

“And,” I says, “I bet you know just as much about brewin’ beer as you do about pitchin’.”

“Oh, no,” says Skull. “Nowheres near.”

“But you pick things up quick,” says Carey.

Skull’s train was gettin’ ready to start.

“Well,” he says, “good luck to you, and tell the boys I hope they win the pennant.”

“No chancet now,” says Carey.

We went over to the gate with him.

“Where to?” says the guy. “Show your ticket!”

“By cracky, I forgot about a ticket.”

“I s’pose you thought the secretary’d tend to that,” says Carey.

“Too late now,” I says. “You’ll have to pay on the train.”

“You won’t have no trouble,” says Carey. “They’s lady conductors on this road.”

We persuaded the gateman to leave him through.

“Now,” says Carey, “let’s I and you get good and drunk.”

“Yes,” I says; “but let’s go to a place where they keep Silver Tip, so’s to help out old Skull.”

“Help him out!” says Carey. “We’re the ones that need help – us smart Alecks!”

• 8 •

Where Do You Get That Noise?

The trade was pulled wile the Phillies was here first trip. Without knockin’ nobody, the two fellas we give was worth about as much as a front foot on Main Street, Belgium. And the fella we got had went better this spring than any time since he broke in. So when the news o’ the deal come out I says to Dode, I says:

“What’s the matter with Pat tradin’ Hawley? What’s he goin’ to do with them two he’s gettin’  – make ticket takers out of ’em? What’s the idear?”

“It does look like a bad swap for us,” says Dode. “Hawley’s worth six like them you’re givin’ us, and he ain’t only twenty-seven years old.”

“That’s what I’m tellin’ you,” I says. “The deal looks like you was tryin’ to help us out.”

“We are,” says Dode. “Didn’t we just get through helpin’ you out o’ the first division?”

“Save that for the minstrels,” I says. “Give me the inside on this business: Is they somethin’ the matter with him? The trade’s made now already and it won’t hurt you none to come clean. Didn’t him and Pat get along?”

“Sure! Why not?” says Dode. “Did you ever see a guy that Pat couldn’t get along with him?”

“Well then,” says I, “what’s the answer? Don’t keep me in suspenders.”

“I ain’t sure myself,” says Dode, “but I and Bobby was talkin’ it over and we figured that Pat just plain got sick o’ hearin’ him talk.”

“Feed that to the goldfish,” I says. “If Pat couldn’t stand conversation he wouldn’t of never lasted this long.”

“Conversation, yes,” Dode says; “but it’s a different thing when a bird makes an argument out of everything that’s said. They wasn’t a day passed but what Hawley just as good as called everybody on the club a liar. And it didn’t make no difference whether you was talkin’ to him or not. If I happened to be tellin’ you that my sister was the champion chess player o’ Peanut County, he’d horn right in and say she wasn’t no such a thing; that So-and-So was the champion. And they wouldn’t be no use to argue with him because you couldn’t even get a draw. He’d say he was born in the county seat o’ Peanut County and empired all the chess tournaments there. They wasn’t no subject that he didn’t know all about it better’n anybody else. They wasn’t no town he wasn’t born and brought up in. His mother or his old man is first cousins to everybody in the United States. He’s been operated on for every disease in the hospital. And if he’s did all he says he’s did he’ll be eight hundred and twenty-two years old next Halloween.”

“They’s lots o’ fellas like that,” I says.

“You think so?” says Dode. “You wait a wile. Next time I see you, if you don’t say he’s all alone in the Argue League I’ll give you my bat.”

“If he’s that good,” I says, “he’ll be soup for Carey.”

“He will at first, maybe,” says Dode; “but Carey’ll get sick of him, just like Pat and all the rest of us did.”

II

I didn’t lose no time tellin’ Carey about Dode’s dope, and Carey didn’t lose no time tryin’ it out. It was the second day after Hawley joined us. It looked like rain, as usual, and we was stallin’ in the clubhouse, thinkin’ they’d maybe call it off before we had to dress.

“I see in some paper,” says Carey, “where the heavy artillery fire over in Europe is what makes all this duck weather.”

He didn’t get no rise; so he wound up again.

“It seems like it must be somethin’ that does it because they wasn’t never no summer like this before,” he says.

“What do you mean – no summer like this?” says Hawley.

“No summer with so much rain as they’s been this summer,” Carey says.

“Where do you get that stuff?” says Hawley. “This here summer’s been dry, you might say.”

“Yes,” says Carey; “and you might say the Federals done well in Newark.”

“I mean,” says Hawley, “that this here summer’s been dry compared to other summers.”

“I s’pose,” says Carey, “they wasn’t never such a dry summer?”

“They’s been lots of’em,” Hawley says. “They’s been lots o’ summers that was drier and they’s been lots o’ summers when they was more rain.”

“Not in the last twenty years,” says Carey.

“Yes, in the last twenty years too,” says Hawley. “Nineteen years ago this summer made this here one look like a drought. It come up a storm the first day o’ May and they wasn’t a day from then till the first o’ September when it didn’t rain one time or another.””

“You got some memory,” says Carey – “goin’ back nineteen years.”

“I guess I ought to remember it,” says Hawley. “That was the first year my old man left me go to the ball games alone, and they wasn’t no games in our town from April till Labor Day. They wasn’t no games nowheres because the railroads was all washed out. We lived in Cleveland and my old man was caught in New York when the first o’ the floods come and couldn’t get back home for three months.”

“Couldn’t he hire a canoe nowheres?” says Carey.

“Him and some others was thinkin’ about tryin’ the trip on a raft,” says Hawley, “but my old lady was scared to have him try it; so she wrote and told him to stay where he was.”

“She was lucky to have a carrier pigeon to take him the letter,” says Carey. “Or did you swim East with it?”

“Swim!” Hawley says. “Say, you wouldn’t talk about swim if you’d saw the current in them floods!”

“I’m sorry I missed it,” says Carey. “I was still over in Portugal yet that year.”

“It dried up in time for the world serious,” says Hawley.

“The world serious between who?” ast Carey.

“The clubs that won out in the two leagues,” says Hawley.

“I didn’t know they was two leagues in ’96,” says Carey. “Who did they give the pennants to – the clubs that was ahead when it begin to sprinkle?”

“Sprinkle!” says Hawley. “Say, you’d of called it a sprinkle if you’d saw it. Sprinkle! Say, I guess that was some sprinkle!”

“I guess it must of been some sprinkle!” says Carey. “It must of made this summer look like a sucker.”

“No,” says Hawley; “this summer’s been pretty bad.”

“But nowheres near like nineteen year ago,” says Carey.

“Oh, I guess they’s about the same rainfall every year,” Hawley says. “But, still and all, we’ve had some mighty wet weather since the first o’ May this year, and I wouldn’t be su’prised if the heavy artillery there in Europe had somethin’ to do with it.”

“That’s ridic’lous,” says Carey.

“Ridic’lous!” says Hawley. “Where do you get that stuff?” Don’t you know that rain can be started with dynamite? Well, then, why wouldn’t all that shootin’ affect the weather? They must be some explanation.”

“Did you make him?” says Carey to me afterward. “He trimmed me both ways. Some day he’ll single to right field and throw himself out at first base. I seen I was in for a lickin’, so I hedged to get a draw, and the minute I joined his league he jumped to the outlaws. But after this I’m goin’ to stick on one side of it. He goes better when he’s usin’ his own stuff.”

III

In battin’ practice the next day Carey hit one up against them boards in right center on a line.

“Good night!” says Smitty. “I bet that’s the hardest wallop that was ever made on these grounds.”

“I know I didn’t never hit one harder here,” says Carey. “I don’t never hit good in this park. I’d rather be on the road all the wile. I hit better on the Polo Grounds than anywheres else. I s’pose it’s on account o’ the background.”

“Where do you get that stuff?” says Hawley. “Everybody hits better in New York than they do here. Do you want to know why? Because it’s a clean town, without no dirt and cinders blowin’ in your eyes. This town’s all smoke and dirt, and it ain’t no wonder a man’s handicapped. The fellas that’s with clubs in clean towns has got it all over us. Look at Detroit – one o’ the cleanest towns in the country! And look how Cobb and Crawford hit! A man in one o’ these smoke holes can’t never pile up them big averages, or he can’t last as long, neither.”

“No,” says Carey; “and that accounts for Wagner’s rotten record in Pittsburgh.”

Do you think that stopped him? Not him!

“Yes,” he says; “and how much would Wagner of hit if he’d been playin’ in New York or Detroit all the wile? He wouldn’t never been below .500. And he’d of lasted just twicet as long.”

“But on account of him landin’ in Pittsburgh,” says Carey, “the poor kid’ll be all through already before he’s fairly started yet. It’s a crime and the grand jury should ought to take steps.”

“Have you ever been to Washington?” says I.

“Have I ever been to Washington?” says Hawley. “Say, I know Washington like a book. My old man’s brother’s a senator there in Congress. You must of heard o’ Senator Hawley.”

“Oh, yes,” says Carey; “the fella that made the speech that time.”

“That’s the fella,” says Hawley. “And a smart fella too. Him and Woodruff Wilson’s just like brothers. They’re always to each other’s houses. That’s where I met Wilson – was at Uncle Zeke’s. We fanned together for a couple hours. You wouldn’t never know he was the President. He don’t let on like he was any better than I or you.”

“He ain’t as good as you; that’s a pipe!” says Carey.

“Where does your cousin live?” says Smitty.

“Cousin Zeke’s got the swellest apartment in Washington,” says Hawley. “Right next to the Capitol, on Pennsylvania Street.”

“I wisht I could live there,” I says. “It’s the best town in the country for my money. And it’s the cleanest one too.”

“No factories or smoke there,” says Carey.

“I wonder how it comes,” I says, “that most o’ the fellas on the Washington Club, playin’ in the cleanest town in the country most o’ the wile, can’t hardly foul a ball – let alone hit it.”

“Maybe the silver dust from the mint gets in their eyes,” says Carey.

“Where do you get that noise?” says Hawley. “The mint ain’t nowheres near the ball orchard.”

“Well then,” I says, “how do you account for the club not hittin’?”

“Say,” says Hawley, “it ain’t no wonder they don’t hit in that town. We played a exhibition game there last spring and we didn’t hit, neither.”

“Who pitched against you – Johnson?” I ast him.

“Yes; Johnson,” says Hawley.

“But that don’t explain why the Washington bunch can’t hit,” says Carey. “He ain’t mean enough to turn round and pitch against his own club.”

“They won’t nobody hit in that town,” says Hawley, “and I don’t care if it’s Johnson pitchin’ or the mayor.”

“What’s the trouble?” I says.

“The heat gets ’em!” says Carey.

“No such a thing!” says Hawley. “That shows you don’t know nothin’ about it. It’s the trees.”

“The trees!” I says. “Do they play out in the woods or somewheres?”

“No,” says Hawley. “If they did they’d be all right. Their ball park’s just like any ball park; they ain’t no trees in it. But they’s trees all over the rest o’ the town. It don’t make no difference where you go, you’re in the shade. And then, when you get to the ball park you’re exposed to the sun all of a sudden and it blinds you.”

“I should think it would affect their fieldin’ too,” says Carey.

“They wear goggles in the field,” says Hawley.

“Do the infielders wear goggles?” ast Carey.

“No; but most o’ the balls they got to handle comes on the ground. They don’t have to look up for ’em,” says Hawley.

“S’pose somebody hits a high fly ball that’s comin’ down right in the middle o’ the diamond,” says Carey. “Who gets it?”

“It ain’t got,” says Hawley. “They leave it go and it gen’ally almost always rolls foul.”

“If I was Griffith,” says Carey, “I’d get the Forestry Department to cut away the trees in some part o’ town and then make all my ball players live there so’s they’d get used to the sun.”

“Or he might have a few big maples planted round the home plate some Arbor Day,” I says.

“Yes,” says Carey; “or he might trade Johnson to the Pittsburgh Federals for Oakes.”

“He’d be a sucker to trade Johnson,” says Hawley.

IV

Well, we played down in Cincy one Saturday to a crowd that might of all came out in the one street car without nobody ridin’ in the motorman’s vest pocket. We was discussin’ it that night at supper.

“It’s no more’n natural,” I says. “The home club’s been goin’ bad and you can’t expect the whole population to fight for a look at ’em.”

“Yes,” says Carey; “but it ain’t only here. It’s everywheres. We didn’t hardly draw our breath at St. Louis and the receipts o’ that last double-header at home with Pittsburgh wouldn’t buy enough shavin’ soap to lather a gnat. All over the circuit it’s the same way, and in the other leagues too. It’s a off year, maybe; or maybe they’s reason for it that we ain’t doped out.”

“Well,” I says, “the war’s hurt business, for one thing, and people ain’t got no money to spend on box seats. And then golf’s gettin’ better all the wile. A man’d naturally rather do some exercisin’ himself than watch somebody else do it. Besides that, automobiles has got so cheap that pretty near everybody can buy ’em, and the people that owns ’em takes their friends out in the country instead o’ comin’ to the ball yard. And besides that,” I says, “they’s too much baseball and the people’s sick of it.”

Hawley come in and set down with us wile I was still talkin’ yet.

“What’s the argument?” he says.

“We was tryin’ to figure out why we can’t get a quorum out to the games no more,” says Carey.

“Well,” says Hawley, “you know the real reason, don’t you?”

“No,” says Carey; “but I bet we’re goin’ to hear it. I bet you’ll say it’s on account o’ the Gulf Stream.”

“Where do you get that noise?” says Hawley. “If you want to know the real reason, the war’s the real reason.”

“That’s what I was sayin’,” says I. “The war’s hurt business and people ain’t got no money to blow on baseball.”

“That shows you don’t know nothin’ about it,” says Hawley.

“Then I got you tied,” I says, “because you just sprung the same thing yourself.”

“No such a thing!” says Hawley. “You’re talkin’ about the war hurtin’ business and I’m talkin’ about the war hurtin’ baseball.”

“What’s the difference?” I says.

“All the difference in the world,” says Hawley. “If everybody was makin’ twicet as much money durin’ the war as they made before the war started yet, the baseball crowds wouldn’t be no bigger than they have been.”

“Come acrost with the answer,” says Carey. “The strain’s somethin’ awful.”

“Well, boys,” says Hawley, “they ain’t nobody in this country that ain’t pullin’ for one side or the other in this here war. Is that right or wrong?”

“Which do you say it is?” says Carey.

“I say it’s right because I know it’s right,” says Hawley.

“Well then,” says Carey, “don’t ask us boobs.”

“No matter what a man says about he bein’ neutral,” says Hawley, “you can bet that down in his heart he’s either for the Dutchmen or the Alleys; I don’t care if he’s Woodruff Wilson or Bill Klem. We all got our favorites.”

“Who’s yours?” I says.

“Don’t you tell!” says Carey. “It wouldn’t be fair to the other side.”

“I don’t mind tellin’,” says Hawley. “I’d be a fine stiff to pull for the Dutchmen after all King George done for my old man.”

“What did he do for him?” says Carey.

“Well, it’s a long story,” says Hawley.

“That’s all right,” says Carey. “They’s only one game tomorrow.”

“I’ll give it to you some other time,” Hawley says.

“I hope you don’t forget it,” says Carey.

“Forget it!” says Hawley. “When your old man’s honored by the royalties you ain’t liable to forget it.”

“No,” says Carey; “but you could try.”

“Here!” I says. “I’m waitin’ to find out how the war cuts down the attendance.”

“I’m comin’ to that,” says Hawley. “When you figure it out they couldn’t nothin’ be simpler.”

“It does sound simple, now it’s been explained,” says Carey.

“It ain’t been explained to me,” I says.

“You’re in too big a hurry,” Hawley says. “If you wouldn’t interrupt a man all the wile you might learn somethin’. You admit they ain’t nobody that’s neutral. Well then, you can’t expect people that’s for the Alleys to come out to the ball park and pull for a club that’s mostly Dutchmen, and you can’t expect Dutchmen to patronize a club that’s got a lot o’ fellas with English and French names.”

“Wait a minute!” says Carey. “I s’pose they ain’t no Germans here in Cincinnati, is they?”

“Sure!” says Hawley. “The place is ran over with ’em.”

“Then,” says Carey, “why don’t they break all records for attendance at this park, with Heine Groh and Fritz Mollwitz and Count Von Kolnitz and Wagner and Schneider and Herzog on the ball club?”

“Because they’s others on the team that offsets ’em,” says Hawley. “We’ll say they’s a Dutchman comes out to the game to holler for some o’ them boys you mentioned. We’ll say that Groh kicks a ground ball and leaves three runs score and puts the club behind. And then we’ll say that Clarke comes up in the ninth innin’ and wins the game for Cincinnati with a home run. That makes the Dutchman look like a rummy, don’t it? Or we’ll say Schneider starts to pitch a game and gets knocked out, and then Dale comes in and they can’t foul him. Your German friend wishes he had of stayed home and washed part o’ the dashhound.”

“Yes,” says Carey; “but wouldn’t he want to come to the game again the next day in hopes he’d get his chancet to holler?”

“No,” says Hawley; “because, whatever happened, they’d be somethin’ about it he wouldn’t like. If the Reds win the Alleys on the club’d feel just as good as the Dutchmen, and that’d make him sore. And if they lost he’d be glad on account o’ the Alleys; but he’d feel sorry for the Germans.”

“Then they’s only one thing for Garry Herrmann to do,” I says: “he should ought to trade off all his Alleys for Dutch.”

“That’d help the attendance at home,” says Hawley; “but when his club played in Boston who’d go out to see ’em?”

“Everybody that could borrow a brick,” says Carey.

“Accordin’ to your dope,” I says, “they’s only one kind of a club that’d draw everywheres, and that’s a club that didn’t have no Dutchmen or Alleys – neither one.”

“That’s the idear,” says Hawley: “a club made up o’ fellas from countries that ain’t got nothin’ to do with the war – Norwegians, Denmarks, Chinks, Mongrels and them fellas. A guy that had brains enough to sign up that kind of a club would make a barrel o’ money.”

“A guy’d have a whole lot o’ trouble findin’ that kind of a club,” I says.

“He’d have a whole lot more trouble,” says Carey, “findin’ a club they could beat.”

V

Smitty used to get the paper from his home town where his folks lived at, somewheres near Lansing, Michigan. One day he seen in it where his kid brother was goin’ to enter for the state golf championship.

“He’ll just about cop it too,” says Smitty. “And he ain’t only seventeen years old. He’s been playin’ round that Wolverine Country Club, in Lansing, and makin’ all them birds like it.”

“The Wolverine Club, in Lansing?” says Hawley.

“That’s the one,” Smitty says.

“That’s my old stampin’ grounds,” says Hawley. “That’s where I learned the game at.”

“The kid holds the record for the course,” says Smitty.

“He don’t no such a thing!” says Hawley.

“How do you know?” says Smitty.

“I guess I’d ought to know,” Hawley says. “The guy that holds that record is talkin’ to you.”

“What’s your record?” says Smitty.

“What’d your brother make?” says Hawley.

“Plain seventy-one,” says Smitty; “and if you ever beat that you can have my share o’ the serious money.”

“You better make a check right now,” says Hawley. “The last time I played at that club I rolled up seventy-three.”

“That beats me,” Smitty says.

“If you’re that good,” says Carey, “I’d like to take you on sometime. I can score as high as the next one.”

“You might get as much as me now because I’m all out o’ practice,” says Hawley; “but you wouldn’t of stood no show when I was right.” “What club was you best with?” ast Carey.

“A heavy one,” says Hawley. “I used to play with a club that they couldn’t hardly nobody else lift.”

“An iron club?” says Smitty.

“Well,” says Hawley, “it felt like they was iron in it.”

“Did you play all the wile with one club?” ast Carey.

“You bet I did,” Hawley says. “I paid a good price and got a good club. You couldn’t break it.”

“Was it a brassie?” says Smitty.

“No,” says Hawley. “It was made by some people right there in Lansing.”

“I’d like to get a hold of a club like that,” says Carey.

“You couldn’t lift it,” Hawley says; “and even if you could handle it I wouldn’t sell it for no price – not for twicet what it cost.”

“What did it cost?” Smitty ast him.

“Fifty bucks,” says Hawley; “and it’d of been more’n that only for the people knowin’ me so well. My old man used to do ’em a lot o’ good turns.”

“He must of stood in with ’em,” says Carey, “or they wouldn’t of never left go of a club like that for fifty.”

“They must of sold it to you by the pound,” I says – “about a dollar a pound.”

“Could you slice a ball with it?” says Carey.

“That was the trouble – the balls wouldn’t stand the gaff,” Hawley says. “I used to cut ’em in two with it.”

“How many holes did they have there when you was playin’?” Smitty ast.

“Oh, three or four,” he says; “but they didn’t freeze me.”

“They got eighteen now,” says Smitty.

“They must of left the course run down,” Hawley says. “You can bet they kept it up good when my old man was captain.”

“Has your brother ever been in a big tourney before?” I says to Smitty.

“He was in the city championship last summer,” says Smitty.

“How’d he come out?” Hawley ast.

“He was second highest,” says Smitty. “He’d of win, only he got stymied by a bumblebee.”

“Did they cauterize it?” says Carey.

“Where do you get that noise?” says Hawley. “They ain’t no danger in a bee sting if you know what to do. Just slip a piece o’ raw meat on It.

“Was you ever stymied by a bee?” says Carey.

“Was I!” says Hawley. “Say, I wisht I had a base hit for every time them things got me. My old lady’s dad had a regular bee farm down in Kentucky, and we’d go down there summertimes and visit and help gather the honey. I used to run round barefooted and you couldn’t find a square inch on my legs that wasn’t all et up.”

“Must of kept your granddad broke buyin’ raw meat,” says Carey.

“Meat wasn’t so high in them days,” says Hawley. “Besides he didn’t have to buy none. He had his own cattle.”

“I should think the bees would of stymied the cattle,” says Carey.

“Cattle’s hide’s too tough; a bee won’t go near ’em,” says Hawley.

“Why didn’t you hire a cow to go round with you wile you collected honey?” says Carey.

“What’d you quit golf for?” ast Smitty.

“A fella can’t play golf and hit good,” says Hawley.

“I should think it’d help a man’s hittin’,” Carey says. “A golf ball’s a whole lot smaller than a baseball, and a baseball should ought to look as big as a balloon to a man that’s been playin’ golf.”

“Where do you get that noise?” says Hawley. “Golf’s bad for a man’s battin’; but it ain’t got nothin’ to do with your swing or your eye or the size o’ the ball.”

“What makes it bad, then?” I ast him.

“Wait a minute and I’ll tell you,” he says. “They’s two reasons: In the first place they’s genally almost always some people playin’ ahead o’ you on a golf course and you have to wait till they got out o’ reach. You get in the habit o’ waitin’ and when you go up to the plate in a ball game and see the pitcher right in front o’ you and the infielders and baserunners clost by, you’re liable to wait for ’em to get out o’ the way for the fear you’ll kill ’em. And wile you’re waitin’ the pitcher’s liable to slip three over in the groove and you’re struck out.”

“I wasn’t never scared o’ killin’ no infielder,” says Carey.

“And what’s the other reason?” I says.

“The other reason,” says Hawley, “is still better yet than the one I give you.”

“Don’t say that!” says Smitty.

“When you’re playin’ golf you pay for the balls you use,” says Hawley; “so in a golf game you’re sort of holdin’ back and not hittin’ a ball as far as you can, because it’ll cost you money if you can’t find it. So you get used to sort o’ holdin’ back; and when you get up there to the plate you don’t take a good wallop for the fear you’ll lose the ball. You forget that the balls is furnished by the club.”

“And besides that,” says Carey, “you’re liable to get to thinkin’ that your bat cost fifty bucks, the same as your golf racket, and you don’t swing hard because you might break it.”

“You don’t know nothin’ about it,” says Hawley.

VI

Now I don’t care how big a goof a man is, he’d ought to know better than get smart round a fella that’s slumped off in his battin’. Most o’ the time they ain’t no better-natured fella in the world than Carey; but when him and first base has been strangers for a wile, lay offen him!

That’s how Hawley got in bad with Carey – was talkin’ too much when the old boy wasn’t in no mood to listen.

He begin to slump off right after the Fourth o’ July double-header. In them two games a couple o’ the boys popped out when they was sent up to sacrifice. So Cap got sore on the buntin’ game and says we’d hit and run for a wile. Well, the first innin’, every day for the next three days, Bishop led off with a base on balls and then started down when he got Carey’s sign. And all three times Carey cracked a line drive right at somebody and they was a double play. After the last time he come in to the bench tryin’ to smile.

“Well,” he says, “I guess that’s about a record.”

“A record! Where do you get that stuff?” says Hawley. “I come up four times in Philly in one game and hit into four double plays.”

“You brag too much!” says Carey; but you could see he didn’t want to go along with it.

Well, that last line drive seemed to of took the heart out of him or somethin’, because for the next week he didn’t hardly foul one – let alone gettin’ it past the infield.

When he’d went through his ninth game without a blow Hawley braced him in the clubhouse. “Do you know why you ain’t hittin’?” he says.

“Yes,” says Carey. “It’s because they don’t pitch where I swing.”

“It ain’t no such a thing!” says Hawley. “It’s because you don’t choke up your bat enough.”

“Look here!” says Carey. “I been in this league longer’n you and I’ve hit better’n you. When I want advice about how to hold my bat I’ll get you on the wire.”

You knew how clost the clubs was bunched along in the middle o’ July. Well, we was windin’ up a series with Brooklyn and we had to cop the last one to break even.

We was tied up in the ninth and one out in their half when Wheat caught a-hold o’ one and got three bases on it. Cutshaw raised one a little ways back o’ second base and it looked like a cinch Wheat couldn’t score if Carey got her. Well, he got her all right and Wheat come dashin’ in from third like a wild man.

Now they ain’t no better pegger in the league than this same Carey and I’d of bet my life Wheat was runnin’ into a double play. I thought he was a sucker for makin’ the try. But Carey throwed her twenty feet to one side o’ the plate. The run was in and the game was over.

Hawley hadn’t hardly got in the clubhouse before he started in.

“Do you know what made you peg bad?” he says.

“Shut up!” says Smitty. “Is that the first bad peg you ever seen? Does they have to be a reason for all of’em? He throwed it bad because he throwed it bad.”

“He throwed it bad,” says Hawley, “because he was in center field instead o’ left field or right field. A center fielder’ll peg wide three times to the others’ oncet. And you know why it is, don’t you?”

Nobody answered him.

“I’ll tell you why it is,” he says: “They’s a foul line runnin’ out in right field and they’s a foul line runnin’ out in left field, and them two lines gives a fielder somethin’ to guide his throw with. If they was a white line runnin’ from home plate through second base and out in center field you wouldn’t see so many bad pegs from out there.

“But that ain’t the only reason,” says Hawley. “They’s still another reason: The old boy ain’t feelin’ like hisself. He’s up in the air because he ain’t hittin’.”

That’s oncet where Hawley guessed right. But Carey didn’t say a word – not till we was in the Subway.

“I know why I ain’t hittin’ and why I can’t peg,” he told me. “I’m so sick of this Wisenheimer that I can’t see. I can’t see what they’re pitchin’ and I can’t see the bases. I’m lucky to catch a fly ball.”

“Forget him!” I says. “Let him rave!”

“I can’t stop him from ravin’,” says Carey; “but he’s got to do his ravin’ on another club.”

“What do you mean?” I says. “You ain’t manager.”

“You watch me!” says Carey. “I ain’t goin’ to cripple him up or nothin’ like that, but if he’s still with us yet when we come offen this trip I’ll make you a present o’ my oldest boy.”

“Have you got somethin’ on him?”

“No,” says Carey; “but he’s goin’ to get himself in wrong. And I think he’s goin’ to do it tonight.”

VII

He done it – and that night too.

I guess you know that, next to winnin’, Cap likes his missus better’n anything in the world. She is a nice gal, all right, and as pretty as they make ’em.

Cap’s as proud of her as a colleger with a Charlie Chaplin mustache. When the different papers would print Miss So-and-So’s pitcher and say she was the handsomest girl in this, that or the other place, Cap’d point it out to us and say: “My gal makes her look like a bad day outdoors.”

Cap’s wife’s a blonde; and – believe me, boy – she dresses! She wasn’t with us on this trip I’m speakin’ of. She hasn’t been with us all season, not since the trainin’ trip. I think her mother’s sick out there in St. Joe. Anyway, Hawley never seen her – that is, to know who she was.

Well, Carey framed it up so’s I and him and Cap went in to supper together. Hawley was settin’ all alone. Carey, brushin’ by the head waiter, marches us up to Hawley’s table and plants us. Carey’s smilin’ like he didn’t have a care in the world. Hawley noticed the smile.

“Yattaboy!” he says. “Forget the base hits and cheer up!”

“I guess you’d cheer up, too, if you’d seen what I seen,” says Carey. “Just lookin’ at her was enough to drive away them Ockaway Chinese blues.”

“That ain’t no way for a married man to talk,” says Cap.

“Well,” says Carey, “gettin’ married don’t mean gettin’ blind.”

“What was she like?” ast Cap.

“Like all the prettiest ones,” says Carey. “She was a blonde.”

“Where do you get that noise?” says Hawley, buttin’ in. “I s’pose they ain’t no pretty dark girls?”

“Oh, yes,” says Carey, “octoroons and them.”

“Well,” says Hawley, “I never seen no real pretty blondes. They ain’t a blonde livin’ that can class up with a pretty brunette.”

“Where do you get that noise?” says Carey.

“Where do I get it!” says Hawley. “Say, I guess I’ve saw my share o’ women. When you seen as many as I seen you won’t be talkin’ blonde.”

“I seen one blonde that’s the prettiest woman in this country,” says Carey.

“The one you seen just now?” says Hawley.

“No, sir; another one,” says Carey.

“Where at?” Hawley ast him.

“She’s in Missouri, where she first come from,” says Carey; “and she’s the prettiest girl that was ever in the state.”

“That shows you don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Hawley says. “I guess I ought to know the prettiest girl in Missouri. I was born and raised there, and the prettiest girl in Missouri went to school with me.

“And she was a blonde?” says Carey.

“Blonde nothin’!” says Hawley. “Her hair was as black as Chief Meyers’. And when you see a girl with black hair you know it’s natural color. Take a blonde and you can’t tell nothin’ about it. They ain’t one in a thousand of ’em that ain’t dyed their hair.”

Cap couldn’t stand it no longer.

“You talk like a fool!” he says. “You don’t know nothin’ about women.”

“I guess I know as much as the next one,” says Hawley.

“You don’t know nothin’!” says Cap. “What was this girl’s name?”

“What girl’s name?” says Hawley.

“This black girl you’re talkin’ about – this here prettiest girl in Missouri,” says Cap.

“I forget her name,” says Hawley.

“You never knowed her name,” says Cap. “You never knowed nothin’! We traded nothin’ to get you and we got stung at that. If you want your unconditional release, all you got to do is ask for it. And if you don’t want it I’ll get waivers on you and send you down South where you can be amongst the brunettes. We ain’t got no room on this club for a ball player that don’t know nothin’ on no subject. You’re just as smart about baseball as you are about women. It’s a wonder your head don’t have a blow-out! If a torpedo hit a boat you was on and you was the only one drownded, the captain’d send a wireless: ‘Everybody saved!’”

Cap broke a few dishes gettin’ up from the table and beat it out o’ the room.

Hawley was still settin’, with his mouth wide open, lookin’ at his prunes. After a wile I and Carey got up and left him.

“He ain’t a bad fella,” I says when we was outside. “He don’t mean nothin’. It looks to me like a raw deal you’re handin’ him..”

“I don’t care how it looks to you or anybody else,” says Carey. “I still got a chancet to lead this league in hittin’ and I ain’t goin’ to be talked out of it.”

“Do you think you’ll hit when he’s gone?”

“You bet I’ll hit!” says Carey.

Cap ast for waivers on Hawley, and Pittsburgh claimed him.

“I wisht it had of been some other club,” he says to me. “That’s another o’ them burgs where the smoke and cinders kills your battin’.”

But I notice he’s been goin’ good there and he should ought to enjoy hisself tellin’ Wagner how to stand up to the plate.

The day after he’d left us I kept pretty good track o’ Carey. He popped out twicet, grounded out oncet and hit a line drive to the pitcher.

• 9 •

Good for the Soul

Before me, a member of the Baseball Writers’ Association of America,appeared this first day of February, 1916, one Robert Frederick Warner, alias Buck Warner, lately a professional player of the game known as baseball and now part owner of an automobile garage in Hopsboro,a suburb of Cincinnati, and voluntarily and without threat or coercion did dictate a confession, the full text of which follows:

I

The wife says that if I didn’t quit grouchin’ round the house she’d just plain leave me and go and live with her Aunt Julia. Well, the wife’s a good scout and Aunt Julia’s home is a farm twelve miles from Dayton,so I promised I’d try and cheer up.

“Yes, but you promised the same thing before,” says Ethel; that’s the wife’s name. “You promised the same thing before and that’s all the good it done,” she says. “It’s your crazy old conscience that’s botherin’ you. You’d ought to go to the hospital and have it took out.”

“Operations costs money,” I says.

“Well,” says Ethel, “I’d rather be broke than have old Sidney Gloom for a husband.”

“I’ll try and cheer up,” I says again.

“You’re the world’s greatest tryer,” says she, “but your attempts to make everybody miserable is the only ones that’s successful.”

It was at breakfast yesterday mornin’ that she was payin’ me these compliments. At supper she pointed out a piece in the evenin’ paper and told me I should read it.

Seems like some old bird about seventy, worth a couple o’ millions, had been a clerk in a grocery store when he was a kid, and one day he helped himself to twenty dollars out o’ the till, and he was scared to death they’d learn who done it and send him over, but for some reason it wasn’t never found out. So, as I say, he finally got rich and had everything that’s supposed to make a man happy, but he hadn’t been able to sleep good for several years on account o’ thinkin’ about his crime. So the minister o’ the church where he attended at preached a sermon on what a good thing confession was for sinners, and the old boy couldn’t even sleep through the sermon, so he got the drift and made up his mind to see if a confession would cure his insomnia and not bein’ able to sleep. So he wrote one out, describin’ what he’d did, and sent it to the minister to be read out loud in church, and that night he slept like a horse.

“Well,” I says, when I was through readin’, “what about it?”

“It’s worth a try,” says Ethel.

“You go in town tomorrow and find somebody that’ll listen, and tell ’em all about your horrible crime. And then see if you can’t come home to me smilin’.”

“That’ll be easy,” I says, “if you’ll leave me drink a couple o’ beers.”

“You can do that too,” she says, “if you think it’ll wash away the blues.”

I thought she was kiddin’ at first; I mean about the confessin’. But she made me understand she was serious.

“But I’d have to bring in the names of others that ain’t entirely innocent,” I says.

“Go as far as you like,” says she. “You certainly don’t think they’re worth shieldin’; ’specially Carmody.”

So here I am and she says I was to tell it all and not keep nothin’ back.

It won’t be necessary to start with where I was born and so forth. A year ago last August is where it really begins. Before that I’d been in the National League six years, and if they’d left me stick to shortstop all the time, they wouldn’t of nobody had me beat. But they found out I could play anywheres they put me and they kept shiftin’ me round like a motorcycle cop.

In the six years I’d did even worse than not save no money. I’d piled up pretty near four thousand dollars’ worth o’ debts. The biggest part of it I owed to fellas on the club that’d came through for me when I made a flivver out of a billiard hall in Brooklyn.

So, as I say, a year ago last August found me four thousand to the bad and that’s when I met Ethel. We was playin’ in Pittsburgh and she was visitin’ some people I know there. She had eye trouble and liked me the first time she seen me. But she didn’t like me nowheres near as much as I liked her. We both fell pretty hard, though, and the third evenin’ we was together we got engaged to be married.

“I wisht I had more to offer you,” I told her. “I’m flat outside o’ my salary and I owe a plain four thousand.”

“I don’t care how much or how little you’ve got,” she says. “Your salary’ll keep us all right. But I don’t want to marry you till you’re clear o’ debt.”

“We’ll do some waitin’ then,” I says. “A year from this fall is the best I can promise. I’ll live on nothin’ this winter and I won’t spend nothin’ next summer and I think I can just about get cleaned up. It’ll be somethin’ new for me to try and save, but you’re worth starvin’ for.”

“And you’re worth waitin’ for,” says she.

So we says good-by and I went to Chicago with the club. And the second day there I slipped roundin’ first base and throwed my knee pretty near out o’ my stockin’.

It wasn’t no common sprain or strain. The old bird just simply flew out of his cage and flew out to stay. I seen two doctors there and two more back home. They all says the same thing; that I was through playin’ ball.

“After it’s had a rest,” they told me, “just walkin’ on it won’t hurt nothin’. But the minute you run you’re liable to get crippled up good and proper. And if you stooped quick or made a quick turn or if your leg got bumped into, you might serve a good long sentence on the old hair mattress.”

I didn’t want Ethel to find out how bad it was, so all that come out in the paper was that I had a Charley horse. Mac, o’ course, knowed the truth, but he couldn’t do nothin’ except feel sorry for me. He knowed about the girl too.

“I wisht I had a place for you,” he says, “but you wouldn’t be satisfied scoutin’, and with the low player limit we can’t carry no men that ain’t goin’ to do us some good. You’ll get paid, o’ course, up to the end o’ the season. But I can’t offer you no contract for next year.”

“That’s all right,” I says. “I just want it kept quiet till I find somethin’ I can do.”

And w’ile I was still half dazed over the shock of it I got a letter from the girl. She had some big news, she says. Her Aunt Julia’d been told about I and her bein’ engaged and had promised her a present o’ $2500 on the day we was married. And we was to put this money with another $2500 that her brother, Paul, was goin’ to save up, and I and her brother was goin’ to buy a garage in Hopsboro from a fella that’d promised Paul he’d sell it to him in a year.

And it was the only garage in Hopsboro and done a whale of a business. And Paul was a swell mechanic and I’d take care o’ the business end. And I could quit playin’ ball and never be away from home. It sounded mighty good to me just then. But they was still a little trifle o’ four thousand that’d have to be took care of.

I’d just mailed back an answer, as cheerful as I could write, when a call come over the phone that Mr. A. T. Grant wanted to see me at the Kingsley Hotel. I’d saw his name mentioned in connection with a club in the new league, but I didn’t know if he’d bought it or not.

Well, I went down there in a taxi and was showed right up to his room.

He shook hands with me and then ast me if I was signed up for next year. I told him I wasn’t.

“I’ve just bought the club I was after,” he says. “I wanted to know if you’d consider an offer.”

I done some tall thinkin’. I made up my mind that it wouldn’t do no harm to sign. If I found I couldn’t play nobody’d be hurt. But if the old knee wasn’t as bad as the doctors thought I’d probably get a better job here than anywheres else.

“Who’s goin’ to be your manager?” I ast him.

“Billy Carmody,” he says. “He was the shortstop on the club this year.”

“I never met him, but o’ course I’ve heard of him,” I says.

Then I done some more thinkin’.

“Five thousand,” says Mr. Grant.

“Where would you want me to play?” I ast him.

“Where would you want to play?” says he.

That give me a hunch. I’d heard they was one or two short fences in the league. Maybe I could play an outfield position even if my legs wouldn’t stand the infield strain.

“In the outfield,” I told him.

“Which field?” he says, and then I knowed he was a bug.

“Right field,” says I.

“That suits me,” he says, and he sent for his secretary to fix up a contract.

So I signed to play right field, and nowheres else, for Mr. Grant’s club for one year at $5000.

“This business is new to me,” he says, “but I believe I’ll get a lot o’ pleasure out of it.”

“What other men have you got signed?” I ast him.

“I’m not at liberty to tell you,” he says. “But I may tell you that most o’ them is young men that’s as new to professional ball as I am. I believe in gettin’ young fellas, for enthusiasm’s more valuable than experience in a sport o’ this kind.”

“Oh, easy,” I says.

Then we shook hands again and I beat it to a train for Dayton, where the girl was stayin’. And when I seen her I give her the whole story. It looked now like they was a little bit o’ hope.

II

The papers I’d saw durin’ the winter hadn’t wasted no space on our club and I didn’t know exactly who was my teammates till I blowed into Dixie Springs, the first week in March.

I landed in the forenoon. The clerk at the hotel told me the gang was all out to the grounds, practicin’. So I planted my baggage and washed up, and then set out on the porch, waitin’ for the boys to come back. The beanery was on the main street, but from the number o’ people that went past you’d of thought our trainin’ camp had been picked out by Robinson Caruso. About one bell I got sick o’ lookin’ at mud puddles and woke up the clerk again.

“What do you s’pose is keepin’ ’em so long?” I ast him.

“They don’t never show up till after four,” he says.

“Don’t they come back for lunch?” I ast.

“No,” he says. “You see the ball grounds is over a quarter of a mile from here and Mr. Grant, who’s the proprietor o’ the nine, figured it would wear his men out to make the trip four times a day.”

“So they don’t eat at noon?” I says.

“Oh, yes,” says the clerk. “We put up a nice lunch here and send it to ’em.”

“I hope you don’t send ’em nothin’ that’s hard to chew,” I says. After a w’ile I got up nerve enough to attemp’ the killin’ journey to the orchard.

It was an old fairgrounds or somethin’, just on the edge o’ what you’d call the town if you was good-natured. Waivers had been ast on a lot o’ the boards on the fence and they was plenty o’ places where a brewer could of walked through sideways. I was goin’ in at the gate because it was handiest, but I found it locked. I give it a kick and it was opened from inside by a barber hater.

“You can’t come in,” he says through the shrubbery.

“Why not?” says I.

“I’ve got orders,” he says.

“I don’t wonder,” I says. “You’re liable to get anything in them dragnets.”

“I’ll fix you if you try to come in,” he says.

“What’ll you do?” says I. “Tickle me to death with them plumes?”

“Mr. Grant don’t want no spies hangin’ round,” says Whiskers. o

“O’ course not,” says I. “But I’m one of his ball players.”

“Oh, no, you aint,” says the Old Fox. “If you was you’d be wearin’ one o’ them get-ups with the knee pants and the spellin’ on the blouse.”

“Look here,” I says. “I don’t want to cut my way through the undergrowth; they’s too much danger of infection. You run along and tell Mr. Grant his star performer has arrived, and when you come back I’ll give you thirty-five cents to’rds a shave.”

So the old boy slammed the gate shut and locked her again and the minute it was locked I went to the nearest gap in the fence and eased in.

They was a game o’ ball goin’ on and I started over to where they was playin’ to see if I recognized anybody. But I hadn’t went more’n a step or two when Whiskers come dashin’ up to me with Mr. Grant followin’.

“This is the man!” yells Whiskers. “And my suspicions was right or he wouldn’t of snuck in.”

Mr. Grant was gaspin’ too hard to talk at first; when he catched his breath he lit into me. “A spy, eh!” he says. “Tryin’ to learn our secrets, eh! That’s a fine job for a big man like you! Whose stool pigeon are you?” he says. “Stop the game!” he says to Whiskers. “Don’t let ’em show nothin’ in front o’ this sneak!”

But they wasn’t no need of him givin’ that order, because when the boys heard the rumpus they quit o’ their own accord and come runnin’ over to be in on it.

Leadin’ the pack was Jimmy Boyle, that I’d busted into the game with, out in Des Moines. I’d noticed from the box scores the summer before that they was a Boyle in this league, but I hadn’t never thought of it bein’Jimmy. In fac’, till I seen him sprintin’ to’rds me, I’d forgot they was such a guy. It was nine years since I’d saw him.

“Hello, Buck!” he hollers.

“Buck!” says Mr. Grant. “You ain’t Buck Warner, are you?”

“That’s me,” I says, “and I guess if it hadn’t been for Jimmy recognizin’ me you’d of had me shot for a spy.”

The Old Boy looked like he was gettin’ ready to cry.

“I certainly owe you my apologies,” he says. “I don’t remember faces as good as I used to and besides, you’re dressed different than when you and me met.”

“Yes,” I says, “I’ve changed my clo’es twice since September.”

“I hope you’ll forgive me,” says Mr. Grant.

“I’ll think it over,” I says.

By this time the whole bunch was gathered round and I had a chance to see who was who. Outside o’ Jimmy Boyle they wasn’t only four out o’ more’n two dozen that I knowed by sight. One o’ the four, o’ course, was Billy Carmody. Him and I hadn’t never met; he’d always been in the American till he jumped. But I’d saw his picture of’en enough to spot him. Then they was Hi Boles that I’d knew in the Association. And they was Charley Wade that the Boston club had for w’ile, and Red Fulton, that had been with Philly. The rest o’ them was all strangers to me and most o’ them looked about as much like ball players as Mary Pickford.

I shook hands with Red and Charley and Jimmy and Hi Boles, and Mr. Grant introduced me to the gang.

“Now,” he says, “I wisht you’d shake with me to show you don’t bear no grudge. I wouldn’t of had this thing happen for the world.”

“I don’t blame you at all, sir,” I says. “A club owner’s got to be careful these days, because if other owners will go as far as stealin’ your ball players, they certainly wouldn’t hesitate at hirin’ spies to try and cop your club’s hit-and-run signs. But,” I says, “I think you’re foolish not to plug them holes in the fence. A scout with a strong glass could stand way out there behind center field and find out how many fingers your catchers used to signal for a curve ball.”

“Yes,” he says, winkin’, “but the signals we use now and the signals we’re goin’ to use when the season opens up is two different things.”

“Oh! Deep stuff, eh!” says I. “Well, if that’s the way you’re workin’ it you’d ought not to be scared of outsiders swipin’ information. Leave as many of ’em as wants to come and look us over, and the more bum dope they take back home, the easier we ll beat ’em when we meet em.

“But I don’t want nobody to even know my line-up,” says Mr. Grant, “not till the boys runs out on the field for the openin’ game. If they don’t know who we got or what we got or our battin’ order or nothin’, they can’t prepare for us, can they?”

“Ain’t they no reporters along?” I ast him.

“I wouldn’t have ’em,” says Mr. Grant. “I don’t want to have no advance news get out about this club. Takin’ your enemies by su’prise is more’n half the battle.”

“Yes,” says I, “but after the first day they won’t be no more su’prise. The whole country’ll know who we are.”

“But we’ll be leadin’ the league,” he says. “They can’t take that away from us.”

“Not for twenty-four hours,” says I.

By this time, Carmody’d took his men back to their practice. I wanted to see ’em in action and made a move to go over to where they was at, but the Old Boy flagged me.

“They’ll be through in five minutes,” he says. “You must be wore out with your long trip, so let’s you and I walk back to the hotel and set and rest till the boys comes in. I want you to be fresh tomorrow.”

So we come away together and the last thing I seen at the grounds was Whiskers. He had the gate open far enough so’s his head could stick out and he could see the whole length o’ the main street. They wasn’t a chance for a spy to catch him off guard, unless the spy used unfair tactics and snuck up from some other direction.

“What do you think of our club?” says Mr. Grant.

“I don’t know nothin’ about it,” I says. “Most o’ them boys is strangers to me.”

“But ain’t they nice lookin’ boys?” he says.

“Sure,” says I, “but some o’ the best ball players I ever seen was homelier than muskrats.”

“But their bein’ homely didn’t make ’em good ball players,’ says he.

“No,” I says, “but it helped ’em keep in the pink. They couldn’t go girl-crazy and stay out all hours o’ the night dancin’; they wasn’t no girls that’d dance with ’em or be seen with ’em. And they couldn’t lay against the mahogany all evenin’, because all bars has got mirrors back o’ them, and if a man didn’t never open his eyes they’d think you’d fell asleep and throw you out.”

“Your arguments may be all right for some teams,” says Mr. Grant, “but they don’t hold as far as we’re concerned. Bein’ handsome won’t hurt my boys, because they can’t run round nights or drink neither one.”

“Why not?” I ast him.

“Because they’s a club rule against it,” he says.

“Oh!” I says. “O’ course that makes it different. How’d you ever happen to think o’ makin’ a rule like that? I bet when the other club owners hears about it, they’ll follow suit and thank you for originatin’ the idear.”

“I hope they do follow suit,” he says. “It’s one o’ my ambitions to perjure baseball of its evils.”

“I wish you luck,” says I.

“And another one,” he says, “is to win the pennant, and between you and I, I believe I’m goin’ to realize it.”

“What year?” I says.

“This year,” says my boss.

“Well,” I says, “I’m new in the league and I don’t know what it takes to win. But from what I seen of your club and from what I read about Chicago and St. Louis and some o’ the rest, I’d say you had to strengthen some.”

“I’m afraid you’re pessimistical, Warner,” he says. “I’ve got the winnin’ combination – yourself and Carmody and Fulton and Wade and Boles and Boyle for experience and balance, and those youngsters o’ mine for speed and spirit. We’ll take the League off’n their feet.”

“What does Carmody think about it?”

“The same as me,” he says. “And he’s a great manager.”

“He must be,” says I.

Well, when the crowd come in, Jimmy Boyle chased up to the clerk o’ the hotel and had it fixed for me to room with him.

“They had me paired with one o’ the kids,” he says, “but I got to have somebody to laugh with. This is goin’ to be the greatest season you ever went through. I don’t know what I’ll hit, but I bet I giggle .380.”

“What is they to laugh at?” I says.

“What ain’t they to laugh at?” says Jimmy. “Wait till you get acquainted with the old man! Wait till you’ve saw our gang in action! Wait till you watch Carmody managin’! Dutch Schaefer couldn’t of got up a better club than this.”

“What have we got, outside o’ you and the other fellas I know?” I ast him.

“Say, if I told you, you wouldn’t believe it,” says Jimmy. “In the first place, there’s old Grant. If he ain’t got no relatives the county’d ought to look after him. He’s goin’ to keep us a secret till the season opens and then we’re goin’ to win the first game by su’prise. And somebody tipped him off that the club that wins the first game has got the best chance for the pennant. O’ course they’s eight clubs in the league and four o’ them’ll prob’ly win their first games, but he never thought o’ that. And besides, the only chance we got o’ winnin’ the first game or any other game is to have the other club look at us and die laughin’.”

“Ain’t they no stuff in them kids?” I ast.

“Just one o’ them,” says Boyle. “They’s a boy named Steele that must of took his name from his right arm. He can whizz ’em through there faster’n Johnson. He could win with any club in the world but our’n.”

“Who’s the other pitchers?” I ast him.

“They ain’t none,” says Boyle, “none that counts. All told, we got three right-handers and three cockeyes, but outside o’ Steele, I’d go up there and catch any one o’ them without a mask or glove or protector or nothin’. When the balls they throw don’t hit the screen on the fly they’ll hit the fence on the first hop.”

“Where’d he get ’em all?” says I.

“He must of bought ’em off’n Pawnee Bill,” says Jimmy.

“We seem to be long on catchers,” I says.

“Wade and Fulton and myself,” says Jimmy, “but some of us is goin’ to get switched before the season’s a week old. As I say, when Steele ain’t pitchin’ the club don’t need no catcher, and it sure does need other things. Carmody’s playin’ short and Boles is the first sacker and you’ll be somewheres in the outfield. That only leaves four positions without nobody to fill ’em. So I and Red and Charley’s wonderin’ which one of us’ll be elected first. I wouldn’t mind tacklin’ right field; they’s some short fences in the league. But Carmody’s just crazy enough to stick me at third base where a man don’t have time to duck.”

“You lay off’n right field,” I says. “I got a lien on that bird.”

“You’ll play where Carmody puts you,” says Jimmy.

“You’re delirious,” says I. “You ain’t seen my contract. I signed to play right field and nowheres else, and you couldn’t get me out o’ there with a habeas corpus.”

“Mr. Fox, eh?” says Boyle.

“You know it,” I says, “and between you and I, they’s a reason. I’d just as soon tell you because they ain’t no danger o’ you spillin’ it. My right knee slipped out on me last August, and when it went, it went for good. All the doctors I seen give me the same advice – to get out o’ baseball. And I had my mind all made up to quit when old Grant stepped in with his offer. I took it, knowin’ all the w’ile that it was grand larceny.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” says Jimmy. “They’ll be only one guy on this club that ain’t a burglar. That’s young Steele. The rest of us, includin’ the M.G.R., is a bunch o’ bandits. But I’m not frettin’ over it. I figure that if he wasn’t givin’ me this dough somebody else’d be gettin’ it, maybe somebody without as much license to it as me. If they wasn’t nobody dependin’ on me I might feel ashamed. But when you got a wife and two kids, and an old bug comes along and slips you a contract for three times what you’re worth, it’d be cheatin’ your folks to not take it.”

“I ain’t got no folks,” I says.

“But you can’t never tell,” says Boyle.

“I can tell,” I says, “if you’ll listen. I met a little lady the middle o’ last July. The first week in August we got engaged. And the second week in August Mr. Knee blowed out. So when Grant come after me, along in September, I begin to believe in angels. But I ain’t never felt right about it.”

“How bad is the old dog?” says Jimmy. “Can you run on it at all?”

“I can run on it,” I says, “but I can’t get up no speed. And I don’t know when she’s goin’ to slip again. I can’t start quick. And I’m scared to stoop.”

“You won’t need to stoop; not with our pitchers,” says Jimmy. “All that’ll come out your way is line drives or high boys over the wall.”

“And if I turn sudden, I’m gone,” says I.

“That’s easy,” says Boyle. “Rest your spine against them boards and do all your runnin’ to’rds the infield. You won’t be the first outfielder that played that system.”

“Carmody’ll wise up to me,” I says.

“You should worry your head off about Carmody,” says Boyle. “He’s pretendin’ to take his job serious, but down in his heart he knows he’s a thief. He’s got just as much right to manage a ball club as that girl o’ yours. You just stick it out and draw the old check every first and fifteenth, and remember that you got plenty o’ company. Even if your two legs was cut off at the waist you’d be worth five times as much as some of us.”

“Careful there, Jim,” I says.

“You can hit, can’t you?” he says. “And you can catch fly balls, and you can throw. There’s three things you can do, and that’s three more things than most of our gang can do. No, I’ll take that back. They’s one thing they can all do.”

“What’s that?” I ast him.

“Eat,” says Jimmy, “and if you don’t believe it come down in the dinin’ room. The doors is supposed to open for supper at five-thirty, but after the first day we was here, the manager seen that the only way to save the doors was to keep ’em open all the w’ile. All the other ball clubs I was ever with talked about their hittin’ and their bad luck, and all that. But this bunch don’t talk nothin’ but meats and groceries, and when they ain’t talkin’ about ’em it’s because they got so many o’ them in their mouth that they can’t talk. The kid that was roomin’ with me put what he couldn’t eat in his pockets or inside his shirt, and after every meal he’d come straight to the room and unload on top o’ the bureau. And if I went near his storehouse to brush my hair or look in the glass, he’d growl like a dog. He had himself trained so’s he wouldn’t sleep more’n three hours in a row. He’d go to bed at nine and get up at twelve and three for refreshments. But no matter how hungry he was at three, he always managed to save a piece o’ cold hamburger or a little fricasseed veal for when he woke up in the mornin’, so’s he wouldn’t have to go down to breakfast in his nightgown. Our second day here it was rainin’ when I rolled out o’ bed. Griffin, the kid I’m tellin’ you about, was puttin’ on his clo’es with one hand and feedin’ himself with the other. ‘Well, boy,’ I says to him, ‘it looks like we’d loaf today.’ He must of thought I’d mentioned veal loaf or a loaf o’ bread, because all the answer I got was more things to eat. ‘Fruit and cereal,’ he says, ‘prunes and oranges and oatmeal, bacon and eggs straight up, small tenderloin medium, sausage and cakes, buttered toast, some o’ them rolls, and a pot o’ coffee.’ ‘Well,’ I says, ‘your dress rehearsal goes off all right; if you don’t get scared and forget your lines in front o’ the waiter, you’ll be the hit o’ the show.’ But I might as well of been talkin’ to a post hole. He didn’t know I was speakin’ unless I spoke like a bill o’ fare.”

“What position does he play?” I ast.

“Third base,” says Jimmy, “and for the fear everybody won’t know it, he always keeps one foot on the bag. But don’t get the idear that he’s a bigger eater than the rest o’ them. They ain’t no more difference in their appetites than in their ball playin’. When they got their noses in the feed-trough, though, they look like they was at home. And when they’re out there on the field, you’d think they was It for blindman’s buff.”

I ast him about the Old Man havin’ their lunch sent out.

“Even Carmody laughed at that,” he says; “but Carmody’s figured that the way to get along with old Grant is to agree with him in everything. So we’re relieved from two changes o’ clo’es, and a half mile walk that might help some of us get down to weight.”

“Is it a regular lunch?” I ast him.

“All but the tools,” says Jimmy. “And that makes it the favorite meal with Griffin and them. They can throw it in faster and without near as much risk. And all you have to do to start a riot is drop a bone or part of a potato on the grass.”

“How is the grounds?” I says.

“Just as good as the club,” says Boyle.

“Who picked out this joint?” says I.

“The same old bug that picked up these ball players,” says Jimmy. “He was lookin’ for a quiet place and he got it. The burg’s supposed to have a population o’ twelve hundred, but I haven’t even saw the twelve. Dixie Springs they call it, but the only springs is in Carmody’s bed. The town and the grounds is both jokes. The hotel’s all right outside o’ the rooms. I’ll own up the eatin’s good, but that’s the one thing that don’t make no difference to this bunch of our’n. They’d go to it just the same if it was raw mule chops.”

“How much longer do we stick?” I ast him.

“Plain five weeks,” says Jimmy. “We don’t play no exhibitions nowheres because they might be spies from the other clubs watchin’ us. We stay right here and do all our practicin’ in a park that was laid out by a steeplechase fan, and then we go straight home and win the openin’ game and the pennant by su’prise. You’re lucky you come a week late. If I’d knew the dope in advance I wouldn’t of never reported till the day o’ the big su’prise party. But leave us hurry downstairs or it’ll be too late for you to get a look at a fine piece of American scenery.”

“What’s that?” I ast.

“The Royal Gorge,” says Jimmy.

Well, he hadn’t lied when he told me about their eatin’. It was just like as if they knowed the league wasn’t only goin’ to last this one more season, and they all o’ them expected to live to be over ninety, and was tryin’ to get fixed up in a year for the next sixty-five. You remember how them waiters down South come one-steppin’ in with their trays balanced on their thumb a mile over their head? Well, they didn’t pull that stunt with the orders these here boys give ’em. Each fella’s meal took two pallbearers, with a couple o’ mourners followin’ along behind to pick up whatever floral pieces fell off when the casket listed.

I and Boyle and Fulton and Hi Boles had a table to ourself, and you ought to saw them Ephs quarrel over who’d wait on us. Besides our four orders together not bein’ as big as one o’ them other guys’, we wasn’t so exhausted at the end o’ the meal that we couldn’t dig down in our pocket and get a dime. Mr. Grant and Carmody and the secretary set next to our table and it seemed to worry the Old Boy that our appetites was so poor. He’d say:

“Warner, I’m afraid you ain’t feelin’ good. You don’t eat hardly nothin’.”

“I’m all right,” I’d tell him; “but eatin’ ain’t no new experience for me. I ett for several years before I broke into baseball and I been gettin’ regular meals ever since.”

The lunch served out to the grounds was worth travelin’ south just to look at it. It always come prompt at twelve, and for a half hour before that time every ground ball was a base hit because the fielders was all lookin’ up at the sun. And when the baskets full o’ nourishment was drug in, no matter if we was right in the middle of an innin’, everybody’d throw away their bats and gloves and race for the front. Carmody’d follow along smilin’, like it was a good joke.

I was hungry my first day out. I told Jimmy I felt like eatin’ a big meal.

“Well,” he says, “I bet you don’t eat it when you see it.”

He win his bet. I was the last fella up to the baskets. They was a couple o’ sandwiches and one or two pieces o’ fried chicken left, but it’d all been pawed over by the early birds, and amongst the other things the grounds was shy of was a place to wash your hands. Even if they’d been one, nobody’d of had time to use it.

So that day and the rest o’ the time we was there I set out on the sidelines with Hi and Jimmy and Red durin’ the noon hour, and watched the performance.

“This mayn’t be a big league,” says Jimmy, “but our club’ll be big if they don’t all get lockjaw.”

“It’ll take two engines to pull us home,” says Red.

“If them boys could hit, they’d be heavy hitters,” says Hi.

Well, they couldn’t hit or they couldn’t field; that is, the most o’ them couldn’t. They was a couple that had the stuff to make pretty fair ball players if they’d knew anything. Carmody couldn’t learn ’em because he didn’t know nothin’ himself. I done what I could to help ’em, partly because I’m kind-hearted, and partly so’s I’d be doin’ somethin’ else besides riskin’ my life in that outfield. It was rough enough so’s a fella with two good legs would be scared to take a chance, and it wasn’t no place for a cripple to frolic round in.

We put on two ball games a day between the regulars and yannigans. The only reason for callin’ our team the regulars was on account o’ Carmody playin’ with us. We was licked most o’ the time because young Steele done most o’ the pitchin’ against us. He sure could buzz ’em through and he had as good control as I ever seen in a kid. He was workin’ the day that I and Carmody had our first and last argument. Carmody’s whole idear o’ baseball was “take two strikes.” That was his instructions to everybody that went up to hit. It was all right when the other fellas was pitchin’ because they was all o’ them pretty near sure to walk you. But I couldn’t see no sense doin’ it against Steele; it just helped him get you in a hole.

This day it come up to the seventh innin’ and Steele had us beat four to nothin’. We was all ordered to take two strikes and most of us was addin’ one onto the order. But in the seventh, one o’ the kids happened to get a base hit and they was a couple o’ boots, and when it was my turn to go up there, the bases was choked and two out.

“Take two strikes,” yells Carmody.

“Yes,” I says to myself, “I’ll take two strikes.”

So Steele, thinkin’ I’d obey orders, laid the first one right over in my groove and I busted it out o’ the ball park.

When I come in to the bench Carmody was layin’ for me.

“What kind o’ baseball is that?” he says.

“It’s real baseball,” I says. “If you think it ain’t you’re crazy. When a pitcher’s got as good control as him, and we’re four runs behind and the bases is full, I’m goin’ to crack the first ball I can reach.”

He called me over away from the gang.

“It’s a bad example,” he says, “for you to not follow instructions.”

“Maybe it is,” says I, “but when the instructions is ridic’lous I’m goin’ to forget ’em.”

“I’m managin’ this ball club,” he says.

“You’re doin’ a grand job,” says I. “When you take money for managin’, it’s plain highway robbery.”

“I suppose you’re earnin’ yourn,” says Carmody. “I suppose you got two good legs.”

That kind o’ shook me up.

“Listen,” he says, “I got just as much license to draw a manager’s salary as you have for takin’ a ball player’s. You’re liable to be on crutches before the middle of April. But if I don’t make no crack to Grant he won’t know you was crippled when you signed; he’ll think, when your knee goes back on you, that it’s the first time and just an accident. So,” he says, “if I was you I’d play the way the manager told me and not make no fuss.”

“You win,” says I. “But have a heart and forget once in a w’ile to give me orders. I don’t mind if the rest o’ the league knows I got a bum leg, but I don’t want ’em to think my head’s cut off.”

They wasn’t never such a long five weeks as I put in down to this excuse for a trainin’ camp. After the first few days I got sick o’ laughin’ and sleepin’ and everything else. I’d promised the girl I wouldn’t take a drink, but all that kept me from breakin’ the promise was lack of opportunity. The burg didn’t even have a soda foundry.

Nights after supper I’d write a long letter to the future Missus and then I and Boyle’d set up in the room and wish we was somewheres else. Once or twice old Grant called on us and raved about our chances to win the pennant.

“If you boys finish on top,” he says, “and if the European war’s over by that time, I might give you all a trip acrost the pond next fall.”

When he’d went out and left us after spillin’ that great piece o’ news, we was as excited as a couple o’ draft horses.

“I wonder what they soak a man for a steamer trunk,” says Jimmy. “It’d be a grand honeymoon for you,” he says. “The lady’ll love you better’n ever when she knows you’re goin’ to take her to see the Tower o’ London and the Plaster o’ Paris.”

“I hope,” says I, “that they’ll be sure and have all the dead removed before we get there.”

“We’ll be right to home in the trenches after practicin’ all spring on these grounds,” says Jimmy.

Well, the time went by one way and another and the happiest day o’ my life, bar one, was when us Wellfeds clumb aboard a rattler headed north. Our trainin’ season was over and we was in every bit as good shape as if we’d just left the operatin’ table. Our team was picked and they was ball players in every position except two, but Carmody and Wade was the only ones in the lot that was playin’ where they belonged. The two kids that acted like they had a little ability was in the outfield with me. Jimmy Boyle’d been tried at second base and third base, but he was lost both places, so they’d stuck him on first and shifted Hi Boles, a first sacker, to third. Red Fulton, another catcher, was pretendin’ to play second base. Carmody was at shortstop and it looked like Charley Wade was elected to catch whenever it didn’t rain. That was the club that was goin’ to take the pennant by su’prise and spend the winter in Monte Carlo.

But I was too happy over leavin’ Dixie Springs to be worryin’ about how rotten we looked.

“Lord!” I says to Charley Wade, “I guess it won’t seem great to be in a real town!”

“I don’t know,” he says, “I’m afraid I’ll be nervous when I get where they’s people.”

III

They wasn’t enough people in the park the day we opened to bother Charley Wade or anybody else. Old Grant had made such a success o’ keepin’ us a secret that only about eight hundred knowed we was goin’ to perform; anyway, that’s all that come out to watch us, and in his great, big new stands, they looked like a dozen fleas on a flat car.

It was a crime, too, that we didn’t have a crowd, because we win the ball game. The records will show that; you don’t have to take my word. The Old Boy had predicted a su’prise and his prophecy come true. And the ones that was most su’prised was us and the fellas we beat.

When that Buffalo bunch first come out and seen our line-up in battin’ practice, they laughed themself hoarse. But they didn’t do no laughin’ after the game started and they got a sample o’ Steele’s stuff. The weather was twice as cold as any we’d ran into down South, but it didn’t seem to make no difference to him. He was lightnin’ fast and steady as Matty. He didn’t give ’em one real chance to score.

We trimmed ’em two to nothin’ and I drove in the both of our runs. Along with that I was lucky enough to make quite a catch o’ the only ball they hit hard off o’ Steele.

When we got in the clubhouse afterwards, Mr. Grant was there, actually cryin’ for joy. He throwed his arms round Steele and was goin’ to do the same to me, but I backed off and told him I was engaged.

O’ course they was reporters lookin’ us over this time and the next mornin’ the population was informed that Grant and Carntody’d made quite a ball club out of a bunch of misfits. So when she started that afternoon, the stands was pretty near filled.

Our whole pitchin’ staff, except Steele, was in there at one time or another. The Buffalo club hadn’t been able to hit Steele. They didn’t have to hit these other babies. I don’t know how many bases on balls was gave, but I bet it was a world’s record. Charley Wade, back o’ the bat, did more shaggin’ than all the outfielders. When Buffalo was battin’ the umps could of left his right arm in the checkroom. Fourteen to nothin’ it wound up and they was no comin’ in the clubhouse after the game.

Steele was beat his next time out, but win his third start. And one o’ the cockeyes come acrost with a win in the second series, gettin’ some valuable help from an umpire that’d been let out o’ the Association for bein’ stone blind. I think altogether we copped four games in April. Along the last part o’ May or the first o’ June we grabbed two in succession, but the streak was broke up when Jimmy dropped three pegs in the eighth and ninth innin’s o’ the third game.

Durin’ the home series in May, four or five hundred people that was fond o’ low comedy come out every afternoon to get our stuff. But we pulled the same gags so often that they quit us after a w’ile. We went round the western half o’ the circuit in June and our split o’ the gate wouldn’t of tipped the porters. Then we come home again and was welcomed by thirty-seven paid admissions, five ushers and two newspaper men.

The Old Boy cut the price to a dime for the bleachers. The ticket takers slept peaceful all afternoon. Then he hired a band to give a concert every day, so for a w’ile we was sure of an attendance o’ thirty, except when the piccolo player got piccoloed.

When August come I was leadin’ the league in hittin’ and Mr. Grant thought I was the most valuable man he had. He overlooked a few things about my record that would of wised up any real baseball man. For instance, though I was battin’ .420, my total o’ stolen bases was three, and all three o’ them was steals o’ second that’d been made in double steals with Hi Boles goin’ from second to third. And I didn’t only have about ten extra base hits, o’ which five was home run drives out o’ the park. In other words, I wasn’t doin’ no more runnin’ than I had to, and I didn’t try to get nowheres where they was a chance that I’d have to slide. And under this kind o’ treatment, Mr. Leggo had held up good. I’d felt him wabble two different times when I was chasin’ fly balls, but he’d popped back into place without me even coaxin’ him.

Then, in the middle of August, everything happened at once. Charley Wade broke an ankle, Carmody’s right arm went dead, and the girl had a brawl with Aunt Julia.

We was in Indianapolis. We’d just got through carryin’ Charley into the clubhouse when a boy come down to the bench and handed me a telegram. It says I was to come at once; she must see me.

“Carmody,” I says, “I got to run down to Dayton tonight.”

“What for?” he says.

“Somebody wants me,” I told him.

“Not as bad as I do,” he says.

“Well,” says I, “it’s somebody that makes more difference than you do.”

“I’ll talk to you after the game,” he says.

It was our last bats and it didn’t take ’em long to get us out.

“Now,” says Carmody, “you can go to Dayton tonight if you’ll promise to be back in time to play tomorrow.”

“I can’t make no promise,” I says.

“Then you can’t go,” says Carmody.

“What’s the matter with you?” I says. “Can’t you stick a pitcher or one o’ them kids in right field for one day?”

“You ain’t goin’ to play right field no more,” he says.

“I ain’t goin’ to play nowheres else,” says I. “Do you think I’m goin’ to catch in Charley’s place?”’

“No,” he says. “I’m goin’ to put Boyle back there.”

“And me go to first?” I says.

“No,” says Carmody. “I’m goin’ there myself and you’re goin’ to take my place at shortstop.”

“You’re maudlin,” I says. “I signed a contract to play right field and that’s where I’m goin’ to stick. I’m awkward enough out there; I’d be a holy show on the infield. Besides, you never played first base in your life and one o’ the pitchers or that big Griffin kid could do as good as you. What’s the use o’ breakin’ up your whole combination just because one fella’s hurt?”

“We couldn’t make no change that’d be for the worse,” says Carmody. “But I’ll come clean with you and tell you where I’m at. I’m gettin’ $1800 a month for this job. But my contract says I got to play the whole season out or he can cut $2500 off’n my year’s salary.”

“Well,” I says, “what’s the difference if you play first base or stay where you’re at?”

“I can’t stay where I’m at,” he says. “My souper’s deader’n that place we trained. She quit on me in the seventh innin’ today. I couldn’t stand on the foul line and throw to fair ground.”

“You hurt it in action, didn’t you?” I says.

“Yes, but he’s sore at me,” says Carmody, “on account of our swell showin’. And the way my contract reads, he could keep my dough if he wanted to.”

“But you’ll have to throw when you’re playin’ first base,” says I.

“No, I won’t,” he says. “You watch me and see. If I’ve got the ball and they’s a play to make anywheres, you’ll see the old pill slip right out o’ my hand and lay there on the ground.”

“But I don’t see why you should pick on me,” I says. “Boles or Red Fulton or one o’ them kids could do a whole lot better job o’ shortstoppin’ than me.”

“Boles and Fulton is bad enough where they’re at,” he says, “without wishin’ a new bunch o’ trouble on ’em. You’ve played there and you’d know what you was doin’ even if you couldn’t stoop over or cover no ground. Besides,” he says, “old Grant wants you to tackle it.”

“When was you talkin’ to him?” I says. “You ain’t seen him since Charley got hurt and your arm went.”

“That’s more secrets,” says Carmody. “Between you and I, my arm’s been bad a long w’ile and I had the hunch it was goin’ to do just what it done. So I told him a little story a couple o’ weeks ago. I told him I wasn’t satisfied with the way Boyle was playin’ first base and I told him I was a pretty good first sacker myself and thought I’d move over there. So he ast me who’d play shortstop and I told him you’d make the best man and he says he thought so, too, but your contract read that you’d only play right field. So I told him maybe he could coax you to switch.”

“It must be hard for you to shave with all that cheek,” I says. “You can go and tell him now that you ast me would I play shortstop and I told you No, I wouldn’t. So that’s settled, and now I’m goin’ to catch a train. If I can get back tomorrow I will. And if I do get back, I’ll be in right field.”

I left him bawlin’ me out, but I knowed he couldn’t do nothin’ to me. I had as much on him as he had on me.

I run into a flood in Dayton, but it was salt water this time. The girl cried for two hours after I got there and couldn’t quit long enough to tell me what it was about. I finally made like I was goin’ away disgusted. Then she come through.

They wasn’t goin’ to be no $2500 from Aunt Julia. Aunt Julia’d fell in love with a G. A. R. that hadn’t did nothin’ since ’65 but celebrate his team’s victory. So Ethel, instead o’ usin’ her head, lost it, and ast Aunt Julia what she meant by tyin’ up with a bird twenty years older than herself that hadn’t shaved since Grant took Richmond. So they broke up in a riot and all bets was off.

“Well,” I says, “maybe she’ll get over it.”

“No, she won’t,” says Ethel, “and even if she did, I wouldn’t take her old money.”

“Any high-class bank would give you new money for it,” I says.

“It ain’t no time for jokin’,” she says. “Everything’s all over. We can’t get married this year; maybe not for ten years; maybe never.”

“I don’t have to pay all them debts right away,” I says. “I can hold out $2500 and give it to Paul. The boys have waited this long for their dough; I guess they can wait a w’ile longer.”

“You know what I’ve told you,” she says. “We won’t be married one minute before you’re out o’ debt.”

“Well,” I says, “it looks like they was no hurry about gettin’ a license. They ain’t goin’ to be no post-season money for us guys.”

“We’ll just have to wait then,” says the girl. “You’ll have to save every cent o’ your next year’s pay.”

“They ain’t goin’ to be no next year’s pay,” says I. “This league’ll be past history in another season. And I couldn’t carry bats anywheres else.”

The more we talked the bluer things looked and I guess I’d of been cryin’ myself in another minute if the big idear hadn’t came to me.

“Wait a minute!” I says. “They’s a chance that we can get out o’ this all right.”

“What’s the dope?” she ast me.

But I couldn’t tell her; it wasn’t clear in my own mind yet and I didn’t want to say nothin’ till I’d schemed it out.

“I’m goin’ right back, back, back to Indiana,” I says. “You’ll get a wire from me tomorrow night. Maybe it’ll be good news and maybe it won’t. But you’ll know pretty near as soon as I do.”

I was up in Carmody’s room at seven o’clock the next mornin’. I ast him if he’d said anything to Mr. Grant about me refusin’ to play shortstop.

“No,” he says. “I was hopin’ you’d change your mind.”

“Maybe I will,” I says, “but not without he coaxes me.”

Carmody didn’t ask me what I was gettin’ at. He dressed and went downstairs to find the Old Boy. And at half-past eight, in the dinin’ room, the coaxin’ commenced.

“Warner,” says Mr. Grant, “Carmody’s thinkin’ about makin’ a few changes in the team.”

“Is that so?” I says. “What are they?”

“Well,” he says, “he ain’t satisfied with the way Boyle plays first base. And besides, now that Wade’s hurt, he thinks Boyle should ought to go back and catch again. And he wants to try first base himself. So that would leave shortstop open.”

“Maybe you could get a hold o’ some semi-pro shortstopper,” I says.

“I don’t want none,” he says. “I want a man that’s had big league experience. I believe that with Carmody on first base and a good man at shortstop we could finish seventh yet. What do you think?”

“Very likely,” I says, knowin’ that they wasn’t a chance in the world. “I’d give a good deal to pull out o’ last place,” says he.

“Well,” I says, “I’ll see if I can’t think o’ some good shortstop that ain’t tied up.”

“You don’t have to try and think o’ one,” says Mr. Grant. “I’ve got one in mind.”

“Who’s that?” I says.

“Yourself,” he says. I pretended like I was too su’prised to speak. “You can play the position, can’t you?” he ast.

“Sure,” says I. “That’s where I was born and brought up.”

“Well, then,” he says, rubbin’ his hands.

“Well, nothin’,” I says. “I’m signed as a right fielder.”

“We could make a new contract,” he says.

“But listen, Mr. Grant,” I says. “W’ile I know shortstop like a book, I don’t want to play it. It’s too hard. It keeps a man thinkin’ and workin’ every minute. One season at shortstop is pretty near as wearin’ as two in the outfield. That’s why I insisted on right field. I wanted to take things a little easier this year. That’s why I was willin’ to sign with you for $5000.”

“What would you of wanted to play short?” he ast me.

“Oh,” I says. “I wouldn’t of thought of it for less than $9000.”

He didn’t say nothin’ for a minute; a good long minute too. Finally he says:

“Well, Warner, they’s only about six more weeks to go. But I’m wild to get out o’ last place and I’ll spend some money to do it, though spendin’ money has been my chief business all season. I want to be fair with you, so if you’ll finish out the season at shortstop I’ll give you $2500 extra.”

This time it was me that wanted to hug him. But I played safe. I considered and considered and considered and finally I give in.

“I’ll do it, Mr. Grant,” I says. “As a favor to you, I’ll do it.”

Out in the lobby Carmody was waitin’ for me.

“It’s fixed,” I says. “He’s a pretty good coaxer.”

“What did you get?” he ast me.

“A November weddin’,” says I.

I’d promised to wire Ethel by night, but the thing had been pulled a whole lot quicker’n I’d hoped for. I run right from Carmody to the telegraph office.

“All fixed,” I says in my message. “I got $2500 extra.”

At lunch time her answer come back:

“Good old boy. Did you hold somebody up?”

Well, sir, believe me or not, I hadn’t thought of it that way before. But when I read her wire I had to admit to myself that she’d pretty near called the turn.

The less said about them last six weeks the better. I don’t know how many games we was beat, but five was what we win. I felt worst about poor Steele. There he was, working’ his head off two to four games a week, worth four times as much as all the rest of us together, and drawin’ a salary o’ $400 a month. He’s with a real club this year and you watch him go!

• 10 •

The Crook

Tomorrow mornin’ you’ll see a statement in the papers, signed by Ban, sayin’ that it’s been learned that they was some excuse for Bull doin’ what he done, and that the charge of him bein’ pickled on the field wasn’t true, and that he’s been took back on the staff. But they won’t be nothin’ printed about who was the dandy little fixer; my part in it is a secret between you and I and one or two others.

I don’t suppose they’s a ball player in the League that Bull’s chased as often as me. I don’t suppose they’s anybody he’s pulled as much of his stuff on. I can’t count the times I’ve got cute with him, but the times I got the best o’ the repartee I can count ’em on the fingers of a catcher’s mitt. Just the same, it was me that went to Ban with the real dope and was the cause of him gettin’ rehired, and it was me that got him his girl back, though he don’t know about that yet.

I wouldn’t of took no trouble in the case if it was any other umps but Bull. But I come as near likin’ him as a man could like a guy that never give a close one any way but against you. And he’s a good umps,too; he guesses about a third of ’em right, where the rest o’ Ban’s School for the Blind don’t see one in ten. And another thing: I felt sorry for him when he told me the deal he got. And besides that, he’s gave me too many good laughs for me to stand by and see him canned out o’ the League. Many’s the time I’ve made a holler just to hear what he’d say, and he always said somethin’ worth hearin’, even if it stung; that is, up to day before yesterday, when the blow-off come.

I noticed he wasn’t himself when I was throwed out at the plate in the second innin’. I wanted to stop at third, but Jack made me keep goin’, and Duff Lewis all ready to shoot with that six-inch howitzer he wears in his right sleeve. Cady and the ball strolled out to see me and I couldn’t get past ’em.

“You’re out!” says Bull.

“He didn’t tag me,” I says.

And Bull didn’t say a word.

In the fourth innin’ Hooper was on third base and somebody hit a fly ball to Shano. Hooper scored after the catch and big Cahill run out from the bench and made a holler that he’d left the bag too quick. The ball was throwed over to third base, but Tommy wouldn’t allow the play. Then Cahill went to Bull and ast him hadn’t he saw it. O’ course Bull says he hadn’t.

“No, I guess not!” says Cahill. “Us burglars stick together.” And then, on the way back to the bench, he turned to Bull and says: “You’re so crooked you could sleep in a French horn.”

Bull was just puttin’ on his mask, but he throwed it on the ground and tore after Cahill. He nailed him right on the edge o’ the dugout, and what a beatin’ he give him! It took eight or nine of us to drag him off, and he managed to wallop everybody at least once durin’ the action. Some o’ the boys picked Cahill up and carried him to the clubhouse. He was a wreck. Bull stood there a minute, starin’ at nothin’; then he turned and faced the grand stand.

“Anybody else,” he yelled – “anybody else that thinks I’m a crook can come down and get a little o’ the same.”

Well, they wasn’t no need of extra police to keep the crowd back. But Ban was settin’ in the stand and o’ course he wasn’t goin’ to just set there and not do nothin’. It was too raw. So he give orders for the cops to grab Bull and get him out o’ the way before he committed murder. They led him to his dressin’ room and stuck with him w’ile he changed clo’es. Then they called the wagon and give him a ride. Tommy handled the rest o’ the game alone and we was beat just as bad as if nothin’ had happened.

Right after the game the witnesses was examined. Cahill’s lips was so swelled he couldn’t hardly talk. But several of us had heard the whole thing and could testify they hadn’t been no profanity. Cahill hadn’t no license to call Bull crooked, but if an umps was goin’ to fight for a little thing like that, every ball game’d wind up in a holycaust. Besides, “a crook” was one o’ the mildest things Bull’d ever been called, and till this time nobody’d ever knew him to lose his temper.

As I say, his specialty was conversation. When they was a kick made, he’d generally always pull some remark that got a laugh from everybody but the fella that was crabbin’, and sometimes from he himself. He’d canned plenty o’ guys out o’ the ball game for tryin’ too hard to show him up, but he’d did it as part o’ the day’s work and without displayin’ any venoms. I’d heard ’em tell him he was yellow, and blind, and a jellyfish, and a “homer,” and a thief, and a liar; and that he’d steal the cream off’n his mother’s coffee; and that his backbone was all above the neck. I’d heard ’em call him fightin’ names and saw him take it smilin’. And now, because a fella made an innocent remark about him bein’ crooked, and no naughty words along with it, he’d went off his bean and all but destroyed a good Irish citizen, besides intimidatin’ five or six thousand o’ the unemployed.

It wasn’t no wonder everybody thought what they thought, though Bull hadn’t never been known to touch a drop between April and October.

“I’ll uphold my umpires when they’re right,” Ban says to the reporters; “but when they’re wrong, they got to suffer for it. They’s only just the one explanation for Bull’s actions. So he’s discharged from the staff.”

“What about Cahill?” ast somebody. “Goin’ to suspend him?”

“No,” says Ban. “Bull saved me the trouble.”

Well, Tommy fixed it up to have Bull let out o’ jail and took him back to the hotel where the two o’ them was stoppin’. When Tommy told him he was canned he didn’t make no comments only to say that they was one good thing about the umpirin’ job – you didn’t feel bad if you lost it.

On my way home from the game I got to thinkin’ about Bull and what a shame it was to have him let out for just the one slip, and wonderin’ what he’d do with himself, and so on. So when I’d had supper I rode down to the umps’ beanery to try and find him, and maybe cheer him up.

He’d went out. Tommy told me he’d disappeared after askin’ for his mail and not gettin’ none.

“He’ll come back with a fine package,” says Tommy.

“Do you know what made him fall off?” I says.

“He didn’t fall off,” says Tommy. “That’s the funny part of it. I and him was right up in my room readin’ the papers all mornin’; then we had lunch and went out to the park together and got dressed and went on the field. I noticed he was grouchin’, but I was with him every minute o’ the day up to game time and I know for a fact that he didn’t have nothin’ to drink only his coffee at breakfast. Somethin’s happened to him, but I don’t like to get inquisitive because we haven’t only been teamin’ together a couple o’ weeks.”

I and Tommy didn’t have nothin’ else to do, so we set down in the writin’ room and chinned. Bull, o’ course, was the subject o’ the conversation. You could talk about him all week and not tell half o’ the stuff.

The first game he umpired in our League was openin’ day in Chi, four or five years ago. It was our club and St. Louis. I guess he was about twenty-six years old then, but he didn’t look more’n twenty. So the boys was inclined to ride him. Arnold, the St. Louis catcher, started on him in the first innin’.

“Did you ever see a ball game, kid?” he ast him.

“No,” says Bull, “but if I make good these four days, I’m goin’ to stay here for the Detroit series.”

Arnold come up with the bases full and two out in the fourth or fifth. He took three healthy lunges and fanned. I led off in our half and Bull called the first one a ball. It was pretty close and Arnold, peeved about strikin’ out in the pinch, slammed the pill on the ground.

“You’re a fine umpire!” he says.

“I can’t be right all the time,” says Bull. “Even the best of us misses ’em sometimes. But I’ll have to miss the next two in succession to tie your score.”

We was one run ahead when the ninth begin. We got two o’ them out and then Hank Douglas made a base hit and stole second. The next fella made another base hit, but Shano fielded it clean and Hank was called out at the plate.

“That’s right,” he says to Bull. “Favor the home team. You wouldn’t be umpirin’ in this league if you wasn’t yellow.”

“No,” says Bull, walkin’ away, “and you wouldn’t be in the League at all if you wasn’t a Brown.”

In one o’ the Detroit games Cobb was on second base with a man out and Crawford hit a slow ground ball between short and third. The ball was fielded to first base and Cobb kept right on for home. Parker was catchin’ for us and he was a little spike-shy, especially with Cobb. So when the ball was relayed to him from first base he backed off in an alley somewheres and give Tyrus the right o’ way. Somebody hollered from the bench that Cobb hadn’t touched third.

“Yes, I seen it,” says Parker to Bull, lookin’ for an alibi. “He cut third base.”

“I don’t know about that,” Bull says, “but it’s a safe bet that he’ll never cut you.”

Bull went with us for our first series in Cleveland that year. They was a fly-ball hit to Lawton in the third and he muffed it square, lettin’ in a couple o’ runs. As soon as he’d dropped the ball he looked up in the sky and then stopped the game till he’d ran in and got his glasses, though it was so cloudy that we was hurryin’ to beat the rain. Right afterward, when Lawton come to bat. Bull called a strike on him.

“Too high! Too high!” says Lawton.

“Maybe it was,” says Bull, “I lost it in the sun.”

A little w’ile later the Cleveland club had a chance to tie us up. It was some left-hand batter’s turn to hit, but they was a cockeye pitchin’ for us, so they sent up a kid named Brodie, a right-hander, to pinch hit. He swung at the first one and missed it. The next one was called a strike, and w’ile he was turned round, arguin’ with Bull about it, another one come whizzin’ over and Bull says:

“You’re out!”

“It wasn’t a legal delivery,” says Brodie.

“Why not?” says Bull. “His feet was on the slab and you wasn’t out o’ your box.”

“You got a lot to learn about baseball,” says Brodie.

“I’m learnin’ fast,” says Bull. “I just found out why they call your club the Naps.”

He didn’t put nobody out of a game till along in the middle o’ that season. We was playin’ Washin’ton and Kennedy was in a battin’ slump. He was sore at the world and tryin’ to take it out on the umps. He’d throwed his glove all over the field and tossed his cap in the air and beefed on every decision, if it was close or not. He struck out twice, and when Bull called a strike on him his third time up, he stooped over and grabbed a handful o’ dirt.

“A yard outside!” he says, and tossed the dirt to’rds Bull.

“Well, Mr. Kennedy,” Bull says, “if there is a yard outside, that’s where you better spend the rest o’ the afternoon.”

“Am I out o’ the game?” says Kennedy.

“Hasn’t nobody told you?” says Bull. “You been out of it pretty near two weeks.”

“You’re about as funny as choppin’ down trees,” says Kennedy.

“Go in and dress,” Bull told him. “Maybe you’ll find your battin’ eye in your street clo’es.”

The next day Bull was umpirin’ the bases. Kennedy didn’t get suspended, and when he come to bat in the first innin’ and seen that Bull had switched, he yelled to him: “Congratulations! You ought to do better out there. It’s a cinch you couldn’t do worse.”

“Walter,” says Bull to Johnson, who was pitchin’, “give Kennedy a base on balls. I want to talk to him.”

In the last game o’ the series Kennedy finally did get a hold o’ one and hit it for two bases.

“Now it’s my turn to congratulate you,” Bull says to him.

“Oh,” says Kennedy, “I can hit ’em all right when they’s a good umps behind that plate.”

W’ile he was still talkin’, whoever was pitchin’ wheeled round and catched him a mile off’n the bag. Bull waved him out and he started to crab.

“Go on in to the bench, Kennedy,” says Bull. “The game must look funny to you from here anyway.”

Big Johnson worked against us in Chi one day and he had more stuff than I ever seen him have. Poor little Weber, facin’ him for the first time, was scared stiff. He just stood there and took three. Next time, he struck at one and let the next two come right over. Bull, who was back o’ the plate, couldn’t help from laughin’ and the kid got sore.

“Why don’t you call ’em all strikes!” he says.

“I would,” Bull says, “only they’s just a few o’ them I can see.”

Well, Weber’s third trip up there was just like his first one. He didn’t even swing. And after Bull had called him out for the third time, he says:

“Fine work, umps! You ought to go to an oculist and get the dust took out o’ your eyes.”

“Yes,” says Bull, “and you ought to go to a surgeon and have the bat removed from your shoulder.”

One afternoon Jennin’s started a kid named Sawyer against us. He was hog wild and he throwed ten balls without gettin’ a strike.

“It looks like a tough day for us, Bull,” says Stanage.

“Well, anyway,” Bull says, “my right arm needs a good rest.”

When two fellas had walked and they was two balls on the next one, Sawyer pitched a ball that you could of called either way. Bull called it a ball.

“What was the matter with that one?” says Sawyer.

“You pitched it,” says Bull.

He was base umpire once when Walsh caught Carney flat-footed off o’ third base. It was in the ninth innin’ and they was only the one run behind us, so Carney begin to whine.

“Kind o’ drowsy, eh?” says Bull. “I’ll bet your mother was up all night with you.”

Before the end of his first season he had the boys pretty well scared o’ that tongue of his’n and they weren’t none o’ them sayin’ much to him. But o’ course, durin’ the winter, they forgot how he could lash ’em, and when spring come again he was as good as ever. It’s been that way every season since. Along about this time, and up to July, they’re layin’ themself wide open and takin’ all he can give. Then, from July on, they’re tired o’ being’ laughed at and they see they can’t get the best of him, so they lay off.

Not me, though. I beef on every decision he makes against me all season long. I can get as good a laugh when it’s me that’s the goat as when it’s somebody else.

He’s pulled some pippins on me. I wisht I’d wrote down even half o’ them, but anyway they don’t sound as good when I tell ’em as when he sprung ’em on me.

I remember we was playin’ our last series with the Boston club in 1912. They’d cinched the pennant already and nobody cared a whole lot how our games come out. I’ve got plenty o’ friends in Boston, and the first night we was there I neglected to go to bed. So the next afternoon I was kind o’ logy.

I dropped a couple o’ thrown balls at first base and was off the bag once when I had all the time in the world to find it. Well, Bull had three or four close ones to guess and he guessed ’em all against us.

“Are you goin’ to work in the World’s Series?” I ast him.

“I haven’t heard,” he says.

“If you do,” I says, “I’m goin’ to bet my season’s pay on the Red Sox.”

“If you’re lookin’ for easy money,” says Bull, “why don’t you go ahead and bet your season’s pay on the Red Sox, and then sign with the Giants to play first base?”

In 1914 I’d been havin’ a long spell o’ bad luck with my hittin’ and they was just gettin’ ready to bench me when one day, in St. Louis, I got one safe. I tried to make two bases on it, but overslid the bag and Bull called me out.

“Oh, Bull!” I says. “Have a heart.”

“They won’t bawl you for this,” says Bull. “You ain’t been here in so long it’s no wonder you forgot where the station was. I think you done pretty well to remember my name. I been umpirin’ the bases for two weeks.”

Then they was once in Boston, just last year. We still had a chance yet and we was crazy to take a fall out o’ that bunch. I was overanxious, I guess. Anyway, it was a tight game and in the sixth or seventh innin’ got caught off o’ first. “Bull,” I says, “if you’re with the home club, why don’t you wear a white suit?”

“Larry,” says he, “you ought to play ball in your pajamas.”

And in New York one day I give somebody the hit and run, and the ball fooled me and I didn’t swing. The fella was throwed out at second base, and Bull called it a strike on me.

“Why, Bull!” I says. “He was wastin’ that ball.”

“Sure he was,” says Bull. “All the good balls is wasted on you.”

And once in Washin’ton, we was two runs to the good in the ninth and had two men out and it looked all over. The next man – Milan, I think it was – hit a fly ball straight up and I hollered I was goin’ to take it. Well, it just missed beanin’ me and Milan pulled up at second base. The next fella hit a ground ball between I and the bag. I missed it clean. Milan scored and the other fella stopped at second. Then somebody made a three-base hit. The score was tied and the winnin’ run was on third base.

A slow ground ball was hit down to’rds me. I seen that Doran, who was pitchin’, was goin’ for the ball instead o’ the bag and I seen that the ball was mine and I’d have to get it and chase back with it myself.

I done it as fast as I could and the play was mighty close. Bull called the man safe. It meant the game and we was all sore, but me especially, on account o’ them two flivvers.

“You blind owl!” I says to Bull. “Who told you you could umpire?”

“Who recommended you to Griffith?” says Bull.

That’s the way he was. You could set up all night and figure out what you was goin’ to say to him next day, and then when you said it, he’d come back with somethin’ that made you wish you hadn’t. That is, unless you was like me and kept after him just for the laughs he give you.

I and Tommy set there talkin’ till pretty close to midnight. Then we decided they wasn’t no more use waitin’ for Bull. So Tommy went up to his room and I moseyed out the front door and onto the walk.

I hadn’t took more’n a couple o’ steps when I seen the guy we’d been fannin’ about. He was just goin’ in to the hotel bar. I followed him.

“Hello, Bull!” I says, when we was both inside.

“What’s the idear?” he says. “Did you come clear down here to tell me that Cady didn’t tag you?”

“No,” I says. “He tagged me all right. But I’m taggin’ you to find out what’s got into you.”

“I guess I got plenty into me now,” says he. “When a man that’s cold sober gets fired from his job for bein’ lit, they’s only the one thing to do. I’ve been tryin’ my best all evenin’ to deserve the reputation they’ve wished on me.”

I give him the double O. He could walk straight and he could talk straight. But he was kind of owl-eyed and his face looked like a royal flush o’ diamonds.

“Let’s have somethin’,” he says.

“You’ve had enough,” says I.

“That’s no sign I ain’t goin’ to have more,” he says.

“You better go to bed,” I says.

“What for?” says he. “I got nothin’ to do tomorrow or any other tomorrow. I’m through.”

“They’s other leagues,” says I. “You won’t have no trouble gettin’ a job.”

“I don’t want no job,” says Bull. “I haven’t no use for a job.”

“What are you goin’ to live on?” I ast him.

“I don’t want to live,” he says.

“Aw, piffle!” says I. “You’ll feel better for a good night’s sleep.”

“Well,” says Bull, “they’s just as much chance o’ me gettin’ a good night’s sleep as they is o’ them playin’ part o’ the World’s Series in Peoria.”

“Bull,” I says. “I believe they’s somethin’ botherin’ you outside o’ losin’ your job.”

“You’re too smart to be playin’ ball,” he says.

O’ course I knowed then that Tommy’d been right – that the old boy had had a blow o’ some kind. And I was mighty curious to learn what’d came off. But I realized it wouldn’t get me nothin’ to ask.

We h’isted three or four together without exchangin’ a word. Then, all of a sudden, I seen a big tear streakin’ down Bull’s cheek and in another minute I was listenin’ to his story.

Bull’s parents is both dead – been dead five or six years. He never had no brothers or sisters or aunts or uncles or nothin’. He was born down South somewheres and didn’t have no use for cold weather, but his old man moved to Buffalo when Bull was about sixteen, so from that time till his mother and father died he spent his winters, and the summers before he went to umpirin’, up North. They wasn’t no reason why he shouldn’t suit himself after the old people passed out, so back South he went for his winters. He stayed in New Orleans the first couple o’ years, but it cost him a pile o’ money. Then he tried Montgomery, and that’s where he met the lady.

Her name’s Maggie, Maggie Gregory. Bull described her as the prettiest thing he ever seen, and so on. The Gregorys didn’t have so much dough that they didn’t know how to spend it. In fact, they was kind o’ hard up. The head o’ the house worked in a hardware store for somethin’ like fifteen a week. He had a son named Martin; yes, sir, the same Martin Gregory that Connie Mack let go last week and we got signed up now.

Martin and Maggie was twins. Maggie was learnin’ the milliner trade, but at the time Bull met ’em Martin wasn’t workin’ at all, except durin’ meals. He was one o’ the kind o’ guys that’d rather go to the electric chair, where he could be sure o’ settin’ down, than attend the theater and take a chance o’ havin’ to stand up w’ile they played the Star-Spangled Banner. If he’d lived in a town where they wasn’t no letter carriers he wouldn’t never got no mail. He’d of starved to death in a cafeteria with a pocket full o’ money.

He treated the whole of his family like they was waiters, and they treated him like he was the Kaiser. His mother was crazy over him, and Maggie used to split fifty-fifty with him on her princely salary. The old man never called him, and seemed to just take it for granted that Martin was born to have the best of it.

Bull landed in Montgomery the same time that the Gregorys made up their mind to take a boarder. They put an ad. in the paper and Bull answered it. He answered it in the evenin’, when Maggie was home. After gettin’ a look at her, he’d of stayed there if they made him sleep in the sink and give him nothin’ to eat but catnip.

Maggie and Martin was eighteen then. They ain’t no use o’ me tryin’ to give you Bull’s description of her. Martin, accordin’ to Bull, was a handsome kid and had the best clo’es his sister’s money could buy. He was built like an ath-a-lete and his features was enough like the girl’s to make him good-lookin’. Bull fell for him this first night; he didn’t know nothin’ then about the feud between Martin and Work.

Well, they all treated Bull like he was an old friend and made him feel more like it was his own house than just a place to board. Maggie smiled at him every time she seen him, though it wasn’t no case o’ love at first sight on her part; she was just tryin’ to be friendly. The old lady worried if he didn’t take nine or ten helpin’s o’ whatever was on the table, and kept his room as neat and clean as Martin’s. The old man played rummy with him three or four times a week and give Bull good laughs on all his quick stuff. And Martin took kindly to him, too, figurin’ probably that the dough Bull paid for board would mean more dude clo’es in the wardrobe. Bull says he never knowed what this here Southern hospitality was till he went to live with the Gregorys.

It wasn’t till Bull had been there about three weeks that he told ’em what he done for a livin’. Well, the old people and Maggie didn’t know nothin’ about baseball except that Martin, when he was a kid, had been the best player in the school where he attended at. He’d told ’em so. But Martin himself, it turned out, was a nut on the national pastime. He knowed who Cobb was and who Matty was and their records, right down to little bits o’ fractions. Not only that, but he went to see the Montgomery bunch perform whenever they had the courage to face the home crowd. So Bull was a hero to him, in spite of his profession.

At meals, Martin wouldn’t talk nothin’ but baseball, and Bull had to talk it with him. I suppose the proud parents and Maggie felt kind o’ sorry for Bull, figurin’ that the kid, bein’ perfect, was gettin’ all the best of him in the arguments. The old boy was foxy enough to see that the easiest way to win Maggie was by helpin’ to make Martin look good. So when they’d got about so far in a fannin’ bee, Bull’d stop dead and say, “By George! You’re right,” even if Martin was arguin’ that Walter Johnson ought to learn to throw left-handed and play third base.

Bull thought he was just a fresh kid. He thought the reason he wasn’t workin’ was probably because he’d lost a job and hadn’t found another. He liked Martin O.K. till he begin to suspect that he was too proud to toil. It was the old lady that give him the hunch, when she says somethin’ about the kid’s delicate health.

“Yes,” Bull says to himself, “he’s awful delicate lookin’, like Frank Gotch.”

Before the winter was half over, Bull was givin’ ’em the time o’ their lives, takin’ ’em somewheres every other night. It was a pipe that Maggie liked him, and it was a bigger pipe that she had him on her reserve list, with no chance to get away. But he was too shy to talk to her about anything but the climate; he says she was the first girl he was ever scared of.

Along in March, some o’ the Montgomery ball players showed up for their trainin’. Bull always took some work in the spring to get himself hard and fix up his wind pipes, so that year he joined the local bunch and done stunts with them. Martin ast to go along with him the third or fourth day. So out they went together to the Montgomery orchard and Bull got the biggest su’prise of his life.

Instead o’ settin’ up in the stand and lookin’ on, Martin peeled down to his shirtsleeves and busted right into the practice. He tackled the high-low game first, and Bull says to see him at it you wouldn’t of never believed it was the same boy that wouldn’t drink coffee unless you held the cup to his mush. Baseball wasn’t work to him – it was fun. And that made the whole difference.

Well, Martin showed so much life the first day that Bull borrowed a suit for him and fixed it with the Montgomery gang to leave him frolic round their park as much as he liked. And he wasn’t no joke with the ath-a-letes. He didn’t know nothin’, but he had as much mechanical ability as you ever see in a kid. He could whip the ball round like a shot, and he was good on ground balls and he swung the old stick like it was a lath. Bull give him a lot o’ pointers and so did the rest o’ the boys, and by the time Bull was ready to go North, Martin was good enough to hold down an infield job somewhere in the brush.

Maggie and old Gregory was as proud as peacocks. The old woman was proud, too, but she was scared to death that the pet would get beaned or stepped on and killed. Bull finally convinced her that baseball was as safe as ridin’ in a rockin-chair, and Martin was allowed to keep on with the only exercise he’d took in years, outside o’ puttin’ on his pajamas at night and pullin’ ’em off in the mornin’.

Bull left Montgomery with the understandin’ that he could have his room when he come back in the fall. Maggie squeezed his hand when she told him good-by, and that, Bull says, along with the post cards she sent him, was all that kept him alive that summer.

In June the Gregorys sent him a clippin’ from a Montgomery paper. Martin had been signed by the Montgomery club to play second base, and he looked like the best thing that had broke into the Southern League in years.

The second off-season that Bull spent with the Gregorys he was still too shy yet to make any play for the lady, outside o’ blowin’ all his loose change in showin’ she and her folks a time. But last fall, after they’d gave him his bit for workin’ in the big series, and he felt like he had enough financial backin’ to justify the plunge, he wired her to meet his train and he pulled his speech on her w’ile his nerve was still with him.

She didn’t say yes or she didn’t say no. She told him she liked him a whole lot better’n anybody except Brother Martin, and she appreciated his kindness to all o’ them, and so on. But it would take a lot o’ thinkin’ to decide the question, and could he wait? So he says he could do anything for her and they left it go at that.

As soon as they was off’n the subject, she begin to talk about Martin and what he’d been doin’ in baseball. She admitted that he was the greatest ball player south of Alaska, but o’ course the Montgomery club didn’t give him a fair show on account o’ bein’ jealous, and the manager kept him on the bench half the time for the fear some big league scout’d see him and steal him away from Montgomery. What she wanted Bull to do was tell some manager in our league about him, and have him bought. Martin would do the rest; he’d show ’em if he ever got the chance.

Well, Bull told her it was against the rules for an umps to recommend a ball player to a club in his own league. It wouldn’t be fair to the Boston club, for instance, if Bull give Detroit first whack at a second Cobb. O’ course Bull knowed that plenty o’ scouts must of saw Martin and passed him up, and that the Montgomery club wasn’t tryin’ to conceal a man for who they could get a big price.

She ast him if he couldn’t get some friend to do the recommendin’ if he couldn’t do it himself. He told her he was scared his part in it would be found out. Then she says that he must not care a lot about her if he was afraid to take a little risk like that. He told her he’d try and think of a way to swing it, but she must give him time.

He found Martin more of a dude than ever and as modest as a wrestler. He couldn’t talk about nothin’ but how much better he was than the Southern League, and it was easy to see from his clo’es that he wasn’t contributin’ nothin’ to the family except conversation and his personal attendance at meals.

Hatin’ yourself, though, ain’t nothin’ against a ball player. Lake most any real star and when the dialogue ain’t about him he’s bored to death, and if he has a bad day, pitchin’ or hittin’ or whatever it is he does, it’s plain tough luck or rotten umpirin’.

So Bull didn’t think none the less o’ Martin’s ability on account o’ the size of his chest, even if he did get good an’ sick o’ hearin’ nothin’ but Martin, Martin, Martin, all day and half the night.

Bull would of gave anything if Maggie and the rest o’ them had forgot their scheme to land the pet in the big menagerie. But they wasn’t a chance. When he’d rather of been hearin’ that she cared somethin’ about him, she was eggin’ him on to hurry up and think of a way to bring Brother to the attention o’ the real people.

In December Bull read in the paper that Ted Pierce, the manager o’ the Montgomery club, was in town. He made a date to meet him and find out just how good Martin was.

“He’s just good enough to of pretty near drove me wild,” Ted told him. “If we’re ten runs ahead and he comes up with the bases full, he’ll hit one from here to Nashville. Or if we’re fifteen runs behind in the last half o’ the ninth with two out, it’s fifty to one that he’ll get to first base. But put him up to that plate when everything depends on him and you’d think he had paralysis o’ the arms. He’ll take three in the groove and then holler murder at the umps.”

“Plain yellow, eh?” says Bull.

“I don’t like to say that about nobody,” Ted says. “But if the old U.S. called for volunteers, I’d bet on Benedict Arnold to beat him to the front.”

“Ain’t they no chance of him gettin’ over it?” ast Bull.

“I’ve tried everything,” says Ted. “I’ve called him all the names I could think of. I’ve tried to jolly him too: I’ve told him the pitchers was all scared of him and all he’d have to do was swing that club. But he’s just as bad as when he broke in.”

“He’s a kid yet,” says Bull. “It may be just stage fright.”

“It may be,” says Ted. “He certainly is cocky enough most o’ the time; it’s only in a pinch that he loses it.”

“I’m a friend of his family,” says Bull. “I’d like awful well to see him move up.”

“You wouldn’t like it no better’n me,” says Ted. “I’d like to see him move anywheres. I’m sick o’ lookin’ at him. If you can sell him for any kind of a price, I’ll give you half of it.”

“You know I couldn’t sell him,” says Bull. “But if somebody else recommended him to somebody and I was ast about him, I’d do my best.”

“Well,” says Ted, “I ain’t goin’ to recommend him, nowheres, unless it’s to a fella I got no use for. I’m goin’ to try again in the spring, and if he don’t quit chokin’ to death every time he’s got a chance to be a hero, I’ll tie a can on him whether he’s a friend o’ yours or Woodrow Wilson’s.”

“Outside o’ that, he’s a good ball player, is he?” says Bull.

“They ain’t no man I ever seen with more natural advantages,” Ted told him. “His record shows that he hit .329 and stole thirty-two bases and fielded as good as any second baseman in the league. But he didn’t make none o’ those base hits when we’d of gave a thousand dollars apiece for ’em, and when he could of pulled a pitcher out of a hole with a swell piece o’ fieldin’ he simply booted the ball all over the infield.”

“They’s just the one hope for him, then,” says Bull, “and that’s to go out and get some o’ the old nervine.”

“If you can make him do that,” says Ted, “I’ll guarantee to sell him to any club you name.”

So Bull, that night, told Maggie that Martin was still shy of experience and needed at least another year in minor league ball before he could hope to stick up with the E-light. He figured that he could work on the kid all the rest o’ the winter and maybe succeed in stingin’ him enough with hot conversation to get that streak out of him.

But Maggie right away wanted to know where Bull’d got his information and Bull had to tell her.

“No wonder!” says Maggie. “Pierce never did have a good word for him. Him and all the rest o’ them’s jealous.”

“You’re mistaken,” says Bull. “Pierce wouldn’t like nothin’ better than to sell him for a good price.”

“All right,” says Maggie, “if you think I’m mistaken, that shows you don’t care nothin’ about me.”

So Bull didn’t have no answer to that swell argument only to beg her pardon and say she was probably right.

Well, it finally come to a kind of a showdown; Bull was either to see that Martin got his chance this spring or he’d have to worry along without Maggie. She didn’t come right out and say that the way I’ve put it, but she made it plain enough so’s they wasn’t much chance to misunderstand.

Bull kicked the sheets round for a few nights and then got his idear. O’ course the first thing was to pick a club that was tryin’ to build up, and if possible to pick one that had a manager who’d pay the right kind of attention to a kid. Bull chose Connie as the best bet. The next thing was to persuade Connie to give Martin his trial. Bull wanted to be perfectly square, as you’ll see by the deal he put through. He got a fella there in Montgomery with a good Irish name to write to Connie and recommend the boy, and if Connie didn’t believe Martin was a good prospect he was to ask Bull about him, and if Martin didn’t make good he wouldn’t cost Connie nothin’, not even his railroad fare to the trainin’ camp and back. Bull framed it up with Ted Pierce as a matter o’ friendship to leave the boy go on trial, and if he did su’prise ’em all and make good, the Montgomery club was to get whatever Connie was willin’ to pay.

Well, the letter was sent and Connie wrote back to Bull, and says a boy named Gregory had been mentioned to him, and ast Bull was he worth a trial. Bull answered that Gregory was a kid with great natural ability and one or two faults that’d have to be overcome. Then Connie fixed it with the Montgomery club, and Bull thought he’d finished his job.

But he found out different. W’ile Maggie consented to becomin’ engaged, she wasn’t in no hurry to get married. She says her parents was gettin’ old and she didn’t want to leave ’em all summer, and besides, she didn’t have no clo’es, and besides, it would be a whole lot nicer to wait till fall and spend the honeymoon where they’d first met each other and when Bull was just startin’ his vacation instead of endin’ it. Bull coaxed and coaxed, but her rules was just like his’n – she couldn’t change a decision on a question o’ judgment.

In the three weeks before Martin was to report in Jacksonville, Bull done nothin’ but try and shoot him full o’ confidence.

“The pitchers down here have got everything you’ll see in the big league,” he told him. “You don’t need to be afraid o’ none o’ them. A man that handles a bat the way you do can hit anything in the world if he’ll just swing. Connie or any other manager don’t care how many times you strike out in the pinch, provided you strike out tryin’. You got the stuff in you to make Cobb and Baker and them look like a rummy. Don’t get scared; that’s all.”

Bull pulled that talk on him right up to the day the kid left Montgomery. Down at the train, Bull says to him:

“Remember, they’s nothin’ to be scared of. Make us all proud o’ you! Make good!”

“I’ll make good if they give me a square deal,” he says.

“Yes,” Bull says to himself, “it’s a cinch it’ll be somebody else’s fault if he falls down. It always is.”

Well, in a little w’ile it come time for Bull to leave, too. And here’s what the girl sprung on him at the partin’:

“You’ll help him all you can, won’t you?” she says.

“They’s not a chance for me to help him,” says Bull. “A man in my place can’t favor nobody.”

“A man could,” she says, “if a man knowed it would please the girl he was stuck on.”

Now if it’d of been me that she made that remark to, I’d of ast for waivers. But you know what they say about love bein’ blind. And when it’s a combination o’ love and an umpire – well, how can you beat it!

Bull kept close tab on the papers and he seen that Martin was at second base in the lineup o’ the Ath-a-letics’ regular club. This was w’ile they was still South. Then, in one o’ their last exhibitions before the season started, Martin’s name was left out. He wrote to the kid and he wrote to Maggie, tryin’ to find out what was doin’. Maggie wrote back that she didn’t know and Martin didn’t answer at all.

The season begin and Bull was workin’ in the West. Every mornin’ he grabbed the papers and looked to see if Martin was back in. Four times in three weeks the kid went up to bat for somebody, but without doin’ no good. Then come the second week in this month and the first series between the Eastern clubs and us.

Bull had the Detroit-Philadelphia series. Just before the first game he run into Connie outside o’ the park. They shook hands and then Bull says:

“Didn’t you ask me about a ball player this winter?”

“Yes,” says Connie, “a boy named Gregory.”

“How’s he comin’?” says Bull.

“I don’t think he’s comin’,” says Connie. “I think he’s just gettin’ ready to go.”

“What’s the trouble?” ast Bull.

“Well,” says Connie, “once in a w’ile our club happens to not be more’n two or three runs behind, happens to have a chance to tie or win. Gregory’s one o’ the kind o’ ball players that spoils them chances.

In practice down South he looked like a find. He hit everything and fielded all over the place. But we got into some tight exhibitions on the way up and when the opportunities come to him to do somethin’ big he faded away. He ain’t there in a pinch; that’s all.”

“Is he with you yet?” Bull ast him.

“He’s with us,” says Connie; “he’s with us for one more trial. If they’s a place in this series where I can use a substitute hitter, Gregory’s goin’ to be the man. And if he don’t swing that club the way he can swing it when it don’t mean nothin’, I’ll hand him his transportation back to Montgomery.”

“Does the kid know that?” ast Bull.

“Yes,” says Connie, “and if they’s any stuff in him the knowledge that this is his last chance should ought to bring it out.”

“You mean,” says Bull, “that if he strikes out again in a pinch he’s through?”

“No, I don’t,” says Connie. “I mean he’s through if he doesn’t try to murder that ball. I don’t care if he strikes out on three pitches, just so he swings.”

“But suppose,” says Bull – “suppose they don’t throw him nothin’ he can hit; suppose they walk him.”

“O’ course,” says Connie, “if the count gets down to two and three, I’d want him to pass the ball up if it was bad. But if it was where he could reach it, I’d want him to take a wallop, just to show me he ain’t scared.”

So that’s how Martin stood with Connie at the beginnin’ o’ this series between the Ath-a-letics and Detroit.

The thing didn’t happen the first day. The game wasn’t close and Martin watched it all from the bench. Bull talked to him, but didn’t get what you could call a cordial welcome. Bull wasn’t su’prised at that; they ain’t no ball player that’ll kid with an umps when his dauber’s down. He refused Bull’s invitation to come round to the hotel that night and have supper with him. And Bull decided that the best play was to leave him alone.

They was a letter from the girl waitin’ for Bull that evenin’. She’d heard from her brother and she knowed that he wasn’t burnin’ up the League; but he’d confessed that Connie hadn’t treated him good and the umpires had robbed him blind. She knew, she wrote, that Bull wouldn’t cheat him; if Bull really cared for her, he’d help him if he got a chance. And it would kill her and her father and mother besides if Martin had to face the disgrace o’ not makin’ good.

Bull went to bed and dreamt that Martin was up in a pinch, and he was umpirin’ behind the plate, and Martin turned round and looked at him just before the ball was pitched, and Bull smiled at him to encourage him, and Martin took an awful wallop at the pill and give it a ride to the fence in right center. That’s what Bull dreamt before the second game o’ that series. And here’s what really come off:

Big Coveleskie and Bush was havin’ a whale of a battle. They wasn’t nobody scored till the eighth. Cobb got on then, with only one out. So that give Detroit a run. The ninth looked to be all over. Two o’ the Ath-a-letics was out. Then somebody got hold o’ one and lit on it for three bases, and what was left o’ the crowd decided to stick round a w’ile.

Bull says he knowed Martin was comin’ up before he ever looked. And he smiled at him when he announced himself as the batter.

Coveleskie come with a fast ball. Martin had to duck to keep from gettin’ hit. Coveleskie come with a curve. Martin made a feeble swing and missed it. Jennin’s hollered from the bench:

“Run out with the water! The boy’s goin’ to swoon!”

Another curve ball that broke over, and Martin left it go.

“Strike two!” says Bull.

“It was inside,” says Martin.

“You’ll never drive in that run with a base on balls,” says Bull.

Coveleskie come with a curve that was high and outside. It was the second ball. He come with another curve, in the same spot. It was three and two.

“Give him all you got!” yelled Jennin’s. “Get it over there! He’s too scared to swing!”

Bull told me that w’ile Coveleskie was gettin’ ready for that next pitch he could see Maggie and the old folks in front of him just as plain as if they was there, and a voice kept sayin’ to him, “Call it a ball! Call it a ball!”

The ball come – a fast one. Bull knowed what it was and where it was comin’, and he bit his tongue to keep from sayin’ “Swing!” Right across the middle it come, as perfect a strike as was ever pitched. And Martin’s bat stayed on his shoulder.

“You’re out!” says Bull. “It cut the heart!”

The heart o’ the plate, and Bull’s too, I guess.

Bull met Connie again next day, outside o’ the park.

“I’ve canned your friend Gregory,” says Connie.

“Do you know,” says Bull. “I come near callin’ that last one a ball?”

“If you had,” says Connie, “the kid would of been let out anyway, and you’d of fell, in my estimation, from the best umpire in the league to the worst in the world.”

Now what does dear little Brother Martin do next? Instead o’ goin’ back to Montgomery like a man and tryin’ to get a fresh start with the club that he’d been borrowed off of, he sets down and writes Maggie that Connie would of kept him only for Bull callin’ him out on a ball that was so low and so far outside that the Detroit catcher had to lay down to get it, and that Bull done it because he didn’t like him, and if Maggie didn’t tie a can to Bull, Martin was through with her and with the old man and old lady too.

Well, the girl wrote back to Bull callin’ off the engagement, sayin’ how sorry her and her parents was to find out that he would stoop to such meanness and askin’ him not to communicate with her no more. And Bull’s bull-headed enough so as he wouldn’t make a move to square things.

He got the letter from her day before yesterday, just before he left his hotel to come out to the yard. Is it any wonder he didn’t say nothin’ when I claimed Cady didn’t tag me, and went entirely off’n his nut when Cahill called him a crook?

W’ile he was spillin’ me the story I got enough into him to make a good sleepin’ potion, and then helped him to the hay. The first thing yesterday mornin’ I seen Ban and fixed that end of it by repeatin’ the romance. But don’t never breathe that Ban knows all about it. Bull thinks he’s takin’ him back because it was his first offense. And he’s comin’ back; Ban says he’s promised to be in there tomorrow.

And right here in my pocket I got somethin’ to show him that’ll be better news than gettin’ back his job. As luck would have it, I was the first guy to get to the park yesterday, and when I blowed into the clubhouse, who was settin’ there but young Mr. Gregory himself! He told me his name and wanted to know was they any chance of him gettin’ a try-out with us?

“Yes,” I says, “they’s one chance and you’ll get it if you do as I say. Connie couldn’t of gave you to the Montgomery club again if we hadn’t waived. But I’ll fix it for you to join us tomorrow and try your luck again on these conditions: In the first place, you got to go right out now and wire your sister and tell her that the ball you was called out on was right through the middle o’ the plate and the best strike you ever seen, and that Connie would of released you anyway, and that if your sister don’t wire right back to Bull, in my care, statin’ that she’s reconsidered and it’s still on between she and him, you won’t never recognize her as your sister.”

“And what if I won’t do that?” he says.

“You won’t get no chance at a job here,” says I, “but you’ll get the worst lickin’ that was ever gave.”

He sent the telegram and I got a night letter this mornin’; addressed to Bull it was, but I read it. I’ve been tryin’ to locate him all day and he’s goin’ to call up as soon as he gets back to his hotel. Everything’s fixed and tomorrow he’ll feel so good that he’s liable to forget himself and give us somethin’ but the worst of it.

As for Martin, if he don’t make good with our club it’ll be because he can’t hit and not because he’s too scared to try. I’ll have him too scared o’ me to be scared of anything else.

• 11 •

The Hold-out

Three people, not countin’ myself, think I’m the greatest guy in the world. One o’ them’s my first and last wife, another’s Mr. Edwards, and the other’s Bill Hagedorn.

It’d be hard to pick three that I’d rather have cordial. If a person is livin’ with their wife, it makes it kind o’ pleasant to have her like you. Mr. Edwards, o’ course, is the man I’m workin’ for, so it don’t hurt me at all to be his hero. And I’m glad to have Bill added to the list, because it means he’ll play the bag better for me this year than he’s done yet, and with a little pep on first base we’re liable to be bad news to George Stallin’s, Wilbert Robinson and John J. McGraw.

But listen: If Mr. Edwards ever got hold o’ the truth o’ the Hagedorn business, him and I’d be just as clubby as Lord George and the Kaiser. If he didn’t drop dead when he found it out, he’d slip me the tinware, contract or no contract, and I wouldn’t have the heart to fight it in the courts, because I admit I gave him a raw deal. My only alibi is that I left my feelin’s get the best o’ me, and that excuse wouldn’t be worth a dime with him; they’s no excuse that would be, where his pocketbook’s concerned, like in this case. He just simply hates money!

The worst of it is that Hagedorn didn’t deserve no consideration. I like to see a fella get all that’s comin’ to him, provided he goes after it in the right way and puts up a real fight. Hagedorn made a hog of himself and was tremblin’ all the time he did it. If he was as yellow on the ball field as when he’s makin’ a play for more dough, I’d take away his uniform and suspend him for life; he wouldn’t be no more use to me than a set of adenoids.

He’s just as game a ball player, though, as you’ll find. The minute he trots out there in the old orchard he’s a different guy, afraid o’ nothin’. All he’s lacked so far is ambish, and I figure he’ll show some o’ that this year. He’ll give me his best out o’ gratitude. If he don’t, it’ll mean his finish on the big time, family or no family.

It’s part o’ my agreement with Mr. Edwards that I stick on the job all the year round, goin’ to the league meetin’s with him in winter, helpin’ him sign up the boys, and so forth. Well, after we was through last fall, he called me up in the office and begin crabbin’ about finances.

“Frank,” he says, “we lost $18,000 this season. I pretty near wish I didn’t have no ball club.”

“You’ve pretty near got your wish,” I says. “If some o’ those bushers don’t come through next spring, or if we don’t swing a couple o’ deals between now and then, the clubs that play against us won’t even get good practice.”

“Bad as we are,” he says, “I bet we got the biggest salary list in the big leagues. It looks to me like not only one or two, but several of our men were bein’ overpaid.”

“Yes, sir,” I says; “and on their showin’ the last few months some o’ them would be overpaid if they drawee! a dollar a day.”

“Well,” he says, “I’m goin’ to do some trimmin’. The boys’ll kick, I suppose, but I’m dependin’ on you to show ’em they deserve cuts.”

“That’s a nice little job for me,” I says. “It’s just as easy to convince a ball player that his pay ought to be trimmed as it is to score twelve runs off Alexander.”

“I’d just as leave pay good prices for good work,” he says, “but I’m not goin’ to maintain no pension bureau. These ridic’lous Federal League contracts have all run out, thank heavens, and from now on my ball club’ll be run on a sane basis. Look at Lefty Grant!” he says. “He got $7000 and pitched pretty near eleven full games, winnin’ three o’ them. And look at Hagedorn! A $6000 contract and no more life in him than a wet rag! What do you suppose ailed him?”

“Federalitis,” I says. “He was gettin’ soft money in the Federal, with no incentive to win and nobody to try and make him hustle.”

“A $6000 salary,” says Mr. Edwards, “for a man that hit round .220 and played first base like he was bettin’ against us! Maybe we’d better just let loose of him.”

“If I was you,” I says, “I’d see what the recruits is like before gettin’ rid o’ Hagedorn. I’ll admit he’s been loafin’, but he’s a mighty good ball player when he tries.”

“Maybe it’ll wake him up to cut him,” says he. “I’m goin’ to send him a contract for $4000.”

“Suit yourself,” says I. “He’ll holler like an Indian, but if he sees you’re in earnest I guess he’ll come round.”

“He lives here in town,” says Mr. Edwards. “I’ll have the girl call him up sometime and tell him I want to see him.”

So we discussed a few others that was gettin’ way more than they earned, and the boss says he wouldn’t play no favorites, but would cut ’em all from ten to forty per cent. I knew they’d be plenty o’ trouble, but I didn’t care a whole lot. I figured that if everybody on the pay roll quit the game and went to work it’d strengthen the team.

Well, Hagedorn accepted Mr. Edwards’ invitation to call and I was in the office when Bill come in.

“Mr. Hagedorn,” says the boss, “Manager Conley and myself’s been talkin’ things over and we come to the conclusion that several o’ you boys was earnin’ less than we paid you. What do you think about it?”

“Well,” says Hagedorn, “some o’ the boys maybe deserve cuts. But I don’t see how I come in on it.”

“Why not?” says Mr. Edwards. “The unofficial average gives you a battin’ percentage o’ .220.”

“I can’t help what them dam scorers do to me,” says Bill. “I never did get fair treatment from the reporters.”

“But when you was in the league before,” says the boss, “you always hit up round .280, and it’s a cinch the scorers didn’t cheat you out o’ sixty points.”

“They’d cheat me out o’ my shirt if they had a chance,” Bill says. “But even if I did have a bad year with the wood, that ain’t no sign I won’t do all right next season.”

“That’s true enough,” says Mr. Edwards. “Anybody’s liable to have a battin’ slump. But Manager Conley and myself wasn’t thinkin’ about your hittin’ alone. We kind o’ thought that your work all round was below the standard; that you was sort o’ layin’ down on the job.”

Hagedorn began to whine.

“Mr. Edwards,” he says, “you got me entirely wrong. I wouldn’t lay down on nobody. I’ve give you my best every minute, and if I haven’t it was because things broke bad for me.”

“What things?” I ast him.

“Well,” he says, “for one thing, I felt rotten all summer. My legs was bad.”

“Well,” I says, “you can’t expect Mr. Edwards to pay $3000 apiece for bad legs.”

“But they’re all right now,” he says. “I haven’t had a bit o’ trouble with ’em all fall. And I’m takin’ grand care o’ myself and next spring I’ll be as good as ever.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about your legs?” I ast him. “I’d of let you lay off. You certainly wasn’t helpin’ us much.”

“I’d of told you only I don’t like to quit,” he says. “And besides, my legs wasn’t the whole trouble.”

“What else was it?” I says.

“Well,” he says, “the Missus was sick and in the hospital, and I had to pay out a lot o’ money and it kept me worried.”

“When was she sick?” I ast him.

“Let’s see,” he says, “it was while we was on our last Eastern trip.”

“You never ast me to let you come home,” I says.

“No,” he says, “I didn’t know nothin’ at all about it till we got back.”

“That’s why you worried, I suppose,” I says, “and I guess your wife’s illness in September was what worried you in June and July.”

“She was sick on and off all season,” he says.

“I noticed,” says I, “that she done most of her sufferin’ in a grandstand seat. Her ailment,” I says, “was probably brought on by watchin’ you perform.”

“She’s full o’ nerve,” he says. “She wouldn’t miss a ball game if she was dyin’. And besides, her sickness wasn’t all of it.”

“Let’s hear the whole story at once,” I says. “The suspense is fierce.”

“Her folks kept botherin’ us,” says Hagedorn. “They live in Louisville, and they’re gettin’ old and they wanted that she should come down there and stay with ’em.”

“Couldn’t they come up here?” I ast him.

“No,” he says, “they got their own home and their own friends and everything down there.”

“Well,” says I, “that’d probably be the square thing for you to do, just pack up and move to Louisville and live with ’em.”

“We’d only be there in the winter,” he says.

“No,” says I, “I’ll fix it so’s you can be there all the year round.”

“What do you mean?” he says.

“I mean that if you don’t want to sign at our figures Louisville’d be the ideal spot for you,” says I.

“What’s your figures?” he ast.

“I’m willin’ to give you $4000,” says Mr. Edwards.

Hagedorn swelled up.

“If you think I’ll take a $2000 cut, you got me wrong,” he says.

“All right,” says I, “and I hope the Kentucky climate agrees with your legs.”

We sent Lefty Grant a contract for $5000 and after a little crabbin’ by mail he signed. Joe Marsh stood for a $1000 cut, and Bones McChesney, shaved from $3500 to $3000, refused to sign and got himself sold to Toronto. I didn’t cry over losin’ him; he’d always been fat from his neck up, and in the last two seasons the epidemic had spread all over his body.

Now it don’t often happen that a seventh-place club begins lookin’ like a pennant contender between October and February. But that’s what come off with us. Our worst weakness last year was at shortstop and third base and back o’ the bat. Well, I talked to a lot of Association men durin’ the fall, and they told me that I had a second Schalk in this young Stremmle from Indianapolis. And I got swell reports on Berner, the shortstop we drew from Dayton. Both these guys, I was told, were ready. They wouldn’t need no more seasonin’.

And then along come the league meetin’ in New York, and I happened to catch the St. Louis gang when they were thinkin’ about somethin’ else, and they traded me Johnny Gould for Hype Corliss and Jack Moran, two guys that I’d kept down in the bull pen all summer so’s the bugs couldn’t get a good look at ’em. There was my third base hole plugged up and the ball club was bound to be a hundred per cent better, provided Hagedorn signed and give us his best work, or that young Lahey, the first sacker we bought from Davenport, made good. I wasn’t worryin’ much about him, as I figured right along that Hagedorn would take his $4000 when he seen we were in earnest.

O’ course he had a little bit the best of us in the argument – that is, he would of had if he’d knew enough. Him and Lahey was the only candidates for first base, and no matter if he played the position in a hammock, he’d be better than an inexperienced kid from the Three Eye. Even if he wasn’t never worth a nickel over $4000, here was a grand chance for him to hold us up. All he had to do was lay quiet at home, and when it come time for us to go South we’d of looked him up and met his demands. But no, he didn’t have the nerve or sense to go at it the right way.

Instead o’ keepin’ us guessin’, what does he do but hunt up excuses to come and hang round the office and try and get a hint o’ whether we were goin’ to stand pat or back down. I was alone the first time he showed.

“Hello, Bill,” I says. “Did you bring your fountain pen?”

“What for?” he says.

“To sign that $4000 contract,” says I.

“Oh, no,” he says. “I wasn’t thinkin’ nothin’ about the contract. I come up to see if they was any mail for me.”

“Not now,” I says, “but you may be hearin’ from the Louisville club in a few days.”

“What would they be writin’ me about?” he says.

“Maybe they’ll hear about you wantin’ to move there,” I says, “and they’ll probably be askin’ you if you’d care to take a job with ’em.”

“Well,” says Bill, “you won’t catch me playin’ ball with Louisville.”

“Who was you thinkin’ about playin’ with?” I ast him.

“Nobody,” he says. “I’ve decided to quit.”

“That’s fine, Bill!” I says. “Sombody left you money?”

“No,” he says, “but I got some o’ my own saved up.”

“How much?” I ast him.

“Close to $2000.” says Bill.

“Fine work!” says I. “You must of lived pretty simple to save $2000 in seven years.”

“I never skimped,” says Bill.

“Well,” I says, “I don’t know how you managed. But it’s nice to feel that you won’t never have to skimp again. If you can get six per cent for your money, that’ll mean $120 a year or $10 a month. That puts you on Easy Street. All you’ll have to get along without is food, clothes, heat and a place to live.”

He paid us another visit Christmas week, thinkin’, maybe, that Mr. Edwards would be runnin’ over with holiday spirits.

This was a bum guess. The old man’s got more relatives than a perch, and when he was through buyin’ presents for all o’ them he wouldn’t of paid a telephone slug for the release o’ Ty Cobb.

“No mail yet,” I says to Bill when he come in.

“I wasn’t expectin’ no mail,” he says. “I was just wonderin’ if I left a pair o’ gloves here last time.”

“A pair o’ tan gloves?” I says.

“Yes,” says Hagedorn.

“I didn’t see ’em,” I says. “I found some gray ones.”

“How is everything?” he says.

“Fine!” says I. “It looks like we’re goin’ to have a regular ball club.”

“Well, I hope you do,” Bill says.

“Gould’s goin’ to help us a lot,” says I, “and they tell me Stremmle and Berner’s both good enough for anybody’s team. And then, o’ course, we got young Lahey.”

“Who’s young Lahey?” ast Bill.

“Can’t be you never heard of him,” I says. “He’s the first sacker from Davenport that everybody was after. They say you can’t hardly tell him from Hal Chase when he’s in action. And he cracked the marble for about .340 last season.”

“Hittin’ .340 in the sticks and hittin’ it up here is two different things,” says Hagedorn.

“Not so different,” I says. “A bird that can hit .340 anywhere can hit pretty good.”

That’s right, too. But the truth was that Lahey’s figure had been eighty points shy o’ what I credited him with. And from what I’d learned from some o’ the Three Eye boys, Lahey was the eighth best first baseman in their league.

“Well,” says Hagedorn, “if he makes good, you won’t have no use for me.”

“No,” I says, “but I’d hate to see you go back in the bushes.”

“Don’t worry!” he says. “I’m goin’ to stick right here in town.”

“And live on your savin’s?” I says.

“No,” says Bill. “I’m just about signed up to play with the Acmes in the semi-pro league.”

“How much are they givin’ you?” I ast him.

“Fifty a game, and they only play Sundays,” he says.

“Yes,” says 1, “and they’re doin’ well if they play twenty games a season. That nets you $1000, and you’ll have somethin’ like six days a week to spend it in.”

“I can work at somethin’ durin’ the week,” he says. “Maybe sell automobiles or somethin’.”

“You could do that in the winter, too,” I says, “if you didn’t waste so much o’ your time comin’ for your mail and lookin’ for your gloves.”

“How’s Mr. Edwards?” says Bill.

“Fine and dandy!” I says. “Want to see him?”

“What would I want to see him about?” says Bill.

“You might be able to sell him a car,” says I. “He’s right in the spendin’ mood now. His nieces and nephews and Mr. Wilson’s peace note has relieved him o’ the few hundreds he had left after last season. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d reconsider cuttin’ your contract – maybe give you a bonus for the devil of it.”

While we was talkin’ Mr. Edwards come out from his private office. “Hello, Hagedorn,” he says. “Ready to sign?”

“At my own figure,” says Bill.

“That’s good,” says Mr. Edwards. “Conley and myself was afraid you might accept the cut, and we couldn’t hardly afford to keep an extra first baseman at $4000 a year.”

“It’s best all round,” I says. “Bill’s goin’ to make more dough than we could possibly give him; he’s goin’ to sell cars durin’ the week and play semi-pro ball Sundays. And maybe he can master the barber trade and pick up a few extra hundreds Saturday nights. But even if he don’t make a nickel, he’s got $2000 hoarded up.”

“That’s fine!” says the boss. “I like to see thrift in a young man. And it always seems like a pity that so many boys squander their earnin’s and have to keep on slavin’ as ball players till they’re thirty years old and past the prime o’ life.”

For three or four days early in January they was an epidemic o’ lockjaw in Washin’ton, and the market come up enough for Mr. Edwards to take a trip to New Orleans. He left me in charge o’ things, and my job consisted o’ makin’ up stories for the newspaper boys and entertainin’ Hagedorn about once a week.

Once he dropped in to find out Joe Marsh’s address; it’d of been impossible, o’ course, to inquire by telephone. Another time he just happened to be passin’, and happened to remember that he was carryin’ a letter that his wife had ast him to mail, and wanted to know if I had a stamp.

I entertained him every time with dope on Lahey and what a whale of a man he was goin’ to make us. But one day he come up loaded with some real facts about the guy I’d been boostin’.

“I thought you told me Lahey hit .340 with Davenport,” he says.

“I did tell you that,” says I.

“Well,” says Bill, “somebody was stringin’ you. I seen the Three Eye records the other day and they give Lahey .262.”

“That don’t mean nothin’,” I says. “The scorers probably had it in for him.”

“And he made more boots than any first baseman in the league,” says Bill.

“That shows he was hustlin’,” I says. “The more ground you cover, the more you’re liable to kick ’em round. Besides,” I says, “he was so perfect that the scorers probably thought he’d ought to make plays that would be impossible for a common first sacker.”

“Another thing,” says Hagedorn: “I happened to run acrost Jack Wells that played in the league with him, and he tells me Lahey’s a left-hand hitter. Well, Gould’s a left-hand hitter and so’s young Berner, and you already had two left-hand hitters amongst the regulars. Your club’s goin’ to be balanced like a stew on a wild bronco. McGraw and them’ll left-hand you to death.”

“What do you care!” I says.

“It’s nothin’ to me,” says Bill.

“Well, what do you suppose we better do about it?” I ast him.

“If I was you,” he says, “I’d try and get myself a first baseman that hits right-handed.”

“It’s too late to get anybody,” says I. “I guess we’re just plain up against it. I wisht you hadn’t made up your mind to retire.”

“I’d play for you,” says Bill, “if you’d meet my price.”

“That’s up to the old man,” I says, “but I know he won’t back down. He wouldn’t give in to one man when he’s stood pat on all the rest o’ them.”

“It won’t be just one man,” says Bill.

“What do you mean?” I ast him.

“He’ll be lucky if he’s got anybody when the showdown comes,” says Bill. “The fraternity’s give orders that nobody’s to sign till you hear from them, and you won’t hear from them till the leagues meets its demands.”

“That don’t affect our club,” I says. “We got every man already signed up except yourself.”

“Yes,” says Hagedorn, “but signed up or not signed up, they won’t report till the fraternity tells ’em to.”

“You’ve been playin’ long enough to know better’n that,” says I. “If you think any ball player’s goin’ without his prunes to help out some other ball player, you got even less brains than I figured.”

“They’ll have to strike if the fraternity says so,” says Bill. “They’re goin’ into the Federation o’ Labor and be like any other union. And if they don’t strike when they’re ordered to they’ll be canned out o’ the fraternity.”

“Well,” I says, “suppose you was Ty Cobb, draggin’ down a measly $16,000 a year, or whatever he’s gettin’. Which would you do if the choice come up, go without the $16,000 or go without the fraternity?”

“I’d certainly stick with the fraternity,” says Hagedorn. “If I didn’t, I’d be a traitor.”

“If I make you out a contract for $6000, will you sign it?” I ast him.

“Sure,” he says. “I always told you I’d sign for my price.”

“Well, Bill,” I says, “I won’t give you the contract. I’d hate to think I’d made a traitor out o’ you.”

“I don’t want no contract anyway,” says Bill. “I’m through. I’m goin’ into business.”

“What business?” I says.

“Somethin’ pretty good,” he says. “I and a friend o’ mine’s goin’ in partners in a garage.”

“That’s a great idear!” says I. “You won’t have no competition, and it won’t cost nothin’ to start, and besides that, it’s a game you know more about than any other, unless it’s dressmakin’.”

“My friend knows all about it,” says Bill, “and I can pick it up from him.”

“You better stick to pickin’ up low throws,” I says. “It takes years to learn the mechanism of a car when you don’t know nothin’ to start, not even what makes the front wheels run. But o’ course you won’t be the only one in the garage business that has to learn, and so long as it’s other people’s cars you wreck while you’re learnin’, why what’s the difference!”

“They’s good money in a garage,” says Bill.’

“I know it, and a whole lot of it’s mine,” I says. “They’s good money in any business like that – smugglin’ or counterfeitin’ or snatchin’ purses. But it must be hell on a man’s conscience, even worse’n drawin’ $6000 per annum for takin’ a six months’ nap on the old ball field.”

The first thing Mr. Edwards ast me when he got back from the South was what was the latest dope on Hagedorn.

“He’s surprised me,” I says. “I thought he’d give in long before this. But nothin’ doin’.”

“What will we do about it?” says the boss.

“Mr. Edwards,” I says, “you’re the man that’s payin’ me my money, and it’s my business to look out for your interests. If Hagedorn had of kept away from here all winter, if we hadn’t heard nothin’ from him from the day he first turned down the contract, I’d say give him his $6000. But him comin’ round here once a week shows that he needs us as much as we need him, and that he’ll stand for the cut if he’s got to. Besides, he’s showed a mighty poor opinion o’ me by expectin’ me to believe all that junk about him goin’ into business, and so on – stuff that was old in the Noah’s Ark League. He couldn’t earn a dime a day in anything outside o’ baseball. If he had a factory that made shells out o’ lake water, he’d be bankrupt in a month. Now they’s probably four better first basemen than him in the league, but I doubt if more’n one o’ them’s chawin’ $6000. O’ course with him on the ball club it looks like we’d be somewheres up in the race, and we ain’t got a chance with a busher playin’ the position.

“If it was a case o’ givin’ him his dough or gettin’ along without him, I’d rather see him get the money even if it’s a holdup. But if I’m any judge of a ball player, he’ll come round here on his hands and knees the day before we start for the Springs, and he’ll sign at whatever price you offer him.”

“It’s a shame,” says Mr. Edwards, “when everything else looks so good for us, to have to be worryin’ about a man like him, that loafed on us all last summer and that I’d get rid of in a minute if I had somebody in his place. I suppose they’s no chance o’ tradin’ for a first baseman at this stage.”

“Oh, yes, they’s a chance,” I says. “I suppose Matty’d let us have Chase if we’d give up our pitchin’ staff and half a dozen infielders and $40,000 or $50,000 in cash. Then we’d have Chase and nothin’ with him.”

“Maybe young Lahey’ll surprise us,” says the boss.

“It won’t hurt us to hope,” I says, “but from what I can learn Bill Doyle was mad at you when he recommended him. And besides,” I says, “Lahey’s a left-hand hitter, and that’d mean five o’ them in the game every day. We’d be a set-up for fellas like Schupp and Smith and Tyler. Take Hagedorn, and he can murder a left-hander even when he ain’t hittin’ his weight against a regular pitcher.”

“Well, all we can do is wait,” says Mr. Edwards.

“And I don’t think it’ll be long,” I says.

But when the night come for us to start South, Hagedorn was still a hold-out, though he did show one more sign o’ weakenin’. He was down to the station to shake hands with the boys and see us off, and he looked like he was ready to cry. I called him off to one side.

“Would you like to be goin’ along, Bill?” I ast him.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says.

“Why don’t you take your medicine and hop aboard?” I says. “Your missus can pack up your stuff and send it after you.”

“I’ll go if you say the word,” he says.

“You’re the one that must do the talkin’,” says I.

“Why couldn’t I go along without signin’?” he says. “Maybe the old man would meet my figure when he seen how hard I’d work to get in shape.”

“No,” says I; “this ain’t no charity excursion we’re runnin’. We pay nobody’s fare that ain’t signed up and a member o’ this ball club. If you want to sign at $4000, they’s a contract right there in my grip. If you don’t, why you can spend the rest o’ the winter countin’ snowflakes and cursin’ the coal trust.”

“Well,” he says, “I’ll freeze to death before I’ll be robbed; starve to death, too, before I’ll let old Edwards bull me out o’ what’s comin’ to me.”

“I’m sorry, Bill,” I says. “But anyway, good luck to you.”

“Good luck to you too,” says Bill. “You’ll need it.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I says. “I got a hunch that it’s goin’ to be a great year for everybody in baseball.”

“Well,” says Hagedorn, “I know some fellas that’ll have a great year.”

“Who do you mean, Bill?” I ast him.

“All the left-handers that pitches against your ball club,” he says.

About half the baseball reporters on our papers know somethin’ about the game. The other half’s kids that can write cute stories, but don’t know a wild pitch from a hit and run sign. This was the half that went on the spring trip with us. The old heads was sent with the Americans, because they’d made a fight for the pennant last year and the public was strong for ’em.

Well, I took advantage of our gang bein’ green and made ’em perjure themself to their papers every day. When they’d come to me for the dope, I’d rave to ’em about what a world-beater young Lahey was, and how he’d burn up the league as soon as I’d learned him a few o’ the fine points o’ first-base play. If they’d been wise they could of told with one look that Mr. Lahey wouldn’t do. But they were just kids and they ate it up. I bet if any o’ the fellas that had played with Lahey read what I was sayin’ about him in the papers they must of thought I was crazy.

My idear, o’ course, was to worry Hagedorn. I knew he’d be readin’ everything he could find about us, and I didn’t want him to get the impression that the ball club was goin’ to bust up without him.

I thought Mr. Edwards would have sense enough to get this. But no; he fell just as hard as the reporters. And when he joined us after we’d been at the Springs two weeks, he was all smiles.

“Well,” he says, “I been readin’ some mighty encouragin’ news.”

“What news?” I says.

“About Lahey,” says he. “I told you he might surprise us.”

“He’s surprised me in one way,” I says. “I’m surprised that he ever had the nerve to come on this trainin’ trip. I always thought pretty well o’ the Three Eye League till I seen him,” I says.

“You’re jokin’,” says Mr. Edwards. “I’ve read nothin’ but good reports of him.”

“I’m responsible for the reports,” I says, “but I thought you’d guess that I was fakin’ for Hagedorn’s benefit.”

“Well, if you’ve fooled Hagedorn, he’s got company,” says Mr. Edwards. “I thought our troubles was all over.”

“Our troubles won’t never be over if Hagedorn don’t give in,” I says.

“But Lahey must be some good, the way he was recommended,” says the boss.

“Doyle probably seen him just once,” I says, “and that must of been the one good day he had. But even at that, Doyle couldn’t of never watched him handle his feet and thought he was a ball player.”

“Is it just his feet that’s the trouble?” ast Mr. Edwards.

“No,” I says, “but they’d be plenty without outside help. We’ve had infield practice about nine times since we been here, and that means he’s got nine hundred self-inflicted spike wounds. And they must of kept first base in a different place down to Davenport. Anyway he can’t find it here. And when he does happen to stumble onto it, it’s always with the wrong foot. Besides that, every time Gould or Berner makes a low peg Lahey loses a tooth. Gould ast him one day why he didn’t wear a mask. But you ought to see him field bunts! If experience counts for anything, he’d ought to be the most accurate thrower in the world, from a sittin’ posture.”

“How about his hittin’?” the boss ast me.

“He’s a consistent hitter,” I says. “They’s a party from Kansas City stoppin’ at the hotel. They come out to every practice and always set in the same place, right back o’ the plate, behind the grandstand screen. Well, every ball Lahey’s hit so far has made ’em duck.”

“Does he act like he had stage fright?” says the boss.

“Not him!” says I. “Nobody but the gamest guy in the world could cut off a few toes every day and come out the next day for more. And nobody without a whole lot o’ nerve could keep diggin’ after low throws when he knows that they’re goin’ to uppercut him in the jaw. No, sir! You can’t scare Charley!”

“Charley!” says Mr. Edwards. “I thought his name was Mike.”

“Gould’s nicknamed him Charley,” I says, “after Charley Chaplin.”

Well, the boss wasn’t what you could call tickled to death with my dope on Lahey, but he cheered up a little when I told him about Gould and the rest o’ them. Gould was goin’ even better than when he was with St. Louis. He was hustlin’ like a colt and hittin’ everything they throwed up there. And he kept coachin’ young Berner like he’d been hired for that job. He put real pep in the infield, and I knew it was tough for him to keep it up when Lahey gummed pretty near every play that was pulled.

Berner cinched his job the first day out. He’s the kind of a kid that just won’t stay on the bench, as lively and full o’ fight as little Bush, at Detroit, or Buck Weaver, or Rabbit Maranville. And Stremmle come up to everything they said about him. Then Joe Marsh seemed to of got over the Federal League and acted five years younger than he is. And our outfield was workin’ hard. O’ course this young Sheppard showin’ up so good helped a lot and made the rest o’ them hustle.

I told Mr. Edwards, I says:

“Outside o’ first base, I wouldn’t trade this ball club for McGraw’s. These boys have got more spirit than any team I ever managed. They’re the kind that’s liable to upset the whole league. If we only just had a good reliable man on that bag, I’d almost guarantee to finish one-two-three.”

“And do you still think Hagedorn’s goin’ to join us?” the boss ast me.

“I certainly do,” I says. “I wouldn’t be surprised to get a wire from him any day.”

But we went along another week without hearin’ from Bill. Mr. Edwards kept gettin’ more and more nervous. And I guess I was beginnin’ to get nervous too.

About the second day o’ the third week down there, a letter come to me from Hagedorn’s wife. It hit me right in the eye.

Bill, she told me, didn’t know she was writin’ and would probably kill her if he found it out. She’d been beggin’ and beggin’ him all winter to take what we offered, and she’d just about had him coaxed when the papers begin printin’ the swell reports about Lahey. Those reports had took all the zip out o’ Bill. Instead o’ frightenin’ him into signin’ at our figure, they’d convinced him that he wasn’t wanted on our club. And Bill was worse than broke. He was over three months behind with the rent and the meat bill and so forth, and coal was a hundred dollars a ton, and they wasn’t no coal even at that price, and she was afraid he’d do somethin’ desperate. And she thought if I’d just send Bill a wire and tell him that we’d carry him as an extra man, or if I’d try and trade him somewheres where he could make some kind of a salary, he’d be so tickled that he’d come to us or go wherever we sent him at whatever price he could get. And she begged me to not tell anybody that she’d wrote.

Mr. Edwards had just left us to run down to Dallas for a few days. O’ course I wouldn’t of let him know about the letter anyway. But him bein’ away give me the idear o’ keepin’ Bill’s comin’ a secret. I was goin’ to surprise him by havin’ Bill blow in unexpected, because it was a cinch the old man’d be back before Bill could get there. So I didn’t wire Dallas, but just sent a telegram to Bill, sayin’, “If you’ll sign for $4000, first-base job is yours. Answer.”

The answer come the same night. It said all right, that he’d join us the followin’ Thursday.

On Wednesday Mr. Edwards come back to the Springs. And that afternoon Charles C. Lahey give the funniest exhibition I ever seen on a ball field. The whole practice was a joke, because Gould and Berner and Marsh and the rest o’ them was laughin’ so hard they couldn’t do nothin’. But the wind-up come near not bein’ a joke. It’d of been a tragedy if Lahey wasn’t the awkwardest guy in the world.

We was tryin’ the double play, first base to second base and back. I hit a ball pretty close to the bag and it took a nice hop, so they wasn’t no chance for Charley to boot it. He pegged down to Berner, and then turned round and started lookin’ for his own bag. Berner took the throw and sent it back as fast as I ever seen a ball pegged. Well, sir, Lahey found out where first base was by trippin’ over it. But just before he tripped he turned his head to look for the throw. If he hadn’t tripped and went sprawlin’, that ball would of cracked him right in the temple, and if it had, good night! To show you how much Berner had on it, it hit the grandstand on the short hop and made a noise like somewheres in France.

“That’ll do, boys!” I hollered to them. “We’ll quit. The express rates on caskets between here and Davenport is somethin’ fierce.”

I walked back to the hotel with Mr. Edwards. I never seen a guy so blue.

“He’s impossible,” he says.

“Never mind,” says I. “He won’t be with us long. One o’ these days his luck’ll desert him and he’ll get killed.”

“I think we’d better send for Hagedorn,” says the boss.

“Oh, no,” I says. “He’ll show up before long.”

“Yes,” says Mr. Edwards; “but he’d ought to be here right now to get used to playin’ with Gould and Berner. And I ain’t so sure he’ll show up, neither.”

“I’d like to make you a little bet,” I says. “I’d like to bet you five that we hear from him before the end o’ the week.”

“I’ll just take that bet,” says Mr. Edwards, “and I’ll be glad to pay if I lose.”

Well, knowin’ him pretty well, I didn’t hardly believe that. But I told him the bet was on.

The first train into the Springs from the North is supposed to arrive at nine in the mornin’ and it don’t hardly ever get in later than 3 P.M. On this Thursday it come at one-thirty. I snuck down alone to meet it, and there was Bill. “Mighty glad to see you, Hagedorn,” I says.

“I’m glad to get here,” says Bill.

“You don’t need to work today if you don’t want to,” says I, “but we want you out there as soon as you feel like it.”

“Why, what’s happened to this wonderful Lahey?” says Bill.

“Not a thing,” I says; “but, as you pointed out, he’s a left-hand hitter, and we’re overloaded with ’em.”

“I suppose you’ll play him when they’s right-hand pitchin’ against us,” says Hagedorn.

“No,” I says, “I don’t believe in switchin’ on the infield. Still, you’ll have to keep hustlin’ to hold him on the bench. He’s one o’ the most remarkable first sackers in baseball.”

“I’m just as good as he is,” says Bill.

“You’ll have to show me,” I says.

“That’s just what I’m goin’ to do,” says Hagedorn.

“And how’s everything at home?” I ast him.

“Well, Frank,” he says, “it’s been a tough winter – the toughest I ever put in. I’m in debt so far that it scares me to think of it.”

“Where was that $2000 you had saved?” I says.

“I was just stringin’ you about that,” says Bill. “I never had a nickel saved. But $2000 is just about what I’m behind.”

“Good lord, Bill!” I says to him. “What have you done, bought a limousine?”

“No, sir,” he says. “I ain’t bought nothin’ only clothes and food and not much o’ that. But I was way in the hole before, and just this week they’ve ran up about $200 more on me.”

“What for?” I ast him.

“Well, Frank,” he says, “the wife presented me with a little boy last Sunday mornin’. If it hadn’t been for that, and the way she worried about things, I’d of never been down here to sign for $4000. It was a case of have to, that’s all.”

I’d left orders for the boys to be out for practice at a quarter to two, and I knew Mr. Edwards would be out there with ’em. I and Bill was pretty near to the hotel by this time, but I stopped him short.

“Bill,” I says, “you ain’t givin’ me no bull like that $2000 fortune, are you?”

“No, Frank,” he says, “I’m tellin’ you the truth.”

“All right, Bill,” I says; “I’m takin’ your word. They’s a northbound local train leavin’ here at three bells. You go down and get aboard it and ride to Silver Creek. That’s a station about twenty miles up the line. They’s a hotel there, and that’s about all. You go there and stay till I send for you.”

“What’s the idear?” he says.

“You’ll find out later,” I says. “I just tell you now that it’s to your interest to do what I say.”

“I can’t go nowheres,” he says. “I’ve got just forty cents.”

“I’ll stake you,” says I, “and you’ll hear from me in three or four days.”

“But I want to get out there and see this here Lahey,” says Bill. “I want to get busy showin’ him up.”

“He’ll tend to that end of it himself,” I says. “But you’re on this ball club and I’m manager of it, and if you want to stick on this ball club you’ll obey the manager’s orders.”

So Bill took the local for Silver Creek and I beat it out to the orchard to see that nobody got killed.

I set down with the boss at supper that night.

“Mr. Edwards,” I says, “I’ve changed my mind about Hagedorn.”

“What do you mean?” he says.

“I mean that I think he’s through with us,” I says.

“But good lord!” says the boss. “We can’t get along without him.”

“Well,” says I, “we can get him by givin’ him $6000.”

Mr. Edwards shook like he had a chill.

“Give in to him now!” he says. “When he’s tried to hold us up! And I thought you was so sure he’d come round.”

“I did think he would,” says I, “but I’m sure now that he won’t. He’s stuck this long, and he’ll stick forever. He’s gamer’n I figured.”

“But I’d rather lose another $18,000 than let him hold us up,” says the boss.

“Well,” I says, “that’s up to you. But you’ll lose the $18,000 all right, and then maybe some, if you don’t get him. Because without him on first base we’ll be the worst ball club in the league.”

Mr. Edwards didn’t say nothin’ more for maybe five minutes. Then he give up.

“I got a lot o’ confidence in you, Frank,” he says. “I’ll go by what you tell me. If you want to you can wire Hagedorn. Tell him we’ll meet his terms, and tell him to get here on the first train.”

“I think it’s the best thing to do,” I says. And I went out and pretended to send Bill a wire.

It takes two days and a half to get to the Springs from home. So I called Bill up at Silver Creek and had him blow into camp on the Sunday train. I met him and tipped him off. He fell all over himself thankin’ me and says he was goin’ to name the boy Frank. And then he made a request.

“Keep this a secret from my missus,” he says. “I want her to think that I got what I was after because I insisted on it. Because she kept tellin’ me all winter that I wouldn’t never get it and was a sucker to try.

“Don’t worry,” I says; “I want it to be kept a secret from certain people myself, and I certainly ain’t goin’ to spill it to no woman.”

Mr. Edwards was on the walk in front o’ the hotel when I and Bill showed up.

“Well, Hagedorn,” he says, “you got what you wanted and I hope you’ll try and earn it.”

“I’ll earn it all right, Mr. Edwards,” he says, “and I’m mighty grateful to you for comin’ acrost.”

The boss turned to me.

“How about our little bet?” he says.

“What bet?” says I.

“You bet me five,” he says, “that we’d hear from Hagedorn before the week was over. And this is another week.”

“So you want me to pay you that five?” I ast him.

“I certainly do,” he says.

Well, I give him the five, and afterwards Bill told me he’d make that up to me as soon as he could. But I can’t accept it from him. I’d feel like I was takin’ candy from a baby, a baby named Frankie Hagedorn.

• 12 •

The Yellow Kid

The first thing we found out about Crosby was that he couldn’t read. The next thing was that he was scared to death o’ women and girls. It was Buck Means that give us the info., and he done it out o’ spite.

You see, Buck and Crosby was with the Dallas Club together year before last, and Buck was sore because Crosby got drafted, while Buck was overlooked. And Buck didn’t like to see a kid with only one year’s experience go up, when Buck himself had been in the sticks four or five seasons and nobody’d paid any attention to him.

Crosby was recommended to us by Jake Atz. Jake wrote up along in July and ast if we could use the fastest young left-hander he ever seen. So the old man put in a draft and we got him.

Well, Jake was right about the kid’s speed. I’ve faced ’em all, from Rube Waddell down, but I never hit against nobody that could zip ’em through there like Crosby. If he ever beaned a man they’d have to get along afterwards without no head. O’ course that wouldn’t be no hardship to most o’ them. It wouldn’t affect the work o’ nobody on our club.

Our first exhibition game last spring was in Dallas. Buck Means was talkin’ to Gilbert and I before the practice.

“How’s Crosby comin’?” he ast us.

“I’m glad he’s on our club,” I says, “so I don’t have to hit against him all season.”

“He’s faster’n Johnson,” says Gilbert. “If he was only a little wild with it they’d all be swingin’ from the bench.”

“They’s no doubt about his smoke,” says Buck, “but he’s got nothin’ besides, not even a noodle. He can’t even read.”

“Can’t read!” I says. “Why, he looks brighter’n that.”

“Sure!” says Means. “He’s a good-lookin’ kid. But, from the shoulders up, he’s unimproved property.”

“Not bein’ able to read won’t hurt him,” I says. “He won’t be bothered if the newspaper boys handle him a little rough once in a while.”

“But if you got a joker on your club,” says Buck, “Crosby’ll be pie for him. McGowan, one of our outfielders, made a monkey of him all last year. He’d buy a paper and come and set down somewheres near Crosby and make up stuff that was supposed to be in there, and read it out loud. And he didn’t ‘read’ no compliments, neither, except when it come to Crosby’s looks. You see, that’s another thing about the poor simp: He’s afraid o’ skirts. He’s so bashful that if they’s a girl under ninety stoppin’ at the same hotel he’ll duck out and buy a meal at his own expense rather’n take a chance o’ havin’ her look at him in the dinin’ room. And McGowan, while pretendin’ that the papers was knockin’ him as a pitcher, pretended, besides, that they were always printin’ how handsome he was and how all the girls was wild about him. And, to make it good, Mac’d write fake love letters to him and he’d get somebody to read ’em, and then good night! He’d lock himself up in his room for a week and never come out, only to get to the ball park. We had him believin’ they was a girl in Austin that was crazy to marry him, and he was weak and sick all the time we was there, for the fear she’d call him up or he’d run into her on the street.”

Well, when I and Gilbert was alone, I says that maybe we’d better keep this dope to ourself, or somebody might take advantage o’ the kid and maybe spoil him as a pitcher. Gilbert was agreeable – that is, he told me he was. But he didn’t lose no time spillin’ the whole thing to Harry Childs, and he couldn’t of picked out a worse one to tell it to.

Harry’d rather kid somebody than hit one on the pick, and him and Joe Jackson hates their base hits just alike.

So as soon as he got a chance he went after Crosby.

We was ridin’ to Fort Worth and Childs had a Chicago paper. He flopped down in the seat beside Crosby.

“Well, kid,” he says, “do you want to read what the reporters has sent up about you?”

“No,” says Crosby. “I ain’t interested in no newspaper talk. As long as I give the club the best I got, they can write anything they please.”

“Yes,” says Childs; “but this is a nice little boost and they’s no man can tell me he don’t like encouragement.”

“But readin’ papers on the train always puts my eyes on the bum,” says the kid.

“I’ll read it to you,” says Harry. “I don’t think your ears’ll be hurt.” So Childs pulled somethin’ about like this:

“One o’ the most promisin’ recruits is Lefty Crosby, that was drafted from the Texas League last fall. Though this boy only had one year’s experience in the minors, he already handles himself like a veteran. His speed is terrific and his control a whole lot better than the average young left-hander’s.

“Manager Cahill’s only fear about him is that the female fans o’ Chicago and New York will bother him to death with telephone calls and sweet notes. In appearance, Crosby is a great deal like Francis X. Bushman. It is a certainty that he will take the fair sex by storm, provided he gives them the slightest encouragement.”

Crosby was redder’n an undershirt.

“That’s bunk!” he says. “Who wrote that?”

“The guy didn’t sign his name,” says Childs.

“I shouldn’t think he would,” says Crosby.

“I don’t know why not,” says Childs. “He was tellin’ the truth. A fella as handsome and young-lookin’ as you can just about take his pick of any dame in New York or Chi.”

“I wasn’t thinkin’ about gettin’ married,” says Crosby. “I’m satisfied the way I am.”

“Cahill’d rather have you married, though,” says Harry. “He figures a man’s liable to behave himself better if he’s tied down.”

“I’ll behave all right,” says the kid. “I got no bad habits.”

“But if they’s a beautiful bride for you to support, you’ll work harder and improve faster,” Childs says.

“I always work as hard as I can,” says the kid.

“Maybe you already got a girl here in Texas,” says Harry. “Maybe it’s some little black-eyed peacherita from acrost the Border.”

“I haven’t no girl at all, and don’t want none,” says Crosby. “I don’t see why a man can’t get along without thinkin’ about girls all the while.”

“But,” says Harry, “the Lord wouldn’t of made you so beautiful if he thought you was goin’ to be a woman hater.”

“I ain’t beautiful or nothin’ o’ the kind,” says Crosby, blushin’ harder’n ever.

Childs started to tell him he was too modest; but the kid got up and moved away.

In the hotel at Fort Worth, Harry got one o’ the telephone girls to call up Crosby’s room and tell him she’d love to meet him. He hung up on her. In Oklahoma City, Childs had one o’ the local papers print a picture o’ Crosby in action. He brought the paper into the dinin’ room and flopped down at the same table with the kid.

“Did you see this?” he ast him. “It’s pretty fair but it don’t hardly do you justice.”

“What do I care!” says Crosby.

“I’d care a whole lot if I was you,” says Harry. “If I had your looks I wouldn’t allow no picture to be printed that didn’t give me a square deal. And you ought to read what it says under it. But maybe it affects your stomach to read while you’re eatin’. I’ll read it to you.”

“I don’t care what it says,” says Crosby.

“It’s only a few words,” says Childs. “I don’t mind readin’ it at all.” And he handed him this kind o’ stuff: “Above is showed a likeness o’ Lefty Crosby, one o’ Manager Cahill’s recruits from Texas. They expect him to not only break a few strike-out records in the big circuit, but also the hearts of all the girls that gets a good look at him. Crosby promises to be the Adonis o’ baseball.”

I guess the kid didn’t know Adonis from Silk O’Loughlin; but that didn’t keep him from blushin’ like a beet. Childs leaned over and whispered to him.

“They’s a queen over there by the window,” he says, “and she’s done nothin’ only look at you for five minutes. Maybe if I leave you alone she’ll come over and introduce herself .”

“I don’t feel like eatin’ no more lunch,” says Crosby; and he beat it out o’ the room. He hadn’t hardly gargled half his soup.

From then on the kid tried to duck Harry all he could. But he didn’t have the nerve to offend nobody, and lots o’ times Childs’d corner him where he couldn’t escape without makin’ it too raw.

Crosby’s best pal on the club was Joe Martin. Joe’s alway the bushers’ friend because he don’t believe in ridin’ ’em. Crosby tried to set with Joe at the same table on the diners and in the hotels, because Martin’d read pretty near the whole bill o’ fare out loud and Crosby could pick out what he really wanted to eat. Martin, o’ course, done this on purpose, knowin’ Crosby couldn’t read and was generally always hungry.

It’s pretty tough on a kid with a good appetite to not be able to tell what’s listed unless somebody reads it off to him.

But Joe couldn’t spend all his time makin’ things easy for Crosby, and whenever Childs could manage to set with the kid he was meaner to him than a snake. For instance, after we’d had a tough work-out and everybody was starvin’, Childs’d pick up the bill and begin crabbin’ about how many things had been scratched offen it.

“We’re gettin’ a fine deal,” he’d say. “They’s nothin’ left only salad and ice cream.” Then he’d say to the waiter: “Bring me salad and ice cream.”

And Crosby’d have to say that he’d take the same. Childs was willin’ to go hungry himself for the sake o’ puttin’ it over.

The last day we was on the spring trip, Harry bought a rule book and brought it on the train.

“They’ve certainly made some radical changes this year,” he says to Crosby. “A left-handed pitcher can’t throw to first base without turnin’ round twice before he pegs. And a left-handed pitcher can’t throw more’n two curve balls to the same left-handed hitter durin’ one time at bat. They’re trying to increase the hittin’. And only the first foul counts a strike. And the pitcher and catcher ain’t goin’ to be allowed to work with signs. And when it’s a pitcher’s first year in the Big League, he ain’t only allowed two strikes up there at bat. That’s to hurry the game. And you got to get four men out instead o’ three. And you can’t pitch nothin’ only new balls. The minute a ball’s even tipped by a bat, the umps throws it away and gives you a brand-new one. And a pitcher ain’t allowed to warm up the day he’s goin’ to pitch. And a pitcher can’t wear a glove. And a pitcher can’t wind up unless they’s a runner on first or second base. Then he’s got to. And if a pitcher’s taken out three times in three months, he’s automatically released, and either he’s got to go to a Class E league or quit playin’ baseball.”

I don’t know if Crosby fell for all o’ that or not; but, anyway, I got him alone a while later and told him Childs was just kiddin’ and the rules was the same as ever. It’d probably been hard enough for him to learn ’em in the first place without ringin’ in no long list o’ changes for him to try and master.

The train was late pullin’ into Chi next mornin’ and Harry got one more crack at the kid before we come to Englewood.

“Well, Lefty,” he says, “you’re goin’ to have a real try-out right away. I was talkin’ to Cahill and he says he’s goin’ to start you Friday o’ this week.”

Crosby looked tickled to death.

“The reason for it,” says Childs, “is because Friday is Lady’s Day at our park. The womenfolks all comes in free and the boxes and stand is always full o’ them. And the old man wants to get ’em well pleased with the club right from the jump. He figures that if they see you once they’ll make their husbands and sweethearts bring ’em every time you pitch.”

“I don’t know if I’m goin’ to be right to pitch Friday or not,” says the poor boob. “The old souper felt kind of numb when I worked yesterday.”

“On Fridays,” says Childs, “the boxes right back of our bench is always saved for showgirls. And the ball players that looks good to them, they always talk to.”

“If Friday ain’t a nice hot day,” says Crosby, “I’m goin’ to ask him not to work me. My arm feels rotten.”

II

Well, Cahill didn’t ask the kid to pitch Friday’s game; never had no intention o’ doin’ it, o’ course. But he did start him the followin’ Monday, against the Cleveland gang.

For five innin’s he pitched as pretty a game o’ ball as I ever seen and we had ’em licked 3 to 0. Then Childs, who was warmin’ the bench, got after him either because he was sore on havin’ been took out o’ the outfield or just naturally couldn’t resist a chance to pull somethin’.

While Cahill was coachin’ at first base, Childs called Crosby up to one side o’ the shed.

“Did you see her yet?” he ast him.

“See who?” says the kid.

“I guess you know who,” says Childs. “They’s a peach right behind the middle o’ this bench. I noticed her lookin’ at you ever since you warmed up. And while you was out there pitchin’ last innin’, she ast me your name. I told her and she says you was the handsomest man she ever looked at. So then she ast me would I introduce her to you when the game’s over.”

“I won’t have no time,” says Crosby.

“But, man,” says Harry, “I promised I’d do it.”

Just then the innin’ was over and we went out. You never seen such a change in a pitcher. He couldn’t get one near the plate. He acted like he was scared stiff. He was so wild that he had the ushers duckin’.

Cahill left him in there a few minutes to give him a chance to steady himself. But they wasn’t nothin’ to do but take him out after he’d walked four o’ them without pitchin’ a strike. Cahill was ravin’ mad.

“Another yellow dog!” he says. “The next time Jake Atz recommends a man to me, I’ll wire him at his own expense to take a dose o’ bichloride. What do you think o’ this stiff? We give him a three-run lead and they can’t hit him with a board, and he’s only got four innin’s to go! And he blows higher’n a kite! Sixteen balls without a strike! And once he pretty near missed the whole grand stand! Go climb in the shower so you’ll be clean when you start back for Texas.”

Crosby was glad to sneak to the clubhouse and get out o’ the park. But I and Martin was suspicious that somethin’ had come off, and next time we come in we ast Childs.

“Yes,” says Harry, “I suppose it’s my fault. But if the poor boob is as simple as that, he’d ought to lose out.”

“What did you pull on him?” ast Joe.

“I just told him,” says Harry, “that they was a pretty girl settin’ right back of our bench that ast to meet him after the game.”

“That ain’t right, Harry,” says Martin. “He looks as good as any left-hander in the league, and we can’t afford to spoil him. Just lay offen him. You know he’s scared o’ women; but that ain’t the worst fault in the world, and you got to admit that he didn’t look scared o’ them Cleveland boys till he blowed up. Leave him alone and he’ll win a lot o’ ball games for us.”

“Why should I leave him alone?” says Harry. “Since they got me settin’ on the bench, they’s nothin’ left for me to do only kid somebody.”

“All right,” says Joe, “If you won’t do it for me I’ll put it up to Cahill.”

And sure enough, in the clubhouse after the game, Martin told the M.G.R. just what had come off.

“Look here, Childs!” says Cahill. “That’ll be enough o’ that. I don’t care how much fun you have with him offen the field, but when we’re playin’ a game, lay off! If you don’t think I’m in earnest you may soon be takin’ a trip to Texas yourself!”

So Childs laid offen him entirely for a while, not even tryin’ to pester him when we went on our first trip. But I knew it wouldn’t never last. While it did last, though, Crosby done better work than any o’ the rest of our pitchers and had the whole league stood on their heads with that fast one o’ his.

III

We left Cleveland one evenin’, goin’ to St. Louis, and the boys started a game o’ cards. Childs was in it and Crosby was leanin’ over the back of a seat, watchin’. I was settin’ in the game, too, right where I could look at Crosby.

Well, Gilbert win three pots in a row, with aces one time, aces up the next time, and the third time he beat Childs with three o’ the big bulls.

“Come on, Gil!” says Harry. “Give the aces a chance to roam round the deck once in a while.”

“I can’t spare ’em, Harry,” says Gilbert.

“You put ’em in the deck!” says Childs, just kiddin’.

“You make me put ’em in the deck!” says Gil.

Well, Harry had a gun on his hip, with nothin’ in it but blanks, and he pulled it out and laid it on the table in front of him, just for a joke.

But Crosby didn’t see the joke. I happened to be lookin’ at him when Childs showed the gun. He turned white as a sheet, and I thought for a minute he was goin’ to keel over. Then he grabbed the top o’ the seat to steady up, and the next thing we knew he was beatin’ it for the other end o’ the car as fast as he could navigate.

“What’s the matter with him now?” says Harry.

“Looks like he objected to the firearms,” says Gilbert.

“What the hell ain’t he scared of?” says Childs.

“Well,” I says, “Ty Cobb for one thing and Bob Veach for another.”

“Did he think I’d be monkeyin’ with a loaded gat?” says Harry. “I’ll have to try him out and see which he likes best, women or artillery.”

“Oh, leave him alone!” says I. “As long as he keeps winnin’ ball games for us, what’s the difference if he’s scared o’ wild cats or fishworms?”

But Harry’d been good long enough. The next mornin’ when we was crossin’ the bridge into St. Louis, he finds Crosby in the washroom. Without sayin’ nothin’, he just simply laid his gun on one o’ the sills, pointin’ it straight at the kid. And Crosby begin shakin’ like a leaf and staggered out o’ the room without even waitin’ to grab his collar.

Childs told us about it and seemed to think it was the funniest thing ever pulled off. But some o’ the rest of us didn’t think it was so funny, especially when we had to put Crosby to bed the minute we got to the hotel, and then get along without him all through the series with the Browns.

And Cahill made the remark, so as Childs could hear him, that the next guy that pulled a gun where Crosby was, or left one where he would see it, was through with our ball club for life.

IV

For a while after that, Harry was satisfied to just pull the girl stuff on his victim. He begin writin’ fake love letters, like the guy’d done down in the Texas League. Some o’ them was wonders. I know, because I read ’em to Crosby myself, he tellin’ me that the different handwritin’s was so funny that he couldn’t make ’em out. But this wasn’t much joy for Childs, because you can bet he wasn’t never ast to read ’em.

Crosby wouldn’t only let me get so far when he’d make me stop, and then he’d take the letters and tear ’em up.

“I wisht all girls would leave me alone,” he’d say.

“What have you got against ’em?” I’d say to him.

“Bill,” he’d say, “I’d just as lief own up to you. I don’t feel comfortable round ’em. I’m just plain bashful. That’s what my sister used to tell me. She was the only one I could ever talk to without pretty near faintin’.”

“You’d get over that soon enough, if you’d try,” I’d tell him. “You won’t never know what livin’ is till you get married and have a home o’ your own. And they’s nothin’ about girls to be scared of, especially for as nice a lookin’ guy as you are. They wouldn’t never make fun o’ you.”

“I ain’t afraid o’ that,” he’d say to me. “I wouldn’t mind talkin’ to ’em if I thought they’d just laugh and joke with me or talk baseball. But girls is liable to get personal and begin makin’ eyes; and if they done that with me, I’d run a mile.”

“Wasn’t they no girls in the town you come from?”

“Too many o’ them,” he says. “They was only about two hundred people in the town and half o’ them was girls, seemed like to me.”

“How’d you get away from ’em?” I says.

“Just by runnin’,” he says. “I beat it from home when I was twelve years old and that’s why I didn’t get no schoolin’ to speak of. I joined in with a minin’ gang up North, where I was sure they wouldn’t be no skirts to bother me.”

“You was young to be mixed up with a crowd like that,” says I.

“Yes; but they treated me fine,” says Crosby. “I’d of been in that game yet only for somethin’ happenin’.”

“What happened?” I ast.

“Oh, you’d think I was crazy if I told you,” he says. “They was too rough for me. I can fight as good as the next guy when it’s just usin’ your fists. But I can’t stand guns. Between you and I, I’m scareder o’ them than I am o’ girls. It started, I guess, one night when they was a scrap in a saloon. Everybody was lit up and, first thing you know, they had their gats out and was pluggin’ away. And the guy that had took care o’ me, when I first come to the camp, was shot dead right in front o’ my eyes. I got sick at the time, watchin’ it, and ever since then I get sick every time I see one o’ the damn things.”

“You’re gunshy and girlshy,” I says. “Anything else you’re scared of?”

“Yes,” he says; “a fast ball that’s comin’ at my bean. But I guess I got plenty o’ company there.”

“Well, Lefty,” I says, “I can say one thing for you: You’re brave enough when it comes to pitchin’ against a .400 hitter in a pinch. And that’s more than can be said for some o’ the rest of our beautiful pitchers.”

V

One o’ the prettiest girls I ever seen was a telegraph operator at the hotel where we stop at in Detroit. Her name was Mary Lloyd. All the single guys on the ball club was more’n half crazy about her, and even the married ones was never heard objectin’ when she give ’em a smile. To see us in that hotel, you’d of thought we was the greatest bunch o’ telegram senders in the world.

Harry Childs had probably fell for her stronger than any o’ the rest. When he wasn’t busy talkin’ base hits or kiddin’ Crosby, he was tellin’ somebody what a pippin she was, like nobody else had suspected it. And I guess he’d sent her enough cards from round the circuit to start a pinochle deck.

“Bill,” he’d say to me, “she’s the only one I ever met that I felt like I wanted to marry her.”

“Go ahead!” I’d tell him. “I’d want to marry her, too, only I kind o’ feel my own Missus might make a holler.”

“Go ahead!” he’d say. “It’s all right to say ‘Go ahead’; but every time I start she says ‘Back up!’ She’s worse’n a traffic cop.”

“Keep tryin’, Harry,” I’d say to him. “Maybe she’s heard about you bein’ the world’s champion joker and thinks you’re just triflin’ with her.”

“She does all the jokin’ when I’m round,” he says. “She makes a regular monkey out o’ me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t blame that on her!” I says.

Now Mary wasn’t no flirt, but she didn’t mind bein’ admired. She never give one guy more encouragement than another; she didn’t play no favorites, or she didn’t never let nobody on the club get the idear that she was to be had for the astin’. But she wasn’t never too busy to talk to any of us, or to smile back when we smiled at her.

I and Gilbert was standin’ there kiddin’ with her the first time she seen Crosby. We’d just got in that mornin’, and when he come out from breakfast he beat it through the lobby past her desk and out on the front walk.

“Who’s that handsome wretch?” she ast us.

“That’s the guy that made a sucker out o’ Cobb and Veach over home,” says Gilbert.

“Maybe if I ast him not to,” she says, “he’ll leave our team win a game or two this series.”

“You got a sweet chance of astin’ him anything,” says I, “unless you got a megaphone.”

“Is he deef?” says Mary.

“When they’s girls round he’s deef and dumb and blind,” I says.

“He must of been disappointed in love,” she says.

“Not him,” says Gil. “The only time he was ever disappointed was when they postponed the game he was goin’ to pitch.”

“What’s the trouble between him and girls?” says Mary.

“He just naturally don’t like ’em – that’s all,” I says.

“Well,” says Mary, “I don’t think that’s hardly fair to our sex. They ain’t so many handsome men in the world that we can afford to have ’em woman haters.”

“No,” I says; “and they ain’t so many good pitchers on our ball club that we can have him scared to death by gettin’ a smile from you. So when you happen to run into him, face to face, kindly act like you didn’t see him.”

“I’m much obliged,” she says, “for bein’ told that my smile is terrifyin’. I’ll keep it to myself after this.”

“Not at all,” says I. “I’d pretty near rather miss a hit-and-run sign than that smile o’ yours. But this kid is just plain bashful; he ain’t no woman hater; he’s too backward to hate anything. He wants to be left alone – that’s all. If a girl looks at him cross-eyed it takes him a week to get so’s he can pitch again.”

“I believe I’ll go right out now,” says Mary, “and look at him crosseyed. You know I ought to be loyal to the Tigers.”

“You ought to be loyal to this here beanery,” says I; “and if you put him out o’ commission, why, we’ll just pass up this hotel.”

“All right,” she says. “I won’t pay no attention to him, because I know I’d simply die if you boys stopped somewheres else and gave me a chance to do a little work.”

“Has Childs been round yet?” says Gilbert.

“Foolish Question 795!” I says. “He was here even before he went in for his prunes.”

“What’s the matter with Harry Childs?” she ast us. “Why ain’t he playin’?”

“We like to win once in a while,” says Gilbert.

“The reason Harry ain’t playin’,” I says, “is a young outfielder from the Coast, named Patrick.”

“Why,” says Mary, “Harry told me he was out of it with a Charley Horse.”

“Yes,” I says; “and a battin’ average last year o’ .238.”

Crosby pitched the first game for us and win 2 to 1 in eleven innin’s. He was goin’ to wind up the series, but it begin to pour rain at noon o’ the last day and the battle was off before we went out to the park. We wasn’t startin’ home till nine o’clock that night; so we had a lot o’ time to kill. Naturally they was a reception all afternoon round Mary’s desk. I and Joe Martin happened to be left there alone with her while Childs was gettin’ shaved and some o’ the others was celebratin’.

“Well,” says Mary, “now that they ain’t no more chance o’ me spoilin’ your trip, I think you might bring Mr. Shy round.”

“She means the kid,” I says to Joe. “I told her all about him.”

“Have you seen him?” Joe ast her.

“O’ course I seen him,” she says.

“What do you think of him?” says Joe.

“Well, gentlemen,” she says, “I don’t want to hurt the feelin’s o’ the present company, so I’ll just keep still.”

“He is a pretty kid,” says Martin, “and he’s a whole lot better-lookin’ since I coaxed him into some decent clothes. But he don’t want to meet no girls.”

“They’s no sense to it,” I says. “It wouldn’t hurt him a bit to mingle a little with the dames. It’d do him good. And he’d get along O.K. when he found out they wasn’t all tryin’ to steal him.”

“I’ll promise not to steal him,” says Mary.

“Well, it’s up to Joe, here,” I says. “He’s his best pal.”

“I guess he’d come if I ast him,” says Martin. “But I don’t know if I want to take a chance.”

“Oh, come on!” says Mary. “1 don’t feel comfortable when they’s one o’ your boys I ain’t acquainted with.”

“Well,” says Joe, “maybe he’s up in his room takin’ a nap.”

“If he is in his room,” says I, “that’s probably what he’s doin’. It’s a cinch he ain’t readin’.”

“Why not?” says Mary.

Joe give me the wink.

“He hates books,” I says.

It was just then that the kid come across the lobby, toward the front windows. He looked like he was goin’ to cry.

“My! He needs cheerin’ up,” says Mary. “Do you suppose he’s sick?”

“You bet he’s sick,” says Martin. “He was goin’ to give your Tigers another lickin’ today, and the rain beat him out of it.”

“Well, how about callin’ him over?” I says.

So Martin went up to him and made the proposition. I could see the poor kid blush and then start like he was goin’ to run out in the rain. Then Joe grabbed ahold of his arm and begin arguin’ with him. And finally the pair o’ them come toward us. Nobody only Joe could of done it.

“Miss Lloyd,” says Martin, “this is another o’ the boys, Mr. Crosby. He’s disappointed about the rain and I thought maybe you could cheer him up.”

Mary give him her best smile.

“I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Crosby,” she says. “You’re the first ball player I ever seen that was disappointed about the rain.”

“Except when it didn’t fall,” I says.

The kid didn’t say nothin’; didn’t even look at her. I caught him moistenin’ his lips, tryin’ to get a word out. But he couldn’t. He seen her put her hand out to shake, and he finally managed to meet it. But he done it with the one he uses in pitchin’. And then, the minute Martin left go his arm, he backed away, pivoted on a pillar and dashed for the elevator.

“Good night!” says Mary. “Well, of all the rummies!”

“We warned you,” says Martin.

“You certainly cheered him up,” I says – “all the way up to his room.”

“He can stay there, for all o’ me,” she says. “I won’t never try to force my acquaintance on nobody again.”

“I bet he’s offen me for life,” says Joe.

“You ought to be glad if he is,” she says.

“But you got to admit he’s a handsome brute,” says I.

“Yes,” says Mary; “and I’d like to scratch his handsome face to pieces.”

When we got on the train that night Harry Childs come up to me.

“Bill,” he says, “I believe I’m goin’ to win out.”

“Win out what?” I ast him.

“With Mary,” he says. “I took her out to supper. It was the first time she ever let me do it. And she acted like she really was fond o’ me.”

“Here’s luck, Harry!” I says.

I didn’t tell him the reason she was so friendly. It was because she’d been stung. And Harry’s attentions was salve.

We was in Detroit again the first week in July. Harry took her out to supper or a picture show, or somethin’, every night. I never heard her mention Crosby, and I was scared to mention him in front of her.

I did see her try to get even though. She come out from behind her desk one mornin’, just as he was walkin’ in from outside. She got right in his way, so as he either had to run into her or dodge. And he couldn’t help lookin’ at her. She looked him right in the eye and didn’t speak.

And the kid looked like he was mighty glad of it.

VI

Young Patrick got hurt and Childs was back in the game when we went East in August. Harry was full o’ pep.

“I’ll show ’em I can hit,” he says to me. “I never felt luckier in my life.”

“You don’t need no luck to hit if you take care o’ yourself,” I says.

“Don’t worry about that,” he says. “I got to keep in shape. I’m tryin’ to save the coin.”

“What for?” I ast him.

“Well, Bill,” he says, “I’m kind o’ figurin’ on gettin’ married.”

“Nice work, Harry!” I says. “I didn’t know you’d gone as far as that.”

“They’s nothin’ settled,” he says. “But she’s writin’ to me, and when we strike Detroit next month I’ll make her say yes.”

Harry started to paste that pill in Philly. He broke up two games for us there and got seven blows in three days. He was the pepper kid when we got to Washington and he couldn’t resist takin’ some of it out on Crosby.

They set at lunch together the second day.

“Lefty,” he says, “looks like we’re goin’ to fight Germany. I was down to the White House this mornin’ to call on a friend o’ mine, a Mr. Wilson, and he says he don’t think we can hold out much longer.”

“Well,” says Crosby, “let ’em fight, as long as they leave us guys out of it.”

“Who says they’d leave us out of it?” Harry ast him.

“They’ll leave me out of it, all right,” says Crosby. “I never shot a gun in my life.”

“It ain’t guns they want you to shoot. It’s Germans,” says Childs. “And if the President called for volunteers I bet you’d be one o’ the first to go.”

“You’d lose your bet,” says the kid. “I can’t take no chance o’ gettin’ my left arm shot off.”

“Good Lord! That reminds me o’ somethin’,” says Harry. “I seen in the papers this mornin’ that most o’ the guns this country’s got is left-handed guns. And they’ll probably call for all the left-handed men in the United States to handle ’em.”

Crosby didn’t wait for no dessert.

In New York, a couple o’ days later, Childs was at him again.

“War’s gettin’ closer every minute,” he says to Crosby. “The Germans torpedoed the City o’ Benton Harbor yesterday and sunk eleven bootblacks without even givin’ ’em a chance to take their stands with ’em. And the Kaiser went fishin’ in the mornin’ and caught an American sturgeon. The President says if that kind o’ thing keeps up he’s offen the Kaiser and we’ll all have to enlist – that is, all the able-bodied guys.”

“That lets me out,” says the kid. “My ankles wouldn’t hold up a minute if I was to try and march.”

“They’d stick you in the calvary and have you ride a motorcycle,” says Childs.

“I don’t know how,” says Crosby; “and, besides, a man couldn’t ride no motorcycle acrost the ocean.”

“Oh, yes, they could,” says Childs, “if the tires was blowed up tight enough. And, anyway, they’s lots of us would have to do our fightin’ here in this country, to keep the Germans from breakin’ up the League.”

I went in to breakfast with the kid the mornin’ we landed in Boston.

I had a paper myself and they was a piece in it sayin’ that this country was thinkin’ about callin’ on all the young men o’ nineteen and twenty, to train ’em for war – that is, all the ones that wasn’t married. Childs, settin’ at the next table, read it and couldn’t get over to us fast enough.

“Crosby,” he says, “how old are you?”

“Twenty,” says the kid.

“You’re in tough luck, old boy!” says Childs; and he begin readin’ out loud. It was a cinch this time, because the readin’ matter was really there.

“Congress,” it says, “is considerin’ a proposition to start universal military trainin’ on account o’ the strained relations with Germany and the prospects o’ war. The plan is to draft every unmarried man in the United States o’ the ages o’ nineteen and twenty, and make ’em fit for war.”

Anyway, it was somethin’ like that.

“It looks like your baseball career was pretty near over,” Harry says to the kid. “It’s a crime too! You’ve had a great year, and without knowin’ nothin’ about pitchin’ at that. But still, it ain’t hard to learn to shoot and duck bullets; and they’s a whole lot o’ satisfaction in knowin’ that you’re workin’ for the Stars and Stripes.”

“When does this business come off?” says Crosby.

“Oh, not for a couple months,” says Childs. “They’ll probably leave you stick with us through the city series.”

Then Childs got up and left us.

“Bill,” says Crosby to me, “they ain’t kiddin’ about this, is they?”

“No, Lefty,” I says. “It’s there in the paper, all right. But it just says they’re thinkin’ about it. If I was you I wouldn’t start worryin’ yet.”

“Bill,” he says, “before I’ll join a army I’ll walk out in Lake Michigan till my hat floats.”

“Quit frettin’ over it,” says I. “You won’t be able to pitch in this series, and you know we want some o’ these games.”

“But they’re goin’ to draft all the twenty-year-olds,” he says, “and I just broke into that class. I wisht to the devil I was your age.”

“Yes,” I says; “or married.”

“Married!” says Crosby. “That’s right! It’s just the single fellas that’s gone.”

“They ain’t nobody gone,” says I. “But if you don’t quit worryin’ you’ll be just as good.”

Childs spoiled whatever chance the Kid had to quit worryin’ by sayin’ to him, just before we started the game:

“Well, Lefty, they’s one pipe: You’ll be the handsomest guy in the army.”

Before Crosby was taken out, Harry probably regretted that remark; because the five innin’s he pitched our outfielders must of ran back to the fence fifty times.

VII

Joe Martin told me about the kid bracin’ him in the hotel that night.

“Joe,” Crosby says to him, “I’d kind o’ like to get acquainted with a girl.”

“Good Lord!” says Joe. “What girl?”

“It don’t make no difference,” says the kid. “Some girl that ain’t married, but might like to be, and ain’t liable to want to moon or make eyes or nothin’ like that.”

“Are you thinkin’ o’ gettin’ married?” Joe ast him.

“Yes; only keep it quiet,” says Lefty.

“And do you expect a girl to marry you for your money?” says Joe.

“You know I got no money,” Crosby says.

“Well,” says Joe. “If you got no money and you want to get married, you got to find a girl that’s fond o’ you. And a girl that’s fond o’ you might want to hold hands some time.”

“Ain’t they no sensible girl that might like me?” says the kid.

“What girls do you know?” Joe ast him.

“Joe,” he says, “I ain’t met a girl since I was fifteen or sixteen years old.”

“Oh, yes, you have,” says Joe. “How about that girl you was so nice to in Detroit?”

“Do you mean that girl you introduced me to?” says Crosby.

“Sure!” says Martin. “Mary Lloyd, the telegraph operator.”

“Do you think she’d like me?” ast the kid.

“Well,” Joe told him, “she ast to meet you, and she certainly was broke up the way you treated her.”

“But what kind of a girl is she?” he says. “She ain’t too soft?”

“I never caught her at it,” says Joe.

“But she’s probably sore at me,” says Crosby.

“You can apologize to her,” says Joe.

“But we won’t be in Detroit for ten days,” says the kid.

“Write her a letter,” says Joe.

“I don’t like to write letters,” Crosby says. “Joe, will you write her a letter for me?”

“That’d make her sorer than ever,” says Martin. “Besides, I don’t know what you’re tryin’ to pull off.”

“I’m on the square,” says the kid. “If she’ll marry me – why, I’ll take her.”

“That’s damn’ sweet o’ you!” says Joe. “But what’s your idear in gettin’ married?”

“Never mind, Joe,” says the kid. “I just feel like I want to.”

“Well,” says Joe, “if you want to square it with Mary, and you don’t feel like writin’ to her, why not send her a night letter?”

“What’s that?” says Crosby.

“It’s a telegram that goes at night, and you can say about fifty words for fifty cents,” Joe told him.

“But I don’t know no fifty words to say,” says the poor kid.

To make it short, Joe done it for him, either because he was sorry for the kid or because he thought it was a joke or because he ain’t none too good friends with Harry Childs. The telegram said that the kid was sorry he’d froze her, that he’d been feelin’ tough that afternoon, that he apologized, and would she please forgive him, because he thought a whole lot of her.

The answer come next day, at noon. Mary wired that she’d pay more attention to him if he said all that to her face.

VIII

Harry Childs’ lucky spell ended when we stopped over for a game in Cleveland on the way home. He changed his mind at the last minute about makin’ a slide to the plate, and they carried him off with a busted leg.

So Harry Childs didn’t make the last trip to Detroit.

Young Mr. Crosby did, though he was so scared leavin’ Chi that I and Gil and Martin was afraid he’d throw himself offen the train in the night.

The three of us talked it all over.

“He’ll fall down, sure!” says Gil. “She’ll give him an unmerciful pannin’ and he’ll faint dead away.”

“But suppose he don’t,” I says. “Suppose he goes through with it and wins. Are we bein’ fair to Harry?”

“Why not?” says Martin. “Childs played jokes on him all season. It’s pretty near time the kid got back.”

“I’m for helpin’ him,” says Gilbert.

“Me too,” says Joe.

“All right, you’re on!” I says; and we begin discussin’ how to go about it.

We finally fixed it up that we’d get a taxi to come to the hotel at Mary’s lunchtime. Then we’d coax ’em into it and slam the doors, and tell the driver to break all the laws o’ Michigan.

Because, as Joe said, if we put ’em together where Crosby could get away, he’d get away sure!

They’s nothin’ more to it. They were back from their ride at one o’clock, both o’ them as red as an open switch. But the smile Mary give us was an inch or so wider than we ever got before.

Crosby come blushin’ acrost the lobby.

“Well?” we says.

“Well, boys,” he says, “it wasn’t bad.”

“What do you mean – wasn’t bad?” says Martin.

“Her,” says the kick

“Not half as bad as one o’ them German centipede guns,” says I.

“Not half!” says Crosby.

I suppose by this time she’s got him through the First Reader.

• 13 •

Women

Young Jake uttered a few words which it would pain me to repeat.

“And what are you crabbin’ about?” asked Mike Healy from his corner of the bench.

“Oh, nothin’!” said Jake. “Nothin’ except that I’m sick of it!”

“Sick of what?” demanded Healy.

“Of settin’ here!” Jake replied.

“You!” said Mike Healy, with a short laugh. “You’ve got a fine license to squawk! Why, let’s see: what is it? The third of June, and your first June in the league. You ain’t even begin to sit! Look at me! Been on this bench since catchers started wearin’ a mast, or anyway it seems that long. And you never hear me crab, do you, Lefty?”

“Only when you talk,” answered the athlete addressed. “And that’s only at table or between meals.”

“But if this kid’s hollerin’ already,” said Mike, “what’ll he be doin’ along in August or September, to say nothin’ about next August and the August after that?”

“Don’t worry!” said Young Jake. “I’ll either be a regular by the end of this season or I won’t be on this ball club at all!”

“That-a-boy!” said Healy. “Threaten ’em!”

“I mean what I say!” retorted Jake. “I ain’t goin’ to spend my life on no bench! I come here to play baseball!”

“Oh, you did!” said Healy. “And what do you think I come here for, to fish?”

“I ain’t talkin’ about you,” said Young Jake. “I’m talkin’ about myself.”

“That’s a novelty in a ball player,” remarked Lefty.

“And what I’m sayin’,” Jake went on, “is that I’m sick of settin’ on this bench.”

“This ain’t a bad bench,” said Healy. “They’s a hell of a lot worse places you might sit.”

“And a hell of a lot better places!” said Jake. “I can think of one right now. I’m lookin’ right at it.”

“Where at?”

“Right up in the old stand; the third – no, the fourth row, next to the aisle, the first aisle beyond where the screen leaves off.”

“I noticed her myself!” put in Lefty. “Damn cute! Too damn cute for a busher like you to get smoked up over.”

“Oh, I don’t know!” said Young Jake. “I didn’t get along so bad with them dames down South.”

“Down South ain’t here!” replied Lefty. “Those dames in some of those swamps, they lose their head when they see a man with shoes on. But up here you’ve got to have something. If you pulled that Calhoun County stuff of yours on a gal like that gal in the stand she’d yell for the dog catcher. She’d—”

“They’re all alike!” interrupted Mike Healy. “South, or here, or anywheres, they’re all the same, and all poison!”

“What’s poison?” asked Jake.

“Women!” said Healy. “And the more you have to do with ’em the better chance you’ve got of spendin’ your life on this bench. Why— That’s pitchin’, Joe!” he shouted when the third of the enemy batters had popped out and left a runner stranded at second base. “You look good in there today,” he added to Joe as the big pitcher approached the dugout.

“I’m all right, I guess,” said Joe, pulling on his sweater and moving toward the water bottle. “I wished that wind’d die down.”

The manager had come in.

“All right! Let’s get at ’em!” he said. “Nice work, Joe. Was that a fast one Meusel hit?”

“No,” said Joe. “A hook, but it didn’t break.”

“A couple of runs will beat ’em the way you’re going,” said the manager, stooping over to select his bat. “Make this fella pitch, boys,” he added. “He was hog wild in Philly the other day.”

The half inning wore on to its close, and the noncombatants were again left in possession of the bench. Young Jake addressed Healy.

“What’s women done to you, Mike?”

“Only broke me. That’s all!” said Healy.

“What do you mean, broke you! The boys tells me you ain’t spent nothin’ but the summer since you been in the league.”

“Oh, I’ve got a little money,” said Healy. “I don’t throw it away. I don’t go around payin’ ten smackers a quart for liquid catnip. But they’s more kinds of broke than money broke, a damn sight worse kinds, too. And when I say women has broke me, I mean they’ve made a bum out of my life; they’ve wrecked my – what-do-you-call-it?”

“Your career,” supplied Lefty.

“Yes, sir,” said Healy. “And I ain’t kiddin’, neither. Why say, listen: Do you know where I’d be if it wasn’t for a woman? Right out there in that infield, playin’ that old third sack.”

“What about Smitty?” asked Young Jake.

“He’d be where I am – on this bench.”

“Aw, come on, Mike! Be yourself! You don’t claim you’re as good as him!” Jake remonstrated.

“I do claim it, but it don’t make no difference if I am or I ain’t. He shouldn’t never ought to of had a chance, not on this club, anyway. You’d say the same if you knowed the facts.”

“Well, let’s hear ’em.”

“It’s a long story, and these boys has heard it before.”

“That’s all right, Mike,” said Gephart, a spare catcher. “We ain’t listened the last twelve times.”

“Well, it was the year I come in this league, four years ago this spring. I’d been with the Toledo club a couple of years. I was the best hitter on the Toledo club. I hit .332 the first year and .354 the next year. And I led the third basemen in fieldin’.”

“It would be hard not to,” interposed Lefty. “Anything a third baseman don’t get they call it a base hit. A third baseman ought to pay to get in the park.”

Healy glanced coldly at the speaker, and resumed:

“This club had Johnnie Lambert. He was still about the best third baseman in this league, but he was thirty-five years old and had a bad knee. It had slipped out on him and cost this club the pennant. They didn’t have no other third baseman. They lose sixteen out of twenty games. So that learned ’em a lesson, and they bought me. Their idear was to start Johnnie in the spring, but they didn’t expect his knee to hold up. And then it was goin’ to be my turn.

“But durin’ the winter Johnnie got a hold of some specialist somewheres that fixed his knee, and he come South with a new least of life. He hit good and was as fast as ever on the bases. Meanw’ile I had been on a huntin’ trip up in Michigan that winter and froze my dogs, and they ailed me so that I couldn’t do myself justice all spring.”

“I suppose it was some woman made you go huntin’,” said Gephart, but Healy continued without replying:

“They was a gal from a town named Ligonier, Indiana, that had visited in Toledo the second year I played ball there. The people where she was visitin was great baseball fans, and they brought her out to the game with them, and she got stuck on me.”

“Ligonier can’t be a town! It must be an asylum!” said Lefty

“She got stuck on me,” Healy repeated, “and the people where she was stayin’ asked me to their house to supper. After supper the man and his wife said how about goin’ to the picture show, and the gal said she was tired and rather stay home. So the man and woman excused themselves. They said it was a picture they wanted to see and would I excuse them runnin’ off and leavin’ we two together. They were clubbin’ on me, see?

“Well, I thought to myself, I’ll give this dame an unpleasant surpirse, so I didn’t even hold her hand all evenin’. When I got up to go she says she supposed it would be the last time she seen me as she expected to go back to Ligonier the next day. She didn’t have no more intentions of goin’ back the next day than crossin’ Lake Erie in a hollow tooth. But she knowed if I thought it was good-by I’d kiss her. Well, I knowed it wasn’t good-by, but what the hell! So that’s how it started, and I went to Ligonier that fall to see her, and we got engaged to be married. At least she seemed to think so.”

“Look at that!” interrupted Young Jake, his eyes on the field of action. “What could Sam of been thinkin’!”

“Thinkin’!” said Gephart. “Him!”

“What would Sam do,” wondered Lefty, “if they played baseball with only one base? He wouldn’t enjoy the game if he couldn’t throw to the wrong one.”

“That play’s liable to cost us somethin’,” said Gephart.

“I went up in Michigan on a huntin’ trip with some friends of mine,” Healy continued. “I froze my feet and was laid up all through January and February and shouldn’t of never went South. It was all I could do to wear shoes, let alone play baseball. I wasn’t really myself till along the first of May. But, as I say, Johnnie Lambert had a new least of life and was lookin’ better than he’d looked for years. His knee wasn’t troublin’ him at all.

“Well, that’s how things went till around the last part of June. I didn’t get no action except five or six times goin’ up to hit for somebody. And I was like a young colt, crazy to be let loose. I knowed that if I once got in there and showed what I could do Judge Landis himself couldn’t keep me on the bench. I used to kneel down every night and pray to God to get to work on Lambert’s knee.

“The gal kept writin’ me letters and I answered ’em once in a w’ile, but we hadn’t saw each other since before Christmas. She hinted once or twice about when was we goin’ to get married, but I told her I didn’t want to even disgust the subject till I was somethin’ besides a bench warmer.

“We had a serious in Chi the tail-end of June, and the first night we was there I got a long-distance call from Ligonier. It was the gal’s sister, sayin’ the gal was sick. She was delirious part of the time and hollerin’ for me, and the doctor said if she could see me, it’d probably do her more good than medicine.

“So I said that’s all right, but they ain’t no off days in the schedule right now and I can’t get away. But they had looked up the time table and seen where I could leave Chi after the ball game, spend the night in Ligonier and get back for the game the next day.

“So I took a train from Englewood in the evenin’ and when I got off at Ligonier, there was my gal to meet me. She was the picture of health and no more delirious than usual. They said she had been just about ready to pass out when she learned I was comin’ and it cured her. They didn’t tell me what disease she’d had, but I suppose it was a grasshopper bite or somethin’.

“When I left next mornin’, the weddin’ date was set for that fall.

“Somewheres between South Bend and Laporte, the train stopped and liked it so well that we stayed there over three hours. We hit Englewood after four o’clock and I got to the park just in time to see them loadin’ Lambert into a machine to take him away. His knee had broke down on him in the first innin’s. He ain’t never played ball since. And Smitty, who’s always been a natural second baseman, he had my job.”

“He’s filled it pretty good.” said Lefty.

“That’s either here or there,” retorted Healy. “If I’d been around, nobody’d ever knowed if he could play third base or not. And the worst of him is,” he added, “that he never gets hurt.”

“Maybe you ain’t prayed for him like you done for Lambert,” said Young Jake. “What happened to the gal? Did you give her the air?”

“No, I didn’t,” said Healy. “When I give my word, I keep it. I simply wrote and told her that I’d agreed to marry her and I wouldn’t go back on it. But that my feelin’s towards her was the same as if she was an advanced case of spinal meningitis. She never answered the letter, so I don’t know if we’re still engaged or not.

The inning was over and the boys were coming in.

“Joe was lucky to get out of that with only two runs,” remarked Lefty. “But of course it was Sam that put him in bad.”

“I’m goin’ to see if he’ll leave me get up on the lines,” said Young Jake, “so I can get a better look at that dame.”

The manager waited for Sam to catch up.

“What the hell was the matter with you. Sam?” he demanded.

Sam looked silly.

“I thought—”

“That’s where you make your mistake!” the manager broke in. “Tough luck, Joe! But two runs are nothing. We’ll get ’em back.”

“Shall I go up on the lines?” asked Young Jake, hopefully.

“You? No!” said the manager. “You, Mike,” turning to Healy, “go over and coach at third base. You brought us luck yesterday.”

So it was Mike who was held partly responsible a few moments later when Smitty, who had tripled, was caught napping off the bag.

“Nice coachin’, Mike!” said Lefty, as Healy came back to the bench.

“Why don’t he watch hisself!” growled Mike. “And besides, I did yell at him!”

“You’re a liar!” said Lefty. “Your back was to the ball game. You were lookin’ up in the stand.”

“Why would I be lookin’ at the stand!” demanded Healy.

But nobody answered him. There was silence for a time. The boys were depressed; in their own language, their dauber was down. Finally Young Jake spoke.

“She’s starin’ right over this way!” he said.

“Who?” asked Gephart.

“That dame I pointed out. In the tan suit. ‘Way over behind third base, the other side of the screen, in the fourth row.”

“I see her. Not bad!”

“I’ll say she’s not bad!” said Jake.

“Women!” said Healy. “You better get your mind on baseball or you’ll be back in that silo league, jumpin’ from town to town in a wheelbarrow.”

“I don’t see why you should be off all women just because one of them brought you a little hard luck.”

“She wasn’t the only one! Why, say, if it wasn’t for women I’d be playin’ regular third base for McGraw right now and cuttin’ in on the big money every fall.”

“I didn’t know you was ever with McGraw.”

“I wasn’t,” said Healy, “but I ought to been, and would of been only for a woman. It was when I was playin’ with the Dayton club; my first year in baseball. Boy, I was fast as a streak! I was peggin’ bunts to first base before the guy could drop his bat. I covered so much ground to my left that I was always knockin’ the shortstop down and bumpin’ heads with the right fielder. Everybody was marvelin’ at me. Some of the old timers said I reminded them of Bill Bradley at his best, only that I made Bradley look like he was out of the game for a few days.

“Baldy Pierce was umpirin’ in our league that year. He wasn’t a bad umps, but he never left business interfere with pleasure. Many’s the time he called the last fella out in the last innin’s when the fella was safer than a hot chocolate at the Elks’ convention – just because Baldy was hungry for supper.

“He was so homely that dogs wouldn’t live in the same town, and his friends used to try and make him wear his mask off the field as well as on. And yet he grabbed some of the prettiest gals you ever see. He said to me once, he said, ‘Mike,’ he said, ‘you tell me I’m homelier than Railroad Street, but I can cop more pips than you can with all your good looks!’”

At this point there were unprintable comments by Lefty, Gephart, and other occupants of the bench.

“One of these gals of his,” Healy went on, “was a gal named Helen Buck from Hamilton, Ohio. She was visitin’ in Dayton and come out to the ball game. The first day she was there a lot of the boys was hit in the face by thrown balls, and every time a foul went to the stand the whole infield run in to shag it. But she wouldn’t look at nobody but Pierce.

“Well, McGraw had heard about me, and he sent a fella named McDonald, that was scoutin’ for him, to look me over. It was in September and we was just about through. How the games come out didn’t make no difference, but I knowed this McDonald was there and what he was there for, so I wanted to make a showin’. He had came intendin’ to stay two days, but he’d overlooked a skip in the schedule that left us without no game the second day, so he said one game would have to be enough, as he had to go somewheres else.

“We was playin’ the Springfield club. I had a good day in the field, but Bill Hutton, who started pitchin’ for them, he was hog wild and walked me the first two times up. The third time they was a man on third and I had to follow orders and squeeze him home. So I hadn’t had no chance to really show what I could do up there at the plate.

“Well, we come into the ninth innin’s with the score tied and it was gettin’ pretty dark. We got two of them out, and then their first baseman, Jansen, he got a base on balls. Bill Boone caught a hold of one just right and cracked it to the fence and it looked like Jansen would score, but he was a slow runner. Davy Shaw, our shortstop, thought he must of scored and when the ball was thrown to him he throwed it to me to get Boone, who was tryin’ for three bases.

“Well, I had took in the situation at a glance; I seen that Jansen hadn’t scored and if I put the ball on Boone quick enough, why the run wouldn’t count. So I lunged at Boone and tagged him before Jansen had crossed the plate. But Pierce said the score counted and that Boone wasn’t out because I’d missed him. Missed him! Say, I bet that where I tagged him they had to take stitches!

“Anyway, that give ’em a one run lead, and when the first two fellas got out in our half everybody thought it was over. But Davy Shaw hit one to right center that a man like I could of ran around twice on in, but they held Davy at third base. And it was up to me to bring him in.

“By this time Jim Preston was pitchin’ for Springfield, and Jim was always a mark for me. I left the first one go by, as it was outside, but Pierce called it a strike. Then they was a couple of balls that he couldn’t call strikes. I cracked the next one over the leftfield fence, but it was a few inches foul. That made it two and two, and the next ball he throwed, well, if I hadn’t ducked my head just when I did they’d have been brains scattered all over Montgomery County. And what does Pierce do but yell ‘Batter out!’ and run for the clubhouse!

“Well, I run after him and asked him what the hell, and here is what he said. He said, ‘Mike,’ he said, ‘these games don’t mean nothin’, but if this here game had of wound up a tie it would of meant a game tomorrow, when we got a off day. And I made a date for tomorrow to go on a picnic with my little gal in Hamilton. You wouldn’t want me to miss that, would you?’”

“Why,” inquired Young Jake, “didn’t you break his nose or bust him in the chin?”

“His nose was already broke,” said Healy, “and he didn’t have no chin. I tried to get a hold of McDonald, the fella that was there scoutin’ me. I was goin’ to explain the thing to him. But he’d left town before I could catch him. It seems, though, that he’d set over to the side where he couldn’t see what a lousy strike it was and he told a friend of mine that he couldn’t recommend a man that would take a third strike when a base hit would of tied up the game; that on top of me missin’ Boone at third—”

Another half inning was over and Healy started for the third-base coaching line without waiting for the manager to reach the bench. His teammates were not in a position to see the glance he threw at a certain spot in the stand as he walked to his “work.” When the side was retired scoreless and he had returned to his corner of the dugout he looked more desolate than ever.

“Women!” he said. “Why, if it wasn’t for women I’d be playin’ third base for Huggins; I’d have Joe Dugan’s job; I’d be livin’ right here in the capital of the world.”

“How do you make that out?” asked Young Jake.

“It’s a long story,” said Healy, “but I can tell you in a few words. We was playin’ the New York Club out home. Frank Baker had began to slip and Huggins was lookin’ for a good young fella to take his place. He was crazy to get me, but he had heard that I didn’t want to play in New York. This had came from me kiddin’ with some of the boys on the New York Club, tellin’ ’em I wouldn’t play here if they give me the town. So Huggins wanted to make sure before he started a trade. And he didn’t want no one to see him talkin’ to me. So he came around one night to the hotel where I was livin’ at the time. I was up in my room waitin’ for the phone gal to be off duty. She was stuck on me and I had a date to take her for a drive. So when Huggins come to see me she said I was out. She was afraid her date was goin’ to be interfered with. So Huggins went away and his club left town that night.”

“What did you do to her?” asked Jake.

“Oh, I couldn’t do nothin’ to her,” said Healy. “She claimed she didn’t know who it was.”

“Didn’t he give his name?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know it was Huggins?”

“She said it was a little fella.”

“He ain’t the only little fella.”

“He’s the littlest fella I know,” said Healy.

“But you ain’t sure what he wanted to see you for.”

“What would Huggins want to see me for – to scratch my back? But as I say, she didn’t know who it was, so I couldn’t do nothin’ to her except ignore her from then on, and they couldn’t of been no worse punishment as far as she was concerned.”

“All and all,” summed up Lefty, “if it wasn’t for women, you’d of been playin’ third base for McGraw and Huggins and this club, all at the same time.”

“Yes,” said Healy, “and with Washin’ton, too. Why’d—”

“Mike Healy!” interrupted the voice of Dick Trude, veteran usher. “Here’s a mash note and it wants an answer.”

Healy read the note and crumpled it in his hand.

“Who is she?” he asked.

“Look where I point.” said Trude. “It’s that good-lookin’ dame in the tan suit, in the fourth row, back of third base. There! She asked me who you was when you was out there coachin’. So I told her, and she give me that note. She said you could answer yes or no.”

“Make it ‘yes,’” said Healy, and Trude went away.

Healy threw the crumpled note under the water bottle and addressed Young Jake.

“What I want you to get through your head, boy—”

“Oh, for God’s sakes, shut up!” said Young Jake.

• 14 •

Hurry Kane

It says here: “Another great race may be expected in the American League, for Philadelphia and New York have evidently added enough strength to give them a fighting chance with the White Sox and Yankees. But if the fans are looking for as ‘nervous’ a finish as last year’s, with a climax such as the Chicago and New York clubs staged on the memorable first day of October, they are doubtless in for a disappointment. That was a regular Webster ‘thrill’ that comes once in a lifetime,’ and no oftener.”

“Thrill” is right, but they don’t know the half of it. Nobody knows the whole of it only myself, not even the fella that told me. I mean the big sap, Kane, who you might call him, I suppose, the hero of the story, but he’s too dumb to have realized all that went on, and besides, I got some of the angles from other sources and seen a few things with my own eyes.

If you wasn’t the closest-mouthed bird I ever run acrost, I wouldn’t spill this to you. But I know it won’t go no further and I think it may give you a kick.

Well, the year before last, it didn’t take no witch to figure out what was going to happen to our club if Dave couldn’t land a pitcher or two to help out Carney and Olds. Jake Lewis hurt his arm and was never no good after that and the rest of the staff belonged in the Soldiers’ Home. Their aim was perfect, but they were always shooting at the pressbox or somebody’s bat. On hot days I often felt like leaving my mask and protector in the clubhouse; what those fellas were throwing up there was either eighty feet over my head or else the outfielders had to chase it. I could have caught naked except on the days when Olds and Carney worked.

In the fall  – that’s a year and a half ago  – Dave pulled the trade with Boston and St. Louis that brought us Frank Miller and Lefty Glaze in exchange for Robinson, Bullard and Roy Smith. The three he gave away weren’t worth a dime to us or to the clubs that got them, and that made it just an even thing, as Miller showed up in the spring with a waistline that was eight laps to the mile and kept getting bigger and bigger till it took half the Atlantic cable to hold up his baseball pants, while Glaze wanted more money than Landis and didn’t report till the middle of June, and then tried to condition himself on wood alcohol. When the deal was made, it looked like Dave had all the best of it, but as it turned out, him and the other two clubs might as well have exchanged photographs of their kids in Girl Scout uniforms.

But Dave never lost no sleep over Glaze or Miller. We hadn’t been in Florida three days before him and everybody on the ball club was absolutely nuts about big Kane. Here was a twenty-year-old boy that had only pitched half a season in Waco and we had put in a draft for him on the recommendation of an old friend of Dave’s, Billy Moore. Billy was just a fan and didn’t know much baseball, but he had made some money for Dave in Texas oil leases and Dave took this tip on Kane more because he didn’t want to hurt Billy’s feelings than out of respect for his judgment. So when the big sapper showed up at Fort Gregg, he didn’t get much of a welcome. What he did get was a laugh. You couldn’t look at him and not laugh; anyway, not till you got kind of used to him.

You’ve probably seen lots of pictures of him in a uniform, but they can’t give you no idear of the sight he was the first day he blew in the hotel, after that clean, restful little train ride all the way from Yuma. Standing six foot three in what was left of his stockings, he was wearing a suit of Arizona store clothes that would have been a fair fit for Singer’s youngest Midget and looked like he had pressed it with a tractor that had been parked on a river bottom.

He had used up both the collars that he figured would see him through his first year in the big league. This left you a clear view of his Adam’s apple, which would make half a dozen pies. You’d have thought from his shoes that he had just managed to grab hold of the rail on the back platform of his train and been dragged from Yuma to Jacksonville. But when you seen his shirt, you wondered if he hadn’t rode in the cab and loaned it to the fireman for a wash-cloth. He had a brown paper suitcase held together by bandages. Some of them had slipped and the raw wounds was exposed. But if the whole thing had fell to pieces, he could have packed the contents in two of his vest pockets without bulging them much.

One of the funniest things about him was his walk and I’ll never forget the first time we seen him go out to take his turn pitching to the batters. He acted like he was barefooted and afraid of stepping on burrs. He’d lift one dog and hold it in the air a minute till he could locate a safe place to put it down. Then he’d do the same thing with the other, and it would seem about a half-hour from the time he left the bench till he got to his position. Of course Dave soon had him pretty well cured of that, or that is, Dave didn’t, but Kid Farrell did. For a whole week, the Kid followed him every step he took and if he wasn’t going fast enough, he either got spiked in the heel or kicked in the calf of his hind leg. People think he walks slow yet, but he’s a shooting star now compared with when he broke in.

Well, everybody was in hysterics watching him make that first trip and he looked so silly that we didn’t expect him to be any good to us except as a kind of a show. But we were in for a big surprise.

Before he threw a ball, Dave said to him: “Now, go easy. Don’t cut loose and take a chance till you’re in shape.”

“All right,” says Kane.

And all of a sudden, without no warning, he whammed a fast ball acrost that old plate that blew Tierney’s cap off and pretty near knocked me down. Tierney hollered murder and ran for the bench. All of us were pop-eyed and it was quite a while before Dave could speak. Then he said:

“Boy, your fast one is a fast one! But I just got through telling you not to cut loose. The other fellas ain’t ready for it and neither are you. I don’t want nobody killed this time of year.”

So Kane said: “I didn’t cut loose. I can send them through there twice as fast as that. I’m scared to yet, because I ain’t sure of my control. I’ll show you something in a couple more days.”

—

Well when he said “twice as fast,” he was making it a little strong. But his real fast one was faster than that first one he threw, and before the week was over we looked at speed that made it seem like Johnson had never pitched nothing but toy balloons. What had us all puzzled was why none of the other clubs had tried to grab him. I found out by asking him one night at supper. I asked him if he’d been just as good the year before as he was now.

“I had the same stuff,” he said, “but I never showed it, except once.”

I asked him why he hadn’t showed it. He said:

“Because I was always scared they would be a big league scout in the stand and I didn’t want to go ‘up.’”

Then I said why not, and he told me he was stuck on a gal in Waco and wanted to be near her.

“Yes,” I said, “but your home town, Yuma, is a long ways from Waco and you couldn’t see much of her winters even if you stayed in the Texas League.”

“I got a gal in Yuma for winters,” he says. “This other gal was just for during the season.”

“How about that one time you showed your stuff?” I asked him. “How did you happen to do it?”

“Well,” he said, “the Dallas club was playing a series in Waco and I went to a picture show and seen the gal with Fred Kruger. He’s Dallas’s manager. So the next day I made a monkey out of his ball club. I struck out fifteen of them and give them one hit  – a fly ball that Smitty could have caught in a hollow tooth if he hadn’t drunk his lunch.”

Of course that was the game Dave’s friend seen him pitch and we were lucky he happened to be in Waco just then. And it was Kane’s last game in that league. Him and his “during the season” gal had a brawl and he played sick and got himself sent home.

Well, everybody knows now what a whale of a pitcher he turned out to be. He had a good, fast-breaking curve and Carney learned him how to throw a slow ball. Old Kid Farrell worked like a horse with him and got him so he could move around and field his position. At first he seemed to think he was moored out there. And another cute habit that had to be cured was his full wind-up with men on bases. The Kid starved him out of this.

Maybe I didn’t tell you what an eater he was. Before Dave caught on to it, he was ordering one breakfast in his room and having another downstairs, and besides pretty near choking himself to death at lunch and supper, he’d sneak out to some lunchroom before bedtime, put away a Hamburger steak and eggs and bring back three or four sandwiches to snap at during the night.

He was rooming at the start with Joe Bonham and Joe finally told on him, thinking it was funny. But it wasn’t funny to Dave and he named the Kid and Johnny Abbott a committee of two to see that Kane didn’t explode. The Kid watched over him at table and Johnny succeeded Bonham as his roommate. And the way the Kid got him to cut out his wind-up was by telling him, “Now if you forget yourself and use it with a man on, your supper’s going to be two olives and a finger-bowl, but if you hold up those runners, you can eat the chef.”

As I say, the whole world knows what he is now. But they don’t know how hard we worked with him, they don’t know how close we came to losing him altogether, and they don’t know the real story of that final game last year, which I’ll tell you in a little while.

First, about pretty near losing him: As soon as Dave seen his possibilities and his value to us, he warned the boys not to ride him or play too many jokes on him because he was simple enough to take everything in dead earnest, and if he ever found out we were laughing at him, he might either lay down and quit trying or blow us entirely. Dave’s dope was good, but you can’t no more prevent a bunch of ball players from kidding a goofer like Kane than you can stop the Century at Herkimer by hollering “Whoa!” He was always saying things and doing things that left him wide open and the gang took full advantage, especially Bull Wade.

I remember one night everybody was sitting on the porch and Bull was on the railing, right in front of Kane’s chair.

“What’s your first name, Steve?” Bull asked him.

“Well,” says Kane, “it ain’t Steve at all. It’s Elmer.”

“It would be!” says Bull. “It fits you like your suit. And that reminds me, I was going to inquire where you got that suit.”

“In Yuma,” said Kane. “In a store.”

“A store!” says Bull.

“A clothing store,” says Kane. “They sell all kinds of clothes.”

“I see they do,” said Bull.

“If you want a suit like it, I’ll write and find out if they’ve got another one,” says Kane.

“They couldn’t be two of them,” says Bull, “and if they was, I’ll bet Ed Wynn’s bought the other. But anyway, I’ve already got a suit, and what I wanted to ask you was what the boys out West call you. I mean, what’s your nickname?”

“‘Hurry,’” says the sap. “‘Hurry’ Kane. Lefty Condon named me that.”

“He seen you on your way to the dining-room,” said Bull.

Kane didn’t get it.

“No,” he said. “It ain’t nothing to do with a dining-room. A hurricane is a kind of a storm. My last name is Kane, so Lefty called me ‘Hurry’ Kane. It’s a kind of a storm.”

“A brainstorm,” says Bull.

“No,” said Kane. “A hurricane is a big wind-storm.”

“Does it blow up all of a sudden?” asked Bull.

“Yeah, that’s it,” says Kane.

“We had three or four of them on this club last year,” said Bull. “All pitchers, too. Dave got rid of them and he must be figuring on you to take their place.”

“Do you mean you had four pitchers named Kane?” says the big busher.

“No,” said Bull. “I mean we had four pitchers that could blow up all of a sudden. It was their hobby. Dave used to work them in turn, the same afternoon; on days when Olds and Carney needed a rest. Each one of the four would pitch an innings and a half.”

Kane thought quite a while and then said: “But if they was four of them, and they pitched an innings and a half apiece, that’s only six innings. Who pitched the other three?”

“Nobody,” says Bull. “It was always too dark. By the way, what innings is your favorite? I mean, to blow in?”

“I don’t blow,” says the sap.

“Then,” said Bull, “why was it that fella called you ‘Hurry’ Kane?”

“It was Lefty Condon called me ‘Hurry’,” says the sap. “My last name is Kane, and a hurricane is a big wind.”

“Don’t a wind blow?” says Bull.

And so on. I swear they kept it up for two hours, Kane trying to explain his nickname and Bull leading him on, and Joe Bonham said that Kane asked him up in the room who that was he had been talking to, and when Joe told him it was Wade, one of the smartest ball players in the league, Hurry said: “Well, then, he must be either stewed or else this is a damn sight dumber league than the one I came from.”

Bull and some of the rest of the boys pulled all the old gags on him that’s been in baseball since the days when you couldn’t get on a club unless you had a walrus mustache. And Kane never disappointed them.

They made him go to the club-house after the key to the batter’s box; they wrote him mash notes with fake names signed to them and had him spending half his evenings on some corner, waiting to meet gals that never lived; when he held Florida University to two hits in five innings, they sent him telegrams of congratulation from Coolidge and Al Smith, and he showed the telegrams to everybody in the hotel; they had him report at the ball park at six-thirty one morning for a secret “pitchers’ conference”; they told him the Ritz was where all the unmarried ball players on the club lived while we were home, and they got him to write and ask for a parlor, bedroom and bath for the whole season. They was nothing he wouldn’t fall for till Dave finally tipped him off that he was being kidded, and even then he didn’t half believe it.

Now I never could figure how a man can fool themself about their own looks, but this bird was certain that he and Tommy Meighan were practically twins. Of course the boys soon found this out and strung him along. They advised him to quit baseball and go into pictures. They sat around his room and had him strike different poses and fix his hair different ways to see how he could show off his beauty to the best advantage. Johnny Abbott told me, after he began rooming with him, that for an hour before he went to bed and when he got up, Kane would stand in front of the mirror staring at himself and practising smiles and scowls and all kinds of silly faces, while Johnny pretended he was asleep.

Well, it wasn’t hard to kid a fella like that into believing the dames were mad about him and when Bull Wade said that Evelyn Corey had asked who he was, his chest broke right through his shirt.

I know more about Evelyn now, but I didn’t know nothing than except that she was a beautiful gal who had been in Broadway shows a couple of seasons and didn’t have to be in them no more. Her room was two doors down the hall from Johnny’s and Kane’s. She was in Florida all alone, probably because her man friend, whoever he was at that time, had had to go abroad or somewheres with the family. All the ball players were willing to meet her, but she wasn’t thrilled over the idear of getting acquainted with a bunch of guys who hadn’t had a pay day in four or five months. Bull got Kane to write her a note; then Bull stole the note and wrote an answer, asking him to call. Hurry went and knocked at her door. She opened it and slammed it in his face.

“It was kind of dark,” he said to Johnny, “and I guess she failed to recognize me.” But he didn’t have the nerve to call again.

He showed Johnny a picture of his gal in Yuma, a gal named Minnie Olson, who looked like she patronized the same store where Kane had bought his suit. He said she was wild about him and would marry him the minute he said the word and probably she was crying her eyes out right now, wishing he was home. He asked if Johnny had a gal and Johnny loosened up and showed him the picture of the gal he was engaged to. (Johnny married her last November.) She’s a peach, but all Kane would say was, “Kind of skinny, ain’t she?” Johnny laughed and said most gals liked to be that way.

“Not if they want me,” says Kane.

“Well,” said Johnny, “I don’t think this one does. But how about your friend, that Miss Corey? You certainly can’t call her plump, yet you’re anxious to meet her.”

“She’s got class!” said Kane.

Johnny laughed that off, too. This gal of his, that he’s married to now, she’s so far ahead of Corey as far as class is concerned – well, they ain’t no comparison. Johnny, you know, went to Cornell a couple of years and his wife is a college gal he met at a big house-party. If you put her and Evelyn beside of each other you wouldn’t have no trouble telling which of them belonged on Park Avenue and which Broadway.

Kane kept on moaning more and more about his gal out West and acting glummer and glummer. Johnny did his best to cheer him up, as he seen what was liable to happen. But they wasn’t no use. The big rube “lost” his fast ball and told Dave he had strained his arm and probably wouldn’t be no good all season. Dave bawled him out and accused him of stalling. Kane stalled just the same. Then Dave soft-soaped him, told him how he’d burn up the league and how we were all depending on him to put us in the race and keep us there. But he might as well have been talking to a mounted policeman.

Finally, one day during the last week at Fort Gregg, Johnny Abbott got homesick himself and put in a long-distance call for his gal in New York. It was a rainy day and him and Kane had been just laying around the room. Before the call went through Johnny hinted that he would like to be alone while he talked. Kane paid no attention and began undressing to take a nap. So Johnny had to speak before an audience and not only that, but as soon as Kane heard him say “Darling” or “Sweetheart,” or whatever he called her, he moved right over close to the phone where he wouldn’t miss nothing. Johnny was kind of embarrassed and hung up before he was ready to; then he gave Kane a dirty look and went to the window and stared out at the rain, dreaming about the gal he’d just talked with.

Kane laid down on his bed, but he didn’t go to sleep. In four or five minutes he was at the phone asking the operator to get Minnie Olson in Yuma. Then he laid down again and tossed a while, and then he sat up on the edge of the bed.

“Johnny,” he says, “how far is it from here to New York?”

“About a thousand miles,” said Johnny.

“And how far to Yuma?” said Kane.

“Oh,” says Johnny, “that must be three thousand miles at least.”

“How much did that New York call cost you?” asked Kane.

“I don’t know yet,” said Johnny. “I suppose it was around seven bucks.”

Kane went to the writing table and done a little arithmetic. From there he went back to the phone.

“Listen, girlie,” he said to the operator, “you can cancel that Yuma call. I just happened to remember that the party I wanted won’t be home. She’s taking her mandolin lesson, way the other side of town.”

Johnny told me afterwards that he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Before he had a chance to do either, Kane says to him:

“This is my last day on this ball club.”

“What do you mean?” said Johnny.

“I mean I’m through; I’m going home,” says Kane.

“Don’t be a fool!” says Johnny. “Don’t throw away the chance of a lifetime just because you’re a little lonesome. If you stay in this league and pitch like you can pitch, you’ll be getting the big money next year and you can marry that gal and bring her East with you. You may not have to wait till next year. You may pitch us into the world’s series and grab a chunk of dough this fall.”

“We won’t be in no world’s series,” says Kane.

“What makes you think so?” said Johnny.

“I can’t work every day,” says Kane.

“You’ll have help,” says Johnny. “With you and Carney and Olds taking turns, we can be right up in that old fight. Without you, we can’t even finish in the league. If you won’t do it for yourself or for Dave, do it for me, your roomy. You just seen me spend seven or eight bucks on a phone call, but that’s no sign I’m reeking with jack. I spent that money because I’d have died if I hadn’t. I’ve got none to throw away and if we don’t win the pennant, I can’t marry this year and maybe not next year or the year after.”

“I’ve got to look out for myself,” says Kane. “I tell you I’m through and that’s all there is to it. I’m going home where my gal is, where they ain’t no smart Alecks kidding me all the while, and where I can eat without no assistant manager holding me down to a sprig of parsley, and a thimbleful of soup. For your sake, Johnny,” he says, “I’d like to see this club finish on top, but I can’t stick it out and I’m afraid your only hope is for the other seven clubs to all be riding on the same train and hit an open bridge.”

Well, of course Johnny didn’t lose no time getting to Dave with the bad news, and Dave and Kid Farrell rushed to the sapper’s room. They threatened him and they coaxed him. They promised him he could eat all he wanted. They swore that anybody who tried to play jokes on him would either be fined or fired off the club. They reminded him that it cost a lot of money to go from Florida to Yuma, and he would have to pay his own way. They offered him a new contract with a five-hundred-dollar raise if he would stay. They argued and pleaded with him from four in the afternoon till midnight. When they finally quit, they were just where they’d been when they started. He was through.

“All right!” Dave hollered. “Be through and go to hell! If you ain’t out of here by tomorrow noon, I’ll have you chased out! And don’t forget that you’ll never pitch in organized baseball again!”

“That suits me,” says Kane, and went to bed.

When Johnny Abbott woke up about seven the next morning, Hurry was putting his extra collar and comb in the leaky suitcase. He said:

“I’m going to grab the eleven-something train for Jacksonville. I got money enough to take me from here to New Orleans and I know a fella there that will see me the rest of the way – if I can find him and he ain’t broke.”

Well, Johnny couldn’t stand for that and he got up and dressed and was starting out to borrow two hundred dollars from me to lend to Kane, when the phone rang loud and long. Kane took off the receiver, listened a second, and then said “Uh-huh” and hung up.

“Who was it?” asked Johnny.

“Nobody,” says Kane. “Just one of Bull Wade’s gags.”

“What did he say?” Johnny asked him.

“It was a gal, probably the telephone operator,” said Kane. “She said the hotel was on fire and not to get excited, but that we better move out.”

“You fool!” yelled Johnny and run to the phone.

They was no gag about it. The hotel had really caught fire in the basement and everybody was being warned to take the air. Johnny tossed some of his stuff in a bag and started out, telling Kane to follow him quick. Hurry got out in the hall and then remembered that he had left his gal’s picture on the dresser and went back after it. Just as he turned towards the door again, in dashed a dame with a kimono throwed over her nightgown. It was Evelyn Corey herself, almost in the flesh.

“Oh, please!” she said, or screamed. “Come and help me carry my things!”

Well, here was once that the name “Hurry” was on the square. He dropped his own suitcase and was in her room in nothing and no-fifths. He grabbed her four pieces of hand baggage and was staggering to the hall with them when a bellhop bounced in and told them the danger was over, the fire was out.

This seemed to be more of a disappointment than Evelyn could stand. Anyway, she fainted – onto a couch – and for a few minutes she was too unconscious to do anything but ask Kane to pour her a drink. He also poured himself one and settled down in the easy chair like he was there for the day. But by now she had come to and got a good look at him.

“I thank you very much,” she said, “and I’m so exhausted with all this excitement that I think I’ll go back to bed.”

Kane took his hint and got up.

“But ain’t I going to see you again?” he asked her.

“I’m afraid not,” says Evelyn. “I’m leaving here this evening and I’ll be getting ready from now till then.”

“Where are you headed for?” Kane asked her.

“For home, New York,” she said.

“Can’t I have your address?” said Kane.

“Why, yes,” said Evelyn without batting an eye. “I live at the Ritz.”

“The Ritz!” says Kane. “That’s where I’m going to live, if they ain’t filled up.”

“How wonderful!” said Evelyn. “Then we’ll probably see each other every day.”

Kane beat it down to the dining-room and straight to Dave’s table.

“Boss,” he said, “I’ve changed my mind.”

“Your what!” says Dave.

“My mind,” says Kane. “I’ve decided to stick.”

It was all Dave could do not to kiss him. But he thought it was best to act calm.

“That’s fine, Hurry!” he said. “And I’ll see that you get that extra five hundred bucks.”

“What five hundred bucks?” says Kane.

“The five hundred I promised you if you’d stay,” says Dave.

“I hadn’t heard about it,” said Kane. “But as long as I ain’t going home, I’m in no rush for money. Though I’m liable to need it,” he says, “as soon as we hit New York.”

And he smiled the silliest smile you ever seen.

—

I don’t have to tell you that he didn’t live at the Ritz. Or that Evelyn Corey didn’t live there neither. He found out she hadn’t never lived there, but he figured she’d intended to and had to give it up because they didn’t have a suite good enough for her.

I got him a room in my boarding-house in the Bronx and for the first few days he spent all his spare time looking through city directories and different telephone directories and bothering the life out of Information, trying to locate his lost lady. It was when he had practically give up hope that he told me his secret and asked for help.

“She’s all I came here for,” he said, “and if I can’t find her, I ain’t going to stay.”

Well, of course if you went at it the right way, you wouldn’t have much trouble tracing her. Pretty near anybody in the theatrical business, or the people that run the big night clubs, or the head waiters at the hotels and restaurants – they could have put you on the right track. The thing was that it would be worse to get a hold of her than not to, because she’d have give him the air so strong that he would have caught his death of cold.

So I just said that they was no question but what she had gone away somewheres, maybe to Europe, and he would hear from her as soon as she got back. I had to repeat this over and over and make it strong or he’d have left us flatter than his own feet before he pitched two games. As it was, we held him till the end of May without being obliged to try any tricks, but you could see he was getting more impatient and restless all the while and the situation got desperate just as we were starting on our first trip West. He asked me when would we hit St. Louis and I told him the date and said:

“What do you want to know for?”

“Because,” he says, “I’m going home from there.”

I repeated this sweet news to Dave and Kid Farrell. We finally called in Bull Wade and it was him that saved the day. You remember Bull had faked up a note from Evelyn to Kane down at Fort Gregg; now he suggested that he write some more notes, say one every two or three weeks, sign her name to them, send them to Bull’s brother in Montreal and have the brother mail them from there. It was a kind of a dirty, mean thing to do, but it worked. The notes all read about the same

“Dear Mr. Kane: – I am keeping track of your wonderful pitching and looking forward to seeing you when I return to New York, which will be early in the fall. I hope you haven’t forgotten me.”

And so on, signed “Your friend and admirer, Evelyn Corey.”

Hurry didn’t answer only about half of them as it was a real chore for him to write. He addressed his answers in care of Mr. Harry Wade, such and such a street number, Montreal, and when Bull’s brother got them, he forwarded them to Bull, so he’d know if they was anything special he ought to reply to.

The boys took turns entertaining Kane evenings, playing cards with him and staking him to picture shows. Johnny Abbott done more than his share. You see the pennant meant more to Johnny than to anybody else; it meant the world’s series money and a fall wedding, instead of a couple of years’ wait. And Johnny’s gal, Helen Kerslake, worked, too. She had him to her house to supper  – when her folks were out – and made him feel like he was even handsomer and more important than he thought. She went so far as to try and get some of her gal friends to play with him, but he always wanted to pet and that was a little too much.

Well, if Kane hadn’t stuck with us and turned out to be the marvel he is, the White Sox would have been so far ahead by the Fourth of July that they could have sat in the stand the rest of the season and let the Bloomer Girls play in their place. But Hurry had their number from the first time he faced them till the finish. Out of eleven games he worked against them all last year, he won ten and the other was a nothing to nothing tie. And look at the rest of his record! As I recall it, he took part in fifty-eight games. He pitched forty-three full games, winning thirty-six, losing five and tying two. And God knows how many games he saved! He had that free, easy side-arm motion that didn’t take much out of him and he could pitch every third day and be at his best.

But don’t let me forget to credit myself with an assist. Late in August, Kane told me he couldn’t stand it no longer to just get short notes from the Corey gal and never see her, and when we started on our September trip West, he was going to steal a week off and run up to Montreal; he would join us later, but he must see Evelyn. Well, for once in my life I had an idear hit me right between the eyes.

The Yuma gal, Minnie Olson, had been writing to him once a week and though he hardly ever wrote to her and seemed to only be thinking of Corey, still I noticed that he could hardly help from crying when Minnie’s letters came. So I suggested to Dave that he telegraph Minnie to come East and visit with all her expenses paid, wire her money for her transportation, tell her it would be doing Kane a big favor as well as the rest of us, and ask her to send Kane a telegram, saying when she would reach New York, but to be sure and never mention that she wasn’t doing it on her own hook.

Two days after Dave’s message was sent, Kane got a wire from El Paso. She was on her way and would he meet her at the Pennsylvania Station on such and such a date. I never seen a man as happy as Hurry was when he read that telegram.

“I knew she was stuck on me,” he said, “but I didn’t know it was that strong. She must have worked in a store or something since spring to save up money for this trip.”

You would have thought he’d never heard of or seen a gal by the name of Evelyn Corey.

Minnie arrived and was just what we expected: a plain, honest, good-hearted, small-town gal, dressed for a masquerade. We had supper with her and Kane her first night in town – I and Johnny and Helen. She was trembling like a leaf, partly from excitement over being in New York and amongst strangers, but mostly on account of seeing the big sap again. He wasn’t no sap to her and I wished they was some dame would look at me the way she kept looking at Hurry.

The next morning Helen took her on a shopping tour and got her fixed up so cute that you couldn’t hardly recognize her. In the afternoon she went to the ball game and seen Kane shut the Detroit club out with two hits.

When Hurry got a glimpse of her in her Fifth Avenue clothes, he was as proud as if he had bought them himself and it didn’t seem to occur to him that they must have cost more than she could have paid.

Well, with Kane happy and no danger of him walking out on us, all we had to worry about was that the White Sox still led us by three games, with less than twenty left to play. And the schedule was different than usual – we had to wind up with a Western trip and play our last thirteen games on the road. I and Johnny and Dave was talking it over one day and the three of us agreed that we would be suckers not to insist on Miss Olson going along. But Dave wondered if she wouldn’t feel funny, being the only girl.

“I’ll make my gal go, too,” said Johnny.

And that’s the way it was fixed.

We opened in St. Louis and beat them two out of three. Olds was trimmed, but Carney and Kane both won. We didn’t gain no ground, because the White Sox grabbed two out of three from Washington. We made a sweep of our four games in Detroit, while the Sox was winning three from Philadelphia. That moved us up to two and a half games from first place. We beat Cleveland three straight, Kane licking them 6 to 1 and holding Carney’s one run lead through the eighth and ninth innings of another game. At the same time, Chicago took three from Boston.

So we finally struck old Chi, where the fans was already counting the pennant won, two and a half games behind and three to go – meaning we had to win all three or be sunk.

I told you how Kane had the Chicago club’s number. But I didn’t tell you how Eddie Brainard had been making a monkey of us. He had only worked against us six times and had beat us five. His other game was the nothing to nothing tie with Hurry. Eddie is one sweet pitcher and if he had been the horse for work that Kane was, that last series wouldn’t have got us nowheres. But Eddie needs his full rest and it was a cinch he wouldn’t be in there for more than one game and maybe part of another.

In Brainard’s six games against us, he had give us a total of four runs, shutting us out three times and trimming us 3 to 2, 4 to 1 and 2 to 1. As the White Sox only needed one game, it was a cinch that they wouldn’t start Eddie against Kane, who was so tough for them, but would save him for Carney or Olds, whichever one worked first. Carney hadn’t been able to finish a game with Chicago and Olds’ record wasn’t much better.

Well, we was having breakfast in our hotel the morning we got in from Cleveland, and Kane sent for Dave to come to the table where him and Johnny Abbott and the two gals was eating.

“Boss,” he says, “I’m thinking of getting married and so is Johnny here, but they ain’t neither of us can do it, not now anyway, unless we grab some of that world’s series jack. And we can’t get into the series without we win these three games. So if I was managing this ball club, I’d figure on that and know just how to work my pitchers.”

“Maybe I’ve thought about it a little myself,” says Dave. “But I’d like to listen to your idears.”

“All right,” says Kane. “I’d start Kane today, and I’d start Kane tomorrow, and I’d start Kane the day after that.”

“My plan is a little different,” said Dave. “Of course you start today, and if you win, why, I want to play a joke on them tomorrow. I intend to start Olds so they’ll start Brainard. And if the game is anywheres near close at the end of the third or fourth innings, you’re going in. It will be too late for them to take Brainard out and expect him to be as good the third day. And if we win that second game, why, you won’t have to beg me to pitch the last one.”

You’ll think I’m getting long-winded, but they ain’t much more to tell. You probably heard the details of those first two games even if you was on the Other Side. Hurry beat them the first one, 7 to 1, and their one run was my fault. Claymore was on second base with two men out in the sixth innings. King hit a foul ball right straight up and I dropped it. And then he pulled a base-hit inside of Bull, and Claymore scored. Olds and Brainard started the second game and at the end of our half of the fourth innings, the score was one and one. Hurry had been warming up easy right along, but it certainly was a big surprise to the Chicago club and pretty near everybody else when Dave motioned him in to relieve Olds. The White Sox never came close to another run and we got to Brainard for one in the eighth, just enough to beat him.

Eddie had pitched his head off and it was a tough one for him to lose. But the best part of it was, he was through and out of the way.

Well, Johnny and Kane had their usual date with the two gals for supper. Johnny was in his bathroom, washing up, when the phone rang. Kane answered it, but he talked kind of low and Johnny didn’t hear what he was saying. But when Hurry had hung up, he acted kind of nervous and Johnny asked him what was the matter.

“It’s hard luck,” said Kane. “They’s a friend of mine from Yuma here, and he’s in trouble and I’ve got to go over on the North Side and see him. Will you take both the gals to supper yourself? Because I may not be back till late. And don’t tell Min who I’m going to see.”

“How could I tell her when you ain’t told me?” said Johnny.

“Well,” said Kane, “just tell her I’m wore out from working so hard two days in a row and I went right to bed so I’d be all right for tomorrow.”

Johnny was kind of worried and tried to coax him not to go. But Kane ducked out and didn’t come in till midnight. Johnny tried to find out where he’d been and what had happened, but he said he was too sleepy to talk. Just the same, Johnny says, he tossed around and moaned all night like he was having a nightmare, and he usually slept like a corpse.

Kane got up early and went down to breakfast before Johnny was dressed. But Johnny was still worried, and hustled up and caught him before he was out of the dining-room. He was hoping Hurry would explain his getting in late and not sleeping. Kane wouldn’t talk, though, and still acted nervous. So Johnny finally said:

“Hurry, you know what this game today means to me and you ought to know what it means to you. If we get trimmed, a lot of people besides ourselves will be disappointed, but they won’t nobody be as disappointed as me. I wished you’d have had a good sleep last night and if you’ll take my advice, you’ll go up in the room and rest till it’s time to go to the ball yard. If you’re anywheres near yourself, this Chicago club is licked. And for heaven’s sakes, be yourself, or your roomy is liable to walk out into Lake Michigan tonight so far that I can’t get back!”

“I’m myself,” says Kane and got up and left the table, but not quick enough so that Johnny didn’t see tears in his eyes.

—

That afternoon’s crowd beat all records and I was tickled to death to see it, because Hurry had always done his best work in front of crowds that was pulling against him. He warmed up fine and they wasn’t nobody on our club, nobody but Kane himself and two others, who didn’t feel perfectly confident that we were “in.”

The White Sox were starting Sam Bonner and while he had beat us three or four times, we’d always got runs off him, and they’d always been lucky to score at all against Kane.

Bonner went through the first innings without no trouble. And then we got the shock of our lives. The first ball Hurry pitched was high and outside and it felt funny when I caught it. I was used to that old “zip” and I could have caught this one in my bare hand. Claymore took a cut at the next one and hit it a mile to left center for three bases. King hit for two bases, Welsh was safe when Digman threw a ground ball into the seats, and Kramer slapped one out of the park for a homer. Four runs. The crowd was wild and we were wilder.

You ought to have heard us on that bench. “Yellow so-and-so” was the mildest name Hurry got called. Dave couldn’t do nothing but just mumble and shake his fists at Kane. We was all raving and asking each other what in hell was going on. Hurry stood in front facing us, but he was looking up in the stand and he acted like he didn’t hear one word of the sweet remarks meant for his ears.

Johnny Abbott pulled me aside.

“Listen,” he says. “This kid ain’t yellow and he ain’t wore out. They’s something wrong here.”

By this time Dave had found his voice and he yelled at Kane: “You so-and-so so-and-so! You’re going to stay right in there and pitch till this game is over! And if you don’t pitch like you can pitch, I’ll shoot you dead tonight just as sure as you’re a yellow, quitting ——— !”

We’d forgot it was our turn to bat and Hildebrand was threatening to forfeit the game before he could get Bull Wade to go up there. Kane still stood in front of us, staring. But pretty soon Dave told young Topping to run out to the bull pen and warn Carney and Olds to both be ready. I seen Topping stop a minute alongside of Kane and look up in the stand where Kane was looking. I seen Topping say something to Kane and I heard Kane call him a liar. Then Topping said something more and Hurry turned white as a sheet and pretty near fell into the dugout. I noticed his hand shake as he took a drink of water. And then he went over to Dave and I heard him say:

“I’m sorry, Boss. I had a bad inning. But I’ll be all right from now on.”

“You’d better!” says Dave.

“Get me some runs is all I ask,” says Kane.

And the words wasn’t no sooner out of his mouth when Bull smacked one a mile over Claymore’s head and came into the plate standing up. They was another tune on the bench now. We were yelling for blood, and we got it. Before they relieved Bonner, we’d got to him for three singles and a double – mine, if you must know – and the score was tied.

Say, if you think you ever seen pitching, you ought to have watched Kane cut them through there the rest of that day. Fourteen strike-outs in the last eight innings! And the only man to reach first base was Kramer, when Stout dropped an easy fly ball in the fifth.

Well, to shorten it up, Bull and Johnny Abbott and myself had some luck against Pierce in the seventh innings. Bull and Johnny scored and we licked them, 6 to 4.

In the club-house, Dave went to Hurry and said:

“Have you got anything to tell me, any explanation of the way you looked at the start of that game?”

“Boss,” said Kane, “I didn’t sleep good last night. Johnny will be a witness to that. I felt terrible in that first innings. I seemed to have lost my ‘fast.’ In the second innings it came back and I was all right.”

And that’s all he would say.

You know how we went ahead and took the big series, four games out of five, and how Hurry gave them one run in the three games he pitched. And now you’re going to know what I promised to tell you when we first sat down, and I hope I ain’t keeping you from a date with that gal from St. Joe.

—

The world’s series ended in St. Louis and naturally I didn’t come back East when it was over. Neither did Kane, because he was going home to Yuma, along with his Minnie. Well, they were leaving the next night, though most of the other boys had ducked out right after the final game. Hurry called me up at my house three or four hours before his train was due to leave and asked me would I come and see him and give him some advice. So I went to the hotel and he got me in his room and locked the door.

Here is what he had to say:

On the night before that last game in Chi, a gal called him up and it was nobody but our old friend Evelyn Corey. She asked him to come out to a certain hotel on the North Side and have supper with her. He went because he felt kind of sorry for her. But when he seen her, he lost his head and was just as nuts about her as he’d been at Fort Gregg. She encouraged him and strung him along till he forgot all about poor Minnie. Evelyn told him she knew he could have his pick of a hundred gals and she was broken-hearted because they was no chance for her. He asked her what made her think that, and she put her handkerchief to her eyes and pretended she was crying and that drove him wild and he said he wouldn’t marry nobody but her.

Then she told him they had better forget it, that she was broke now, but had been used to luxury, and he promised he would work hard and save up till he had three or four thousand dollars and that would be enough for a start.

“Four thousand dollars!” she says. “Why, that wouldn’t buy the runs in my stockings! I wouldn’t think of marrying a man who had less than twenty thousand. I would want a honeymoon in Europe and we’d buy a car over there and tour the whole continent, and then come home and settle down in some nice suburb of New York. And so,” she says, “I am going to get up and leave you right now because I see that my dream won’t never come true.”

She left him sitting in the restaurant and he was the only person there outside of the waiters. But after he’d sat a little while – he was waiting till the first shock of his disappointment had wore off – a black-haired bird with a waxed mustache came up to him and asked if he wasn’t Hurry Kane, the great pitcher. Then he said: “I suppose you’ll pitch again tomorrow,” and Kane said yes.

“I haven’t nothing against you,” says the stranger, “but I hope you lose. It will cost me a lot of money if you win.”

“How much?” said Kane.

“So much,” says the stranger, “that I will give you twenty thousand dollars if you get beat.”

“I can’t throw my pals,” said Kane.

“Well,” said the stranger, “two of your pals has already agreed to throw you.”

Kane asked him who he referred to, but he wouldn’t tell. Kane don’t know yet, but I do. It was Dignan and Stout, our short-stopper and first baseman, and you’ll notice they ain’t with our club no more.

Hurry held out as long as he could, but he thought of Evelyn and that honeymoon in Europe broke him down. He took five thousand dollars’ advance and was to come to the same place and get the balance right after the game.

He said that after Johnny Abbott had give him that talk at the breakfast table, he went out and rode around in a taxi so he could cry without being seen.

Well, I’ve told you about that terrible first innings. And I’ve told you about young Topping talking to him before he went down to the bull pen to deliver Dave’s message to Carney and Olds. Topping asked him what he was staring at and Hurry pointed Evelyn out to him and said she was his gal.

“Your gal’s grandmother!” said Topping. “That’s Evelyn Corey and she belongs to Sam Morris, the bookie. If I was you, I’d lay off. You needn’t tell Dave, but I was in Ike Bloom’s at one o’clock this morning, and Sam and she were there, too. And one of the waiters told me that Sam had bet twenty thousand dollars on the White Sox way last spring and had got six to one for his money.”

Hurry quit talking and I started to bawl him out. But I couldn’t stay mad at him, especially when I realized that they was a fifty-three-hundred-dollar check in my pocket which I’d never have had only for him. Besides, they ain’t nothing crooked about him. He’s just a bone-headed sap.

“I won’t tell Dave on you,” I said, and I got up to go.

“Wait a minute,” says Kane. “I confessed so I could ask you a question. I’ve still got that five thousand which Morris paid me in advance. With that dough and the fifty-three hundred from the series, I and Min could buy ourself a nice little home in Yuma. But do you think I should ought to give it back to that crook?”

“No,” said I. “What you ought to do is split it with young Topping. He was your good luck!”

—

I run acrost Topping right here in town not long ago. And the first thing he said was, “What do you think of that goofy Kane? I had a letter from him and a check. He said the check was what he owed me.”

“Twenty-five hundred dollars?” I says.

“Two hundred,” said Topping, “and if I ever lent him two hundred or two cents, I’ll roll a hoop from here to Yuma.”

In This Corner…

1 … Champion
2 … Battle of the Century
3 … A Frame-Up

• 1 •

Champion

Midge Kelly scored his first knockout when he was seventeen. The knockee was his brother Connie, three years his junior and a cripple. The purse was a half dollar given to the younger Kelly by a lady whose electric [car] had just missed bumping his soul from his frail little body.

Connie did not know Midge was in the house, else he never would have risked laying the prize on the arm of the least comfortable chair in the room, the better to observe its shining beauty. As Midge entered from the kitchen, the crippled boy covered the coin with his hand, but the movement lacked the speed requisite to escape his brother’s quick eye.

“Watcha got there?” demanded Midge.

“Nothin’,” said Connie.

“You’re a one legged liar!” said Midge.

He strode over to his brother’s chair and grasped the hand that concealed the coin.

“Let loose!” he ordered.

Connie began to cry.

“Let loose and shut up your noise,” said the elder, and jerked his brother’s hand from the chair arm.

The coin fell onto the bare floor. Midge pounced on it. His weak mouth widened in a triumphant smile.

“Nothin’, huh?” he said. “All right, if it’s nothin’ you don’t want it.”

“Give that back,” sobbed the younger.

“I’ll give you a red nose, you little sneak! Where’d you steal it?”

“I didn’t steal it. It’s mine. A lady give it to me after she pretty near hit me with a car.”

“It’s a crime she missed you,” said Midge.

Midge started for the front door. The cripple picked up his crutch, rose from his chair with difficulty, and, still sobbing, came toward Midge. The latter heard him and stopped.

“You better stay where you’re at,” he said.

“I want my money,” cried the boy.

“I know what you want,” said Midge.

Doubling up the fist that held the half dollar, he landed with all his strength on his brother’s mouth. Connie fell to the floor with a thud, the crutch tumbling on top of him. Midge stood beside the prostrate form.

“Is that enough?” he said. “Or do you want this, too?”

And he kicked him in the crippled leg.

“I guess that’ll hold you,” he said.

There was no response from the boy on the floor. Midge looked at him a moment, then at the coin in his hand, and then went out into the street, whistling.

An hour later, when Mrs. Kelly came home from her day’s work at Faulkner’s Steam Laundry, she found Connie on the floor, moaning. Dropping on her knees beside him, she called him by name a score of times. Then she got up and, pale as a ghost, dashed from the house. Dr. Ryan left the Kelly abode about dusk and walked toward Halsted Street. Mrs. Dorgan spied him as he passed her gate.

“Who’s sick, Doctor?” she called.

“Poor little Connie,” he replied. “He had a bad fall.”

“How did it happen?”

“I can’t say for sure, Margaret, but I’d almost bet he was knocked down.”

“Knocked down!” exclaimed Mrs. Dorgan.

“Why, who – ?”

“Have you seen the other one lately?”

“Michael? No, not since mornin’. You can’t be thinkin’—”

“I wouldn’t put it past him, Margaret,” said the doctor gravely. “The lad’s mouth is swollen and cut, and his poor, skinny little leg is bruised. He surely didn’t do it to himself and I think Helen suspects the other one.”

“Lord save us!” said Mrs. Dorgan. “I’ll run over and see if I can help.”

“That’s a good woman,” said Doctor Ryan, and went on down the street.

Near midnight, when Midge came home, his mother was sitting at Connie’s bedside. She did not look up.

“Well,” said Midge, “what’s the matter?”

She remained silent. Midge repeated his question.

“Michael, you know what’s the matter,” she said at length.

“I don’t know nothin’,” said Midge.

“Don’t lie to me, Michael. What did you do to your brother?”

“Nothin’.”

“You hit him.”

“Well, then, I hit him. What of it? It ain’t the first time.”

Her lips pressed tightly together, her face like chalk, Ellen Kelly rose from her chair and made straight for him. Midge backed against the door.

“Lay off’n me, Ma. I don’t want to fight no woman.”

Still she came on breathing heavily.

“Stop where you’re at, Ma,” he warned.

There was a brief struggle and Midge’s mother lay on the floor before him.

“You ain’t hurt, Ma. You’re lucky I didn’t land good. And I told you to lay off’n me.”

“God forgive you, Michael!”

Midge found Hap Collins in the showdown game at the Royal.

“Come on out a minute,” he said.

Hap followed him out on the walk.

“I’m leavin’ town for a w’ile,” said Midge.

“What for?”

“Well, we had a little run-in up to the house. The kid stole a half buck off’n me, and when I went after it he cracked me with his crutch. So I nailed him. And the old lady came at me with a chair and I took it off’n her and she fell down.”

“How is Connie hurt?”

“Not bad.”

“What are you runnin’ away for?”

“Who the hell said I was runnin’ away? I’m sick and tired o’ gettin’ picked on; that’s all. So I’m leavin’ for a w’ile and I want a piece o’ money.”

“I ain’t only got six bits,” said Happy.

“You’re in bad shape, ain’t you? Well, come through with it.”

Happy came through.

“You oughtn’t to hit the kid,” he said.

“I ain’t astin’ you who can I hit,” snarled Midge. “You try to put somethin’ over on me and you’ll get the same dose. I’m goin’ now.”

“Go as far as you like,” said Happy, but not until he was sure that Kelly was out of hearing.

Early the following morning, Midge boarded a train for Milwaukee. He had no ticket, but no one knew the difference. The conductor remained in the caboose.

On a night six months later, Midge hurried out of the “stage door” of the Star Boxing Club and made for Duane’s saloon, two blocks away. In his pocket were twelve dollars, his reward for having battered up one Demon Dempsey through the six rounds of the first preliminary.

It was Midge’s first professional engagement in the manly art. Also it was the first time in weeks that he had earned twelve dollars.

On the way to Duane’s he had to pass Niemann’s. He pulled his cap over his eyes and increased his pace until he had gone by. Inside Niemann’s stood a trusting bartender, who for ten days had staked Midge to drinks and allowed him to ravage the lunch on a promise to come in and settle the moment he was paid for the “prelim.”

Midge strode into Duane’s and aroused the napping bartender by slapping a silver dollar on the festive board.

“Gimme a shot,” said Midge.

The shooting continued until the wind-up at the Star was over and part of the fight crowd joined Midge in front of Duane’s bar. A youth in the early twenties, standing next to young Kelly, finally summoned sufficient courage to address him.

“Wasn’t you in the first bout?” he ventured.

“Yeh,” Midge replied.

“My name’s Hersch,” said the other.

Midge received the startling information in silence.

“I don’t want to butt in,” continued Mr. Hersch, “but I’d like to buy you a drink.”

“All right,” said Midge, “but don’t overstrain yourself.”

Mr. Hersch laughed uproariously and beckoned to the bartender.

“You certainly gave that wop a trimmin’ tonight,” said the buyer of the drink, when they had been served. “I thought you’d kill him.”

“I would if I hadn’t let up,” Midge replied. “I’ll kill ’em all.”

“You got the wallop all right,” the other said admiringly.

“Have I got the wallop?” said Midge. “Say, I can kick like a mule. Did you notice them muscles in my shoulders?”

“Notice ’em? I couldn’t help from noticin’ ’em,” said Hersch. “I says to the fella settin’ alongside o’ me, I says: ‘Look at them shoulders! No wonder he can hit,’ I says to him.”

“Just let me land and it’s good-by, baby,” said Midge. “I’ll kill ’em all.”

The oral manslaughter continued until Duane’s closed for the night. At parting, Midge and his new friend shook hands and arranged for a meeting the following evening.

For nearly a week the two were together almost constantly. It was Hersch’s pleasant role to listen to Midge’s modest revelations concerning himself, and to buy every time Midge’s glass was empty. But there came an evening when Hersch regretfully announced that he must go home to supper.

“I got a date for eight bells,” he confided. “I could stick till then, only I must clean up and put on the Sunday clo’es, ’cause she’s the prettiest little thing in Milwaukee.”

“Can’t you fix it for two?” asked Midge.

“I don’t know who to get,” Hersch replied. “Wait, though. I got a sister and if she ain’t busy, it’ll be O.K. She’s no bum for looks herself.”

So it came about that Midge and Emma Hersch and Emma’s brother and the prettiest little thing in Milwaukee foregathered at Wall’s and danced half the night away. And Midge and Emma danced every dance together, for though every little one-step seemed to induce a new thirst of its own, Lou Hersch stayed too sober to dance with his own sister.

The next day, penniless at last in spite of his phenomenal ability to make someone else settle, Midge Kelly sought out Doc Hammond, matchmaker for the Star, and asked to be booked for the next show.

“I could put you on with Tracy for the next bout,” said Doc.

“What’s they in it?” asked Midge.

“Twenty if you cop,” Doc told him.

“Have a heart,” protested Midge. “Didn’t I look good the other night?”

“You looked all right. But you aren’t Freddie Welsh yet by a consid’able margin.”

“I ain’t scared of Freddie Welsh or none of ’em,” said Midge.

“Well, we don’t pay our boxers by the size of their chests,” Doc said. “I’m offerin’ you this Tracy bout. Take it or leave it.”

“All right; I’m on,” said Midge, and he passed a pleasant afternoon at Duane’s on the strength of his booking.

Young Tracy’s manager came to Midge the night before the show.

“How do you feel about this go?” he asked.

“Me?” said Midge, “I feel all right. What do you mean, how do I feel?”

“I mean,” said Tracy’s manager, “that we’re mighty anxious to win, ’cause the boy’s got a chanct in Philly if he cops this one.”

“What’s your proposition?” asked Midge.

“Fifty bucks,” said Tracy’s manager.

“What do you think I am, a crook? Me lay down for fifty bucks. Not me!”

“Seventy-five, then,” said Tracy’s manager.

The market closed on eighty and the details were agreed on in short order. And the next night Midge was stopped in the second round by a terrific slap on the forearm.

This time Midge passed up both Niemann’s and Duane’s, having a sizable account at each place, and sought his refreshment at Stein’s farther down the street.

When the profits of his deal with Tracy were gone, he learned, by first-hand information from Doc Hammond and the matchmakers at other “clubs,” that he was no longer desired for even the cheapest of preliminaries. There was no danger of his starving or dying of thirst while Emma and Lou Hersch lived. But he made up his mind, four months after his defeat by Young Tracy, that Milwaukee was not the ideal place for him to live.

“I can lick the best of ’em,” he reasoned, “but there ain’t no more chanct for me here. I can maybe go east and get on somewheres. And besides—”

But just after Midge had purchased a ticket to Chicago with the money he had “borrowed” from Emma Hersch “to buy shoes,” a heavy hand was laid on his shoulders and he turned to face two strangers.

“Where are you goin’, Kelly?” inquired the owner of the heavy hand.

“Nowheres,” said Midge. “What the hell do you care?”

The other stranger spoke:

“Kelly, I’m employed by Emma Hersch’s mother to see that you do right by her. And we want you to stay here till you’ve done it.”

“You won’t get nothin’ but the worst of it, monkeying with me,” said Midge.

Nevertheless he did not depart for Chicago that night. Two days later, Emma Hersch became Mrs. Kelly, and the gift of the groom, when once they were alone, was a crushing blow on the bride’s pale cheek.

Next morning, Midge left Milwaukee as he had entered it – by fast freight.

—

“They’s no use kiddin’ ourself any more,” said Tommy Haley. “He might get down to thirty-seven in a pinch, but if he done below that a mouse could stop him. He’s a welter; that’s what he is and he knows it as well as I do. He’s growed like a weed in the last six mont’s. I told him, I says, ‘If you don’t quit growin’ they won’t be nobody for you to box, only Willard and them.’ He says, ‘Well, I wouldn’t run away from Willard if I weighed twenty pounds more.’ m

“He must hate himself,” said Tommy’s brother.

“I never seen a good one that didn’t,” said Tommy. “And Midge is a good one; don’t make no mistake about that. I wisht we could of got Welsh before the kid growed so big. But it’s too late now. I won’t make no holler, though, if we can match him up with the Dutchman.”

“Who do you mean?”

“Young Goetz, the welter champ. We mightn’t not get so much dough for the bout itself, but it’d roll in afterward. What a drawin’ card we’d be, ’cause the people pays their money to see the fella with the wallop, and that’s Midge. And we’d keep the title just as long as Midge could make the weight.”

“Can’t you land no match with Goetz?”

“Sure, ’cause he needs the money. But I’ve went careful with the kid so far and look at the results I got! So what’s the use of takin’ a chanct? The kid’s comin’ every minute and Goetz is goin’ back faster’n big Johnson did. I think we could lick him now; I’d bet my life on it. But six mont’s from now they won’t be no risk. He’ll of licked hisself before that time. Then all as we’ll have to do is sign up with him and wait for the referee to stop it. But Midge is so crazy to get at him now that I can’t hardly hold him back.”

The brothers Haley were lunching in a Boston hotel. Dan had come down from Holyoke to visit with Tommy and to watch the latter’s protégé go twelve rounds, or less, with Bud Cross. The bout promised little in the way of a contest, for Midge had twice stopped the Baltimore youth and Bud’s reputation for gameness was all that had earned him the date. The fans were willing to pay the price to see Midge’s hay-making left, but they wanted to see it used on an opponent who would not jump out of the ring the first time he felt its crushing force. But Cross was such an opponent, and his willingness to stop boxing-gloves with his eyes, ears, nose and throat had long enabled him to escape the horrors of honest labor. A game boy was Bud, and he showed it in his battered, swollen, discolored face.

“I should think,” said Dan Haley, “that the kid’d do whatever you tell him after all you done for him.”

“Well,” said Tommy, “he’s took my dope pretty straight so far, but he’s so sure of hisself that he can’t see no reason for waitin’. He’ll do what I say, though; he’d be a sucker not to.”

“You got a contrac’ with him?”

“No, I don’t need no contrac’. He knows it was me that drug him out o’ the gutter and he ain’t goin’ to turn me down now, when he’s got the dough and bound to get more. Where’d he of been at if I hadn’t listened to him when he first come to me? That’s pretty near two years ago now, but it seems like last week. I was settin’ in the s’loon acrost from the Pleasant Club in Philly, waitin’ for McCann to count the dough and come over, when this little bum blowed in and tried to stand the house off for a drink. They told him nothin’ doin’ and to beat it out o’ there, and then he seen me and come over to where I was settin’ and ast me wasn’t I a boxin’ man and I told him who I was. Then he ast me for money to buy a shot and I told him to set down and I’d buy it for him.

“Then we got talkin’ things over and he told me his name and told me about fightin’ a couple o’ prelims out to Milwaukee. So I says, ‘Well, boy, I don’t know how good or how rotten you are, but you won’t never get nowheres trainin’ on that stuff.’ So he says he’d cut it out if he could get on in a bout and I says I would give him a chanct if he played square with me and didn’t touch no more to drink. So we shook hands and I took him up to the hotel with me and give him a bath and the next day I bought him some clo’es. And I staked him to eats and sleeps for over six weeks. He had a hard time breakin’ away from the polish, but finally I thought he was fit and I give him his chanct. He went on with Smiley Sayer and stopped him so quick that Smiley thought sure he was poisoned.

“Well, you know what he’s did since. The only beatin’ in his record was by Tracy in Milwaukee before I got hold of him, and he’s licked Tracy three times in the last year.

“I’ve gave him all the best of it in a money way and he’s got seven thousand bucks in cold storage. How’s that for a kid that was in the gutter two years ago? And he’d have still more yet if he wasn’t so nuts over clo’es and got to stop at the good hotels and so forth.”

“Where’s his home at?”

“Well, he ain’t really got no home. He came from Chicago and his mother canned him out o’ the house for bein’ no good. She give him a raw deal, I guess, and he says he won’t have nothin’ to do with her unlest she comes to him first. She’s got a pile o’ money, he says, so he ain’t worryin’ about her.”

The gentleman under discussion entered the café and swaggered to Tommy’s table, while the whole room turned to look.

Midge was the picture of health despite a slightly colored eye and an ear that seemed to have no opening. But perhaps it was not his healthiness that drew all eyes. His diamond horse-shoe tie pin, his purple cross-striped shirt, his orange shoes and his light blue suit fairly screamed for attention.

“Where you been?” he asked Tommy. “I been lookin’ all over for you.”

“Set down,” said his manager.

“No time,” said Midge. “I’m goin’ down to the w’arf and see ’em unload the fish.”

“Shake hands with my brother Dan,” said Tommy.

Midge shook hands with the Holyoke Haley.

“If you’re Tommy’s brother, you’re O.K. with me,” said Midge, and the brothers beamed with pleasure.

Dan moistened his lips and murmured an embarrassed reply, but it was lost on the young gladiator.

“Leave me take twenty,” Midge was saying. “I prob’ly won’t need it, but I don’t like to be caught short.”

Tommy parted with a twenty dollar bill and recorded the transaction in a small black book the insurance company had given him for Christmas.

“But,” he said, “it won’t cost you no twenty to look at them fish. Want me to go along?”

“No,” said Midge hastily. “You and your brother here prob’ly got a lot to say to each other.”

“Well,” said Tommy, “don’t take no bad money and don’t get lost. And you better be back at four o’clock and lay down a w’ile.”

“I don’t need no rest to beat this guy,” said Midge. “He’ll do enough layin’ down for the both of us.”

And laughing even more than the jest called for, he strode out through the fire of admiring and startled glances.

The corner of Boylston and Tremont was the nearest Midge got to the wharf, but the lady awaiting him was doubtless a more dazzling sight than the catch of the luckiest Massachusetts fisherman. She could talk, too – probably better than the fish.

“O you Kid!” she said, flashing a few silver teeth among the gold. “O you fighting man!”

Midge smiled up at her.

“We’ll go somewheres and get a drink,” he said. “One won’t hurt.”

—

In New Orleans, five months after he had rearranged the map of Bud Cross for the third time, Midge finished training for his championship bout with the Dutchman.

Back in his hotel after the final workout, Midge stopped to chat with some of the boys from up north, who had made the long trip to see a champion dethroned, for the result of this bout was so nearly a foregone conclusion that even the experts had guessed it.

Tommy Haley secured the key and the mail and ascended to the Kelly suite. He was bathing when Midge came in, half an hour later.

“Any mail?” asked Midge.

“There on the bed,” replied Tommy from the tub.

Midge picked up the stack of letters and postcards and glanced them over. From the pile he sorted out three letters and laid them on the table. The rest he tossed into the waste-basket. Then he picked up the three and sat for a few moments holding them, while his eyes gazed off into space. At length he looked again at the three unopened letters in his hand; then he put one in his pocket and tossed the other two at the basket. They missed their target and fell on the floor.

“Hell!” said Midge, and stooping over picked them up.

He opened one postmarked Milwaukee and read:

Dear Husband:

I have wrote to you so manny times and got no anser and I dont know if you ever got them, so I am writeing again in the hopes you will get this letter and anser. I dont like to bother you with my trubles and I would not only for the baby and I am not asking you should write to me but only send a little money and I am not asking for myself but the baby has not been well a day sence last Aug. and the dr. told me she cant live much longer unless I give her better food and thats impossible the ways things are. Lou has not been working for a year and what I make dont hardley pay for the rent. I am not asking for you to give me any money, but only you should send what I loaned when convenient and I think it amts. to about $36.00. Please try and send that amt. and it will help me, but if you cant send the whole amt. try and send me something.

Your wife,

Emma.

Midge tore the letter into a hundred pieces and scattered them over the floor.

“Money, money, money!” he said. “They must think I’m made o’ money. I s’pose the old woman’s after it too.”

He opened his mother’s letter:

Dear Michael Connie wonted me to rite and say you must beet the dutchman and he is sur you will and wonted me to say we wont you to rite and tell us about it, but I gess you havent no time to rite or we herd from you long beffore this but I wish you would rite jest a line or 2 boy becaus it wuld be better for Connie then a barl of medisin. It wuld help me to keep things going if you send me money now and then when you can spair it but if you cant send no money try and fine time to rite a letter onley a few lines and it will please Connie, jest think boy he hasent got out of bed in over 3 yrs. Connie says good luck.

Your Mother,

Ellen F. Kelly.

“I thought so,” said Midge. “They’re all alike.” The third letter was from New York. It read:

Hon: – This is the last letter you will get from me before your champ, but I will send you a telegram Saturday, but I can’t say as much in a telegram as in a letter and I am writeing this to let you know I am thinking of you and praying for good luck.

Lick him good hon and don’t wait no longer than you have to and don’t forget to wire me as soon as its over. Give him that little old left of yours on the nose hon and don’t be afraid of spoiling his good looks because he couldn’t be no homlier than he is. But don’t let him spoil my baby’s pretty face. You won’t will you hon.

Well hon I would give anything to be there and see it, but I guess you love Haley better than me or you wouldn’t let him keep me away. But when your champ hon we can do as we please and tell Haley to go to the devil.

Well hon I will send you a telegram Saturday and I almost forgot to tell you I will need some more money, a couple hundred say and you will have to wire it to me as soon as you get this. You will won’t you hon.

I will send you a telegram Saturday and remember hon I am pulling for you.

Well good-by sweetheart and good luck.

Grace.

“They’re all alike,” said Midge. “Money, money, money.”

Tommy Haley, shining from his ablutions, came in from the adjoining room.

“Thought you’d be layin’ down,” he said.

“I’m goin’ to,” said Midge, unbuttoning his orange shoes.

“I’ll call you at six and you can eat up here without no bugs to pester you. I got to go down and give them birds their tickets.”

“Did you hear from Goldberg?” asked Midge.

“Didn’t I tell you? Sure; fifteen weeks at five hundred, if we win. And we can get a guarantee o’ twelve thousand, with privileges either in New York or Milwaukee.”

“Who with?”

“Anybody that’ll stand up in front of you. You don’t care who it is, do you?”

“Not me. I’ll make ’em all look like a monkey.”

“Well you better lay down a w’ile.”

“Oh, say, wire two hundred to Grace for me, will you? Right away; the New York address.”

“Two hundred! You just sent her three hundred last Sunday.”

“Well, what the hell do you care?”

“All right, all right. Don’t get sore about it. Anything else?”

“That’s all,” said Midge, and dropped onto the bed.

—

“And I want the deed done before I come back,” said Grace as she rose from the table. “You won’t fall down on me, will you, hon?”

“Leave it to me,” said Midge. “And don’t spend no more than you have to.”

Grace smiled a farewell and left the café. Midge continued to sip his coffee and read his paper.

They were in Chicago and they were in the middle of Midge’s first week in vaudeville. He had come straight north to reap the rewards of his glorious victory over the broken down Dutchman. A fortnight had been spent in learning his act, which consisted of a gymnastic exhibition and a ten minutes’ monologue on the various excellences of Midge Kelly. And now he was twice daily turning ’em away from the Madison Theater.

His breakfast over and his paper read, Midge sauntered into the lobby and asked for his key. He then beckoned to a bellboy, who had been hoping for that very honor.

“Find Haley, Tommy Haley,” said Midge. “Tell him to come up to my room.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Kelly,” said the boy, and proceeded to break all his former records for diligence.

Midge was looking out of his seventh-story window when Tommy answered the summons.

“What’ll it be?” inquired his manager.

There was a pause before Midge replied.

“Haley,” he said, “twenty-five per cent’s a whole lot o’ money.”

“I guess I got it comin’, ain’t I?” said Tommy.

“I don’t see how you figger it. I don’t see where you’re worth it to me.”

“Well,” said Tommy, “I didn’t expect nothin’ like this. I thought you was satisfied with the bargain. I don’t want to beat nobody out o’ nothin’, but I don’t see where you could have got anybody else that would of did all I done for you.”

“Sure, that’s all right,” said the champion. “You done a lot for me in Philly. And you got good money for it, didn’t you?”

“I ain’t makin’ no holler. Still and all, the big money’s still ahead of us yet. And if it hadn’t of been for me, you wouldn’t of never got within grabbin’ distance.”

“Oh, I guess I could of went along all right,” said Midge. “Who was it that hung that left on the Dutchman’s jaw, me or you?”

“Yes, but you wouldn’t been in the ring with the Dutchman if it wasn’t for how I handled you.”

“Well, this won’t get us nowheres. The idear is that you ain’t worth no twenty-five per cent now and it don’t make no diff’rence what come off a year or two ago.”

“Don’t it?” said Tommy. “I’d say it made a whole lot of difference.”

“Well, I say it don’t and I guess that settles it.”

“Look here, Midge,” Tommy said, “I thought I was fair with you, but if you don’t think so, I’m willin’ to hear what you think is fair. I don’t want nobody callin’ me a Sherlock. Let’s go down to business and sign up a contrac’. What’s your figger?”

“I ain’t namin’ no figger,” Midge replied. “I’m sayin’ that twenty-five’s too much. Now what are you willin’ to take?”

“How about twenty?”

“Twenty’s too much,” said Kelly.

“What ain’t too much?” asked Tommy.

“Well, Haley, I might as well give it to you straight. They ain’t nothin’ that ain’t too much.”

“You mean you don’t want me at no figger?”

“That’s the idear.”

There was a minute’s silence. Then Tommy Haley walked toward the door.

“Midge,” he said, in a choking voice, “you’re makin’ a big mistake, boy. You can’t throw down your best friends and get away with it. That damn woman will ruin you.”

Midge sprang from his seat.

“You shut your mouth!” he stormed. “Get out o’ here before they have to carry you out. You been spongin’ off o’ me long enough. Say one more word about the girl or about anything else and you’ll get what the Dutchman got. Now get out!”

And Tommy Haley, having a very vivid memory of the Dutchman’s face as he fell, got out.

Grace came in later, dropped her numerous bundles on the lounge and perched herself on the arm of Midge’s chair.

“Well?” she said.

“Well,” said Midge, “I got rid of him.”

“Good boy!” said Grace. “And now I think you might give me that twenty-five per cent.”

“Besides the seventy-five you’re already gettin’?” said Midge.

“Don’t be no grouch, hon. You don’t look pretty when you’re grouchy.”

“It ain’t my business to look pretty,” Midge replied.

“Wait till you see how I look with the stuff I bought this mornin’!”

Midge glanced at the bundles on the lounge.

“There’s Haley’s twenty-five per cent,” he said, “and then some.”

—

The champion did not remain long without a manager. Haley’s successor was none other than Jerome Harris, who saw in Midge a better meal ticket than his popular-priced musical show had been.

The contract, giving Mr. Harris twenty-five per cent of Midge’s earnings, was signed in Detroit the week after Tommy Haley had heard his dismissal read. It had taken Midge just six days to learn that a popular actor cannot get on without the ministrations of a man who thinks, talks and means business. At first Grace objected to the new member of the firm, but when Mr. Harris had demanded and secured from the vaudeville people a one-hundred dollar increase in Midge’s weekly stipend, she was convinced that the champion had acted for the best.

“You and my missus will have some great old times,” Harris told Grace. “I’d of wired her to join us here, only I seen the Kid’s bookin’ takes us to Milwaukee next week, and that’s where she is.”

But when they were introduced in the Milwaukee hotel, Grace admitted to herself that her feeling for Mrs. Harris could hardly be called love at first sight. Midge, on the contrary, gave his new manager’s wife the many times over and seemed loath to end the feast of his eyes.

“Some doll,” he said to Grace when they were alone.

“Doll is right,” the lady replied, “and sawdust where her brains ought to be.”

“I’m li’ble to steal that baby,” said Midge, and he smiled as he noted the effect of his words on his audience’s face.

On Tuesday of the Milwaukee week the champion successfully defended his title in a bout that the newspapers never reported. Midge was alone in his room that morning when a visitor entered without knocking. The visitor was Lou Hersch.

Midge turned white at sight of him.

“What do you want?” he demanded.

“I guess you know,” said Lou Hersch. “Your wife’s starvin’ to death and your baby’s starvin’ to death and I’m starvin’ to death. And you’re dirty with money.”

“Listen,” said Midge, “if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t never saw your sister. And, if you ain’t man enough to hold a job, what’s that to me? The best thing you can do is keep away from me.

“You give me a piece o’ money and I’ll go.”

Midge’s reply to the ultimatum was a straight right to his brother-in-law’s narrow chest.

“Take that home to your sister.”

And after Lou Hersch picked himself up and slunk away, Midge thought: “It’s lucky I didn’t give him my left or I’d of croaked him. And if I’d hit him in the stomach, I’d of broke his spine.”

—

There was a party after each evening performance during the Milwaukee engagement. The wine flowed freely and Midge had more of it than Tommy Haley ever would have permitted him. Mr. Harris offered no objection, which was possibly just as well for his own physical comfort.

In the dancing between drinks, Midge had his new manager’s wife for a partner as often as Grace. The latter’s face as she floundered round in the arms of the portly Harris, belied her frequent protestations that she was having the time of her life.

Several times that week, Midge thought Grace was on the point of starting the quarrel he hoped to have. But it was not until Friday night that she accommodated. He and Mrs. Harris had disappeared after the matinee and when Grace saw him again at the close of the night show, she came to the point at once.

“What are you tryin’ to pull off?” she demanded.

“It’s none o’ your business, is it?” said Midge.

“You bet it’s my business; mine and Harris’s. You cut it short or you’ll find out.”

“Listen,” said Midge, “have you got a mortgage on me or somethin’? You talk like we was married.”

“We’re goin’ to be, too. And tomorrow’s as good a time as any.”

“Just about,” Midge said. “You got as much chanct o’ marryin’ me tomorrow as the next day or next year and that ain’t no chanct at all.”

“We’ll find out,” said Grace.

“You’re the one that’s got somethin’ to find out.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m married already.”

“You lie!”

“You think so, do you? Well, s’pose you go to this here address and get acquainted with my missus.”

Midge scrawled a number on a piece of paper and handed it to her. She stared at it unseeingly.

“Well,” said Midge, “I ain’t kiddin’ you. You go there and ask for Mrs. Michael Kelly, and if you don’t find her, I’ll marry you tomorrow before breakfast.”

Still Grace stared at the scrap of paper. To Midge it seemed an age before she spoke again.

“You lied to me all this w’ile.”

“You never ast me was I married. What’s more, what the hell diff’rence did it make to you? You got a split, didn’t you? Better’n fifty-fifty.”

He started away.

“Where you goin’?”

“I’m goin’ to meet Harris and his wife.”

“I’m goin’ with you. You’re not goin’ to shake me now.”

“Yes, I am, too,” said Midge quietly. “When I leave town tomorrow night, you’re going to stay here. And if I see where you’re goin’ to make a fuss, I’ll put you in a hospital where they’ll keep you quiet. You can get your stuff tomorrow mornin’ and I’ll slip you a hundred bucks. And then I don’t want to see no more o’ you. And don’t try and tag along now or I’ll have to add another K. O. to the old record.”

When Grace returned to the hotel that night, she discovered that Midge and the Harrises had moved to another. And when Midge left town the following night, he was again without a manager, and Mr. Harris was without a wife.

—

Three days prior to Midge Kelly’s ten-round bout with Young Milton in New York City, the sporting editor of The News assigned Joe Morgan to write two or three thousand words about the champion to run with a picture layout for Sunday.

Joe Morgan dropped in at Midge’s training quarters Friday afternoon. Midge, he learned, was doing road work, but Midge’s manager, Wallie Adams, stood ready and willing to supply reams of dope about the greatest fighter of the age.

“Let’s hear what you’ve got,” said Joe, “and then I’ll try to fix up something.”

So Wallie stepped on the accelerator of his imagination and shot away.

“Just a kid; that’s all he is; a regular boy. Get what I mean? Don’t know the meanin’ o’ bad habits. Never tasted liquor in his life and would prob’bly get sick if he smelled it. Clean livin’ put him up where he’s at. Get what I mean? And modest and unassumin’ as a school girl. He’s so quiet you wouldn’t never know he was round. And he’d go to jail before he’d talk about himself.

“No job at all to get him in shape, ’cause he’s always that way. The only trouble we have with him is gettin’ him to light into these poor bums they match him up with. He’s scared he’ll hurt somebody. Get what I mean? He’s tickled to death over this match with Milton, ’cause everybody says Milton can stand the gaff. Midge’ll maybe be able to cut loose a little this time. But the last two bouts he had, the guys hadn’t no business in the ring with him, and he was holdin’ back all the w’ile for the fear he’d kill somebody. Get what I mean?”

“Is he married?” inquired Joe.

“Say, you’d think he was married to hear him rave about them kiddies he’s got. His fam’ly’s up in Canada to their summer home and Midge is wild to get up there with ’em. He thinks more o’ that wife and them kiddies than all the money in the world. Get what I mean?”

“How many children has he?”

“I don’t know, four or five, I guess. All boys and every one of ’em a dead ringer for their dad.”

“Is his father living?”

“No, the old man died when he was a kid. But he’s got a grand old mother and a kid brother out in Chi. They’re the first ones he thinks about after a match, them and his wife and kiddies. And he don’t forget to send the old woman a thousand bucks after every bout. He’s goin’ to buy her a new home as soon as they pay him off for this match.”

“How about his brother? Is he going to tackle the game?”

“Sure, and Midge says he’ll be a champion before he’s twenty years old. They’re a fightin’ fam’ly and all of ’em honest and straight as a die. Get what I mean? A fella that I can’t tell you his name come to Midge in Milwaukee oncet and wanted him to throw a fight and Midge give him such a trimmin’ in the street that he couldn’t go on that night. That’s the kind he is. Get what I mean?”

Joe Morgan hung around the camp until Midge and his trainers returned.

“One o’ the boys from The News,” said Wallie by way of introduction. “I been givin’ him your fam’ly hist’ry.”

“Did he give you good dope?” he inquired.

“He’s some historian,” said Joe.

“Don’t call me no names,” said Wallie smiling. “Call us up if they’s anything more you want. And keep your eyes on us Monday night. Get what I mean?”

The story in Sunday’s News was read by thousands of lovers of the manly art. It was well written and full of human interest. Its slight inaccuracies went unchallenged, though three readers, besides Wallie Adams and Midge Kelly, saw and recognized them. The three were Grace, Tommy Haley and Jerome Harris and the comments they made were not for publication.

Neither the Mrs. Kelly in Chicago nor the Mrs. Kelly in Milwaukee knew that there was such a paper as the New York News. And even if they had known of it and that it contained two columns of reading matter about Midge, neither mother nor wife could have bought it. For The News on Sunday is a nickel a copy.

Joe Morgan could have written more accurately, no doubt, if instead of Wallie Adams, he had interviewed Ellen Kelly and Connie Kelly and Emma Kelly and Lou Hersch and Grace and Jerome Harris and Tommy Haley and Hap Collins and two or three Milwaukee bartenders.

But a story built on their evidence would never have passed the sporting editor.

“Suppose you can prove it,” that gentleman would have said, “It wouldn’t get us anything but abuse to print it. The people don’t want to see him knocked. He’s champion.”

• 2 •

Battle of the Century

I don’t know nothing that you don’t know, but if you want to hear it again, all right. I’ll have to start back pretty near two years ago, the first time I seen Jim after he stopped Big Wheeler and win the title. He’d signed up with a circus and I happened to be in Omaha when it hit there. I run into them on the street, Jim and his manager, Larry Moon. I had them come to my hotel where we could talk things over.

“Well, Jim,” I said, “how does it feel to be champ?”

“Not so good,” he says.

“Well,” I said, “you never did care much for the glory. But still and all it’s pretty sweet to have all that dough.”

“All what dough?” says Jim.

“Why,” I said, “what you got out of the Wheeler fight, and what you’re getting with this troupe, and what you’ve got a chance to get.”

Jim laughed and so did Moon.

“Listen, Pinkie,” says Moon. “You’re an old pal, so I don’t mind telling you a couple of facts. Our net profits out of the Wheeler fight wouldn’t pay for a Chinaman’s personal laundry. We’re making a little money with this show, but we’ve got to spend it because we’re champion. We’ve got an offer to make a picture, but it ain’t so much and we’ll have to blow the most of it to show we’re a good fella. Further and more, Jim hates that kind of work. They’s one thing he can do better than anybody else, and that’s fight. And that’s all he wants to do, just fight.”

“Well,” I said, “let him fight! He don’t have to fight for nothing.”

“Let him fight who?” says Larry.

“Why, anybody that’ll take him on,” I said. “Let him be a champ like some of the old boys and battle everybody that wants his game.”

“That’s a grand idear!” said Larry. “Now maybe you’ll go ahead and name four or five guys that wants his game; that is, guys that’s got enough chance with him so as they’d draw two hundred people at the gate.”

“Well,” I said, “how about—” I had to stop and think.

“Sure!” said Larry. “There you are! Now you’ll get some idear of what we’re up against. You say, ‘Let him be a champ like some of the old boys and fight everybody.’ That’d be O.K. if we was living twenty or thirty years ago when they was a bunch round like Fitz, Corbett and McCoy, and Choynski, Sharkey, Ruhlin, big Jeff, and all that gang; any one of them liable to knock each other’s block off. But who have we got to pick from? They ain’t a man living or dead that’s got a chance in God’s world to even make this baby prespire, and the worst of it is that everybody knows it. Here I got a champion at a time when everything’s big money and he should ought to be worth a million fish to me and himself, and he ain’t worth a dime. And he won’t be worth a dime, neither, unless I can build something up.

“They’s just one chance for us,” says Larry, “and that’s to have some young fella spring up from nowheres and knock five or six of these ‘contenders’ for a gool; then we’ll have to stall a w’ile and pretend like we’re scared of him till we’ve got the bugs thinking that maybe he has a look-in. The one thing in our favor is that people loves to see a champion get socked, especially my champion, who ain’t no matinée idol. So if they think they’s a man capable of socking him, they’ll pay to see it come off. Believe me, if we do get a break like that, I’ll demand a purse that’ll knock their eye out. Because fights is going to be few and far between for my little ward. His trouble is that he’s too good. He’d be better if he was worse. Right now they’s no man in sight that it wouldn’t be a joke to match him with. So, as I say, all we can do is watch and pray and hope that some hero pops up before the heavyweight champion of the world dies of starvation. Him and his manager both.”

II

It was quite a w’ile after this when I was in New York and dropped in at the apartment where Jim and Larry was living.

“Set down,” said Moon. “Jim’s out buying new records, but I expect him right back.”

So we set and chinned till the champ showed up. He’d boughten the afternoon papers and he showed us the big headlines about the scrap in London – “Goulet Stops Bradford in First Round.”

“That Englishman must be a fine heel!” said Jim. “This little French boy popped him on the chin and he laid down and rolled over like a circus dog.”

Larry grabbed the papers and read the story. “Boys,” he says, “this may be it!”

“May be what?” says Jim.

“Our chance!” said Moon. “This thing might be built up till it meant something!”

“Say, listen,” says the champ; “I and you have been together long enough so as we ought to be able to speak the same language. But when you say ‘This thing might be built up,’ I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about this thing that come off in London,” said Larry. “Here’s the champion of England and the champion of France, the only two countries over there that has boxing. Well, the champion of France stops this Englishman with a punch and that makes him the champion of Europe. And it makes him look pretty good to the English because they was all stuck on this Bradford. And what looks good to the English looks good to a lot of people here. The way the papers plays it up, you can see they figure they’s a good deal of interest in it. Further and more, this guy Goulet is a war hero. He’s the idol of Europe and the champion of Europe, and if he was built up right he’d be a great card over here. That’s what I’m talking about, a match between their champ and our champ for the championship of the world.”

“You don’t mean match me with this Goulet?” said Jim.

“That’s exactly what I mean” says Moon.

“All right,” says Jim. “You’re my matchmaker and I fight who you pick out. But I don’t see how you come to overlook Benny Leonard.”

III

I staid round town and seen Larry two or three times.

“It’s going to be softer than I figured,” he told me. “Those writers over in England has went cuckoo over the Frenchman. They was so nuts about Bradford that they think the guy that stopped him must be a cave man. And our papers is printing all the junk and their readers fall for it. As a matter of fact, I suppose Johnny Coulon could knock Bradford acrost the channel, but don’t tell nobody I said that. Though I guess they wouldn’t believe it anyway. The combination of what them big English reporters say, along with Goulet being a war hero and handsome – well, it’s making him a popular idol in America.

“But the thing’s got to be nursed along and worked up, and that’s my job. It’ll take time, but it’ll be worth it. The tough problem ain’t getting the fans steamed up. They’ll take care of themselves. What I’ve got to do is convince some guy with money and a lot of nerve that it would be a fight, not a murder. I’ve already stuck one line in the papers that I’m proud of. Maybe you seen it. I said that while Jim Dugan wasn’t scared of nobody in the world, still he felt like he ought to give the American contenders first shot. Because this Goulet has showed that he’s got a wallop and he might land a lucky one on Jim. And we’d hate to see the title leave the old U. S. A. Not so bad, was it?”

A few weeks later it was in the papers that Goulet and his manager, La Chance, was coming over. The picture people had made the Frenchman a sweet offer and they was no money to be picked up in France even for a champion.

“All I hope,” said Moon, “is that he won’t get seasick. Judging from his pictures, he ain’t no side-show fat man at best and we don’t want him to look no skinnier than usual or our match will be all wet.”

Well, I don’t know if he’d been seasick or not, but he certainly was a brittle-looking bird. The first time I seen him, up to one of the roof shows, I thought the guy that pointed him out must be mistaken. But it really was him – a pale, frail boy that if he’d went to college, the football coaches would of rushed him for cheer leader. As for him standing up in a box fight with the man that had sprinkled Big Wheeler all over Ohio, well, it was just a laugh.

“You may as well forget it,” I said when I seen Moon. “Your show’s a flop and you won’t get no backer.”

“Watch me,” he says. “Give me time and a fair break in the luck!”

So one day he calls up the hotel where the Frenchman was staying and made a date with his manager, La Chance.

“Listen, Mr. La Chance,” he said. “If you’ll let me have a free hand, and you do what I say, I can make some real money for you and me both. Suppose I could get your man matched with Dugan. How much would you want for your share?”

“I can’t speak no English,” said La Chance.

“How about two hundred thousand dollars?” said Moon.

This time he really couldn’t speak no English. He’d swooned.

They called the house physician and brought him to and laid him on the bed.

“A heart attack!” says the Doc. “Don’t let him get excited.”

“All right,” said Larry. “I guess I better go.”

He started to follow the doctor out.

“Wait a minute!” says the sick man of Europe. So Moon turned round and come back.

“My heart’s all right now,” said La Chance. “It was just the first shock. You made mention of a sum of money – two hundred thousand –  – was it francs?”

“I don’t know nothing about francs,” said Larry. “I asked you a plain question: Will your man fight my man for two hundred thousand dollars?”

“How much would our share be?” said La Chance.

“I’m talking about your share,” says Larry. “Two hundred thousand for you, draw, lose or get killed.”

La Chance sprung at him with a kiss for both cheeks. but Larry ducked away.

“You’ve got to let me run this,” he said. “You’ve got to put yourself in my hands and do everything I say.”

“Absolutely!” says the Frenchman.

“All right,” says Larry. “Now, in the first place, don’t get the idear in your head that this is going to be a quick clean-up. It’ll take time –  – maybe a year. What are you fellas going to do when you’ve finished your picture?”

“Well,” said La Chance, “we thought maybe we’d stay over here and have a few fights.”

“No!” says Larry. “You go right back home and don’t fight nobody! You stay there till you hear from me. I think it’d be a good idear for you to have one bout in this country, to show that your man can knock somebody besides that English tumbler. But I’ll pick out the man for you to fight and I’ll let you know when I’ve got him. He’ll be somebody that you can’t help licking, not by no possible chance. You won’t get much money for it, but it’ll be advertising. Is that all right with you?”

“Oui, oui,” says La Chance. “What else?”

“Nothing else,” said Moon.

IV

Several months is supposed to elapse between these two acts. During this time Dugan has to eat, so he takes on a set-up out in Michigan and knocks him in three rounds, or two rounds longer than necessary. Also, they pick out a guy for Goulet to trim – old Tommy Fogel. This “fight” takes place over in Jersey and Tommy surprises them. He manages to stand up three rounds without his crutches. The Frenchman looks fast as a streak and everybody gets excited. People is saying to each other, “Even if he is a little light he may be just the kind of a fighter that would give Dugan trouble. He’s in there and out again like a flash and he’s hard to hit. Jim ain’t never faced a man like him. He’s liable to run the big boy ragged.”

A little w’ile after this great battle Jim and Larry get hungry again and they accept an offer of a hundred thousand to meet a big horse named Joe Barnes. Dugan has knocked him before and can do it again and they ain’t much danger in taking him on, though some of the wise birds thinks different. They think Larry is risking the title because Barnes is a guy that fights five nights a week and he’s always in shape and he’s so tough that nobody ever did stop him except Jim himself. As a matter of fact, Larry ain’t running no more risk than getting in a bath tub. Because w’ile all the wise guys know that Jim can punch, what they don’t seem to realize is that he can take it.

Anyway, this bout with Barnes was in the Big Town and Jim trained for it on a ship and when he clumb in the ring he was still at sea. In the second round Barnes clipped him on the chin with all he had. And all he had wasn’t half what he needed. After a w’ile Dugan got his land legs and begin to improve and he stopped Barnes in the twelfth with a funny-looking punch to the waistline. But they wasn’t no time during the scrap when he looked like himself and I wouldn’t be surprised if he was under wraps as well as in bad shape. However it happened, it made people think Jim wasn’t the fighter his friends claimed; it made him look like he could be licked, and that was a boost for the Goulet match.

V

They’s a big steamship man, Robert Crawley, that had a kind of a contract with La Chance and Goulet. The agreement was that if Goulet seen a chance for a big match Crawley was to be the backer. If he wanted to. If he didn’t, he was to step out.

Well, Crawley’s got a partner, Bill Guthrie, who Moon had met. So Moon phones them that he has been in communication with La Chance and La Chance says his man is ready to fight Dugan if a suitable purse is guaranteed.

“I thought maybe you’d like to talk it over,” says Larry.

So Crawley and Guthrie said they would and Moon asks them to come up and see him in a couple of days.

“Now,” said Larry to me, “I’m going way down town for lunch and you can come along if you want to. But if you don’t like Spanish cooking you better stay home.”

So I went with him to a joint off lower Broadway. They was a flock of Spanish dishes on the bill of fare, but what Moon ordered for him and I was plain ham and eggs.

W’ile the one waiter was out getting it, Moon left me and went over to the guy that had showed us to our table. They talked together for pretty near a half hour and I was through eating when Larry come back. He took a look at his food and passed it up.

“I’ve made a date with the head waiter for half past two,” he says. “That’s the soonest he can get off. If you haven’t nothing to do you can go along with us.”

“Where to?” I asked him.

“Shopping,” he said.

“Well,” I says, “I guess I better stick with you. When a man goes nuts he ought to have a friend along.”

So the two of us walked down to the Battery and fooled round till it was time to keep the date. We dropped in at the restaurant again and come out with the head waiter and the greasy bird that had waited on us. We went over to Broadway and got a taxi. Moon give the driver his orders and we started uptown. We stopped at Livington’s.

“Men’s clothing,” said Moon, and the man showed us where to go.

Well, to cut it short, we was in there an hour and when we come away our two waiter friends had bundles containing a complete new make-up – two silk hats, Prince Albert coats, gray pants, fancy shirts, ties that would knock you dead, and collars like Senator Smoot’s.

“That’s all today, boys,” said Larry. “Here’s twenty-five bucks apiece and you’ll each get seventy-five more tomorrow.. Don’t forget nothing,” he says to the head waiter, “and especially that envelope I give you.”

So we left them with their packages.

I was amongst those present the next afternoon when Crawley and Guthrie showed up. Moon had sent Dugan away.

“Now,” says Larry to our visitors, “we may as well get down to business. As I told you over the phone, I been corresponding with La Chance and he’s willing to fight us if he can get his price. But he said I would have to let Mr. Crawley handle the promotion. So I said that suited me.”

“It don’t look like a match,” said Crawley. “Goulet’s a great boy, but look at the difference in size!”

Moon laughed.

“They’s nowheres near as much difference as they was between Jim and Big Wheeler,” he says. “And you know what Jim done to him!”

“That’s all right,” said Guthrie, “but your man weighs pretty near two hundred and when a man’s that big he’s big enough for anybody. But take a man that weighs two hundred and put him against a man that weighs round 165, and the difference counts. Look at Johnson and Ketchel!”

“Now listen,” says Larry. “In the first place, my man won’t weigh 190 stripped: he may tip the beam at ten or twelve pounds more than that, but only in secret. In the second place, if the public demands the match, what do we care if the two men stacks up together like a pimple and a goiter?”

“That’s true enough,” says Crawley. “If the public does want the match.”

“You know they want the match!” said Moon. “Or if you don’t I do. And promoters wants it, too, from the number of offers I’ve had.”

“Offers from who?” says Guthrie.

“I ain’t at liberty to tell,” says Larry. “But it don’t make no difference anyway. You’ve got first crack at it on account of your contract. The question is, do you want it?”

“Yes, we want it,” said Crawley. “That is, if we can get it at a reasonable figure.”

“I’m listening,” says Larry.

“Well,” said Crawley, “your man is champion and entitled to the biggest share. We’d guarantee you a hundred thousand and Goulet fifty.”

“I see what you mean,” says Larry. “You mean you don’t want to handle it and you’ll release Goulet.”

“Where do you get that?” says Guthrie. “We don’t mean no such a thing! We’re making a legitimate offer and a good big one.”

“You’re kidding,” says Larry. “I got a hundred thousand for the match with Barnes and that was just a workout. But forgetting me entirely, what about Goulet? The least he’ll take is two hundred thousand, and if you don’t believe it, cable his manager.”

Just then in come Larry’s butler, or whatever he is.

“Two gentlemen to see you,” he says.

“Who is it?” says Larry.

“Them two foreigners again,” says the man.

“Oh, the two Cubans,” said Larry. “Take them in the side room and tell them to wait. Now,” he says, “where was we? Oh, yes, I was telling you what La Chance wants. If you don’t care to take the trouble to cable, here’s a letter from him.”

And he give them a letter to read. When they’d read it he said: “You see what he says in there about you. He says Mr. Crawley has treated him O.K. and he wants him to have first refusal of this match. That’s the only reason I’ve bothered you gentlemen. Confidentially, I didn’t think you’d want to handle a thing as big as this. So just give us our release and they’s nobody hurt.”

“Who would you give it to?” says Guthrie.

“Well,” says Moon, “I’m going to tell you men something, but I don’t want it to go no further. They’s two men in the next room that’s been pestering me to death. I promised they’d have their final answer today, but I didn’t expect them to get here till you fellas had left. When I got a release from you, I was going to phone Charley Riggs and tell him he could have the match at our figure, which is $500,000. That’s the $200,000 Goulet demands, and $300,000 for me. I know he’ll take it at that, but the only reason I’m going to offer it to him is to keep the match in this country. Because I’ve got a better offer from outside.”

“Where at?” says Guthrie.

“Havana, Cuba,” says Larry. “It’s two bankers from there that’s in the next room.”

“I’d like to meet them,” says Guthrie.

“I guess it’d be all right,” says Larry, and he touched the button. “One of them can talk pretty fair English. He’s the one I been dealing with. But the other one, I think, is the real money guy, though as far as understanding him is concerned, he might as well be a deaf mute. Show them two gentlemen in here,” he says to the butler.

Well, they come in, dressed for a wedding.

“Hello there, gentlemen,” says Larry, shaking hands with them. “I must apologize for keeping you waiting. I was busy with these two gentlemen here. Mr. Crawley and Mr. Guthrie, meet Senior Lopez and Senior Pancho, from Havana.”

Senior Lopez pulled an envelope out of his pocket and waved it.

“I’ve had this tended to,” he says, “and I guess you’ll find it all right.”

He handed the envelope to Moon and Moon opened it up. For all as I could see, it was a regular certified check.

“It looks all right,” said Larry, and waved it towards Guthrie and Crawley. “Six hundred thousand fish,” he says, “and I wished it was all mine. But I don’t even know yet whether I’m going to let these gentlemen put it up or not. If the seniors will pardon me, I’ve got a little telephoning to do, and then you can have my answer, just as I promised. If I decide on Havana we’ll take the check down town and leave it with one of the newspapers over night, and deposit it tomorrow.”

“That satisfies us,” says Senior Lopez, and Senior Pancho mumbled something that was probably Spanish for Swiss on rye.

“Now,” says Larry to Crawley, “I know you and Mr. Guthrie will excuse me for hurrying you off. I wished we could of done business, but as long as we can’t I’ve got to close with somebody else.”

“Would you mind waiting a minute?” says Crawley. “Before you do anything, I’d like to have a word or two with Mr. Guthrie and talk to you a moment in private.”

“Well,” says Moon, “I’ve already kept the seniors waiting quite a w’ile.”

“That’s all right,” says Lopez. “We don’t mind a little wait as long as you ain’t going to disappoint us.”

“Then I’ll take you in the other room,” says Larry, and we left Crawley and Guthrie aone. In a few minutes they called Larry back.

“Now listen,” said Guthrie: “You said something about cutting your price from $600,000 to $500,000 to keep the fight in America. You ain’t doing that out of patriotism!”

“You bet I ain’t!” says Moon. “If I do it, it’ll be for two good reasons. One is that all I’ll get anyway is my $300,000; the Cubans is so fair-minded that they want to see Goulet get just as much as me. The other reason is that Dugan’s scared to death of fever and he thinks Cuba’s full of it. He won’t go there unless he has to.”

“Listen,” says Guthrie; “Mr. Crawley and I have decided to make you a flat offer of $500,000 for this match. If you and La Chance are satisfied with this we’ll put up a forfeit of $100,000 tomorrow.”

Moon waited a w’ile before he spoke.

“Would you guarantee to hold the match in America?” he says.

“Either here or in London,” says Crawley.

“They’s no fever in London? “says Moon.

“I should say not!” says Crawley.

“Well,” says Moon, “if I can hold the Cubans off one more day I’ll consider it. I could meet you tomorrow and you could deposit your check.”

“That suits us,” says Crawley, and they shook hands and left.

Larry joined us in the other room and ordered drinks all round.

“You boys done fine!” he says to the two seniors. “Here’s the rest of your hundred apiece and I’m much obliged.”

“Will we send you these clothes?” says Senior Lopez.

“No,” says Larry. “You keep them for the next big fight.”

“And how about your check?” says Lopez.

“Try and cash it!” says Larry.

“That’s over,” he says, when they’d Kent. “The next thing is to land Charley Riggs.”

“What for?” says I.

“Why, to promote this match,” said Larry. “He’s the guy I’ve been after all the time, the only guy that’s big enough to put it over. But I didn’t dast go after him without something to show. When he sees that these birds is willing to put up half a million fish he’ll know it’s big enough for him.”

“But how are you going to shake them out?” I asked.

“I don’t care if they’re shook out or not, as long as he’s in,” says Moon. “But you can bet they’ll be glad enough to take him in as partner, and that’s all I want. When I get him we’re set!”

Well, as you know, he got him, and it wasn’t no job to shake the other two out. When they talked five hundred thousand, they was over their heads. And when they begin thinking about expenses, and the conversation got up round a million, they was sunk.

VI

It was early spring when I run acrost Larry again.

“I been wanting to see you,” he says. “What are you going to be doing in June?”

“I don’t now,” I said. “Just loafing,I guess.”

“Well,” he said, “would you mind doing your loafing at our camp?”

“What camp?” I asked him.

“Wherever we train,” he says. “Somewheres near New York, I suppose.”

“Where are you going to fight?” I asked.

“In Jersey,” he says. “They’s nowheres else we can. We got to be near the Big Town to get the money.”

“How about all them offers?” I says.

“Oh, you mean the ones that’s been in the papers?” said Moon. “Wasn’t those a hit? A million dollars from Nugget, Nevada! Why, if a guy showed a nickel in that town, the whole twelve that lives there would blackjack him at once!”

“What do you want of me?” I said.

“Jim needs sparring partners,” says Larry.

“I may look goofy to you,” I said, “but I pass for all right round home.”

“I was kidding,“said Larry. “What Jim wants is somebody he can talk to and play rummy with. It’s going to be a lonesome time for him and I don’t know if he can stand it or not. But he likes you and having you there once in a w’ile would be a help.”

“All right,” I said. “I’ll keep him company part of the time.”

“You know,” says Larry, “even the wise birds thinks this is easy money for Jim. But it’s going to be about the toughest money anybody ever earned.”

“What do you mean?” I says. “You don’t think the Frenchman has a chance!”

“Don’t be silly!” says Larry. “That’s just the point. If it was like the Wheeler thing, where the guy was a big hulk that it might take some trouble to topple him over, why training for it wouldn’t be such a grind. Jim would say to himself, ‘Well, I guess I can lick him all right, but he’s big and I better be in good shape. Because he might  – ’ You know how it was that time. But this is different. Here’s a guy that may be the greatest man in the world for his size. But look at his size! And yet Jim’s got to go ahead and work like he done for Wheeler. Even harder, because they’s a lot more interest in this and people’ll be watching us close. Jim could get ready in a week to knock this bird cold. But he’s got to go through with five or six weeks of the toughest kind of work, which he knows ain’t necessary. I’ve tried to convince him that they might be an upset. But he knows it’s the bunk.”

“Well,” I said, “if I haven’t nothing better to do I’ll come round and try and keep him entertained. But personally, I don’t know no work I wouldn’t be glad to stick at for five weeks, not at them kind of wages.”

VII

I landed in Jim’s camp the second week in June. The day I got there he boxed with three of his partners. Two of them was big boys and he flattened them both.

We was all alone that evening and he opened up his heart.

“Goulet’s got the right idear,” he says: “Secret training. I wished we could pull that. My training would be such a secret that I wouldn’t even find out about it myself. But Larry says no. I’ve got to show the boys I’m working so they won’t think it’s a farce. Like it wasn’t a farce already! Anyway it is for me – punching the bag and shadow boxing and skipping the rope. You ain’t got no idear how cute I feel skipping a rope! I suppose I ought to thank God they don’t make me roll a hoop or dress dolls. But even skipping a rope ain’t as bad as boxing with those heels! If I try not to hit them, the crowd thinks I ain’t giving them a run for their money. And if I get my glove close enough to their beezer so they can smell it, over they go! Then the crowd thinks I’m too rough!”

“Well,” I said, “they’s only three more weeks of it. And think of the dough and the glory!”

“The dough part’s all right,” he says. “Whatever’s left of it I can use. But glory! That’s a laugh. You don’t kid me with that line of talk. I’ve got the low-down on the whole works. Here I am, an American that’s supposed to be fighting to keep the title in this country, and I doubt if they’s a dozen Americans that ain’t pulling for me to get knocked for a corpse. Sometimes I almost feel like I ought to let myself get licked. It would be doing everybody such a big favor and make them all happy. But how could I go about it? If the guy was big and had a real haymaker I could take one and flop. But I can’t play dead from a kiss.”

“You’ll be surprised,” I said, “if he nails you in the chin and drops you.”

“Surprised ain’t the word!” said Dugan. “I mean, if he drops me. I expect to get hit; on the chin too. Because I ain’t no defensive fighter. I go in there to get my man and in order to get him I’m willing to take what he’s got. And listen: I’ve been hit on the chin before, and not by children, neither. But I hardly ever lay down unless it’s bedtime.”

I asked him how long he expected the fight to go.

“Don’t call it a fight,” he says, “not when you and I are alone. Whatever it is will go a round or two rounds or three rounds, depending on how he behaves himself. If he wants to tear in and get it over quick, I’m willing. But no matter how long it goes – whether he lays himself wide open so as I can knock him in a round, or whether he keeps away for four or five-you can mark my words that they won’t be no glory for me in winning. He’s a great fighter now! A cave man! But after I’ve knocked him he’ll be a bum. Because anybody I can lick can’t be no good.”

“You’re brooding too much,” I said.

“Let’s play cards and forget it,” he says. “Though it does me good to talk once in a w’ile. When I don’t talk I worry.”

“What about?” I asked him.

“Oh, the ‘big fight,’” he says.

“But what’s they about that to worry you?” I asked.

“Well, for one thing,” he said, “I’m scared they won’t put enough padding in the floor. I’ve read of cases where a guy got knocked and hit his bean on the floor and passed out entirely. And the guy that knocked him was held for murder. And another thing; I’m scared it may not come off after all. He may get sick.”

“What would make him sick?” I says.

“Well,” said Dugan, “he may read what the girl reporters has been writing about him.”

VIII

You know what Barnum said. Well, he didn’t go far enough. They like to be bunked, but what they like most of all is to bunk themselves.

Set round some night amongst the boys when they’re easing their way through a bottle of near Johnny Walker at eighteen fish the copy. Pretty soon you’ll hear this:

“Well, fellas, in another year we’ll be leaning up against the old mahogany again, tipping over regular highballs or real beer.”

And this:

“If they’d ever leave prohibition to a vote of the people! But they don’t dast!”

Well, I was in New York for three days prior to the “big fight,” and four or five days afterwards, and anybody that was there had to take a course in human nature. I didn’t learn much that I hadn’t suspected before, but whatever doubts I may of had was removed once and for all.

The plain facts was this: A good big man was going to fight a little man that nobody knew if he was good or not, and the good big man was bound to win and win easy unless he had a sunstroke.

But the little man was a war hero, which the big man certainly wasn’t. And the little man was romantic, besides being one of the most likable guys you’d want to meet – even if he did have a Greek profile and long eyelashes.

So they was only one logical answer, namely that Goulet, the little man, would just about kill Dugan, the big man, maybe by a sudden display of superhuman stren’th which he had been holding back all his life for this one fight, but more likely by some mysterious trick which no other fighter had ever thought of before, because in order to think of it you had to have a French brain and long eyelashes. If Goulet wasn’t going to win, what did him and his manager mean by smiling so much and looking so happy? Of course the two hundred thousand fish had nothing to do with it.

They’s two reasons why I didn’t talk back to them. One was that I haven’t no breath to waste, and the other was that I don’t like to make enemies, which you’re bound to do that whenever you tell somebody something they don’t want to believe. A lot of the fight reporters found this out. Contrary to the general belief, they’s a good many American fight writers that knows more about fights and fighters than even Bernard Shaw. Pretty near all of them come right out in print and said Goulet didn’t have a chance. In return for which they got a hat full of letters calling them every name that could get through the mails.

You seen the fight yourself. Personally. I haven’t made up my mind whether Dugan done it as quick as he could, or whether he held back a w’ile to make it look like the guy was something more than a push-over. I ain’t seen Jim to ask him. And I only seen Moon once, and then all he said was “Didn’t I tell you!”

“Tell me what?” I said.

“That I was doing Charley Riggs a favor, coaxing him into this,” says Larry.

Well, I guess he was. With all the trimming Charley took from one guy and another, he must of came out with a profit for himself and his backer of something like half a million. And not only that, but the way he handled it put him in a class by himself as a promoter. The big fights to come will be staged by Charley or they won’t be big fights.

That’s all, except a little incidence of a man that set beside me coming back in the tube.

“A great fight!” he says.

“Yes, it was,” said I.

“The Frenchman showed up pretty good,” he says, “though I had a kind of an idear that he’d win. I see now where I was foolish.”

“How’s that?” I asked him.

“Well,” he said, “the way I’ve got it figured out, he wasn’t big enough.”

“By gosh!” I said. “I believe you’ve hit the nail right on the head!”

• 3 •

A Frame-Up

I

I suppose you could call it a frame. But it wasn’t like no frame that was ever pulled before. They’s been plenty where one guy was paid to lay down. This is the first I heard of where a guy had to be bribed to win. And it’s the first where a bird was bribed and didn’t know it.

You know they’ve postponed the match with Britton. Nate said at first that his boy wasn’t ready yet, but the papers all kidded him. Because anybody that seen Burke in the Kemp fight knows he’s ready. So Nate had to change his story and say Burke had hurt one of his hands on Kemp’s egg, and he wasn’t going to take no chance boxing again till he was O.K., which mightn’t be for a couple of months. Say, Kemp’s head may be hard, but it ain’t hard enough to hurt one of them hands of Burkey’s. He could play catch with Big Bertha.

No, they’s another reason why Nate ast for a postponement of the Britton date. It’s got to be another frame-up that may take a long w’ile to fix, and he ain’t got no plans made yet. And till he’s all set, he’d be a dumbbell to send Burke against a man as good as Jack Britton.

The papers has printed a lot of stuff about Burke  – how he ain’t only been boxing a little over a year, and won’t be twenty-one till next July, and five or six bouts is all he’s been in, and now look at him, offered a match for the welterweight championship and $10,000 win, lose or draw! But if they knew Burke like some of us knows him, they could write a book. Because he certainly is Duke of the Cuckoos and the world’s greatest sap. How they got him ready for the Kemp bout is a story in itself, but it won’t come out till he’s through with the game. So what I tell you is between you and I.

It was one afternoon about a year ago. Bill Brennan was in Kid Howard’s gymnasium in Chi, working out, and they was a gang looking on. Howard seen one boy in the crowd that you couldn’t help from noticing. He was made up for one of the hicks in “Way Down East.” He’d bought his collar in Akron and his coat sleeves died just south of his elbow. From his pants to his vest was a toll call. He hadn’t never shaved and his w’iskers was just the right number and len’th to string a violin. Thinks Howard to himself: “If you seen a stage rube dressed like that, you’d say it was overdone.”

Well, it got late and the gang thinned out till finally they wasn’t nobody left but Howard and this sap. So Howard ast him if he wanted to see somebody.

“Yes,” said the kid. “I want to see a man that can learn me to fight.”

So Howard ast him if he meant box.

“Box or fight, I don’t care which, just so’s I can learn the rules,” said the hick.

“Did you ever box?” says Howard.

“No,” says the kid, “but I can learn quick and I’m willing to pay for it. I got plenty of money. I got pretty close to $700.”

Howard ast him what was his name and where he come from and his business.

“My name’s Burke and I work on my old man’s farm,” he says. “It’s acrost the Lake, outside of Benton Harbor. We raise peaches.”

“Has your old man got money?” ast Howard.

“Plenty,” says the kid.

“Well,” said Howard, “if you work on a farm, you’re getting plenty of exercise. And if your old man’s rich, you ain’t after the sugar. So what’s the idear of going into this game?”

“I don’t want to go in no game,” he says. “I just want to learn good enough so’s I can win this one match and then I’m through.”

“What one match?” says Howard.

“With Charley Porter,” says Burke.

Well, of course you’ve heard of Charley Porter. He’s a Benton Harbor boy too. He’d fought Lewis twice and Britton once and he’d give them both a sweet battle. He was considered about fourth or fifth best amongst the welters. So it struck Howard funny that this green rube, that hadn’t never boxed, should think he could take a few lessons and then be good enough to beat a boy like Porter.

“You’re an ambitious kid,” he says to him, “but if I was you I’d take my seven hundred men and invest it some other way. Porter’s had forty fights, and that’s what counts. You could take all the lessons in the world, and he’d make a monkey out of you. Unless you’re a boy wonder or something. But even if you are, you couldn’t get no match with Porter till you’d proved it. And that means you’d have to beat some other good boys first.”

So Burke said: “All I come to Chicago for is to take some boxing lessons. They told me you was the man to come and see. If I’m willing to pay the money, it shouldn’t ought to make no difference to you if I get a match with Porter or not. Or if I lick him or not.”

“That’s right,” said Howard. “Only I ain’t no burglar or no con man. I’m in this business for money, but I don’t want to take nobody’s money without they get what they think they’re paying for. And if you had seven million smackers I couldn’t guarantee to make you a good boxer, not good enough to land you a match with Porter.”

“I ain’t asking you to land no match,” says Burke. “I’ll tend to that part. He’ll fight me as soon as I think I’m ready. If he don’t, I’ll run him out of Michigan. He wouldn’t dast stay round there if everybody was saying I had him scared. And that’s what they’d say if he wouldn’t fight me.”

“Why would they?” says Howard. “He’s in the game for money, too, and he couldn’t get no money for a bout with a guy like you that nobody ever heard of. They wouldn’t no club match you up.”

“I won’t have no trouble getting matched up,” says Burke. “Fitzsimmons will put us on right there in Benton Harbor. The town’s nuts over Porter and they’ll pay to see him any time. And whatever purse they offer is all his. I’ll fight him for nothing.”

“Oh!” says Howard. “That makes it different! You’re sore at him!”

“No,” says the hick, “I’m not sore at him.”

“You just don’t like him,” says Howard.

“I don’t know if I like him or not,” said Burke. “I don’t even know him.”

“But for some reason you want to give him a trimming,” says Howard. “Well, listen, boy: I understand they’s no capital punishment in your State, so it looks to me like you’d run less risk of getting killed if you’d sneak in Porter’s house some night w’ile he’s asleep and kiss him on the brow with a meat ax.”

Burke didn’t crack a smile.

“That wouldn’t get me nowheres,” he said. “They’s a reason I got to box him. If you can learn me, all right. If not, I’ll go somewheres else.”

So Howard made a date for him to come back the next day.

II

Well, when the kid stripped for action, Howard’s eyes popped out. With them comic clothes on, he’d looked awkward; he was a picture with them off. Howard says he felt like inviting the best sculptures in Chi to come and take a look.

“I was going to box with him myself,” says Howard, “but not after I seen them shoulder muscles. I figured I didn’t have enough insurance to justify me putting on the gloves with this bird. So I made Joe Rivers take him.”

Well, they could see in a minute that the rube was a born boxer. He was fast as a streak and in one lesson he learnt more than most boys picks up in a month. They just showed him how to stand and the rest seemed to come natural. In a little w’ile Joe, with all his experience, was having trouble to land, whereas Burkey was hitting Joe as often as he felt like. Only he didn’t put no zip in his punches. He pulled them all.

“Cut loose once!” says Howard. “Let’s see if you can knock him down!”

“Oh, no,” said Burkey. “This ain’t in earnest.”

Rivers looked just as well satisfied, but Howard says:

“You got to be in earnest, even when you’re just working out. They’s lots of boys as strong as you that don’t know how to get their stren’th into their punch. That’s a thing that’s got to be learnt, and I can’t learn you if I can’t see you wallop.”

“No,” says Burke. “I ain’t going to hurt nobody for nothing.”

And all Howard’s coaxing done no good. He wouldn’t cut loose.

But at the end of the six weeks he stuck round Howard’s he was one of the sweetest boxers you ever seen and Howard thought so well of him that he tried to sign him up.

“Let me handle you, Burkey,” he says. “I’ll get you on in Milwaukee and I’ll take you down east and make you some money. If you’re handled right, they’s no reason why you shouldn’t be welterweight champion some day.”

“I don’t want to be welterweight champion,” said Burke. “I just want to be champion of Charley Porter. And when I’ve beat him, I’m through.”

“All right,” says Howard. “You know what you want. But let me tell you one thing – you won’t beat Porter or no one else if you just pet them. You’ve got to hit!”

The kid smiled.

“I’ll hit when it’s time,” he says.

So that was the last Howard heard of him till pretty near a month later, when he picked up a paper and read where Young Burke, a farmer boy living outside of Benton Harbor, had stopped Charley Porter, an aspirant for the welterweight title, in one round.

III

About a month more went by before Burke showed up in Chi again and called on Nate. As soon as he mentioned his name and where he was from, Nate was interested. Because Howard had told him about his experience with the kid. But Burkey wasn’t made up no more like Howard had described him. He was wearing the best suit of clothes twenty dollars could buy.

“I went to see Howard,” he says, “but he’s out of town. So I come to you. I want to go in the fight game.”

“I understood from Howard,” says Nate, “that you was going to quit after that one bout.”

“I thought I was,” says Burkey. “But it’s different now. You see, I and my old man has busted up. So I got to make a living.”

“What was the bust-up over?” ast Nate. “Didn’t he like you boxing?”

“He didn’t care nothing about that,” says the kid. “But they was a gal he wanted I should marry. And I give her the air. So he done the same to me.”

“Why did you quit the gal?” ast Nate.

“I figured I could do better,” he says. “She’s just a gal round home there, and why should I marry her? I can pretty near pick who I want to marry.”

“Everybody can pick who they want to marry,” said Nate.

“Yes, but who I pick, I can pretty near have,” says the kid. “I thought I was stuck on this gal, but I found I wasn’t. I hadn’t seen hardly any other gals, and she was always round. So I thought she was about the only gal in the world. I know better now. But I did like her and my old man liked her and kept after me to ask her. So I ast her and she told me she was stuck on somebody else. So I ast her who was it and she said Charley Porter. She didn’t know him, but she’d seen him on the street a lot of times, and he’d smiled at her. She thought he was handsome and made a hero out of him. He was the best fighter in the world, to her mind. So I said I could beat him and she laughed at me. She says, ‘You might beat him plowing.’ So I said, ‘I can beat him boxing.’ So she says, ‘All right. You do it and I’ll like you better than him.’ So I come up here and took a few lessons and knocked him cock-eyed.

“When she seen me afterwards, she throwed her arms round my neck and said I was the best man in the world, and we got engaged. But during the time I was up here in Chi learning to box, I learnt to dance too. And I bought me these good clothes. So after I trimmed Porter I got to going over to St. Joe, to the pavilion, nights, and I seen all the gals was nuts over me. So I said to myself, ‘What’s the idear of tying up to this rube gal when you can marry somebody that is somebody – maybe one of these rich Chicago society dames.’ So I give this hick the air and my old man throwed me out of the house.”

Well, Nate’s handled a lot of boxers and never seen one yet that despised himself, but after he’d listened to this bird a w’ile, he begin to think that all the rest of them was lilies of the valley.

“Which Chicago society gal have you picked out?” he says, to lead him on.

“I don’t know yet,” says Burkey. “Some of them at the dances in St. Joe looked good, but I want to see them all before I tie myself up.”

If you ever been to St. Joe, you know the Chicago society gals that attends them dances. If you want to see one of them in the middle of the week, go up to the Draperies and ask for Min.

“You got the right dope,” Nate says. “You’d be a sucker to make a choice till you’d looked over the whole field. And in the meanw’ile, I’ll try and get you fixed up with a couple of matches so as you can grab some spending money.”

But Burke was still thinking of the dames.

“I read a great story the other day,” he says. “It was a young fella that was a boxer and one night he was walking along the street and he heard a gal scream. She was up on the porch of a big house and they was a dude there, trying to make love to her. So she didn’t like him and that’s why she screamed. So this young fella went in and grabbed the dude and knocked him for a long trip. So the gal got stuck on this young fella, the boxer, and married him and she turned out to be a millionaire.”

“A great story!” said Nate. “I certainly wished I could of read it. But suppose he’d married her and then found out that her old man made automobiles and owed everybody. A young fella can’t be too careful who he lets marry him. And if I was you I’d go slow. In the first place, most of the gals with the real class and the big money lives in New York. So why not wait till you’ve win a couple of bouts in Milwaukee or somewheres so’s I can get you dated up in the Big Town? Then you can walk up and down Eighth Avenue and help yourself to the cream.”

This was to stall him along so’s he’d forget the skirts for a w’ile and tend to business.

Nate made him work out every day and box with some of the boys. But he was just as shy of a punch as when Howard had him.

“Cut loose and slug!” Nate told him.

“What for?” he says.

“To show me if you’ve got a haymaker,” says Nate.

“Ask Porter if I have,” said the kid.

Finally Nate got him matched with Red Harris in a semi-wind-up at Milwaukee. Harris can wallop, but he’s slow. Well, Burkey made him look like he was handcuffed. Red never laid a glove on him the whole bout, w’ile Nate’s boy played him like a piano. But it was soft music and when it was over neither of them had a mark. The crowd liked Burke at first on account of his speed. But they razzed him the last few rounds because it looked like he wasn’t trying. The papers couldn’t do nothing but give him the best of it, but said he wouldn’t never get nowheres till he learned to punch. Nate had begged him all through to tear in and end it, but he might as well of tried to argue with Central.

Well, Fitzsimmons was putting on a show over to Benton Harbor and he wired Nate and ast him if he’d bring Burke there for a wind-up with a Grand Rapids boy named Hap Stein. This kid had met some of the best boys round Michigan and beat them all, and, of course, Burke’d draw good in his home town, especially after what he done to Porter.

So Nate took Burkey over there and Fitz ast Nate how the kid was coming and Nate told him:

“One of the sweetest boxers I ever seen, but he ain’t showed enough of a wallop to annoy a soap bubble.”

“It’s a funny thing,” said Fitz, “because he hit Porter just once and broke his jaw. And Charley’s jaw ain’t glass, neither. I know a punch when I see one and I doubt if Dempsey could hit harder than this bird plugged this baby.”

“Well,” says Nate, “I wished we had the prescription. He made a monkey out of Harris at Milwaukee, but he wouldn’t even slap him hard. And the boys he works out with, I’ve had them rough him so’s he’d get mad, but it didn’t do no good.”

“I don’t suppose so,” says Fitz, “because he wasn’t sore at Porter. Charley didn’t even know him.”

“But he had a reason to show Porter up,” said Nate, and he told Fitz about the rube gal.

“That’s news to me,” said Fitz. “Maybe he’ll only fight when they’s a dame for a prize. Why don’t you hire some chorus doll to vamp him and have her tell him she’s his as soon as he’s knocked all the other welters for a corpse?”

“You don’t know this bird!” said Nate. “Chorus gals would be beneath his notice. He wants a millionaire society belle and I’d have a fat chance of getting one of them to play the part.”

Well, the bout with Stein was a farce. Burkey was so fast that Hap thought they’d ganged on him, but nothing Nate could say or do had any effect. He couldn’t make the kid cut loose and punch.

IV

When they’d been back in Chi a couple of months and Burke had had one more fight in Milwaukee – he made a monkey out of Jimmy Mason – well, he begin fretting and wanted to know how soon Nate was going to take him east.

“As soon as I can get you matched,” said Nate. “But if I do date you up down there, you’ll have to cut out the cuddling and really fight or they won’t want you a second time.”

“Maybe I’ll be different down there,” said Burkey.

So along late in the fall Nate got him matched with Battling Igoe, in Boston.

“Now here’s your chance,” Nate told him. “I got Rickard’s promise that if you trim Igoe he’ll put you on in New York with Willie Kemp. And the man that beats Willie Kemp will get a whack at Britton and the big money.”

All Burke said was:

“How’s Boston for gals? Any class to them?”

“Not enough for you,” says Nate. “You’d be throwing yourself away! They’s no doubt but that you could go down to Scollay Square or Revere Beach and take your pick, but you’d be a sucker to do it. New York’s the place. And suppose you get tied up to some Boston countess and then went to New York and win a couple of big bouts and got invited round to some of them big mansions on Mott Street or the Tenderloin, and next thing you know, you’d probably meet a dozen gals that never even heard of Boston. Then you’d wished you’d of been more careful and not financed yourself to no bean shooter.”

You read about the Igoe bout? I seen it. When they was all in the ring beforehand, Nate said to Igoe, he says: “Well, Bat, we’ve decided to let you stay three rounds. That’ll be enough to give you a boxing lesson. But in the fourth round, you’re going to hear music that’ll rock you to sleep.” Nate had heard that the Battler wasn’t no lion heart and this kind of gab fretted him.

“I’ll rock him to sleep himself,” he said, but his teeth was shimmying.

Burke was just the same like in his other bouts. He wrote his name and address all over Igoe’s pan, and convinced the Battler that any time he wanted to he could knock him for a row of stumps. That went on for three rounds, with Nate, as usual, begging the kid to put over a haymaker, and Burke paying no attention. So when the bell rung for the fourth, Nate hollered, “Good night, Bat!” and Igoe thought sure he meant business. And he wasn’t named after Nelson. So the first time Burke hit him in this round he folded up like a bass singer’s chin and flopped on the floor, yelling foul. Well, we all seen the blow; it landed just under the green spot where he parks his collar button. And besides that, they wasn’t no force to it. But Igoe was through for the evening, and the kid had win another soft one. Personally I’d of rather took fifty socks on the jaw than the razzing the crowd give Bat.

Well, Nate was going to New York and stay a w’ile and he wanted to send Burke back to Chi to wait till they’d chose a date for the fight with Kemp. But Burkey said no; he could lay round New York as easy as Chicago and if Nate wouldn’t take him there he was through. He says:

“Here I am a coming champion, and what does it get me? I ain’t having no fun. I want to meet some gals and dance with them and kid them.”

“All right, come along,” says Nate. “But I wished you’d remember one thing: When you do meet them swell East Side janes, don’t treat them like toys. They’ve got feelings as well as riches and wealth, and I would rather see Kemp or Britton knock you lopsided than see you win fame and leave a trail of broken hearts.”

“I’m no flirt!” says Burkey. “I can’t help what they feel towards me, but I won’t lead them on, not unlest I’m serious myself.”

“Now you’re talking like a man!” says Nate.

So they come to New York and stopped at the Spencer. Nate had a lot of business to tend to, and guys to see, and he didn’t want this rube chasing round with him all the w’ile, so he turned him over to Jack Grace, the old lightweight. You know Jack, or at least you’ve heard of him. He’d kid Thomas A. Edison.

Nate had tipped off Jack about Burkey, and the second day they was in the Big Town, Jack took the boy for a walk. Every time they passed a car with a good-looking gal in it, Burke would ask, “Who’s that?” And Jack pretended like he knew them all.

“That’s Gwendolyn Weasel,” he’d say. “Her old man owns part of the Grand Central Station – the Lower Level. And that one’s Mildred Whiffletree, a niece of Bud Fisher, the ukulele king. And there’s Honey Hives; she’s a granddaughter of Old Man Bumble, the bee man. They got a big country place on Ellis Island.”

“Where could a man meet these gals?” ast Burkey.

“Nowheres only at their home,” said Jack. “And they’s no chance of you getting invited round yet a w’ile. Nobody knows who you are. But wait till you’ve hung one on this Kemp guy’s chin and I bet you’ll have more invitations than a roach catcher.”

Well, Nate landed the Kemp match sooner than he expected. Rickard said he’d put Burke on with Willie for the wind-up, three weeks from then. And he’d guarantee the winner a match with Britton.

Nate had got what he was after, but he was worried sick.

“I know he can beat Kemp if he fights,” he says, “but I never yet been able to make him fight. And if he just babies along like he done in these other bouts, one of these New York referees is liable to say he ain’t trying, and stop the bout. Or if it does go the limit, Kemp’ll get the decision because he’ll punch harder. And Kemp’ll hit Burke too. He’s far and away the best boy my kid’s ever been against, too good to get showed up even by as fast and clever a boxer as Burkey. Our only chance is to make this little farmer slug – tear in there and sock him like he did Porter. But how we’re going to do it is more than I know.”

V

Jack Grace is the one that deserves the credit. He went to work the night of Miss Morgan’s big show, when’ the receipts was turned over to devastated France. Nate had to buy four tickets and I and Jack and Burkey went with him.

Well, as you know, our best people was there that night.

The old Garden was full of the folks that generally goes there to the horse show, not to boxing bouts. The soup and fish was everywheres, and gals that would knock your eye out, dressed pretty near as warm as the fighters themselfs.

We couldn’t keep Burke in his seat. He was scared that he wouldn’t see all the janes, and just as scared that they wouldn’t all see him. The guys behind him was yelling murder and the ushers bawled him out a dozen times.

Then all of a sudden, his eyes jumped right out of his head and he gave a gasp and flopped down in his chair. The three of us looked where he was looking. And no wonder he’d wilted! What a gal!

She was with a middle-aged man, probably her dad, and she set in the row just ahead of us and acrost the aisle. I guess it was the first time she’d ever been to this kind of a party and she was all flushed up with excitement. But she’d of been pretty enough without that.

“There she is!” says Burke. “There’s the gal I want!”

“Who don’t!” says Nate.

“Who is she?” Burke ast, and Nate was going to tell him he didn’t know. But Jack Grace cut in.

“It’s Esther Fester,” he said. “That’s her father with her, Lester Fester. He’s the second richest man in New York. They claim he made three or four billion during the war, selling waffle irons to Belgium. And she’s his only kid. Every young millionaire in town has proposed to her, but she won’t have nothing to do with them, calls them all loafers.

“She says the man she marries will have to be a champion of something, whether it’s football or boxing or halma. She don’t care what, just so’s he’s better in one line than anybody else.”

“She’s quite a boxing fan,” says Nate. “I seen her here several times before. She maybe wants to look all the boys over and see which one she likes the best.”

“I understand she’s a great admirer of Willie Kemp,” says Jack. “She’s always here when he boxes and she probably come tonight expecting to see him in the audience. Maybe he’ll be introduced before the main bout, and if he is, we’ll watch her close and see if she’s interested.”

“Why can’t I get introduced?” ast Burke.

“You can,” said Nate. “Wait till they’re getting ready for the wind-up and then climb in the ring and tell Joe Humphreys who you are.”

Well, he couldn’t hardly wait till the preliminaries was over so’s he could get up there and have her see him. And when he bowed, it was right at her.

“Young Burke, the Michigan Flash!” says Humphreys. “He is matched to box Willie Kemp in this ring two weeks from Friday night. The winner will meet Jack Britton for the welterweight title.”

Coming back to his seat, Burkey had to pass the gal. He smiled right in her face and she smiled back. I guess it was all she could do to keep from laughing.

I don’t suppose they’s been more than three or four fights better than that Leonard-Mitchell scrap. It was certainly the best I ever seen. But I don’t believe Burke knew they was fighting.

When it was over and the gang started out he would of overtook the gal and spoke to her only for Nate holding him.

“It’d make her sore and spoil everything,” said Nate.

“How could it make her sore?” said Burke. “Didn’t she smile at me?”

“Well, it’d make her old man sore,” says Nate.

“What could he do?” says Burkey. “If he looked cross-eyed at me, I’d bust him.”

“That’d be a sweet way to start a courtship!” said Jack. “Even New York gals ain’t so far ahead of the times that they fall in love with every handsome young bud that introduces himself to their father with a smash in the jaw.”

“But I just want her phone number,” says the kid.

“You can get it at the hotel,” says Jack. “The phone company got out a book three or four years ago that gives the names of a few of their rich subscribers, and what their number used to be, and if you call it up, they’ll tell you what it’s been changed to.”

So as soon as we was back at the Spencer, Burkey run for the book. And he couldn’t find no Lester Fester.

“I didn’t think it’d be in there,” says Jack. “They’s very few New York millionaires has their number in the phone book. If they did, their wifes would bother them to death, calling up.”

“But they must be some way to locate them,” said the kid. “Somebody must know where they stay. A man as rich as him must have a big mansion somewheres. And you got to find out where it’s at. If you don’t find out for me tomorrow, why I’m through! I won’t box Kemp or no one else.”

And they knew he was cuckoo enough to mean it. But Jack Grace had his plans made already.

“I’ll locate them tomorrow,” he said, “that is, unlest you hear from the gal herself.”

“But she don’t know where I’m staying,” says Burke.

“She might maybe call up Rickard and find out,” says Jack.

So the kid went to bed and Nate and Jack set up and talked it over.

“It looks like we got him,” said Jack. “If we can make him think him and Kemp is rivals, he’ll fight.”

“But that gal can’t be framed,” says Nate. “I don’t know who she is, but she ain’t the kind we could get any help from.”

“We don’t need her help,” says Jack. “He’ll get a special delivery tomorrow afternoon, with her name signed to it; that is, what he thinks is her name. I’ll dope out the letter yet tonight. If necessary he’ll get a letter every day till the day of the bout.”

“And then what?” says Nate.

“Why, nothing,” says Jack. “What do you care, if it does the work?”

“It don’t seem right,” said Nate. “I don’t want to break the kid’s heart.”

“You got as much chance of breaking his head!” says Jack. “What about the gal in Benton Harbor, that he was so stuck on and got over it in a day? But as far as that’s concerned, we don’t have to kill this gal off when we’re through with Kemp. We can keep her going till he meets Britton. We’ll have her tell him first that he’s got to trim Kemp, and if that works, we’ll send her to Europe or somewheres, leaving him a farewell note that she’s been called away, but she’ll be back in time to see him win the title.”

“He’s a sap,” said Nate, “but I doubt if he’s dumbbell enough to swallow this.”

“You don’t appreciate him,” said Jack. “Where him and the fair sex is concerned, they’s nothing so raw that he won’t eat it up. But suppose he don’t? You ain’t got nothing to lose.”

“Just him, that’s all,” says Nate.

“Well, he’s no loss if he won’t fight,” said Jack. “And this may be the way to make him.”

VI

Burke had started training at Daley’s. When he got back from there the next afternoon, they was a special delivery waiting for him. It said:

Dear Mr. Burke:  You will probably be surprised getting a letter from one who you have never met, but still I suppose you get many letters from silly girls of my sex that has seen you and admires you. Hope you won’t think bad of me for writing to you, but am a girl that acts on their impulse and sometimes am sorry afterwards that I done so and wished I was not so silly, but you know how girls are and especially in regards to affairs of the heart.

Well, Mr. Burke, you don’t know me, but I was to the Garden last night with my daddy and set right near you and noticed you when I first come in, but didn’t dast look at you and didn’t know who you was till you was introduced from the ring. And then when you was returning to your seat I thought you smiled at me and I smiled back. Oh, Mr. Burke, was it me you was smiling at? If not I will feel very foolish for smiling at you and hope you won’t think the worse of me for doing so.

Well, anyway, it’s too late to mend and this A.M. I had my secretary get where you are staying from Mr. Rickard and am writing you this letter and suppose you will say it’s just another fool girl writing mash notes, but I flatter myself that I am a little higher class than most girls as I am a society girl and don’t write these kind of letters as a rule. So please don’t think I am a fool and tear this up. Am just a girl that sometimes lets their feelings run away with them.

Am going to make pa take me to see the bout between you and Willie Kemp, but am afraid you are going to be beaten that night, Mr. Burke, as have seen Mr. Kemp fight and believe he is going to be the champion. I admire him very much and up to last night, admired him more than any other man, but now am not so sure. There I am afraid I have been too bold and you will think I am a perfect fool.

Well, Mr. Burke, will not take up no more of your time though I don’t suppose you have read this far, but hope you don’t think I am a fool, but know you do. Pa don’t approve of me writing to men to who I am not engaged and would be very angry was he to find out I had wrote to you, so can’t let you answer this letter or call me up for fear he would find it out and be very angry. But maybe will write you again and certainly will see you fight Mr. Kemp and if you see me that night, please smile at me again so will not think you consider me a fool. But maybe you will not feel like smiling after you have boxed Mr. Kemp, as I think he is a wonder.

Well, Mr. Burke, good-by for this time and please don’t think I am a fool.

Your would-be friend,

Esther Fester.

Well, Jack Grace had guessed right. Burkey swallowed it whole. He begin reading it down in the lobby, but when he looked back and seen the name signed to it, he took it up to the room to finish it. And if he read it once, he read it twenty times – and looked sillier every time he read it. He surprised us one way, though. We was expecting he would show it to everybody. But he kept it to himself. Of course, we’d read it before it got to him. Jack had wrote it and had one of the phone gals copy it off.

Nate ast the kid at supper how he felt.

“Great!” he says.

“You want to keep working to improve your wind,” says Nate. “This is your first fifteen-round bout and you may get tired.”

“I won’t have time to get tired,” he says. “I’ll knock him dead in a round!”

It was the first time he’d ever made a speech like that.

“Looks like you was right,” says Nate to Jack, afterwards. “He’s eat it up. The only thing now is to be sure, and not overplay it. Just give him a couple more short notes between now and the bout.”

“What shall I say in them?” says Jack.

“You don’t need my advice,” said Nate. “I think you wrote that one from memory. You must of got a few mash notes yourself.”

“No,” says Jack. “All the time I was boxing, I only got letters from one gal. And she always said the same thing: ‘If you’re a man, you’ll pay me back that eight dollars and sixty cents you stole.’”

Well, Burke pestered the clerks to death asking if they was sure no mail had came for him; and he went for the phone every time it rung, and was scared to go out for fear a call would come w’ile he wasn’t there. Finally it got so that Nate couldn’t hardly drag him to Daley’s for his work-out, and they seen they’d have to spill another note or he’d worry himself out of shape. The second one was short and said:

Dear Mr. Burke:  It has been all as I could do to keep from writing you before this, but was afraid if I wrote too often you would think I was a fool.

Well, Mr. Burke, it’s only five days now till your bout with Mr. Kemp and suppose you are excited. I know I am and can’t hardly wait for the big event, though to be perfectly honest am in a funny position as I don’t know if I want you or he to win. You see I am an admirer of the both of you. Suppose you will say to yourself I must be a funny girl to not know her own mind, but you see I have admired Mr. Kemp a long time and only seen you the other night for the first time, so don’t know which I like best. Guess I will let you two decide the question for me and may the best man win.

Pa is going to take me to the fight and only hope I will not faint or something with excitement. Suppose you will think me a fool for feeling this way in regards to two parties who I have never met, but as I told you before, am a girl that always lets their feelings get the best of them, though sometimes am sorry when it is too late. Hope you won’t make me sorry, Mr. Burke. That is, if you win. Am afraid for your sake, however, that you are doomed with defeat, as Mr. Kemp has a punch and you are just a boxer that can’t hit hard.

Well, Mr. Burke, must say ta ta for this time as am going to a toddle party at the Ritz.

Yours,

Esther.

And the morning of the big day he got this one:

Dear Mr. Burke:  Just a line to let you know am thinking of you and if you beat Mr. Kemp, will call you up and see if we can’t meet somewheres and have a dance, or maybe you don’t care for la dance, but we can have a little chat if you don’t think me too much a fool.

Well, Mr. Burke, I won’t bother you when you must be already worried and nervous over the bout and will just say that I will be at the Garden and will see you even if you don’t see me and wished I could tell you where I will set but don’t know.

Well, Mr. Burke, good luck and may the best man win.

Esther.

On the way down from the hotel that night, Burkey ast Jack and I if we’d bet on him. We told him no. So he says:

“If you want to make some easy money, bet some of these wise crackers that I’ll stop this bird in a round. I’ll slap him dead!”

VII

So I and Jack did get down a couple of bets, fifty apiece. We bet the kid would win by a knock out and we got three to one. The smart guys had looked over his record and didn’t see how he could stop Kemp.

But when they got in the ring, I wished for a minute I hadn’t bet. Instead of paying any attention to what was coming off, Burkey was looking all over the house trying to locate the little peach. I was scared he’d still be doing it yet when the bout started, and Kemp’d sock him before he got down to business. But Jack Grace seen the danger, and leaned over and w’ispered to the kid:

“You remember that Fester gal? She’s up in a box with her old man.”

“Where at?” ast Burke, all excited.

“It’s pretty dark,” says Jack, “but I’ll try and point her out between rounds.”

As you know, they wasn’t no “between rounds.” In the first two minutes Kemp made five trips to the floor, and he liked it so well the last time that he decided to sleep there.

And in the excitement, Jack pretended he’d lost sight of the gal.

VIII

Burkey staid in the room all the next day, waiting for the phone call. The papers had went nuts over him and said he was the Benny Leonard of the welters, and that it was just a question of the date when the title would change hands. But for all the effect it had on Burke, they might as well of said he’d opened a bird store.

Meanw’ile, Nate and Jack Grace talked it over and decided to go through with Jack’s scheme – keep Esther alive till the Britton bout, but send her to Europe, where she wouldn’t be so much trouble. So late in the evening, w’ile Burkey was still waiting for his call, a special delivery come for him that said:

Dear Mr. Burke:  Have bad news or at least hope you will agree with me and think it is bad. By the time you receive this note, will be on the old pond with pa, bound for Europe. He got a cable this A.M. calling him to the other side and insisted on me going along. So we hustled round and got rooms on the ship that sails this P.M. I cried when he said I would have to go and hope you feel as bad as I do. But it’s only for a short time and will be back in time to see you beat Britton and win the title. After that – well, Mr. Burke, I won’t say no more.

You was wonderful last night and am proud of you. Wished I could tell you in person how much I admire you, but will do that later on. Will drop you a note just the minute we get back. In the mean time, don’t forget one who is proud of you and wished I could meet my coming champion.

Esther.

Well, it was a blow to the kid, but it would of worked out all right only for the toughest kind of a break. Nate had to hurry back to Chi, but before he left he seen Rickard and closed for the Britton bout. Burke’s end was to be $10,000.

So the second day after the Kemp bout, they was taking the Century home, and I and Jack Grace was over to see them off. They’d just shook hands and was starting through the gate when Burke seen her, the gal he’d went wild over at Miss Morgan’s show! She was saying good-by to another pip.

“Wait!” says Burkey, and before Nate could stop him, he’d grabbed the gal by the arm.

“Esther!” he says. “Miss Fester! You didn’t go after all!”

The poor gal was speechless.

“Don’t you know me?” said the kid. “I’m Burke, the boy that beat Kemp, the boy you been writing to.”

She jerked her arm loose and found her tongue.

“I’m not interested in who you are,” she said. “I don’t know you and I don’t believe I want to.”

By this time, Nate had him.

“Come on, boy,” he says. “You’ve made a mistake.”

And he dragged him through the gate, w’ile the crowd stared goggle-eyed.

“Well,” says our gal to her chum, “you’re going to have a thrill – a trip with a crazy man!”

Burke was numb, Nate tells me, till the train was way out of New York. Then he said:

“Maybe she didn’t recognize me. Or maybe she just didn’t want her friend to know.”

“That was probably it,” says Nate.

“But why did she lie to me and say she was going to Europe?” says the kid.

After a w’ile he got up from his seat.

“Her friend’s on this train,” he said. “I’m going to find her and ask her something.”

Nate tried to coax him out of it, but he wouldn’t listen. So Nate went with him to see that he didn’t get in no trouble.

They found the gal’s pal a couple of cars back. The kid stopped and said:

“I beg your pardon, lady, but I want to ask you just one question. That gal that seen you off, is her name Esther Fester?”

The jane laughed and says:

“I’m afraid it’s nothing as poetical as that. Her name is plain Mary Holt.”

Without another word, Burke followed Nate back to their own sleeper. He didn’t open his clam again till they hit Albany. Then he made some remark about wanting some fresh air, and got off the train.

That’s the last Nate seen of him till the other day, when he showed up in Chi, after money.

So you see why the Britton show had to be postponed. They’s no plot for it.

Fore!

1 … Ball-A-Hole
2 … A Caddy’s Diary
3 … Mr. Frisbie

• 1 •

Ball-A-Hole

Riverside’s only got a nine-hole course, but they’ve bought some more land and by the end of this summer they’ll have eighteen holes. They’re planning a new clubhouse too. You know the other one caught fire and burnt down. This one’s just supposed to be temporary. When they get the new course done and the clubhouse built they expect to take in about a hundred more members; and then, of course, they’ll have to have some more of us kids.

By that time, though, I hope I’ll be doing something else. I wouldn’t keep a-hold of this job now, only it gives me a chance to practice golf when there’s nobody on the course. I and Jake – he’s the second oldest kid that’s caddying here – him and I come out early Saturday mornings, and sometimes afternoons during the week when the men and women aren’t playing, and we go round together, for a nickel a hole sometimes. I’m a little better than him and I have to give him three strokes on the nine, and we break about even that way. I’ve made the nine holes once in forty-three already, and I’m only sixteen. Most generally I get round in about forty-eight or forty-nine. Jake’ll average round fifty or fifty-one. Mac, the pro., he’s an old crab. He wouldn’t try to learn us nothing. Besides, I think a fella’s better off learning by himself. Francis Ouimet started as a caddy and I guess nobody ever showed him anything. But, besides getting the chance to practice, I and Jake’s considered the best kids they got, and we make pretty good money – twice as much as the younger kids get. The regular price is two bits for every nine holes, but fellas like Mr. Joyce and Mr. Davis and them, they always slip us fifteen cents extra and sometimes as high as thirty or forty. That’s outside of the two bits.

There’s a rule in the club that nobody can call up ahead of time and engage their caddy. They’re all supposed to take whoever they get when they get up here. We’re all supposed to stick round the shop, and when somebody’s ready to play Mac tells who shall caddy for them. But I and Jake work a kind of a system. When we see somebody walking to the first tee that takes good care of us, we get outside of the shop, where the guys can see us and then they usually holler to Mac to send them Jake and I. And when some old tightwad or some crab shows up, Mac can’t find us with a search warrant. We’re gone – that’s all.

When we make the best clean-up is when Mr. Joyce and Mr. Davis and Mr. McNally and Mr. Harper play together. They never shoot for less’n a dollar a hole, and sometimes it’s as high as five bucks. And they’re all fellas that likes to win; but when they get beat it ain’t never our fault, like with some of the crabs. And the fellas that cop most of the dough don’t never forget to remember Jake and I. Mr. Joyce win thirty dollars one day this spring, and he give I and Jake a five-spot to split between us. Believe me, when there’s any balls found laying loose round the course they belong to Mr. Joyce! And I’ve gone out in the river over my knees more’n once, chasing a new ball for him, when he happened to hook one on the seventh or eighth hole.

The other kids always are trying to fix it so’s they can go round with him and the rest of the live ones, and I and Jake sometimes feel like we were hogging it. But it ain’t our fault, is it, if they’d rather have us and ask Mac to let them? Fellas that does as much for the club as them, they’ve got a right to have the caddies they like.

Well, if they were all Mr. Joyces nobody’d have a kick coming. But, believe me, there’s a few guys in the club that’s so tight you could play on them with a drumstick! I’ve been round with some of them when I couldn’t get out of it, and it’s like pulling teeth to get them to come acrost with the regular pay they’re supposed to give us. There was one that used to come out from town last year, and he never had nothing less’n a twenty-dollar bill when it was time to settle up with his caddy. The first time he sprung that on me I said I couldn’t change it but the man in the clubhouse could. So this guy said he’d go in himself and get it changed. So he went in and stalled round half an hour, hoping I’d go home. I stuck, but it didn’t get me nothing. He was studying astronomy when he came out. And the next time I seen him he’d forgot all about it.

When I went round with him again and he hauled out his twenty, I said I thought I could break it, and before he could get it back in his jeans I copped it out of his hand and ran in the clubhouse.

I got it changed into a ten and a five and five ones. I gave him back nineteen dollars.

“It’s half a buck for eighteen holes,” I said. “There was eighteen holes today and eighteen last time, so it’s a dollar altogether.” And by the time he begun to argue I was on the way to the village.

He never took me after that, but I managed not to shed tears over it.

Then there’s the fellas that everything you do for them is wrong and spoils their game. If they’ve got a five-foot putt and you take the flag out, and they miss the putt by four or five feet, it’s “Why in hell didn’t you leave the flag alone?” And if they’ve got a mashie shot and you give them their mashie and they make a fiivver of it, it’s “Why didn’t you give me my niblick, like I ast you to?” And if you stand over in the rough on the right side of the fairway when they’re driving, if they dub their drive it’s because you weren’t over on the left side.

And then there’s the guys that can’t remember how many strokes they’ve had, and they ask you. If you tell them the truth they’re as sore as a boil. What you’re supposed to do is lie a stroke. That saves them the trouble and disgrace of doing it themselves. All us kids were in the shop one week day, waiting for somebody to show, and we were talking things over; and Davy Schultz was crabbing because he never got to go round with one of the regular fellas. He said he’d drop dead if anybody ever slipped him more’n a dime extra. “You don’t go after them right,” I said to him. “If you handle them the proper way they’ll all come acrost.”

“You ain’t the only wise guy in the world,” he said to me. “I can handle them just as good as you, only I don’t get the ones that can be handled. Mac don’t never send me out with anybody but hard-boiled eggs.”

So I told him: “I never saw the man yet that I couldn’t make him loosen up.”

So he said: “Well, there’s a pair of them right here in this club that if you can squeeze a dime out of either of them on the side, I’ll give you all I make in a week.”

So I ast him who they were. He said it was Mr. Perkins and Mr. Conklin. Mr. Perkins joined the club last fall and Mr. Conklin just came in this last spring already. He’s the kind that wants all the barbers to starve to death. Jake says he wears all that stuff on his chin to keep his Adam’s apple from insect pests and frostbites. He’s director of two or three banks down town, and every time the school-teachers can’t think of nothing else to talk about, they tell you to always be straight and honest and work hard, and you’ll turn out a second Mr. Conklin. Because he did it all himself. He didn’t even have his whiskers to start with. Mr. Perkins is a warder in one of the churches and gives talks to the young men’s meetings every other Friday night. He don’t play golf on Sunday, and he don’t play golf on Monday or Saturday on account of those two days being so close to Sunday. Jake says he don’t play golf on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday or Friday, either. But, anyway, he’s got as much dough as all of Mr. Conklin’s banks, pretty near, and he don’t have to do nothing.

Well, up to the time Davy was telling his troubles I or Jake had never caddied for either one of these birds. We probably never would of, only we wanted to show Davy how good we were.

“They’re air-tight,” he said to us. “You’d stand just as much of a chance of getting three hundred yards out of a spoon.”

“What do they go round in?” I ast him.

“Neither one of them ever plays more’n the nine holes,” Davy told us; “and if you add nine or ten strokes to the score they got, you’ll be closer to the right score than they are. Mr. Conklin’s speed’s about sixty-three, and Mr. Perkins made a fifty-nine once. It was seven-fifty the way he counted.”

“So they underestimate, do they?” I ast him.

“Do they!” Dave said. “Why, if Chick Evans had their system he could play this course four times in thirty-six! He’d hole out from every tee. All he’d need’d be one club and a good, sharp pencil.”

“Do they ever play together?” I ast him.

“No,” said Davy. “Mr. Perkins went round with Mr. Adams a couple of times, but Mr. Conklin likes his solitary.”

Well, I winked at Jake and we moseyed out together; and I was going to tell him my idear, but he beat me to it.

“We’ll get a bet with Davy,” he said. “We’ll bet him that I and you can squeeze real money out of the both of them. And we can do it easy if we can get them to play against each other.”

“That’s the whole thing,” I said. “You can work it better’n me. You lay for them and get them matched. The rest of it’s a set-up.”

So the next day we brought it up again in the shop, and Davy made us the bet. It was his week’s earnings against ours. Ahd it was understood that we weren’t to come right out and ask for something extra. We weren’t to do anything that was not legitimate –  – begging, or anything like that. If they tipped us, it had to be of their own free will, without compunction.

It was about a week afterwards that Jake braced Mr. Conklin. He was practicing putts on the “clock.” Jake waited till he happened to sink a ten-footer.

“That was great, Mr. Conklin!” Jake said to him. “If you putt like that right along,’ I’m thinking Mr. Perkins would have to go some.”

“What do you mean?” Mr. Conklin ast him.

“Maybe I oughtn’t to of said nothing,” Jake said to him. “But I overheard Mr. Perkins the other day telling Mac that he’d been watching you a couple of times, and he’d noticed you had some mighty bad habits, and he thought Mac ought to tell you about them. And then he said hewasn’t much of a golfer himself, but he hadn’t been at it nowhere near as long as you; but he could trim you three up on nine holes.”

“What does he go round in?” Mr. Conklin ast Jake.

“He’ll average about sixty,” Jake told him.

Then Mr. Conklin said:

“If that’s all the better he is, he’d have his troubles beating me even.”

“Why don’t you tackle him?” said Jake.

“I’d just as lief,” Mr. Conklin said. “But I ain’t going to suggest it.”

“You don’t have to,” Jake said to him. “The way to do is for you to be up here when he is-he’s here any week-day afternoon except Mondays and Saturdays – and you could just happen to be starting out when he is and when he saw you were alone he’d probably ask you if you didn’t want to go round with him.”

Mr. Conklin didn’t say no more; and the next day Jake went to work on Mr. Perkins.

“Mr. Perkins,” he said, “I seen that approach you made on the ninth. That was a pippin! You could give Mr. Conklin a pretty good battle now, if that’s the way you shoot all the time.”

“Conklin!” said Mr. Perkins. “I didn’t know he was very good.”

“I don’t know if he is or not,” Jake said. “But I heard him tell Mac that he’d been watching you, and he didn’t see how a man could keep on making the same mistakes without finding out what was the matter with him. He said somebody ought to tell you that you stood wrong and come back too fast, and he had half a notion to tell you about it himself, only he felt like you’d think he was fresh or something.”

So Mr. Perkins said:

“Well, if Conklin’s such a expert, how does it come he always plays alone?”

“He’d like to play with somebody,” said Jake, “but he don’t only get up here in the middle of the week and you’re about the only fella on the course that ain’t hooked up with somebody else; and you always get an earlier start than him.”

So Mr. Perkins ast Jake what Mr. Conklin usually shot, and Jake told him he didn’t know for sure, but he thought he was round sixty for the nine holes.

The following afternoon Mr. Perkins showed up about one o’clock, like always; but he didn’t drive off till pretty near two.

You could see he was waiting for something. Finally he gave up and started out alone, with poor Davy carrying his bag.

But on Thursday Mr. Perkins hadn’t hardly more’n got into his playing clothes when Mr. Conklin’s big car showed up.

I said to Jake:

“Here’s where we’ve got them. You go out to the tee and help Mr. Perkins stall till Mr. Conklin’s ready.”

And I told Mac that Mr. Perkins and Mr. Conklin had ast specially for Jake and I to go round with them.

“Well, I’m willing,” Mac said. “It’s about time you two cinch bugs caddied for somebody besides the spendthrifts.”

“We’ll loosen them up,” I said.

“Yes,” said Mac; “you’ve got a sweet chance! They don’t think no more of a nickel than a caddy does.”

“Or a pro. from Edinburgh,” I said.

And then I grabbed Mr. Conklin’s bag and went out to where Jake and Mr. Perkins was standing.

“Whose clubs?” Mr. Perkins ast me.

“Mr. Conklin’s,” I said. “He’ll be out in a minute.”

Now, Mr. Perkins knew whose clubs I had, all right. He’d seen Mr. Conklin go in the clubhouse; and besides, his and Mr. Conklin’s bags looked just alike and was different from everybody else’s. You can buy a pretty fair bag for five or six dollars. These two must of cost pretty near a dollar and a quarter apiece, and was easily worth more’n half that much.

“Mr. Conklin going round with you?” I said to Mr. Perkins.

“He can if he wants to,” said Mr. Perkins. “I’d just as lief go round alone.”

But he kept on waiting, and didn’t even tee his ball till Mr. Conklin showed up.

First thing Mr. Conklin said was to ask where Davy was at.

“Home sick,” I told him. “He got tipped pretty good yesterday and I guess he blew himself to candy.”

Then Mr. Perkins said:

“Hello, Conklin! Have you got a pardner?”

“No,” said Mr. Conklin. “I usually go it alone.”

“Well, I’ll shoot and get out of your way,” said Mr. Perkins.

“If you’re alone, too, we might as well go round together,” said Mr. Conklin.

“That suits me,” said Mr. Perkins. “I’m not very good, but I’ll try and make it interesting.”

“What do you shoot?” Mr. Conklin ast him.

“About sixty for the nine,” said Mr. Perkins.

“I guess we’re pretty near even,” said Mr. Conklin.

“Well,” said Mr. Perkins, “I suppose I’ll get the worst of it; but let’s play for a ball-a-hole.”

“You’ll beat me,” Mr. Conklin said; “but I’m willing.”

I dug down in the pocket of the bag for a ball. There were three of them. They all looked like they’d slept in the coal bin. One of them was almost round. Somebody’d mistook the other two for blackberries and bit a hunk out of them. I gave the best one a good scrubbing and got it so’s it was about caramel color and you could see the name on it. It was a Whizz: three for a dollar, and not so cheap, at that.

Well, they decided Mr. Perkins should have the honor, and he started off with a twenty-yard drive, right down the middle. Mr. Conklin put his hand over his whiskers so’s Mr. Perkins couldn’t see him smile, and then teed his Whizz. He took his stance with his kneecaps kissing each other and stood there wiggling his toes and elbows till he had all four of us nervous. Finally he swang, and away she went. Two hundred yards – a hundred up and a hundred down.

Mr. Perkins said to him: “You better try it again. I think you tee your ball too high.”

Mr. Conklin acted like he hadn’t heard him, and ast me for his brassy. The Whizz laid about six feet off the tee. Mr. Conklin’s knees kissed again, but he was too sore this time to take it slow. He whanged away the minute he was set and sliced her over to the right, into a mudhole. Well, looking for that ball there was about like trying to find a drop of ink in a coal mine. Mr. Joyce or Mr. Davis wouldn’t of wasted a minute on it. But I’ll bet our search party worked half an hour before Mr. Conklin’d give up. Then I dug out one of the two he had left. First, I showed it to Jake, and he said:

“Anyway, he won’t have to slice this one. It’s been done already.”

I handed it to Mr. Conklin and watched close to see if he’d give himself a bad lie. He didn’t.

“Better take a mashie,” said Mr. Perkins. “The best dope is to play safe and get out on the fairway.”

So Mr. Conklin used his brassy again and pulled the best shot he made all day, sending her down past the bunker, just a good mashie pitch from the green.

Then Mr. Perkins took his brassy and in two more shots his ball was about ten yards behind Mr. Conklin’s. If he could of only got the distance with his ball that he did with the divots, he’d of been hole-high in three.

Jake said to me:

“They ought to follow my man round with a steam roller.”

I said:

“He could dig up twice as much ground if he’d use an iron.”

And Jake said:

“He ought to go out West somewhere and drill oil wells.” Mr. Perkins ast for his cleek and we felt sorry for the people that live in Hong-Kong, but he topped her this time and she rolled into the ditch. Mr. Conklin was clubby and went to the same place with his mashie. The balls laid about a yard apart, with Mr. Conklin’s away. Now his and Mr. Perkins’ didn’t look no more alike than a watermelon and a motorcycle. But when Mr. Conklin got there, and found that his ball was about half buried in the ground, what does he do but pick it up to see if it’s his or Mr. Perkins’. And when he put it down again, he laid it on top of a little clump of weeds. With that lie and that distance, I could of pitched to the green with a carpet sweeper; but Mr. Conklin, using his mashie again, was still ten feet short yet. Mr. Perkins did pretty fair with his and stopped about eight feet from the can.

Mr. Conklin ast for a putter and drove acrost the green and ten feet off on the other side.

Jake whispered to me:

“That’s the club he ought to use off the tee.”

He shot again and was a good yard short of the hole. Mr. Perkins got to within half a foot and picked up his ball.

“I guess we halved it,” Mr. Conklin said, and picked up his’n.

Mr. Perkins made a holler. “Halved it nothing!” he said. “Even if I give you that putt you didn’t make, I got you beat a stroke, 6 and 7.”

So Mr. Conklin said:

“You took seven yourself. First, there was your tee shot; that’s one. Two brassies makes three. Then you went into the ditch; that’s four. You got on the green in five, and took two putts.”

So Mr. Perkins said: “You better figure out your own strokes and I’ll tend to mine. You got two yards off the tee; then you sliced into the rough with your brassy. It took you two more to get into the ditch. Then you was short of the green in five, acrost the green in six, and about four or five feet from the cup in seven. If I concede that putt, you were down in eight; but I don’t know why I should concede it. You might of made it and you might not. But, anyway, I’m one up. I’ll leave it to the caddies.”

Jake spoke up: “I think Mr. Perkins won the hole.”

So I butted in and said I thought they halved it.

Then the argument begun all over. Finally Mr. Conklin gave in and admitted that Mr. Perkins had beat him, 6 and 7. So long as he was beat, what was the difference if he trimmed a stroke off both of their scores?

There was no use trying to clean the ball my man was playing with now, so I and Jake gave them their drivers and went over and stood near the fairway on the second, about fifty yards from the tee. They both sliced right in behind us.

“They don’t use any judgment,” said Jake. “If they want to underestimate, they’d ought to keep on opposite sides of the course.”

The rough where the two balls laid had been mowed three days before and Mr. Conklin took his brassy. He shot acrost the fairway and into the rough at the left. Mr. Perkins used a mashie and went farther into the rough on the right.

“Now,” I said to Jake, “they’re separated and can lie their heads off.”

And Jake said that we were sure to be called as witnesses on this hole.

So I ast him to let me win it, so’s to even up the match. So he said that when we got down near the green he’d hold up as many fingers as he thought Mr. Perkins would say he’d had strokes, and then I could fix up Mr. Conklin’s to suit.

Well, my man missed the ball entirely once, and the next time he dribbled it just out of the rough. Then he shut his eyes and made a pretty good brassy shot and got on the green with a mashie in six. I looked over at Jake and Mr. Perkins. They were hole-high, but still in the rough. They got out and onto the green, and Jake held up six fingers.

So I said to Mr. Conklin:

“Let’s see. You’ve shot five, haven’t you?”

“Let’s see,” he said. “Yea; that’s right – five.”

Mr. Perkins laid near us now, and he ast how many we’d had. Mr. Conklin told him five.

“Alike as we lay,” said Mr. Perkins.

They both went down in three more and agreed that the hole was a half, 8 and 8. But on the way to the third tee Jake told me that Mr. Perkins was six before he ever got out of the rough, and he’d figured that he wouldn’t dare cut it down more’n one stroke. I saw right there that I and Mr. Conklin were up against a tough proposition.

They sliced their drives again and Mr. Perkins landed in the uncut. Mr. Conklin would of, only there wasn’t enough force to his wallop. Mr. Perkins shot three times with a mashie and managed to get a little farther into the long grass.

“He’s good-hearted,” said Jake. “He’s got enough regard for the fairway to stay off of it.”

There isn’t much to the third hole, only distance. A good drive and a brassy and a pitch’ll get you onto the green, or pretty close to it. So I told Mr. Conklin. I said:

“All you got to do is stay on the course. If it takes you five to reach the green you’ve still got him trimmed yet. He won’t be out of the weeds in six.”

But Mr. Conklin, of course, didn’t want to take no unfair advantage; so, after gumming up two brassy shots, he took a mid-iron and sliced pretty near over to the fifth fairway. He lit where the grass was longest, and I could see another long hunt.

Jake left his man and came over to us.

“Have you lost your ball?” he ast me.

So I said:

“No. We’re looking for mushrooms.”

“What kind of a ball was it?” Jake ast.

“A Black Walnut,” I told him.

Mr. Perkins kindly consented to join the party and we lined up and marched back and forth all over the property; but nothing doing. Jake called me to one side and said:

“Have you looked in his beard yet?”

Finally Mr. Perkins got impatient and ast Mr. Conklin why he didn’t drop another ball. “There’s no sense to losing this one,” he said. “If my boy would keep his eyes open he’d know right where it was.”

Just then Jake stepped on a ball. It was a Major, Number 28, and pretty near new. Jake picked it up and ast Mr. Conklin if it was his. Mr. Conklin said it was. Then Mr. Perkins said:

“I thought you never used anything but a Whizz.”

“I got this one by mistake,” said Mr. Conklin. “I ast the salesman for a Whizz and he gave me this one. I didn’t find it out till I got home.”

So he tees her up on a tuft of weeds and goes clear to the green with a brassy.

Well, Mr. Perkins did some more mowing with his mashie, and finally gave up.

“You can have this hole,” he said. “You got a six to my seven. We’re all even.”

Seven! Say, the way this guy figured he must of thought he was eating breakfast at noon!

The fourth hole they call the Railroad. It runs along parallel with the tracks. It’s only about two hundred and fifty yards, but a hundred yards from the tee there’s a bunker clear acrost the course. And there’s a ditch over to the left, just this side of the tracks. And the green’s just short of the river bank. The main thing to do is clear the first bunker and it don’t make much difference if you slice a little. But if you hook you’re liable to go into the ditch, and that’s out of bounds.

Both of our men had been hitting them high off the tee so far; but of course when they had that bunker staring them in the face they topped their drives a little and smashed right into it. Then they took their mashies and lofted over to the left, into the ditch. We’d had some rain and it was pretty wet down there; so Jake and I stood on the edge a minute, hoping they’d tell us to never mind. Fine chance! The balls were both in sight and we had to go after them. We brought them up, along with some of the richest soil in Illinois.

Mr. Perkins ast what the rules were about counting a shot out of bounds; so Jake told him it cost you one stroke. So Mr. Perkins said that as long as they’d both done it, what was the use of counting it at all? So they both shot three from the edge of the fairway. They were to the green in six and their first putt left them about ten feet each from the can.

“Well,” Mr. Perkins said, “I’ve had six. You’ve had seven, haven’t you?”

I butted in before Mr. Conklin could answer.

“You’ve both had the same number,” I said, “whether it’s six or two hundred.”

Mr. Perkins gave me a sour look and putted to the left of the hole, and about four feet away.

“I’m down in eight,” he said; and he picked up his ball.

I expected my man to yelp; but he’d done the same thing on the first hole, so he kept his clam closed. And his putt, starting ’way over to the right, bumped into a pebble or something, and darned if it didn’t twist round and drop in the cup!

“There!” said Mr. Conklin. “I’m one up.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Perkins; “but you got to admit it was luck, pure and simple. The groundkeeper won that hole for you.”

“Well,” said Mr. Conklin, “you can’t blame him for not being on your side.”

All I can remember about the fifth and sixth was that it took us an hour to play them and Mr. Perkins only got off of the fairway once. After that, he stayed off of it. But my man, though he managed to keep in the course mostly, couldn’t seem to do anything to the ball, only bunt it. Between the four of us, we decided that both holes were halved in eights. To get that figure, I and Mr. Conklin only cut two off each hole, and I suppose Jake and Mr. Perkins did that well at least.

On the way to the seventh tee I said to Jake – I said:

“Your fella’s got to cop one of these two next holes and the other one’s got to be halved, so’s we’ll be all even on the ninth. Then we’ll have a chance to blackmail them.”

Let me tell you, first, that these last three holes are some holes. The seventh is par three and a good player can usually make it in par. But it’s gosh-awful for a wild man! It’s only a hundred and thirty yards, but it’s right along the river bank; and if you pull the ball the least little bit, the fish get it. And to the right of the green there’s a clump of trees and a whole lot of long grass. Your tee shot’s got to be just about straight, or you’re in bad.

Most everybody drives with an iron here, and Jake and I handed them their cleeks. They were both scared not to take them; but, believe me, there ain’t a hole in the world that there’s any danger of either one of them over-driving it!

It was Mr. Conklin’s honor and he fed his Major 28 to a carp.

“Can you get that ball, boy?” he ast me.

“Not me!” I said. “I’m no U-boat.”

“Well, give me another,” he said; and I hauled out the one he had left, the blackest one of the Whizzes.

Jake whispered to me. He said:

“That’s the one he ought to of given the bath to.”

Mr. Perkins claimed it was his shot before Mr. Conklin drove again. So he teed his ball and sliced into the orchard. “You oughtn’t to use a tee for an iron,” said Mr. Conklin; and then he laid his ball on the ground and sliced to the same place.

Well, we didn’t have to do any fancywork to let Mr. Perkins cop this hole. It took him only three to get out of the woods and onto the edge of the green. And, of course, Mr. Conklin was charged with one stroke for his fish ball and had to get clear of the rough in two to be even with Mr. Perkins. There was one thin thorn-apple tree in the line between the cup and where Mr. Conklin’s ball laid; so naturally he hit it right in the middle and it bounded back into the thickest part of the orchard. He was seven before he ever begun to putt. His nerves were a little shaky, and he finally went down in eleven, or only eight over par. Mr. Perkins holed out in six – his count. They were all even and two to go.

“We’ll see that they halve the eighth,” said Jake.

Now about this eighth: If the seventh’s dangerous for a dub, the eighth’s a whole lot worse. It’s bad enough for the good ones. You can’t make a real long drive without going into the Grand Canyon, that lays about thirty yards this side of the green. And on the right, all the way down, there’s a regular jungle. On the left there’s the river again; and though it ain’t any closer to the fairway than it is on the seventh hole, still there’s no bushes or shrubbery to hide it from you. You can see it perfectly plain, and that makes you wonder whether a ball would make much of a splash if it lit in there; and the next thing you know, you find out for sure.

Our fellas got away to an even start. Mr. Perkins hooked into the middle of the river and Mr. Conklin sliced into the forest preserves. Mr. Perkins teed another ball, and this time he come about ten feet from the opposite shore. Then he made some remark that he never sprung at the Friday-night talks to the young men, and waited for Mr. Conklin to take another shot. But Mr. Conklin couldn’t see it that way. He said he thought we could find his first one.

“How about it, boy?” he ast me.

“It’s gone,” I told him.

“The Woodmen of the World couldn’t never locate that baby!” said Jake.

“Well,” said Mr. Conklin, “I’ll have to borrow a ball.”

And he looked toward Mr. Perkins.

But Mr. Perkins was admiring the ripples that his last plunger had stirred up. So I dug down in my pocket and pulled one out.

“Here,” I said. “Here’s one that I’ll sell you for twenty cents.”

“Twenty cents!” said Mr. Conklin. “Why, it’s secondhand. I couldn’t play with that one.”

“It’s the oldest I’ve got,” I said: “After you’ve driven it into a couple of ditches you won’t know the difference between it and your Whizzes.”

Well, he started to argue and I started to put the ball back into my pocket; and then he said he’d take it and settle after the game. So I gave it to him and it seemed to bring him luck. Anyway, he managed to lift it out to the middle of the fairway, pretty near a hundred yards down the course. Mr. Perkins’ third attempt was too close to the woods for comfort, but it was playable.

“Now go easy,” I said to my man. “You’re a stroke better off than he is. Try and run her up to the edge of the ditch on this one, and next time you can pitch onto the green. Take a mashie,” I told him.

But no! He insisted on using his brassy, and the ball scooted along the ground and plump into the bottom of the Canyon. And Mr. Perkins, with a mid-iron, managed just to clear the ditch and stop on the high ground this side of the green.

I and Mr. Conklin beat the other two to the gully, and there was our ball, laying in about two inches of water, at the bottom of the bank that’s away from the green.

So Mr. Conklin said:

“I can’t play it there. What am I going to do?”

“You can pick it up and toss it back on top of the bank,” I told him. “It’ll cost you one stroke.”

He looked round to see how close Mr. Perkins was. Then he looked at his ball again. Then he said:

“If she only just lay out of the water, on the other side, I could lift her onto the green with a mashie or niblick.”

And then he looked at me.

Well, I can take a hint, and I didn’t have any hesitation about pulling rough stuff on Mr. Perkins. Warder or no warder, he’d been pretty raw himself. So I fished the ball out of the creek and tossed it to the other side, from where it was a pipe to loft it to the green – that is, provided you hit it. Mr. Conklin missed it the first time, and as Jake and Mr. Perkins were getting pretty close to us he made his next attempt in a hurry. He connected, but didn’t get under the ball good, and it just did manage to roll up to the top of the bank and stop alongside of Mr. Perkins’.

Mr. Perkins ast us how many we’d shot.

“Let’s see,” said Mr. Conklin. “How many is it, boy?”

“Let’s see,” I said. “There was your first tee shot, into the woods; then your second tee shot; then your brassy in the ditch, and your pitch out. Four, altogether.”

Mr. Perkins looked kind of suspicious. He said:

“I thought I saw you miss one swing in the ditch.”

“Miss one!” said Mr. Conklin. “Of course I did. But it was practice.”

“Well, then,” said Mr. Perkins, “we’re alike as we lay. I’ve had four strokes without any practice.”

So I said: “I don’t see how you could put two balls so close together in the river without some practice.”

“You’re too fresh!” said Mr. Perkins. “This is the last time you’ll caddy in a game I’m in.”

So I said: “I knew that the minute we left the first tee.”

They were both nervous now. While Mr. Conklin was getting ready to approach, I was scared to death that his knees would knock each other out and maybe cripple him for life. He finally dribbled his ball six feet, and when Mr. Perkins accidentally approached to about four feet from the can I thought we were gone. We were still off of the green yet. Mr. Conklin took his putter and stopped five feet from the cup. He shot again and missed by a foot. Mr. Perkins could cop the hole by going down in three putts from four feet away. The idear got the best of him and pretty near choked him to death. He didn’t have anything for his Adam’s apple to hide behind, and I could see it bobbing up and down like one of those there bell buoys. His arms were shaking so that he couldn’t control his club, and he hit the ball while he was still trying to aim. Then he leaned over it again and this time he was all right, except his direction and distance. The ball stopped off to one side, behind Mr. Conklin’s and about a foot farther away.

“I’ve got you stymied,” said Mr. Conklin. “I’ll putt and get out of your road.”

But Mr. Perkins leaned over and picked up both balls.

“We’ll halve the hole,” he said. “We’re both down in seven.”

Seven’s his favorite number, I guess.

Mr. Conklin thought he had a kick coming and started to say something, but Mr. Perkins was walking off the green. If they’d both putted it out I bet neither one of them would of gone down in less’n sixteen, the way they were wabbling.

Our last hole’s a funny one. You can’t see the green from the tee on account of what we call the Airline. It’s a kind of a hill, about fifteen or twenty feet high, that runs all the way acrost the course, thirty yards from the tee. On both sides of it there’s long grass and marsh, and everything else; and over to the right there’s another part of the jungle that you’re liable to get into on the eighth.

After you leave the eighth green the caddies always give the guys their drivers, and then go up and stand on top of the Airline, so’s they can see where the drives light. When a man has played the hole a few times and gets to know it he can drive for it just as accurate as if he could see the green. The distance is only about two-fifty, and Mac’s often made it in three, and once in a while in two. He can drive right on the green once in five or six times.

I and Jake left our men and took the short cut through the woods to the top of the Airline. Jake said:

“There’s no use of us going up there. They’ll both flivver and fall short.”

I ast him if he had anything on his bird.

“Have I!” he said. “Say, when he was laying against the woods on the eighth, before that mid-iron shot, he kicked the ball five feet toward the middle of the course, so’s he could get a real whack at it. And, at that, he whiffed before he belted it.”

“Don’t forget to remind him of that,” I said.

“Do you think I’m Davy?” said Jake.

It was Mr. Perkins’ honor, if you could say that about him. Anyway, he shot first and topped into the rough at the left, short of the hill. Mr. Conklin made just as good a drive, and they laid close together. We ran down to give them their mashies.

“Now is our chance!” I whispered to Jake.

“You start,” he said.

So, while I was changing my man’s clubs, I said kind of offhand:

“Play easy now. Be sure you hit the ball. You remember, when we were in the ditch on the eighth—”

He had a coughing spell and I waited till he was through with it. Then I begun again:

“When you’re trying to loft a ball up over something you’re liable to be nervous and miss it entirely. You did it on—”

That’s as far as I got. He didn’t know what to say; but he had to say something. So he ast me to give him his niblick instead of a mashie.

I said:

“I wouldn’t change if I were you. It was a niblick you tried to get out of the ditch with, on the eighth, and—”

He interrupted me.

“Say, boy,” he said; “I’m forgetful sometimes. Before we wind up, I better settle with you, or I’m liable to walk off without doing it at all.”

“Go ahead and shoot,” said Mr. Perkins. “I’ve got to be getting home.”

“I’m going to settle with the boy here first,” said Mr. Conklin, and he dropped his club and begun going through his pockets.

He came up with a two-dollar bill.

“It’s a quarter a round, ain’t it?” he ast me.

“Yes, sir,” I said; “and the ball I gave you is twenty cents. You’ll find that’s a mighty good ball. It don’t even hurt it to lay in the water, like when we were—”

He interrupted me again.

“That’s all right,” he said. “I owe you forty-five cents. This is the smallest I’ve got; but it don’t make any difference. I guess you can find some use for the rest of it.”

And he slipped me the two-spot.

It took them two more apiece to get over the Airline and into the marsh on the other side. They laid ten feet apart, with Mr. Perkins away. His ball was in a bad spot. There was weeds, a bunch of them, right behind it, and you were lucky to hit it at all. If you did hit it you wouldn’t have any force after cutting through the weeds.

“You got a rotten lie,” said Jake, so’s we could all hear him. “I should think you could kick it away from those weeds to where you could get a crack at it.”

“Kick it away!” said Mr. Perkins. “That’s against the rules.”

So Jake said:

“Why, don’t you remember when you laid next to the woods—”

Mr. Conklin wasn’t the only one with a bad cold.

“You’re even worse off now,” said Jake, “than when you were laying against those trees on the eighth. And then—”

Mr. Perkins had heard a-plenty. He went up to Jake, pretending to look in the bag for another club or something. And when he moved back to his ball again to shoot, Jake was putting the day’s receipts in his pocket.

Whether Mr. Perkins was mad or not I don’t know; but he cut through those weeds with that mashie as though he’d been saving up for this shot all afternoon. And, believe me, he got a whale of a shot, the ball carrying pretty near to the green and rolling onto it!

I thought to myself “It’s good night to my man!”

But maybe he was sore too. Or maybe he’d just come to realize how bad be needed a new ball. Anyway, he pulled one pretty near as good as Mr. Perkins’, stopping just off of the green.

“What’s come over them?” I whispered to Jake.

“They ain’t muscle-bound no more,” he said. “They’ve both loosened up.”

Mr. Conklin approached and went six or seven feet past the cup. Mr. Perkins was quavering again, and he stopped about the same distance short. He was away. He already had his putter in his hands, but he was too scared to know if it was a golf club or a monkey wrench. What did he do but stick it into the bag and haul out his spoon, the first time he’d touched it all day!

“What are you going to do with that?” Jake ast him.

And then the poor goop came to and looked at it.

“I’ve played too hard,” he said, kind of half smiling. “Conklin, what do you say if we call it square?”

“I’m willing,” said Mr. Conklin; and you bet he was!

Neither one of them could have hit their ball in three putts.

“We’ll call this hole halved in fives,” said Mr. Perkins. “And – let’s see: As near as I can figure, that gives us both a medal score of fifty-four apiece.”

“He means,” said Jake to me, “that their score’s fifty-four apiece after they’ve meddled with it.”

We took their bags and started for the shop.

“How much did you get?” I ast Jake.

He told me a dollar and a half.

“But I guess we earned it,” he said. “We’ve been out three hours.”

So I said:

“Davy can have them after this.” And then I happened to think of the bet we’d made him. “Say, Jake,” I said, “he’s just a kid and don’t know how to handle these fellas. He’ll learn when he’s older. It don’t seem right for us to take advantage of him and collect that dough.”

“No,” said Jake. “Let’s show him the proceeds and tell him the bet’s off.” And then he said: “Say, my old man told me if I saved up twenty-five dollars between now and Christmas he’d give me ten to put with it. What do you think about us both taking these geezers’ money and putting it in some bank?”

“I’m with you,” I said – “only the bank won’t be one of Mr. Conklin’s.”

• 2 •

A Caddy’s Diary

Wed. Apr. 12.

I am 16 of age and am a caddy at the Pleasant View Golf Club but only temporary as I expect to soon land a job some wheres as asst pro as my game is good enough now to be a pro but to young looking. My pal Joe Bean also says I have not got enough swell head to make a good pro but suppose that will come in time, Joe is a wise cracker.

But first will put down how I come to be writeing this diary, we have got a member name Mr Colby who writes articles in the newspapers and I hope for his sakes that he is a better writer then he plays golf but any way I cadded for him a good many times last yr and today he was out for the first time this yr and I cadded for him and we got talking about this in that and something was mentioned in regards to the golf articles by Alex Laird that comes out every Sun in the paper Mr Colby writes his articles for so I asked Mr Colby did he know how much Laird got paid for the articles and he said he did not know but supposed that Laird had to split 50-50 with who ever wrote the articles for him. So I said don’t he write the articles himself and Mr Colby said why no he guessed not. Laird may be a master mind in regards to golf he said, but that is no sign he can write about it as very few men can write decent let alone a pro. Writeing is a nag.

How do you learn it I asked him.

Well he said read what other people writes and study them and write things yourself, and maybe you will get on to the nag and maybe you wont.

Well Mr Colby I said do you think I could get on to it?

Why he said smileing I did not know that was your ambition to be a writer.

Not exactly was my reply, but I am going to be a golf pro myself and maybe some day I will get good enough so as the papers will want I should write them articles and if I can learn to write them myself why I will not have to hire another writer and split with them.

Well said Mr Colby smileing you have certainly got the right temperament for a pro, they are all big hearted fellows.

But listen Mr Colby I said if I want to learn it would not do me no good to copy down what other writers have wrote, what I would have to do would be write things out of my own head.

That is true said Mr. Colby.

Well I said what could I write about?

Well said Mr Colby why don’t you keep a diary and every night after your supper set down and write what happened that day and write who you cadded for and what they done only leave me out of it. And you can write down what people say and what you think and etc., it will be the best kind of practice for you, and once in a wile you can bring me your writeings and I will tell you the truth if they are good or rotten.

So that is how I come to be writeing this diary is so as I can get some practice writeing and maybe if I keep at it long enough I can get on to the nag.

Friday, Apr. 14,

We been haveing Apr. showers for a couple days and nobody out on the course so they has been nothing happen that I could write down in my diary but dont want to leave it go to long or will never learn the trick so will try and write a few lines about a caddys life and some of our members and etc.

Well I and Joe Bean is the 2 oldest caddys in the club and I been cadding now for 5 yrs and quit school 3 yrs ago tho my mother did not like it for me to quit but my father said he can read and write and figure so what is the use in keeping him there any longer as greek and latin dont get you no credit at the grocer, so they lied about my age to the trunce officer and I been cadding every yr from March till Nov and the rest of the winter I work around Heismans store in the village.

Dureing the time I am cadding I genally always manage to play at least 9 holes a day myself on wk days and some times 18 and am never more than 2 or 3 over par figures on our course but it is a cinch.

I played the engineers course 1 day last summer in 75 which is some golf and some of our members who has been playing 20 yrs would give their right eye to play as good as myself.

I used to play around with our pro Jack Andrews till I got so as I could beat him pretty near every time we played and now he wont play with me no more, he is not a very good player for a pro but they claim he is a good teacher. Personly I think golf teachers is a joke tho I am glad people is suckers enough to fall for it as I expect to make my liveing that way. We have got a member Mr Dunham who must of took 500 lessons in the past 3 yrs and when he starts to shoot he trys to remember all the junk Andrews has learned him and he gets dizzy and they is no telling where the ball will go and about the safest place to stand when he is shooting is between he and the hole.

I dont beleive the club pays Andrews much salery but of course he makes pretty fair money giveing lessons but his best graft is a 3 some which he plays 2 and 3 times a wk with Mr Perdue and Mr Lewis and he gives Mr Lewis a stroke a hole and they genally break some wheres near even but Mr Perdue made a 83 one time so he thinks that is his game so he insists on playing Jack even, well they always play for $5.00 a hole and Andrews makes $20.00 to $30.00 per round and if he wanted to cut loose and play his best he could make $50.00 to $60.00 per round but a couple of wallops like that and Mr Perdue might get cured so Jack figures a small stedy income is safer.

I have got a pal name Joe Bean and we pal around together as he is about my age and he says some comical things and some times will wisper some thing comical to me wile we are cadding and it is all I can do to help from laughing out loud, that is one of the first things a caddy has got to learn is never laugh out loud only when a member makes a joke. How ever on the days when theys ladies on the course I dont get a chance to caddy with Joe because for some reason another the woman folks dont like Joe to caddy for them wile on the other hand they are always after me tho I am no Othello for looks or do I seek their flavors, in fact it is just the opp and I try to keep in the back ground when the fair sex appears on the seen as cadding for ladies means you will get just so much money and no more as theys no chance of them loosning up. As Joe says the rule against tipping is the only rule the woman folks keeps.

Theys one lady how ever who I like to caddy for as she looks like Lillian Gish and it is a pleasure to just look at her and I would caddy for her for nothing tho it is hard to keep your eye on the ball when you are cadding for this lady, her name is Mrs Doane.

Sat. Apr. 15.

This was a long day and I am pretty well wore out but must not get behind in my writeing practice. I and Joe carried all day for Mr Thomas and Mr Blake. Mr Thomas is the vice president of one of the big banks down town and he always slips you a $1.00 extra per round but beleive me you earn it cadding for Mr Thomas, there is just 16 clubs in his bag includeing 5 wood clubs tho he has not used the wood in 3 yrs but says he has got to have them along in case his irons goes wrong on him. I dont know how bad his irons will have to get before he will think they have went wrong on him but personly if I made some of the tee shots he made today I would certainly consider some kind of change of weppons.

Mr Thomas is one of the kind of players that when it has took him more than 6 shots to get on the green he will turn to you and say how many have I had caddy and then you are suppose to pretend like you was thinking a minute and then say 4, then he will say to the man he is playing with well I did not know if I had shot 4 or 5 but the caddy says it is 4. You see in this way it is not him that is cheating but the caddy but he makes it up to the caddy afterwards with a $1.00 tip.

Mr Blake gives Mr Thomas a stroke a hole and they play a $10.00 nassua and neither one of them wins much money from the other one but even if they did why $10.00 is chickens food to men like they. But the way they crab and squak about different things you would think their last $1.00 was at stake. Mr Thomas started out this A.M. with a 8 and a 7 and of course that spoilt the day for him and me to. Theys lots of men that if they dont make a good score on the first 2 holes they will founder all the rest of the way around and raze H with their caddy and if I was laying out a golf course I would make the first 2 holes so darn easy that you could not help from getting a 4 or better on them and in that way everybody would start off good natured and it would be a few holes at least before they begun to turn sour.

Mr Thomas was beat both in the A.M. and P.M. in spite of my help as Mr Blake is a pretty fair counter himself and I heard him say he got a 88 in the P.M. which is about a 94 but any way it was good enough to win. Mr Blakes regular game is about a 90 takeing his own figures and he is one of these cocky guys that takes his own game serious and snears at men that cant break 100 and if you was to ask him if he had ever been over 100 himself he would say not since the first yr he begun to play. Well I have watched a lot of those guys like he and I will tell you how they keep from going over 100 namely by doing just what he done this A.M. when he come to the 13th hole. Well he missed his tee shot and dubbed along and finely he got in a trap on his 4th shot and I seen him take 6 wallops in the trap and when he had took the 6th one his ball was worse off then when he started so he picked it up and marked a X down on his score card. Well if he had of played out the hole why the best he could of got was all by holeing his next niblick shot but he would of probly got about a 20 which would of made him around 108 as he admitted takeing a 88 for the other 17 holes. But I bet if you was to ask him what score he had made he would say O I was terrible and I picked up on one hole but if I had played them all out I guess I would of had about a 92.

These is the kind of men that laughs themselfs horse when they hear of some dub takeing 10 strokes for a hole but if they was made to play out every hole and mark down their real score their card would be decorated with many a big casino.

Well as I say I had a hard day and was pretty sore along towards the finish but still I had to laugh at Joe Bean on the 15th hole which is a par 3 and you can get there with a fair drive and personly I am genally hole high with a midiron, but Mr Thomas topped his tee shot and dubbed a couple with his mashie and was still quiet a ways off the green and he stood studying the situation a minute and said to Mr Blake well I wonder what I better take here. So Joe Bean was standing by me and he said under his breath take my advice and quit you old rascal.

Mon. Apr. 17.

Yesterday was Sun and I was to wore out last night to write as I cadded 45 holes. I cadded for Mr Colby in the A.M. and Mr Langley in the P.M. Mr Thomas thinks golf is wrong on the sabath tho as Joe Bean says it is wrong any day the way he plays it.

This A.M. they was nobody on the course and I played 18 holes by myself and had a 5 for a 76 on the 18th hole but the wind got a hold of my drive and it went out of bounds. This P.M. they was 3 of us had a game of rummy started but Miss Rennie and Mrs Thomas come out to play and asked for me to caddy for them, they are both terrible.

Mrs Thomas is Mr Thomas wife and she is big and fat and shakes like jell and she always says she plays golf just to make her skinny and she dont care how rotten she plays as long as she is getting the exercise, well maybe so but when we find her ball in a bad lie she aint never sure it is hers till she picks it up and smells it and when she puts it back beleive me she don’t cram it down no gopher hole.

Miss Rennie is a good looker and young and they say she is engaged to Chas Crane, he is one of our members and is the best player in the club and dont cheat hardly at all and he has got a job in the bank where Mr Thomas is the vice president. Well I have cadded for Miss Rennie when she was playing with Mr Crane and I have cadded for her when she was playing alone or with another lady and I often think if Mr Crane could hear her talk when he was not around he would not be so stuck on her. You would be surprised at some of the words that falls from those fare lips.

Well the 2 ladies played for 2 bits a hole and Miss Rennie was haveing a terrible time wile Mrs Thomas was shot with luck on the greens and sunk 3 or 4 putts that was murder. Well Miss Rennie used some expressions which was best not repeated but towards the last the luck changed around and it was Miss Rennie that was sinking the long ones and when they got to the 18th tee Mrs Thomas was only 1 up.

Well we had started pretty late and when we left the 17th green Miss Rennie made the remark that we would have to hurry to get the last hole played, well it was her honor and she got the best drive she made all day about 120 yds down the fair way. Well Mrs Thomas got nervous and looked up and missed her ball a ft and then done the same thing right over and when she finely hit it she only knocked it about 20 yds and this made her lay 3. Well her 4th went wild and lit over in the rough in the apple trees. It was a cinch Miss Rennie would win the hole unless she dropped dead.

Well we all went over to hunt for Mrs Thomas ball but we would of been lucky to find it even in day light but now you could not hardly see under the trees, so Miss Rennie said drop another ball and we will not count no penalty. Well it is some job any time to make a woman give up hunting for a lost ball and all the more so when it is going to cost her 2 bits to play the hole out so there we stayed for at lease 10 minutes till it was so dark we could not see each other let alone a lost ball and finely Mrs Thomas said well it looks like we could not finish, how do we stand? Just like she did not know how they stood.

You had me one down up to this hole said Miss Rennie.

Well that is finishing pretty close said Mrs Thomas.

I will have to give Miss Rennie credit that what ever word she thought of for this occasion she did not say it out loud but when she was paying me she said I might of give you a quarter tip only I have to give Mrs Thomas a quarter she dont deserve so you dont get it.

Fat chance I would of had any way.

Thurs. Apr. 20.

Well we have been haveing some more bad weather but today the weather was all right but that was the only thing that was all right. This P.M. I cadded double for Mr Thomas and Chas Crane the club champion who is stuck on Miss Rennie. It was a 4 some with he and Mr Thomas against Mr Blake and Jack Andrews the pro, they was only playing best ball so it was really just a match between Mr Crane and Jack Andrews and Mr Crane win by 1 up. Joe Bean cadded for Jack and Mr Blake. Mr Thomas was terrible and I put in a swell P.M. lugging that heavy bag of his besides Mr Cranes bag.

Mr Thomas did not go off the course as much as usual but he kept hitting behind the ball and he run me ragged replaceing his divots but still I had to laugh when we was playing the 4th hole which you have to drive over a ravine and every time Mr Thomas misses his tee shot on this hole why he makes a squak about the ravine and says it ought not to be there and etc.

Today he had a terrible time getting over it and afterwards he said to Jack Andrews this is a joke hole and ought to be changed. So Joe Bean wispered to me that if Mr Thomas kept on playing like he was the whole course would be changed.

Then a little wile later when we come to the long 9th hole Mr Thomas got a fair tee shot but then he whiffed twice missing the ball by a ft and the 3d time he hit it but it only went a little ways and Joe Bean said that is 3 trys and no gain, he will have to punt.

But I must write down about my tough luck, well we finely got through the 18 holes and Mr. Thomas reached down in his pocket for the money to pay me and he genally pays for Mr Crane to when they play together as Mr Crane is just a employ in the bank and dont have much money but this time all Mr Thomas had was a $20.00 bill so he said to Mr Crane I guess you will have to pay the boy Charley so Charley dug down and got the money to pay me and he paid just what it was and not a dime over, where if Mr Thomas had of had the change I would of got a $1.00 extra at lease and maybe I was not sore and Joe Bean to because of course Andrews never gives you nothing and Mr Blake dont tip his caddy unless he wins.

They are a fine bunch of tight wads said Joe and I said well Crane is all right only he just has not got no money.

He aint all right no more than the rest of them said Joe.

Well at lease he dont cheat on his score I said.

And you know why that is said Joe, neither does Jack Andrews cheat on his score but that is because they play to good. Players like Crane and Andrews that goes around in 80 or better cant cheat on their score because they make the most of the holes in around 4 strokes and the 4 strokes includes their tee shot and a couple of putts which everbody is right there to watch them when they make them and count them right along with them. So if they make a 4 and claim a 3 why people would just laugh in their face and say how did the ball get from the fair way on to the green, did it fly? But the boys that takes 7 and 8 strokes to a hole can shave their score and you know they are shaveing it but you have to let them get away with it because you cant prove nothing. But that is one of the penaltys for being a good player, you cant cheat.

To hear Joe tell it pretty near everybody are born crooks, well maybe he is right.

Wed. Apr. 26.

Today Mrs Doane was out for the first time this yr and asked for me to caddy for her and you bet I was on the job. Well how are you Dick she said, she always calls me by name. She asked me what had I been doing all winter and was I glad to see her and etc.

She said she had been down south all winter and played golf pretty near every day and would I watch her and notice how much she had improved.

Well to tell the truth she was no better than last yr and wont never be no better and I guess she is just to pretty to be a golf player but of course when she asked me did I think her game was improved I had to reply yes indeed as I would not hurt her feelings and she laughed like my reply pleased her. She played with Mr and Mrs Carter and I carried the 2 ladies bags wile Joe Bean cadded for Mr Carter. Mrs. Carter is a ugly dame with things on her face and it must make Mr Carter feel sore when he looks at Mrs Doane to think he married Mrs Carter but I suppose they could not all marry the same one and besides Mrs Doane would not be a sucker enough to marry a man like he who drinks all the time and is pretty near always stood, tho Mr Doane who she did marry aint such a H of a man himself tho dirty with money.

They all gave me the laugh on the 3d hole when Mrs Doane was makeing her 2d shot and the ball was in the fair way but laid kind of bad and she just ticked it and then she asked me if winter rules was in force and I said yes so we teed her ball up so as she could get a good shot at it and they gave me the laugh for saying winter rules was in force.

You have got the caddys bribed Mr Carter said to her.

But she just smiled and put her hand on my sholder and said Dick is my pal. That is enough of a bribe to just have her touch you and I would caddy all day for her and never ask for a cent only to have her smile at me and call me her pal.

Sat. Apr. 29.

Today they had the first club tournament of the yr and they have a monthly tournament every month and today was the first one, it is a handicap tournament and everybody plays in it and they have prizes for low net score and low gross score and etc. I cadded for Mr Thomas today and will tell what happened.

They played a 4 some and besides Mr Thomas we had Mr Blake and Mr Carter and Mr Dunham. Mr Dunham is the worst man player in the club and the other men would not play with him a specialy on a Saturday only him and Mr Blake is partners together in business. Mr Dunham has got the highest handicap in the club which is 50 but it would have to be 150 for him to win a prize. Mr Blake and Mr Carter has got a handicap of about 15 a piece I think and Mr Thomas is 30, the first prize for the low net score for the day was a dozen golf balls and the second low score a 1/2 dozen golf balls and etc.

Well we had a great battle and Mr Colby ought to been along to write it up or some good writer. Mr Carter and Mr Dunham played partners against Mr Thomas and Mr Blake which ment that Mr Carter was playing Thomas and Blakes best ball, well Mr Dunham took the honor and the first ball he hit went strate off to the right and over the fence outside of the grounds, well he done the same thing 3 times. Well when he finely did hit one in the course why Mr Carter said why not let us not count them 3 first shots of Mr Dunham as they was just practice. Like H we wont count them said Mr Thomas we must count every shot and keep our scores correct for the tournament.

All right said Mr. Carter.

Well we got down to the green and Mr Dunham had about 11 and Mr Carter sunk a long putt for a par 5, Mr Blake all ready had 5 strokes and so did Mr Thomas and when Mr Carter sunk his putt why Mr Thomas picked his ball up and said Carter wins the hole and I and Blake will take 6s. Like H you will said Mr Carter, this is a tournament and we must play every hole out and keep our scores correct. So Mr Dunham putted and went down in 13 and Mr Blake got a 6 and Mr Thomas missed 2 easy putts and took a 8 and maybe he was not boiling.

Well it was still their honor and Mr Dunham had one of his dizzy spells on the 2d tee and he missed the ball twice before he hit it and then Mr Carter drove the green which is only a mid-iron shot and then Mr Thomas stepped up and missed the ball just like Mr Dunham. He was wild and yelled at Mr Dunham no man could play golf playing with a man like you, you would spoil anybodys game.

Your game was all ready spoiled said Mr Dunham, it turned sour on the 1st green.

You would turn anybody sour said Mr Thomas.

Well Mr Thomas finely took a 8 for the hole which is a par 3 and it certainly looked bad for him winning a prize when he started out with 2 8s, and he and Mr Dunham had another terrible time on No 3 and wile they was messing things up a 2 some come up behind us and hollered fore and we left them go through tho it was Mr Clayton and Mr Joyce and as Joe Bean said they was probly dissapointed when we left them go through as they are the kind that feels like the day is lost if they cant write to some committee and preffer charges.

Well Mr Thomas got a 7 on the 3d and he said well it is no wonder I am off of my game today as I was up 1/2 the night with my teeth.

Well said Mr Carter if I had your money why on the night before a big tournament like this I would hire somebody else to set up with my teeth.

Well I wished I could remember all that was said and done but any way Mr. Thomas kept getting sore and sore and we got to the 7th tee and he had not made a decent tee shot all day so Mr Blake said to him why dont you try the wood as you cant do no worse?

By Geo I believe I will said Mr Thomas and took his driver out of the bag which he had not used it for 3 yrs.

Well he swang and zowie away went the ball pretty near 8 inchs distants wile the head of the club broke off clean and saled 50 yds down the course. Well I have got a hold on myself so as I dont never laugh out loud and I beleive the other men was scarred to laugh or he would of killed them so we all stood there in silents waiting for what would happen.

Well without saying a word he come to where I was standing and took his other 4 wood clubs out of the bag and took them to a tree which stands a little ways from the tee box and one by one he swang them with all his strength against the trunk of the tree and smashed them to H and gone, all right gentlemen that is over he said.

Well to cut it short Mr Thomas score for the first 9 was a even 60 and then we started out on the 2d 9 and you would not think it was the same man playing, on the first 3 holes he made 2 4s and a 5 and beat Mr Carter even and followed up with a 6 and a 5 and that is how he kept going up to the 17th hole.

What has got in to you Thomas said Mr Carter.

Nothing said Mr Thomas only I broke my hoodoo when I broke them 5 wood clubs.

Yes I said to myself and if you had broke them 5 wood clubs 3 yrs ago I would not of broke my back lugging them around.

Well we come to the 18th tee and Mr Thomas had a 39 which give him a 99 for 17 holes, well everybody drove off and as we was following along why Mr Klabor come walking down the course from the club house on his way to the 17th green to join some friends and Mr Thomas asked him what had he made and he said he had turned in a 93 but his handicap is only 12 so that give him a 81.

That wont get me no wheres he said as Charley Crane made a 75.

Well said Mr Thomas I can tie Crane for low net if I get a 6 on this hole.

Well it come his turn to make his 2d and zowie he hit the ball pretty good but they was a hook on it and away she went in to the woods on the left, the ball laid in behind a tree so as they was only one thing to do and that was waste a shot getting it back on the fair so that is what Mr Thomas done and it took him 2 more to reach the green.

How many have you had Thomas said Mr Carter when we was all on the green.

Let me see said Mr Thomas and then turned to me, how many have I had caddy?

I dont know I said.

Well it is either 4 or 5 said Mr Thomas.

I think it is 5 said Mr Carter.

I think it is 4 said Mr Thomas and turned to me again and said how many have I had caddy?

So I said 4.

Well said Mr Thomas personly I was not sure myself but my caddy says 4 and I guess he is right.

Well the other men looked at each other and I and Joe Bean looked at each other but Mr Thomas went ahead and putted and was down in 2 putts.

Well he said I certainly come to life on them last 9 holes.

So he turned in his score as 105 and with his handicap of 30 why that give him a net of 75 which was the same as Mr Crane so instead of Mr Crane getting 1 dozen golf balls and Mr Thomas getting 1/2 a dozen golf balls why they will split the 1st and 2d prize makeing 9 golf balls a piece.

Tues. May 2.

This was the first ladies day of the season and even Joe Bean had to carry for the fair sex. We cadded for a 4 some which was Miss Rennie and Mrs Thomas against Mrs Doane and Mrs Carter. I guess if they had of kept their score right the total for the 4 of them would of ran well over a 1000.

Our course has a great many trees and they seemed to have a traction for our 4 ladies today and we was in amongst the trees more then we was on the fair way.

Well said Joe Bean theys one thing about cadding for these dames, it keeps you out of the hot sun.

And another time he said he felt like a boy scout studing wood craft.

These dames is always up against a stump he said.

And another time he said that it was not fair to charge these dames regular ladies dues in the club as they hardly ever used the course.

Well it seems like they was a party in the village last night and of course the ladies was talking about it and Mrs Doane said what a lovely dress Miss Rennie wore to the party and Miss Rennie said she did not care for the dress herself.

Well said Mrs Doane if you want to get rid of it just hand it over to me.

I wont give it to you said Miss Rennie but I will sell it to you at 1/2 what it cost me and it was a bargain at that as it only cost me a $100.00 and I will sell it to you for $50.00.

I have not got $50.00 just now to spend said Mrs Doane and besides I dont know would it fit me.

Sure it would fit you said Miss Rennie, you and I are exactly the same size and figure, I tell you what I will do with you I will play you golf for it and if you beat me you can have the gown for nothing and if I beat you why you will give me $50.00 for it.

All right but if I loose you may have to wait for your money said Mrs Doane.

So this was on the 4th hole and they started from there to play for the dress and they was both terrible and worse then usual on acct of being nervous as this was the biggest stakes they had either of them ever played for tho the Doanes has got a bbl of money and $50.00 is chickens food.

Well we was on the 16th hole and Mrs Doane was 1 up and Miss Rennie sliced her tee shot off in the rough and Mrs Doane landed in some rough over on the left so they was clear across the course from each other. Well I and Mrs Doane went over to her ball and as luck would have it it had come to rest in a kind of a groove where a good player could not hardly make a good shot of it let alone Mrs Doane. Well Mrs Thomas was out in the middle of the course for once in her life and the other 2 ladies was over on the right side and Joe Bean with them so they was nobody near Mrs Doane and I.

Do I have to play it from there she said. I guess you do was my reply.

Why Dick have you went back on me she said and give me one of her looks.

Well I looked to see if the others was looking and then I kind of give the ball a shove with my toe and it come out of the groove and laid where she could get a swipe at it.

This was the 16th hole and Mrs Doane win it by 11 strokes to 10 and that made her 2 up and 2 to go. Miss Rennie win the 17th but they both took a 10 for the 18th and that give Mrs Doane the match.

Well I wont never have a chance to see her in Miss Rennies dress but if I did I aint sure that I would like it on her.

Fri. May 5.

Well I never thought we would have so much excitement in the club and so much to write down in my diary but I guess I better get busy writeing it down as here it is Friday and it was Wed. A.M. when the excitement broke loose and I was getting ready to play around when Harry Lear the caddy master come running out with the paper in his hand and showed it to me on the first page.

It told how Chas Crane our club champion had went south with $8000 which he had stole out of Mr Thomas bank and a swell looking dame that was a stenographer in the bank had elloped with him and they had her picture in the paper and I will say she is a pip but who would of thought a nice quiet young man like Mr Crane was going to prove himself a gay Romeo and a specialy as he was engaged to Miss Rennie tho she now says she broke their engagement a month ago but any way the whole affair has certainly give everybody something to talk about and one of the caddys Lou Crowell busted Fat Brunner in the nose because Fat claimed to of been the last one that cadded for Crane. Lou was really the last one and cadded for him last Sunday which was the last time Crane was at the club.

Well everybody was thinking how sore Mr Thomas would be and they would better not mention the affair around him and etc. but who should show up to play yesterday but Mr Thomas himself and he played with Mr Blake and all they talked about the whole P.M. was Crane and what he had pulled.

Well Thomas said Mr Blake I am curious to know if the thing come as a surprise to you or if you ever had a hunch that he was libel to do a thing like this.

Well Blake said Mr Thomas I will admit that the whole thing come as a complete surprise to me as Crane was all most like my son you might say and I was going to see that he got along all right and that is what makes me sore is not only that he has proved himself dishonest but that he could be such a sucker as to give up a bright future for a sum of money like $8000 and a doll face girl that cant be no good or she would not of let him do it. When you think how young he was and the carreer he might of had why it certainly seems like he sold his soul pretty cheap.

That is what Mr Thomas had to say or at least part of it as I cant remember a 1/2 of all he said but any way this P.M. I cadded for Mrs Thomas and Mrs Doane and that is all they talked about to, and Mrs Thomas talked along the same lines like her husband and said she had always thought Crane was to smart a young man to pull a thing like that and ruin his whole future.

He was geting $4000 a yr said Mrs Thomas and everybody liked him and said he was bound to get ahead so that is what makes it such a silly thing for him to of done, sell his soul for $8000 and a pretty face.

Yes indeed said Mrs Doane.

Well all the time I was listening to Mr Thomas and Mr Blake and Mrs Thomas and Mrs Doane why I was thinking about something which I wanted to say to them but it would of ment me looseing my job so I kept it to myself but I sprung it on my pal Joe Bean on the way home tonight.

Joe I said what do these people mean when they talk about Crane selling his soul?

Why you know what they mean said Joe, they mean that a person that does something dishonest for a bunch of money or a gal or any kind of a reward why the person that does it is selling his soul.

All right I said and it dont make no differents does it if the reward is big or little?

Why no said Joe only the bigger it is the less of a sucker the person is that goes after it.

Well I said here is Mr Thomas who is vice president of a big bank and worth a bbl of money and it is just a few days ago when he lied about his golf score in order so as he would win 9 golf balls instead of a 1/2 a dozen.

Sure said Joe.

And how about his wife Mrs Thomas I said, who plays for 2 bits a hole and when her ball dont lie good why she picks it up and pretends to look at it to see if it is hers and then puts it back in a good lie where she can sock it.

And how about my friend Mrs Doane that made me move her ball out of a rut to help her beat Miss Rennie out of a party dress.

Well said Joe what of it?

Well I said it seems to me like these people have got a lot of nerve to pan Mr. Crane and call him a sucker for doing what he done, it seems to me like $8000 and a swell dame is a pretty fair reward compared with what some of these other people sells their soul for, and I would like to tell them about it.

Well said Joe go ahead and tell them but maybe they will tell you something right back.

What will they tell me?

Well said Joe they might tell you this, that when Mr Thomas asks you how many shots he has had and you say 4 when you know he has had 5, why you are selling your soul for a $1.00 tip. And when you move Mrs Doanes ball out of a rut and give it a good lie, what are you selling your soul for? Just a smile.

O keep your mouth shut I said to him.

I am going to said Joe and would advice you to do the same.

• 3 •

Mr. Frisbie

I am Mr. Allen Frisbie’s chauffeur. Allen Frisbie is a name I made up because they tell me that if I used the real name of the man I am employed by that he might take offense and start trouble though I am sure he will never see what I am writing as he does not read anything except the American Golfer but of course some of his friends might call his attention to it. If you knew who the real name of the man is it would make more interesting reading as he is one of the 10 most wealthiest men in the United States and a man who everybody is interested in because he is so famous and the newspapers are always writing articles about him and sending high salary reporters to interview him but he is a very hard man to reproach or get an interview with and when they do he never tells them anything.

That is how I come to be writing this article because about two weeks ago a Mr. Kirk had an appointment to interview Mr. Frisbie for one of the newspapers and I drove him to the station after the interview was over and he said to me your boss is certainly a tough egg to interview and getting a word out of him is like pulling turnips.

“The public do not know anything about the man,” said Mr. Kirk. “They know he is very rich and has got a wife and a son and a daughter and what their names are but as to his private life and his likes and dislikes he might just as well be a monk in a convent.”

“The public knows he likes golf,” I said.

“They do not know what kind of a game he plays.”

“He plays pretty good,” I said.

“How good?” said Mr. Kirk.

“About 88 or 90,” I said.

“So is your grandmother,” said Mr. Kirk.

He only meant the remark as a comparison but had either of my grandmothers lived they would both have been over 90. Mr. Kirk did not believe I was telling the truth about Mr. Frisbie’s game and he was right though was I using real names I would not admit it as Mr. Frisbie is very sensitive in regards to his golf.

Mr. Kirk kept pumping at me but I am used to being pumped at and Mr. Kirk finally gave up pumping at me as he found me as closed mouth as Mr. Frisbie himself but he made the remark that he wished he was in my place for a few days and as close to the old man as I am and he would then be able to write the first real article which had ever been written about the old man. He called Mr. Frisbie the old man.

He said it was too bad I am not a writer so I could write up a few instance about Mr. Frisbie from the human side on account of being his caddy at golf and some paper or magazine would pay me big. He said if you would tell me a few instance I would write them up and split with you but I said no I could not think of anything which would make an article but after Mr. Kirk had gone I got to thinking it over and thought to myself maybe I could be a writer if I tried and at least there is no harm in trying so for the week after Mr. Kirk’s visit I spent all my spare time writing down about Mr. Frisbie only at first I used his real name but when I showed the article they said for me not to use real names but the public would guess who it was anyway and that was just as good as using real names.

So I have gone over the writing again and changed the name to Allen Frisbie and other changes and here is the article using Allen Frisbie.

When I say I am Mr. Frisbie’s chauffeur I mean I am his personal chauffeur. There are two other chauffeurs who drive for the rest of the family and run errands. Had I nothing else to do only drive I might well be turned a man of leisure as Mr. Frisbie seldom never goes in to the city more than twice a week and even less oftener than that does he pay social visits.

His golf links is right on the place an easy walk from the house to the first tee and here is where he spends a good part of each and every day playing alone with myself in the roll of caddy. So one would not be far from amiss to refer to me as Mr. Frisbie’s caddy rather than his chauffeur but it was as a chauffeur that I was engaged and can flatter myself that there are very few men of my calling who would not gladly exchange their salary and position for mine.

Mr. Frisbie is a man just this side of 60 years of age. Almost 10 years ago he retired from active business with money enough to put him in a class with the richest men in the United States and since then his investments have increased their value to such an extent so that now he is in a class with the richest men in the United States.

It was soon after his retirement that he bought the Peter Vischer estate near Westbury, Long Island. On this estate there was a 9 hole golf course in good condition and considered one of the best private 9 hole golf courses in the United States but Mr. Frisbie would have had it plowed up and the land used for some other usage only for a stroke of chance which was when Mrs. Frisbie’s brother came over from England for a visit.

It was during while this brother-in-law was visiting Mr. Frisbie that I entered the last named employee and was an onlooker when Mr. Frisbie’s brother-in-law persuaded his brother-in-law to try the game of golf. As luck would have it Mr. Frisbie’s first drive was so good that his brother-in-law would not believe he was a new beginner till he had seen Mr. Frisbie shoot again but that first perfect drive made Mr. Frisbie a slave of the game and without which there would be no such instance as I am about to relate.

I would better explain at this junction that I am not a golfer but I have learned quite a lot of knowledge about the game by cadding for Mr. Frisbie and also once or twice in company with my employer have picked up some knowledge of the game by witnessing players like Bobby Jones and Hagen and Sarazen and Smith in some of their matches. I have only tried it myself on a very few occasions when I was sure Mr. Frisbie could not observe me and will confide that in my own mind I am convinced that with a little practise that I would have little trouble defeating Mr. Frisbie but will never seek to prove same for reasons which I will leave it to the reader to guess the reasons.

One day shortly after Mr. Frisbie’s brother-in-law had ended his visit I was cadding for Mr. Frisbie and as had become my custom keeping the score for him when a question arose as to whether he had taken 7 or 8 strokes on the last hole. A 7 would have given him a total of 63 for the 9 holes while a 8 would have made it 64. Mr. Frisbie tried to recall the different strokes but was not certain and asked me to help him.

As I remembered it he had sliced his 4th. wooden shot in to a trap but had recovered well and got on to the green and then had taken 3 putts which would make him a 8 but by some slip of the tongue when I started to say 8 I said 7 and before I could correct myself Mr. Frisbie said yes you are right it was a 7.

“That is even 7s,” said Mr. Frisbie.

“Yes,” I said.

On the way back to the house he asked me what was my salary which I told him and he said well I think you are worth more than that and from now on you will get $25.00 more per week.

On another occasion when 9 more holes had been added to the course and Mr. Frisbie was playing the 18 holes regular every day he came to the last hole needing a 5 to break 112 which was his best score.

The 18th. hole is only 120 yards with a big green but a brook in front and traps in back of it. Mr. Frisbie got across the brook with his second but the ball went over in to the trap and it looked like bad business because Mr. Frisbie is even worse with a niblick than almost any other club except maybe the No. 3 and 4 irons and the wood.

Well I happened to get to the ball ahead of him and it laid there burred in the deep sand about a foot from a straight up and down bank 8 foot high where it would have been impossible for any man alive to oust it in one stroke but as luck would have it I stumbled and gave the ball a little kick and by chance it struck the side of the bank and stuck in the grass and Mr. Frisbie got it up on the green in one stroke and was down in 2 putts for his 5.

“Well that is my record 111 or 3 over 6s,” he said.

Now my brother had a couple of tickets for the polo at Meadowbrook the next afternoon and I am a great lover of horses flesh so I said to Mr. Frisbie can I go to the polo tomorrow afternoon and he said certainly any time you want a afternoon off do not hesitate to ask me but a little while later there was a friend of mine going to get married at Atlantic City and Mr. Frisbie had just shot a 128 and broke his spoon besides and when I mentioned about going to Atlantic City for my friend’s wedding he snapped at me like a wolf and said what did I think it was the xmas holidays.

Personally I am a man of simple tastes and few wants and it is very seldom when I am not satisfied to take my life and work as they come and not seek fear or favor but of course there are times in every man’s life when they desire something a little out of the ordinary in the way of a little vacation or perhaps a financial accommodation of some kind and in such cases I have found Mr. Frisbie a king amongst men provide it one uses discretion in choosing the moment of their reproach but a variable tyrant if one uses bad judgment in choosing the moment of their reproach.

You can count on him granting any reasonable request just after he has made a good score or even a good shot where as a person seeking a favor when he is off his game might just swell ask President Coolidge to do the split.

I wish to state that having learned my lesson along these lines I did not use my knowledge to benefit myself alone but have on the other hand utilized same mostly to the advantage of others especially the members of Mr. Frisbie’s own family. Mr. Frisbie’s wife and son and daughter all realized early in my employment that I could handle Mr. Frisbie better than anyone else and without me ever exactly divulging the secret of my methods they just naturally began to take it for granted that I could succeed with him where they failed and it became their habit when they sought something from their respective spouse and father to summons me as their adviser and advocate.

As an example of the above I will first sight an example in connection with Mrs. Frisbie. This occurred many years ago and was the instance which convinced her beyond all doubt that I was a expert on the subject of managing her husband.

Mrs. Frisbie is a great lover of music but unable to perform on any instrument herself. It was her hope that one of the children would be a pianiste and a great deal of money was spent on piano lessons for both Robert the son and Florence the daughter but all in vain as neither of the two showed any talent and their teachers one after another gave them up in despair.

Mrs. Frisbie at last became desirous of purchasing a player piano and of course would consider none but the best but when she brooched the subject to Mr. Frisbie he turned a deaf ear as he said pianos were made to be played by hand and people who could not learn same did not deserve music in the home.

I do not know how often Mr. and Mrs. Frisbie disgust the matter pro and con.

Personally they disgust it in my presence any number of times and finally being a great admirer of music myself and seeing no reason why a man of Mr. Frisbie’s great wealth should deny his wife a harmless pleasure such as a player piano I suggested to the madam that possibly if she would leave matters to me the entire proposition might be put over. I can no more than fail I told her and I do not think I will fail so she instructed me to go ahead as I could not do worse than fail which she had already done herself.

I will relate the success of my plan as briefly as possible. Between the house and the golf course there was a summer house in which Mrs. Frisbie sat reading while Mr. Frisbie played golf. In this summer house she could sit so as to not be visible from the golf course. She was to sit there till she heard me whistle the strains of “Over There” where at she was to appear on the scene like she had come direct from the house and the fruits of our scheme would then be known.

For two days Mrs. Frisbie had to console herself with her book as Mr. Frisbie’s golf was terrible and there was no moment when I felt like it would not be courting disaster to summons her on the scene but during the 3rd. afternoon his game suddenly improved and he had shot the 1st. 9 holes in 53 and started out on the 10th. with a pretty drive when I realized the time had come.

Mrs. Frisbie appeared promptly in answer to my whistling and walked rapidly up to Mr. Frisbie like she had hurried from the house and said there is a man at the house from that player piano company and he says he will take $50.00 off the regular price if I order today and please let me order one as I want one so much.

“Why certainly dear go ahead and get it dear,” said Mr. Frisbie and that is the way Mrs. Frisbie got her way in regards to a player piano. Had I not whistled when I did but waited a little longer it would have spelt ruination to our schemes as Mr. Frisbie took a 12 on the 11th. hole and would have bashed his wife over the head with a No. 1 iron had she even asked him for a toy drum.

I have been of assistance to young Mr. Robert Frisbie the son with reference to several items of which I will only take time to touch on one item with reference to Mr. Robert wanting to drive a car. Before Mr. Robert was 16 years of age he was always after Mr. Frisbie to allow him to drive one of the cars and Mr. Frisbie always said him nay on the ground that it is against the law for a person under 16 years of age to drive a car.

When Mr. Robert reached the age of 16 years old however this excuse no longer held good and yet Mr. Frisbie continued to say Mr. Robert nay in regards to driving a car. There is plenty of chauffeurs at your beckon call said Mr. Frisbie to drive you where ever and when ever you wish to go but of course Mr. Robert like all youngsters wanted to drive himself and personally I could see no harm in it as I personally could not drive for him and the other 2 chauffeurs in Mr. Frisbie’s employee at the time were just as lightly to wreck a car as Mr. Robert so I promised Mr. Robert that I would do my best towards helping him towards obtaining permission to drive one of the cars.

“Leave it to me” was my bequest to Mr. Robert and sure enough my little strategy turned the trick though Mr. Robert did not have the patience like his mother to wait in the summer house till a favorable moment arrived so it was necessary for me to carry through the entire proposition by myself.

The 16th. hole on our course is perhaps the most difficult hole on our course at least it has always been a variable tartar for Mr. Frisbie.

It is about 350 yards long in length and it is what is called a blind hole as you can not see the green from the tee as you drive from the tee up over a hill with a direction flag as the only guide and down at the bottom of the hill there is a brook a little over 225 yards from the tee which is the same brook which you come to again on the last hole and in all the times Mr. Frisbie has played around the course he has seldom never made this 16th. hole in less than 7 strokes or more as his tee shot just barely skins the top of the hill giving him a down hill lie which upsets him so that he will miss the 2d. shot entirely or top it and go in to the brook.

Well I generally always stand up on top of the hill to watch where his tee shot goes and on the occasion referred to he got a pretty good tee shot which struck on top of the hill and rolled half way down and I hurried to the ball before he could see me and I picked it up and threw it across the brook and when he climbed to the top of the hill I pointed to where the ball laid the other side of the brook and shouted good shot Mr. Frisbie. He was overjoyed and beamed with joy and did not suspect anything out of the way though in realty he could not hit a ball more than 160 yards if it was teed on the summit of Pike’s Peak.

Fate was on my side at this junction and Mr. Frisbie hit a perfect mashie shot on to the green and sunk his 2d. put for the only 4 of his career on this hole. He was almost delirious with joy and you may be sure I took advantage of the situation and before we were fairly off the green I said to him Mr. Frisbie if you do not need me tomorrow morning do you not think it would be a good time for me to learn Mr. Robert to drive a car.

“Why certainly he is old enough now to drive a car and it is time he learned.”

I now come to the main instance of my article which is in regards to Miss Florence Frisbie who is now Mrs. Henry Craig and of course Craig is not the real name but you will soon see that what I was able to do for her was no such childs play like gaining consent for Mr. Robert to run a automobile or Mrs. Frisbie to purchase a player piano but this was a matter of the up most importance and I am sure the reader will not consider me a vain bragger when I claim that I handled it with some skill.

Miss Florence is a very pretty and handsome girl who has always had a host of suiters who paid court to her on account of being pretty as much as her great wealth and I believe there has been times when no less than half a dozen or more young men were paying court to her at one time. Well about 2 years ago she lost her heart to young Henry Craig and at the same time Mr. Frisbie told her in no uncertain turns that she must throw young Craig over board and marry his own choice young Junior Holt or he would cut her off without a dime.

Holt and Craig are not the real names of the two young men referred to though I am using their real first names namely Junior and Henry. Young Holt is a son of Mr. Frisbie’s former partner in business and a young man who does not drink or smoke and has got plenty of money in his own rights and a young man who any father would feel safe in trusting their daughter in the bands of matrimony. Young Craig at that time had no money and no position and his parents had both died leaving nothing but debts.

“Craig is just a tramp and will never amount to anything,” said Mr. Frisbie. “I have had inquirys made and I understand he drinks when anyone will furnish him the drinks. He has never worked and never will. Junior Holt is a model young man from all accounts and comes of good stock and is the only young man I know whose conduct and habits are such that I would consider him fit to marry my daughter.”

Miss Florence said that Craig was not a tramp and she loved him and would not marry anyone else and as for Holt he was terrible but even if he was not terrible she would never consider undergoing the bands of matrimony with a man named Junior.

“I will elope with Henry if you do not give in,” she said.

Mr. Frisbie was not alarmed by this threat as Miss Florence has a little common sense and would not be lightly to elope with a young man who could hardly finance a honeymoon trip on the subway. But neither was she showing any signs of yielding in regards to his wishes in regards to young Holt and things began to take on the appearance of a dead lock between father and daughter with neither side showing any signs of yielding.

Miss Florence grew pale and thin and spent most of her time in her room instead of seeking enjoyment amongst her friends as was her custom. As for Mr. Frisbie he was always a man of iron will and things began to take on the appearance of a dead lock with neither side showing any signs of yielding.

It was when it looked like Miss Florence was on the verge of a serious illness when Mrs. Frisbie came to me and said we all realize that you have more influence with Mr. Frisbie than anyone else and is there any way you can think of to get him to change his status toward Florence and these 2 young men because if something is not done right away I am afraid of what will happen. Miss Florence likes you and has a great deal of confidence in you said Mrs. Frisbie so will you see her and talk matters over with her and see if you can not think up some plan between you which will put a end to this situation before my poor little girl dies.

So I went to see Miss Florence in her bedroom and she was a sad sight with her eyes red from weeping and so pale and thin and yet her face lit up with a smile when I entered the room and she shook hands with me like I was a long lost friend.

“I asked my mother to send you,” said Miss Florence. “This case looks hopeless but I know you are a great fixer as far as Father is concerned and you can fix it if anyone can. Now I have got a idea which I will tell you and if you like it it will be up to you to carry it out.”

“What is your idea?”

“Well,” said Miss Florence, “I think that if Mr. Craig the man I love could do Father a favor why Father would not be so set against him.”

“What kind of a favor?”

“Well Mr. Craig plays a very good game of golf and he might give Father some pointers which would improve Father’s game.”

“Your father will not play golf with anyone and certainly not with a good player and besides that your father is not the kind of a man that wants anyone giving him pointers. Personally I would just as leaf go up and tickle him as tell him that his stance is wrong.”

“Then I guess my idea is not so good.”

“No,” I said and then all of a sudden I had a idea of my own. “Listen Miss Florence does the other one play golf?”

“Who?”

“Young Junior Holt.”

“Even better than Mr. Craig.”

“Does your father know that?”

“Father does not know anything about him or he would not like him so well.”

Well I said I have got a scheme which may work or may not work but no harm to try and the first thing to be done is for you to spruce up and pretend like you do not feel so unkindly towards young Holt after all. The next thing is to tell your father that Mr. Holt never played golf and never even saw it played but would like to watch your father play so he can get the hang of the game.

And then after that you must get Mr. Holt to ask your father to let him follow him around the course and very secretly you must tip Mr. Holt off that your father wants his advice. When ever your father does anything wrong Mr. Holt is to correct him. Tell him your father is crazy to improve his golf but is shy in regards to asking for help.

There is a lot of things that may happen to this scheme but if it should go through why I will guarantee that at least half your troubles will be over.

Well as I said there was a lot of things that might have happened to spoil my scheme but nothing did happen and the very next afternoon Mr. Frisbie confided in me that Miss Florence seemed to feel much better and seemed to have changed her mind in regards to Mr. Holt and also said that the last named had expressed a desire to follow Mr. Frisbie around the golf course and learn something about the game.

Mr. Holt was a kind of a fat pudgy young man with a kind of a sneering smile and the first minute I saw him I wished him the worst.

For a second before Mr. Frisbie started to play I was certain we were lost as Mr. Frisbie remarked where have you been keeping yourself Junior that you never watched golf before. But luckily young Holt took the remark as a joke and made no reply. Right afterwards the storm clouds began to gather in the sky. Mr. Frisbie sliced his tee shot.

“Mr. Frisbie,” said Young Holt, “there was several things the matter with you then but the main trouble was that you stood too close to the ball and cut across it with your club head and besides that you swang back faster than Alex Smith and you were off your balance and you gripped too hard and you jerked instead of hitting with a smooth follow through.”

Well, Mr. Frisbie gave him a queer look and then made up his mind that Junior was trying to be humorous and he frowned at him so as he would not try it again but when we located the ball in the rough and Mr. Frisbie asked me for his spoon young Holt said Oh take your mashie Mr. Frisbie never use a wooden club in a place like that and Mr. Frisbie scowled and mumbled under his breath and missed the ball with his spoon and missed it again and then took a midiron and just dribbled it on to the fairway and finally got on the green in 7 and took 3 putts.

I suppose you might say that this was one of the quickest golf matches on record as it ended on the 2d. tee. Mr. Frisbie tried to drive and sliced again. Then young Holt took a ball from my pocket and a club from the bag and said here let me show you the swing and drove the ball 250 yards straight down the middle of the course.

I looked at Mr. Frisbie’s face and it was puffed out and a kind of a purple black color. Then he burst and I will only repeat a few of the more friendlier of his remarks.

“Get to hell and gone of my place. Do not never darken my doors again. Just show up around here one more time and I will blow out what you have got instead of brains. You lied to my girl and you tried to make a fool out of me. Get out before I sick my dogs on you and tear you to pieces.”

Junior most lightly wanted to offer some word of explanation or to demand one on his own account but saw at a glance how useless same would be. I heard later that he saw Miss Florence and that she just laughed at him.

“I made a mistake about Junior Holt,” said Mr. Frisbie that evening. “He is no good and must never come to this house again.”

“Oh Father and just when I was beginning to like him,” said Miss Florence.

Well like him or not like him she and the other young man Henry Craig were married soon afterwards which I suppose Mr. Frisbie permitted the bands in the hopes that same would rile Junior Holt.

Mr. Frisbie admitted he had made a mistake in regards to the last named but he certainly was not mistaken when he said that young Craig was a tramp and would never amount to anything.

Well I guess I have rambled on long enough about Mr. Frisbie.

Jokers Wild

1 … Three Without, Doubled
2 … A Friendly Game
3 … Contract

• 1 •

Three Without, Doubled

I

They ain’t no immediate chance o’ you gettin’ ast out to our house to dinner – not w’ile round steak and General Motors is sellin’ at the same price and common dog biscuit’s ten cents a loaf. But you might have nothin’ decent to do some evenin’ and happen to drop in on the Missus and I for a call; so I feel like I ought to give you a little warnin’ in case that comes off.

You know they’s lots o’ words that’s called fightin’ words. Some o’ them starts a brawl, no matter who they’re spoke to. You can’t call nobody a liar without expectin’ to lose a couple o’ milk teeth – that is, if the party addressed has got somethin’ besides lemon juice in his veins and ain’t had the misfortune to fall asleep on the Panhandle tracks and be separated from his most prominent legs and arms. Then they’s terms that don’t hit you so much yourself, but reflects on your ancestors and prodigies, and you’re supposed to resent ’em for the sake of honor and fix the speaker’s map so as when he goes home his wife’ll say: “Oh, kiddies! Come and look at the rainbow!”

Then they’s other words and terms that you can call ’em to somebody and not get no rise; but call ’em to somebody else and the insurance companies could hold out on your widow by claimin’ it was suicide. For instance, they’s young Harold Greiner, one o’ the bookkeepers down to the office. I could tell him he was an A. P. A., with a few adjectives, and he’d just smile and say: “Quit your flirtin’!” But I wouldn’t never try that expression on Dan Cahill, the elevator starter, without bein’ well out of his earshots. And I don’t know what it means, at that.

Well, if you do come out to the house they’s a term that you want to lay off of when the Missus is in the room. Don’t say: “San Susie!”

It sounds harmless enough, don’t it? They ain’t nothin’ to it even when it’s transferred over from the Latin, “Without no cares.” But just leave her hear it mentioned and watch her grab the two deadliest weapons that’s within reach, one to use on you or whoever said it, and the other on me, on general principles.

You think I’m stringin’ you, and I admit you got cause – that is, till you’ve heard the details of our latest plunge in the cesspools o’ Society.

II

It was a Friday evenin’ about three weeks ago when I come home and found the Wife quaverin’ with excitement.

“Who do you think called up?” she ast me.

“I got no idear,” I says.

“Guess!” says she.

So I had to guess.

“Josephus Daniels,” I says. “Or Henry Ford. Or maybe it was that guy with the scar on his lip that you thought was smilin’ at you the other day.”

“You couldn’t never guess,” she says. “It was Mrs. Messenger.”

“Which one?” I ast her. “You can’t mean Mrs. A. D. T. Messenger.”

“If you’re so cute I won’t tell you nothin’ about it,” says she.

“Don’t make no rash threats,” I says. “You’re goin’ to tell me some time and they’s no use makin’ yourself sick by tryin’ to hold it in.”

“You know very well what Mrs. Messenger I mean,” she says. “It was Mrs. Robert Messenger that’s husband owns this buildin’ and the one at the corner, where they live at.”

“Haven’t you paid the rent?” I says.

“Do you think a woman like Mrs. Messenger would be buttin’ into her husband’s business?” says the Missus.

“I don’t know what kind of a woman Mrs. Messenger is,” I says. “But if I owned these here apartments and somebody fell behind in their rent, I wouldn’t be surprised to see the owner’s wife goin’ right over to their flat and takin’ it out o’ their trousers pocket.”

“Well,” says the Wife, “we don’t owe them no rent and that wasn’t what she called up about. It wasn’t no business call.”

“Go ahead and spill it,” I says. “My heart’s weak.”

“Well,” she says, “I was just gettin’ through with the lunch dishes and the phone rang.”

“I bet you wondered who it was,” says I.

“I thought it was Mrs. Hatch or somebody,” says the Wife. “So I run to the phone and it was Mrs. Messenger. So the first thing she says was to explain who she was – just like I didn’t know. And the next thing she ast was did I play bridge.”

“And what did you tell her?” says I.

“What do you think I’d tell her?” says the Missus. “I told her yes.”

“Wasn’t you triflin’ a little with the truth?” I ast her.

“Certainly not!” she says. “Haven’t I played twice over to Hatches’? So then she ast me if my husband played bridge, too. And I told her yes, he did.”

“What was the idear?” I says. “You know I didn’t never play it in my life.”

“I don’t know no such a thing,” she says. “For all as I know, you may play all day down to the office.”

“No,” I says; “we spend all our time down there playin’ post-office with the scrubwomen.”

“Well, anyway, I told her you did,” says the Missus. “Don’t you see they wasn’t nothin’ else I could tell her, because if I told her you didn’t, that would of ended it.”

“Ended what?” I says.

“We wouldn’t of been ast to the party,” says the Missus.

“Who told you they was goin’ to be a party?” I says.

“I don’t have to be told everything,” says the Missus. “I got brains enough to know that Mrs. Messenger ain’t callin’ me up and astin’ me do we play bridge just because she’s got a headache or feels lonesome or somethin’. But it ain’t only one party after all, and that’s the best part of it. She ast us if we’d care to join the club.”

“What club?” says I.

“Mrs. Messenger’s club, the San Susie Club,” says the Missus. “You’ve heard me speak about it a hundred times, and it’s been mentioned in the papers once or twice, too – once, anyway, when the members give away them Christmas dinners last year.”

“We can get into the papers,” I says, “without givin’ away no Christmas dinners.”

“Who wants to get into the papers?” says the Wife. “I don’t care nothin’ about that.”

“No,” I says; “I suppose if a reporter come out here and ast for your pitcher to stick in the society columns, you’d pick up the carvin’ knife and run him ragged.”

“I’d be polite to him, at least,” she says.

“Yes,” says I; “it wouldn’t pay to treat him rude; it’d even be justifiable to lock him in w’ile you was lookin’ for the pitcher.”

“If you’ll kindly leave me talk you may find out what I got to say,” she says. “I’ve told you about this club, but I don’t suppose you ever paid any attention. It’s a club that’s made up from people that just lives in this block, twenty o’ them altogether; and all but one couple either lives in this buildin’ or in the buildin’ the Messengers lives in. And they’re all nice people, people with real class to them; not no tramps like most o’ the ones we been runnin’ round with. One o’ them’s Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Collins that used to live on Sheridan Road and still goes over to parties at some o’ the most exclusive homes on the North Side. And they don’t have nobody in the club that isn’t congenial with each other, but all just a nice crowd o’ real people that gets together once a week at one o’ the members’ houses and have a good time.”

“How did these pillows o’ Society happen to light on to us?” I ast her.

“Well,” she says, “it seems like the Baileys, who belonged to the club, went to California last week to spend the winter. And they had to have a couple to take their place. And Mrs. Messenger says they wouldn’t take nobody that didn’t live in our block, and her and her husband looked over the list and we was the ones they picked out.”

“Probably,” I says, “that’s because we was the only eligibles that can go out nights on account o’ not havin’ no children.”

“The Pearsons ain’t ast,” she says, “and they ain’t got no children.”

“Well,” I says, “what’s the dues?”

“They ain’t no dues,” says the Missus. “But once in a w’ile, instead o’ playin’ bridge, everybody puts in two dollars apiece and have a theater party. But the regular program is for an evenin’ o’ bridge every Tuesday night, at different members’ houses, somebody different actin’ as hosts every week. And each couple puts up two dollars, makin’ ten dollars for a gent’s prize and ten dollars for a lady’s. And the prizes is picked out by the lady that happens to be the hostess.”

“That’s a swell proposition for me,” I says. “In the first place they wouldn’t be a chance in the world for me to win a prize, because I don’t know nothin’ about the game. And, in the second place, suppose I had a whole lot o’ luck and did win the prize, and come to find out it was a silver mustache cup that I wouldn’t have no more use for than another Adam’s apple! If they paid in cash they might be somethin’ to it.”

“If you win a prize you can sell it, can’t you?” says the Missus. “Besides, the prizes don’t count. It’s gettin’ in with the right kind o’ people that makes the difference.”

“Another thing,” I says: “When it come our turn to have the party, where would we stick ’em all? We’d have to spread a sheet over the bathtub for one table, and have one couple set on the edges and the other couple toss up for the washbasin and the clothes-hamper. And another two couple’d have to kneel round the bed, and another bunch could stand up round the bureau. That’d leave the dinin’-room table for the fourth set; and for a special treat the remainin’ four could play in the parlor.”

“We could hire chairs and tables,” says the Missus. “We’re goin’ to have to some time, anyway, when you or I die.”

“You don’t need to hire no tables for my funeral,” I says. “If the pallbearers or the quartet insists on shootin’ craps they can use the kitchen floor; or if they want beer and sandwiches you can slip ’em the money to go down to the corner.”

“They’s no use worryin’ about our end of it yet,” says the Wife. “We’ll be new members and they won’t expect us to give no party till everybody else has had their turn.”

“I only got one objection left,” I says. “How am I goin’ to get by at a bridge party when I haven’t no idear how many cards to deal?”

“I guess you can learn if I learnt,” she says. “You’re always talkin’ about what a swell card player you are. And besides, you’ve played w’ist, and they ain’t hardly any difference.”

“And the next party is next Tuesday night?” I says.

“Yes,” says the Missus, “at Mrs. Garrett’s, the best player in the club, and one o’ the smartest women in Chicago, Mrs. Messenger says. She lives in the same buildin’ with the Messengers. And they’s dinner first and then we play bridge all evenin’.”

“And maybe,” I says, “before the evenin’s over, I’ll find out what’s trumps.”

“You’ll know all about the game before that,” she says. “Right after supper we’ll get out the cards and I’ll show you.”

So right after supper she got out the cards and begun to show me. But about all as I learnt was one thing, and that was that if I died without no insurance, the Missus would stand a better show o’ supportin’ herself by umpirin’ baseball in the National League than by teachin’ in a bridge-w’ist university. She knew everything except how much the different suits counted, and how many points was in a game, and what honors meant, and who done the first biddin’, and how much to bid on what.

After about an hour of it I says:

“I can see you got this thing mastered, but you’re like a whole lot of other people that knows somethin’ perfect themselves but can’t learn it to nobody else.”

“No,” she says; “I got to admit that I don’t know as much as I thought I did. I didn’t have no trouble when I was playin’ with Mrs. Hatch and Mrs. Pearson and Mrs. Kramer; but it seems like I forgot all they learnt me.”

“It’s a crime,” I says, “that we should have to pass up this chance to get in right just because we can’t play a fool game o’ cards. Why don’t you call up Mrs. Messenger and suggest that the San Susies switches to pedro or five hundred or rummy, or somethin’ that you don’t need to take no college course in?”

“You’re full o’ brilliant idears,” says the Missus. “They’s only just the one game that Society plays, and that’s bridge. Them other games is jokes.”

“I’ve noticed you always treated ’em that way,” I says. “But they wasn’t so funny to me when it come time to settle.”

“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” says the Missus: “We’ll call up Mr. and Mrs. Hatch and tell ’em to come over here tomorrow night and give us a lesson.”

“That’d be sweet,” I says, “askin’ them to learn us a game so as we could join a club that’s right here in their neighborhood, but they ain’t even been ast to join it!”

“Why, you rummy!” she says. “We don’t have to tell ’em why we want to learn. We’ll just say that my two attempts over to their house has got me interested and I and you want to master the game so as we can spend many pleasant evenin’s with them; because Mrs. Hatch has told me a hundred times that her and her husband would rather play bridge than eat.”

So she called up Mrs. Hatch and sprung it on her; but it seemed like the Hatches had an engagement for Saturday night, but would be tickled to death to come over Monday evenin’ and give us a work-out. After that was fixed we both felt kind of ashamed of ourselves, deceivin’ people that was supposed to be our best friends.

“But, anyway,” the Missus says, “the Hatches wouldn’t never fit in with that crowd. Jim always looks like he’d dressed on the elevated and Mrs. Hatch can’t talk about nothin’ only shiropody.”

On the Saturday I tried to slip one over by buyin’ a book called Auction Bridge, and I read it all the way home from town and then left it on the car. It was a great book for a man that had learnt the rudderments and wanted to find out how to play the game right. But for me to try and get somethin’ out of it was just like as though some kid’d learn the baseball guide by heart in kindeygarden and then ask Hugh Jennin’s for the job in center-field. I did find out one thing from it though: it says that in every deal one o’ the players was a dummy and just laid his cards down and left somebody else play ’em. So when I got home I says:

“We won’t need no help from Jim Hatch and his wife. We can just be dummies all the evenin’ and they won’t nobody know if we’re ignorant or not.”

“That’s impossible, to be dummy all the time,” says the Missus.

“Not for me,” I says. “I know it’ll be tough for you, but you can chew a lot o’ gum and you won’t mind it so much.”

“You don’t understand,” she says. “The dummy is the pardner o’ the party that gets the bid. Suppose one o’ the people that was playin’ against you got the bid; then the other one’d be dummy and you’d have to play your hand.”

“But I don’t need to leave ’em have the bid,” I says. “I can take it away from ’em.”

“And if you take it away from ’em,” she says, “then you got the bid yourself, and your pardner’s dummy, not you.”

Well, the Hatches breezed in Monday night and Mrs. Hatch remarked how tickled she was that we was goin’ to learn, and what good times we four’d have playin’ together. And the Missus and I pretended like we shared her raptures.

“Ain’t you never played at all?” she ast me; and I told her no.

“The first thing,” she says, “is how much the different suits counts; and then they’s the bids. And you got to pay attention to the conventions.”

“I’m through with ’em forever,” I says, “since they turned down Roosevelt.”

Well, we started in and Hatch and the Missus played Mrs. Hatch and I. We kept at it till pretty near midnight, with three or four intermissions so as Hatch could relieve the strain on the ice-box. My w’ist education kept me from bein’ much of a flivver when it come to playin’ the cards; but, I don’t care how bright a guy is, you can’t learn everything about biddin’ in one evenin’, and you can’t remember half what you learnt. I don’t know what the score was when we got through, but the Hatches done most o’ the execution and held most o’ the cards, which is their regular habit.

“You’ll get along all right,” says Mrs. Hatch when they was ready to go. “But, o’ course, you can’t expect to master a game like bridge in a few hours. You want to keep at it.”

“We’re goin’ to,” says the Missus.

“Maybe it’d be a good idear,” says Mrs. Hatch, “to play again soon before you forget what we learnt you. Why don’t you come over to our house for another session tomorrow night?”

“Let’s see; tomorrow night?” says the Missus, stallin’. “Why, no, we can’t. We got an engagement.”

So Mrs. Hatch stood there like she was expectin’ to hear what it was.

“We’re goin’ to a party,” says the Wife.

“Oh, tell me about it!” says Mrs. Hatch.

“Well,” says the Missus, “it ain’t really a party; it’s just a kind of a party; some old friends that’s visitin’ in town.”

“Maybe they’ll play bridge with you,” says Mrs. Hatch.

“Oh, no,” says the Missus, blushin’. “It’ll probably be rummy or pedro; or maybe we’ll just go to the pitchers.”

“Why don’t you go over to the Acme?” says Mrs. Hatch. “They got Chaplin in The Street Sweeper. We’re goin’, and we could meet you and all go together.”

“N-no,” says the Wife. “You see, one of our friends has just lost his wife and I know he wouldn’t feel like goin’ to see somethin’ funny.”

“He’s already laughed himself sick,” I says.

Well, we wouldn’t make no date with ’em and they finally blew with the understandin’ that we was to go to their house and play some night soon. When they’d went the Missus says:

“I feel like a criminal, deceivin’ ’em like that. But I just couldn’t tell ’em the truth. Bertha Hatch is the most jealous thing in the world and it would just about kill her to know that we was in on somethin’ good without she and Jim.”

“If you hadn’t ast ’em over,” I says, “we’d of been just as well off and you wouldn’t of had to make a perjure out o’ yourself.”

“What do you mean, we’d of been just as well off?” she says. “They done what we expected of ’em, learnt us the game.”

“Yes,” I says; “and you could take all I remember o’ the lesson and feed it to a gnat and he’d say: ‘Hurry up with the soup course!’”

III

Well, Mrs. Garrett had called up to say that the feed before the game would begin at seven bells; so I and the Missus figured on bein’ on hand at half past six, so as to get acquainted with some of our fellow club members and know what to call ’em when we wanted the gravy passed or somethin’. But I had trouble with my studs and it wasn’t till pretty near twenty minutes to seven that we rung the Garretts’ bell. The hired girl let us in and left us standin’ in the hall w’ile she went to tell Mrs. Garrett we was there. Pretty soon the girl come back and says she would take our wraps and that Mrs. Garrett would be with us in a few minutes. So we was showed into the livin’-room.

The apartment was on the second floor and looked about twice as big as our’n.

“What do you suppose this costs ’em?” ast the Missus.

“About fifty-five a month,” I says.

“You’re crazy!” says she. “They got this big livin’-room and two big bedrooms, and a maid’s room and a sun parlor, besides their dinin’-room and kitchen and bath. They’re lucky if they ain’t stuck for seventy.”

“I’ll bet you!” I says. “I’ll bet you it’s nearer fifty-five than seventy.”

“How much’ll you bet?” she says.

“Anything you say,” says I.

“Well,” she says, “I’ve got a cinch, and I need a pair o’ black silk stockin’s. My others has begun to run.”

“All right,” I says. “A pair o’ black silk stockin’s to fifty cents cash.”

“You’re on,” she says. “And I’ll call up the agent tomorrow and find out.”

Well, it must of been pretty near seven o’clock when Mrs. Garrett finally showed up.

“Good evenin’,” she says. “I suppose this must be our new members. I’m awfully glad you could come and I’m sorry I wasn’t quite ready.”

“That’s all right,” I says. “I’m glad to know they’s others has trouble gettin’ into their evenin’ clo’es. I suppose people that does it often enough finally get to be experts.”

“I didn’t have no trouble,” says Mrs. Garrett; “only I didn’t expect nobody till seven o’clock. You must of misunderstood me and thought I said half past six.”

Then Mr. Garrett come in and shook hands with us, and then the rest o’ the folks begun to arrive and we was introduced to them all. I didn’t catch all their names, only Mr. and Mrs. Messenger and Mr. and Mrs. Collins and a Mr. and Mrs. Sparks. Mrs. Garrett says dinner was ready and I was glad to hear it.

They set me down between Mrs. Messenger and a lady that I didn’t get her name.

“Well,” I says to Mrs. Messenger, “now we know you personally, we can pay the rent direct without botherin’ to go to the real-estate office.”

“I’m afraid that wouldn’t do,” she says. “Our agent’s entitled to his commissions. And besides, I wouldn’t know how much to take or nothin’ about it.”

“We pay thirty-five,” I says, “and that’s all as you could ast for, seein’ we only got the four rooms and no sun parlor. Thirty-two and a half would be about the right price.”

“You’ll have to argue that out with the agent,” she says.

I was kind of expectin’ a cocktail; but nothin’ doin’. The hired girl brought in some half sandwiches, made o’ toast, with somethin’ on ’em that looked like BB shot and tasted like New Year’s mornin’.

“Don’t we get no liquid refreshments?” I ast Mrs. Messenger.

“No, indeed,” she says. “The San Susie’s a dry club.”

“You should ought to call it the San Sousy, then,” says I.

The Missus was settin’ next to Mr. Garrett and I could hear ’em talkin’ about what a nice neighborhood it was and how they liked their flats. I thought I and the Missus might as well settle our bet then and there, so I spoke to Mr. Garrett acrost the table.

“Mr. Garrett,” I says, “w’ile we was waitin’ for you and your wife to get dressed, I and the Missus made a little bet, a pair o’ silk stockin’ against half a buck. I got to pay out two dollars here for the prize and the Missus claims her other stockin’s has begun to run; so you might say we’re both a little anxious.”

“Is it somethin’ I can settle?” he ast.

“Yes, sir,” I says, “because we was bettin’ on the rent you paid for this apartment. The Missus says seventy a month and I says fifty-five.”

“I never decide against a lady,” he says. “You better buy the stockin’s before the others run so far that they can’t find their way home.”

“If I lose, I lose,” says I. “But if you’re stuck sixty-five or better, the Missus must of steered me wrong about the number o’ rooms you got. I’ll pay, though, because I don’t never welsh on a bet. So this party’s really costin’ me two and a half instead o’ two.”

“Maybe you’ll win the prize,” says Mr. Garrett.

“They ain’t much chance,” I says. “I ain’t played this game for a long w’ile.”

“Why, your wife was just tellin’ me you played last night,” he says.

“I mean,” says I, “that I didn’t play for a long w’ile before last night; not for thirty-six years,” I says.

Well, when everybody’d got through chokin’ down the shot, they brought in some drowned toadstools, and then some little slices o’ beef about the size of a checker, and seven Saratoga chips apiece, and half a dozen string beans. Those that was still able to set up under this load finished up on sliced tomatoes that was caught too young and a nickel’s worth of ice-cream and an eyedropper full o’ coffee.

“Before I forget it,” says Mrs. Collins, w’ile we was staggerin’ out o’ the dinin’-room, “you’re all comin’ to my house next Tuesday night.”

I was walkin’ right behind her.

“And I got a suggestion for you,” I says, low enough so as they couldn’t nobody else hear: “Throw some o’ the prize money into the dinner; and if they’s any skimpin’ to be done, do it on the prizes.”

She didn’t say nothin’ back, because Mrs. Garrett had started to hand us the little cards that showed where we was to play.

“I suppose I better tell you our rules,” she says to me. “Each table plays four deals. Then the winners moves w’ile the losers sets still, except at the first table, where the winners sets still and the losers moves. You change pardners after every four deals. You count fifty for a game and a hundred and fifty for a rubber.”

“The way I been playin’,” I says, “it was thirty for a game.”

“I never heard o’ that,” she says; but I noticed when we got to playin’ that everybody that made thirty points called it a game.

“Don’t we see the prizes before we start?” I ast her. “I want to know whether to play my best or not.”

“If you win the prize and don’t like it,” she says, “I guess you can get it exchanged.”

“They tell me you’re the shark amongst the womenfolks,” says I; “so it’s a safe bet that you didn’t pick out no lady’s prize that isn’t O.K.”

I noticed some o’ the other men was slippin’ her their ante; so I parted with a two-spot. Then I found where I was to set at. It was Table Number Three, Couple Number One. My pardner was a strappin’ big woman with a name somethin’ like Rowley or Phillips. Our opponents was Mrs. Garrett and Mr. Messenger. Mrs. Garrett looked like she’d been livin’ on the kind of a meal she’d gave us, and Mr. Messenger could of set in the back seat of a flivver with two regular people without crowdin’ nobody. So I says to my pardner:

“Well, pardner, we got ’em outweighed, anyway.”

They was two decks o’ cards on the table. I grabbed one o’ them and begun to deal ’em face up.

“First jack,” I says.

“If you don’t mind, we’ll cut for deal,” says Mrs. Garrett.

So we cut the cards and it seemed like the low cut got the deal and that was Mrs. Garrett herself.

“Which deck’ll we play with?” I ast.

“Both o’ them,” says Mrs. Garrett. “Mr. Messenger’ll make them red ones for you.”

“Make ’em!” I says. “Well, Messenger, I didn’t know you was a card factory.”

Messenger laughed; but the two ladies didn’t get it. Mrs. Garrett dealt and it was her turn to bid.

“One without,” she says.

“I’d feel better if I had one within,” says I.

“Are you goin’ to bid or not?” she ast me.

“I thought it was the dealer’s turn first,” I says.

“I’ve made my bid,” she says. “I bid one without.”

“One without lookin’, or what?” I says.

“One no trump, if I got to explain it,” she says.

“Oh, that’s different,” I says; but I found out that most all o’ them said “One without” when they meant one no trump.

I looked at my hand; but about all as I had was four hearts, with the king and jack high.

“Pardner,” I says, “I don’t see nothin’ I can bid, unless it’d be one heart. Does that hit you?”

“No talkin’ acrost the boards,” says Mrs. Garrett. “And besides, one heart ain’t over my bid.”

So I passed and Mr. Messenger bid two spades. Then my pardner passed and Mrs. Garrett thought it over a w’ile and then bid two without. So I passed again and the rest o’ them passed, and it was my first lead.

Well, I didn’t have only one spade – the eight-spot – and I knew it wouldn’t do my hand no good as long as I couldn’t trump in with it; so I led it out. Messenger was dummy, and he laid his hand down. He had about eight spades, with the ace and queen high.

“I might as well take a chance,” says Mrs. Garrett, and she throwed on Messenger’s ten-spot.

Out come my pardner with the king, and it was our trick.

“What kind of a lead was that?” says Mrs. Garrett to me.

“Pretty good one, I guess,” says I. “It fooled you, anyway.”

And she acted like she was sore as a boil. Come to find out, she’d thought I was leadin’ from the king and was goin’ to catch it later on.

Well, her and Messenger took all the rest o’ the tricks except my king o’ hearts, and they had a game on us, besides forty for their four aces.

“I could of made a little slam as well as not,” she says when it was over. “But I misunderstood our friend’s lead. It’s the first time I ever seen a man lead from a sneak in no trump.”

“I’ll do a whole lot o’ things you never seen before,” I says.

“I don’t doubt it,” says she, still actin’ like I’d spilled salad dressin’ on her skirt.

It was my first bid next time and hearts was my only suit again. I had the ace, queen and three others.

“Pardner,” I says, “I’m goin’ to bid one heart and if you got somethin’ to help me out with, don’t let ’em take it away from me.”

“I’ll double a heart,” says Messenger.

“Oh, somebody else is gettin’ cute!” says I. “Well, I’ll double right back at you.”

“Will you just wait till it comes your turn?” says Mrs. Garrett. “And besides, you can’t redouble.”

“I guess I can,” says I. “I got five o’ them.”

“It’s against our rules,” she says.

So my partner done nothin’, as usual, and Mrs. Garrett bid one without again.

“I guess you want to play ’em all,” I says; “but you’ll have to come higher’n that. I’m goin’ to bid two hearts.”

“Two no trump,” says Messenger, and my pardner says “Pass” once more.

“You’ll get a sore throat sayin’ that,” I told her. “Don’t you never hold nothin’?”

“It don’t look like it,” she says.

“Maybe you don’t know what’s worth biddin’ on,” I says.

“Maybe she’d better take a few lessons from you,” says Mrs. Garrett.

“No,” I says, kiddin’ her. “You don’t want no more female experts in the club or you might have to buy some cut glass once in a w’ile instead o’ winnin’ it.”

Well, I bid three hearts; but Mrs. Garrett come up to three no trump and I couldn’t go no higher. This time I led out my ace o’ hearts, hopin’ maybe to catch their king; but I didn’t get it. And Mrs. Garrett copped all the rest of ’em for a little slam.

“If your husband ever starts drinkin’ hard,” I says, “you can support yourself by sellin’ some o’ your horseshoes to the Russian government.”

It wasn’t no lie, neither. I never seen such hands as that woman held, and Messenger’s was pretty near as good. In the four deals they grabbed two rubbers and a couple o’ little slams, and when they left our table they had over nine hundred to our nothin’.

Mr. Collins and another woman was the next ones to set down with us. The rules was to change pardners and Collins took the one I’d been playin’ with. And what does she do but get lucky and they give us another trimmin’, though nothin’ near as bad as the first one. My pardner, this time, was a woman about forty-eight, and she acted like it was way past her bedtime. When it was her turn to say somethin’ we always had to wait about five minutes, and all the other tables was through a long w’ile before us. Once she says:

“You’ll have to excuse me tonight. I don’t somehow seem to be able to keep my mind on the game.”

“No,” I says; “but I bet you’d perk up if the lady’s prize was a mattress. When you’re goin’ to be up late you should ought to take a nap in the afternoon.”

Well, sir, my next pardner wasn’t nobody else but the Missus. She’d started at the fourth table and lost the first time, but win the second. She come along with the husband o’ the pardner I’d just had; so here we was family against family, you might say.

“What kind o’ luck you been havin’?” the fella ast me.

“No luck at all,” I says. “But if you’re anywheres near as sleepy as your Missus, I and my wife should ought to clean up this time.”

We didn’t. They held all the cards except in one hand, and that was one my Missus tried to play. I bid first and made it a no trump, as they was three aces in my hand. Old Slumber began to talk in her sleep and says: “Two diamonds.” The Missus bid two hearts. Mr. Sleeper passed, and so did I, as I didn’t have a single heart in my hand and figured the Missus probably had ’em all. She had six, with the king high and then the nine-spot. Our female opponent had only two, and that left five for her husband, includin’ the ace, queen and jack. We was set three.

“Nice work!” I says to the Missus. “You’re the Philadelphia Athletics of auction bridge.”

“What was you biddin’ no trump on?” she says. “I thought, o’ course, you’d have one high heart and some suit.”

“You don’t want to start thinkin’ at your age,” I says. “You can’t learn an old dog new tricks.”

Mrs. Nap’s husband cut in.

“O’ course,” he says, “it’s a man’s privilege to call your wife anything you feel like callin’ her. But your Missus don’t hardly look old to me.”

“No, not comparatively speakin’,” I says, and he shut up.

They moved on and along come Garrett and Mrs. Messenger. I and Mrs. Messenger was pardners and I thought for a w’ile we was goin’ to win. But Garrett and the Missus had a bouquet o’ four-leaf clovers in the last two deals and licked us. Garrett wasn’t supposed to be as smart as his wife, but he was fox enough to keep biddin’ over my Missus, so as he’d do the playin’ instead o’ she.

It wasn’t till pretty near the close o’ the evenin’s entertainment that I got away from that table and moved to Number Two. When I set down there it was I and Mrs. Collins against her husband and Mrs. Sleeper.

“Well, Mrs. Collins,” I says, “I’ll try and hold some good hands for you and maybe I can have two helpin’s o’ the meat when we come to your house.”

The other lady opened her eyes long enough to ask who was winnin’.

“Oh, Mrs. Garrett’s way ahead,” says Mrs. Collins. “She’s got a score o’ somethin’ like three thousand. And Mr. Messenger is high amongst the men.”

“Who’s next to the leadin’ lady?” I ast her.

“I guess I am,” she says. “But I’m three hundred behind Mrs. Garrett.”

Well, the luck I’d just bumped into stayed with me and I and Mrs. Collins won and moved to the head table. Waitin’ there for us was our darlin’ hostess and Messenger, the two leaders in the pennant race. It was give out that this was to be the last game.

When Mrs. Garrett realized who was goin’ to be her pardner I wisht you could of seen her face!

“This is an unexpected pleasure,” she says to me. “I thought you liked the third table so well you was goin’ to stay there all evenin’.”

“I did intend to,” I says; “but I seen you up here and I heard you was leadin’ the league, so I thought I’d like to help you finish in front.”

“I don’t need no help,” she says. “All I ast is for you to not overbid your hands, and I’ll do the rest.”

“How many are you, Mrs. Garrett?” ast Mrs. Collins.

“Thirty-two hundred and sixty,” she says.

“Oh, my!” says Mrs. Collins, “I’m hopeless. I’m only twenty-nine hundred and forty-eight. And how about you, Mr. Messenger?”

“Round thirty-one hundred,” he says.

“Yes,” says Mrs. Garrett, “and I don’t believe any o’ the rest o’ the men is within five hundred o’ that.”

“Well, Messenger,” I says, “if the men’s prize happens to be a case o’ beer or a steak smothered in onions, don’t forget that I’m payin’ you thirty-five a month for a thirty-dollar flat.”

Now, I’d of gave my right eye to see Mrs. Collins beat Mrs. Garrett out. But I was goin’ to do my best for Mrs. Garrett just the same, because I don’t think it’s square for a man to not try and play your hardest all the time in any kind of a game, no matter where your sympathies lays. So when it come my turn to bid on the first hand, and I seen the ace and king and four other hearts in my hand, I raised Mrs. Collins’ bid o’ two diamonds, and Mrs. Garrett made it two no trump and got away with it. On the next two deals Messenger and Mrs. Collins made a game, and Mrs. Garrett got set a trick once on a bid o’ five clubs. The way the score was when it come to the last deal, I figured that if Mrs. Collins and Messenger made another game and rubber, the two women’d be mighty close to even.

Mrs. Garrett dealt ’em, and says: “One without.”

“Two spades,” says Mrs. Collins.

Well, sir, they wasn’t a spade in my hand, and I seen that if Mrs. Collins got it we was ruined on account o’ me not havin’ a trump. And w’ile I wanted Mrs. Collins to win I was goin’ to do my best to not let her. So I says:

“Two without.”

“You know what you’re doin’, do you?” says Mrs. Garrett.

“What do you mean, know what I’m doin’?” I says.

“No talkin’ acrost the boards,” says Messenger.

“All right,” I says; “but you can depend on me, pardner, not to throw you down.”

Well, Messenger passed and so did Mrs. Garrett; but Mrs. Collins wasn’t through.

“Three spades,” she says.

“Three without,” says I.

“I hope it’s all right,” says Mrs. Garrett.

“I’ll tell you one thing,” I says; “it’s a whole lot all-righter than if she played it in spades.”

Messenger passed again and ditto for my pardner.

“I’ll double,” says Mrs. Collins, and we let it go at that.

Man, oh, man! You ought to seen our genial hostess when I laid down my cards! And heard her, too! Her face turned all three colors o’ Old Glory. She slammed her hand down on the table, face up.

“I won’t play it!” she hollers. “I won’t be made a fool of! This poor idiot deliberately told me he had spades stopped, and look at his hand!”

“You’re mistaken, Mrs. Garrett,” I says. “I didn’t say nothin’ about spades.”

“Shut your mouth!” she says. “That’s what you ought to done all evenin’.”

“I might as well of,” I says, “for all the good it done me to keep it open at dinner.”

Everybody in the room quit playin’ and rubbered. Finally Garrett got up from where he was settin’ and come over.

“What seems to be the trouble?” he says. “This ain’t no barroom.”

“Nobody’d ever suspect it o’ bein’,” I says.

“Look what he done!” says Mrs. Garrett. “He raised my no-trump bid over three spades without a spade in his hand.”

“Well,” says Mr. Garrett, “they’s no use gettin’ all fussed up over a game o’ cards. The thing to do is pick up your hand and play it out and take your medicine.”

“I can set her three,” said Mrs. Collins. “I got seven spades, with the ace, king and queen, and I’ll catch her jack on the third lead.”

“And I got the ace o’ hearts,” says Messenger. “Even if it didn’t take a trick it’d make aces easy; so our three hundred above the line gives Mrs. Collins a score of about ten more’n Mrs. Garrett.”

“All right, then,” says Garrett. “Mrs. Collins is entitled to the lady’s prize.”

“I don’t want to take it,” says Mrs. Collins.

“You got to take it,” says Garrett.

And he give his wife a look that meant business. Anyway, she got up and went out o’ the room, and when she come back she was smilin’. She had two packages in her hand, and she give one to Messenger and one to Mrs. Collins.

“There’s the prizes,” she says; “and I hope you’ll like ’em.”

Messenger unwrapped his’n and it was one o’ them round leather cases that you use to carry extra collars in when you’re travelin’. Messenger had told me earlier in the evenin’ that he hadn’t been outside o’ Chicago in six years.

Mrs. Collins’ prize was a chafin’-dish.

“I don’t blame Mrs. Garrett for bein’ so crazy to win it,” I says to her when they couldn’t nobody hear. “Her and Garrett both must get hungry along about nine or ten P.M.”

“I hate to take it,” says Mrs. Collins.

“I wouldn’t feel that way,” I says. “I guess Mrs. Garrett will chafe enough without it.”

When we was ready to go I shook hands with the host and hostess and says I was sorry if I’d pulled a boner.

“It was to be expected,” says Mrs. Garrett.

“Yes,” I says; “a man’s liable to do most anything when he’s starvin’ to death.”

The Messengers and Collinses was a little ways ahead of us on the stairs and I wanted we should hurry and catch up with ’em.

“You let ’em go!” says the Missus. “You’ve spoiled everything now without doin’ nothin’ more. Every time you talk you insult somebody.”

“I ain’t goin’ to insult them,” I says. “I’m just goin’ to ask ’em to go down to the corner and have a drink.”

“You are not!” she says.

But she’s just as good a prophet as she is a bridge player. They wouldn’t go along, though, sayin’ it was late and they wanted to get to bed.

“Well, if you won’t, you won’t,” says I. “We’ll see you all a week from tonight. And don’t forget, Mrs. Collins, that I’m responsible for you winnin’ that chafin’-dish, and I’m fond o’ welsh rabbits.”

I was glad that we didn’t have to go far to our buildin’. The Missus was pleasant company, just like a bloodhound with the rabies. I left her in the vestibule and went down to help Mike close up. He likes to be amongst friends at a sad hour like that.

At breakfast the next mornin’ the Wife was more calm.

“Dearie,” she says, “they don’t neither one of us class as bridge experts. I’ll admit I got a lot to learn about the game. What we want to do is play with the Hatches every evenin’ this week, and maybe by next Tuesday night we’ll know somethin’.”

“I’m willin’,” I says.

“I’ll call Mrs. Hatch up this forenoon,” she says, “and see if they want us to come over there this evenin’. But if we do go remember not to mention our club or tell ’em anything about the party.”

Well, she had news for me when I got home.

“The San Susies is busted up,” she says. “Not forever, but for a few months anyway. Mrs. Messenger called up to tell me.”

“What’s the idear?” I says.

“I don’t know exactly,” says the Missus. “Mrs. Messenger says that the Collinses had boxes for the opera every Tuesday night and the rest didn’t feel like goin’ on without the Collinses, and they couldn’t all o’ them agree on another night.”

“I don’t see why they should bust it up on account o’ one couple,” I says. “Why didn’t you tell ’em about the Hatches? They’re right here in the neighborhood and can play bridge as good as anybody.”

“I wouldn’t think o’ doin’ it,” says she. “They may play all right, but think o’ how they talk and how they dress!”

“Well,” I says, “between you and I, I ain’t goin’ to take cyanide over a piece o’ news like this. Somehow it don’t appeal to me to vote myself dry every Tuesday night all winter – to say nothin’ o’ two dollars a week annual dues to help buy a prize that I got no chance o’ winnin’ and wouldn’t know what to do with it if I had it.”

“It’d of been nice, though,” she says, “to make friends with them people.”

“Well,” I says, “I’ll feel a little more confident o’ doin’ that if I see ’em once a year – or not at all.”

IV

I can tell you the rest of it in about a minute. The Missus had became resigned and everything was goin’ along smooth till last Tuesday evenin’. They was a new Chaplin show over to the Acme and we was on our way to see it. At the entrance to the buildin’ where the Messengers lives we seen Mr. and Mrs. Hatch.

“Hello, there!” says the Wife. “Better come along with us to the Acme.”

“Not tonight,” says Mrs. Hatch. “We’re tied up every Tuesday evenin’.”

“Some club?” ast the Missus.

“Yes,” says Mrs. Hatch. “It’s a bridge club – the San Susie. The Messengers and Collinses and Garretts and us and some other people’s in it. Two weeks ago we was to Collinses’, and last week to Beardsleys’; and tonight the Messengers is the hosts.”

The Missus tried to say somethin’, and couldn’t.

“I been awful lucky,” says Mrs. Hatch. “I win the prize at Collinses’. It was a silver pitcher – the prettiest you ever seen!”

The Missus found her voice.

“Do you have dinner, too?” she ast.

“I should say we do!” says Mrs. Hatch. “And simply grand stuff to eat! It was nice last week at Beardsleys’; but you ought to been at Collinses’! First, they was an old-fashioned beefsteak supper; and then, when we was through playin’, Mrs. Collins made us welsh rabbits in her chafin’-dish.”

“That don’t tempt me,” I says. “I’d just as soon try and eat a raw mushrat as a welsh rabbit.”

“Well, we got to be goin’ in,” says Hatch.

“Good night,” says Mrs. Hatch; “and I wisht you was comin’ with us.”

The pitcher we seen was called The Fly Cop. Don’t never waste a dime on it. They ain’t a laugh in the whole show!

• 2 •

A Friendly Game

I

If men seen their wives play poker previous to the nuptial bonds they’d be a large fallin’ off in marryin’ and givin’ in marriage. Speakin’ for myself personally, the Missus would still be livin’ in her parental mansion o’ concrete buildin’ blocks at Wabash if I’d knew in advance that her and George W. Hoyle was such perfect strangers. And I and all my male friends would be callin’ each other up, from noon on, to decide on the most advantageous location to start gettin’ paralyzed that night.

The best female poker player I know is Mrs. Hatch. She don’t never come into a pot and she never antes without a court order. Say she buys two dollars’ worth o’ dime chips at the beginnin’ o’ the evenin’. Our game generally ’most always runs about four hours. So when it comes time for the lettuce sandwiches she’s still got $1.60 in front of her yet and ain’t mad at nobody.

So Hatch has got it all over the rest of his gentlemen friends. He can generally keep his mind on the game, instead o’ puzzlin’ all evenin’ about the most cuttin’ thing he can say to his wife on the way home.

I’ve often said to the Missus: “If you can’t set over on one corner o’ the lounge and do your mendin’, if you think you must take a hand, why don’t you play like Mrs. Hatch?”

“Play!” she says. “She don’t play! She just sets there like a dummy.”

“Well,” I says, “I’d rather have a dummy wife that costs me forty cents an evenin’ than a female philanthropist that thinks every night is Christmas and the rest o’ the people round the table is the slums.”

“But she don’t have no fun,” the Missus says.

“Who expects to have fun for forty cents?” I ask her.

“But she can’t never win,” says the Missus.

“That’s right!” I says. “I forgot that part of it. It’s the feminine plungers that grabs all the coin. What do you say if I and you take all your winnin’s o’ the last two years and go downtown some evenin’ and buy a fountain-pen filler?”

They’s six of us that usually gets together two or three nights a week at our house or the Hatches’ or Tuttles’. Nothin’s ever said about card playin’ when the invitation’s issued. For instance, Mrs. Tuttle calls up Mrs. Hatch and my wife along in the afternoon and asks ’em to come over that evenin’ and bring their keepers and listen to the new records Joe brought home yesterday. So we go and set round a while, expressin’ admiration o’ Poor Butterfly and Wackie Hickie and My Honolulu Hop-Eater, till Hatch can’t stand it no longer.

“How about a little friendly game?” he says.

“Maybe the rest don’t feel like playin’,” says Mrs. Hatch.

Then I say:

“What’s the use o’ concealin’ the hellish purpose for which this party was got up?”

So then we all beat it to the dinin’ room, where they keep the other table, and Mrs. Tuttle brings along a ten-cent deck o’ the papes, and a box o’ checks, half o’ which is missin’ on account o’ little Joe and Millicent havin’ either bit em’ in two or rolled ’em under the piano.

Then the argument comes up about how much the checks’ll be worth.

“Let’s have ’em a nickel apiece,” says Mrs. Hatch, figurin’ that that way she’ll only lose twenty cents instead o’ forty.

“Oh, that’s a pikers’ game,” her husband’ll say. “Ten-cent chips and twenty-cent limit’s the right dope.” Then Joe Tuttle passes out stacks o’ twenty chips each and the husbands settle.

Next, it’s whether we’ll play straight poker, with a buck, or straight jacks. That’s Mrs. Tuttle’s cue to horn in.

“Let’s do like we usually do,” she says: “Straight poker except when the dealer’s got the buck; then a jack pot.”

“With deuces wild in the jack pots,” says my Missus.

Now I’ve learned by experience that it’s just wastin’ my breath; but I can’t never resist makin’ a speech at this point.

“If poker’s a rotten game,” I tell ’em, “why don’t we play somethin’ else? The guy that built the first deck o’ cards meant for deuces to be the dregs o’ the game. The guy that invented poker kept deuces in their proper place, somethin’ to be laughed at. I claim poker’s the best game o’ cards, without no garnisheements. You don’t see the American League passin’ a rule to make the infielders play blindfolded so’s to improve baseball. The billiard experts never think o’ stickin’ three more object balls on the table so’s it’ll be easier to score. The colleges ain’t never considered supplyin’ the halfbacks with motorcycles to increase their speed. When you put wild cards in a poker game you blow the brains out of it. It’s an insult to the man that got it up. You might as well add the story o’ the two Irishmen to the Declaration of Independence, to make it funny.”

And then we start playin’, with deuces wild in the jack pots.

Once every six or seven weeks I win enough to pay for what the Missus loses. Hatch breaks even once out o’ ten times. The other nine times he quits ahead. Mrs. Hatch, as I told you, loses just the amount we’ve forced her to ante. Joe Tuttle’s in about the same boat as me. When his wife’s got an off night, and don’t lose over two or three bucks, he has a chance to beat the game.

After we’ve played about a half hour, the two women makes up their mind that they ain’t losin’ fast enough the way things is; so it’s moved and supported and carried that, from then on, everything’s a jack pot with deuces loose. That’s when Hatch begins his real clean-up, and I and Tuttle start plottin’ wifeicide, or whatever you call it.

If the host and hostess happens to be pretty far behind at midnight, we keep goin’ till two o’clock or worse. But if they’re winners, or anywheres near even, the sandwiches and coffee’s served round twelve bells. After that, the two couples that don’t live where the pastime was at goes home separate, so’s each couple can quarrel without the other overhearin’ it. The scrappin’ lasts till the party o’ the second part opens up the tear ducks. Then you have to pretend like you didn’t mean none of it.

II

But I was goin’ to tell you about Harry Quinn. He’s a boy about twenty-three or twenty-four years old and he’s been down to the office about a year and a half. He come there as a bookkeeper at twelve a week, but they just couldn’t keep him down; and six months ago they made him fourth assistant head shippin’ clerk at a salary o’ sixteen.

To show you what kind o’ taste he’s got, he took a likin’ to me; and every time he come past my desk he’d have to stop and chin a while. At first I didn’t mind, because it was fun to kid him. He never knew nothin’ about nothin’ and you could tell him almost anything and get by with it. Finally I run out o’ junk to feed him and when I’d see him comin’ I’d pretend I was too busy to talk.

But one day, along last February, I looked up and seen him standin’ beside me, simply bubblin’ over with some big news.

“Well, Harry,” I says, “spill it.”

“You’re married, ain’t you?” he ast me.

I told him I was.

“Do you mind tellin’ me,” he says, “how much it costs to live when you got a wife?”

“Practically nothin’,” I says. “Everything’s so reasonable these days.”

“Why,” he says, “I been readin’ a lot about high prices, and so on.”

“That’s a lot o’ bunk,” I told him. “Beefsteak’s only forty cents a pound; and if you’re well acquainted round the neighborhood you can get a potato for half a buck. And you get a rate of about $6 apiece on shoes if you buy two at once.”

“Could a man and wife live on sixteen a week?” he says.

“Live!” says I. “You could wallow in luxury.”

“I’m glad to hear you say so,” he says. “Marion’s father and mother was afraid that maybe I wasn’t gettin’ enough to support her.”

“Who’s Marion?” I ast him.

“The sweetest girl in the world!” he says.

“But you don’t have to support her just on that account,” says I.

“I’m goin’ to marry her,” he says.

“What ails her?” I says.

“What do you mean – what ails her?” he ast.

“Has she got a stigmatism or somethin’?” says I.

“No,” he says, “she comes from some o’ the best people. I never heard a word against any o’ them.”

“When was you figurin’ on gettin’ married to Marion?” I says.

“In April,” he says.

“Well,” says I, “maybe you’ll be drawin’ sixteen-fifty by that time, and then you’ll be on Easy Street.”

The next day he called again.

“Her mother and father’s fixed,” he says. “I told ’em what you said.”

“About the stigmatism?” says I.

“O’ course not,” he says. “I told ’em about the cost o’ livin’ bein’ all bunk.”

“Oh, you needn’t of told ’em that,” I says. “They probably knew it already. What did they say?”

“They says they seen it wasn’t no use to try and stop us,” says the kid; “but they insisted on us boardin’ with ’em for a while after we’re married.”

“Are you goin’ to do it?” I ast him.

“Sure,” he says. “We’ll board with ’em as long as they’ll keep us. Then Marion won’t be afraid while I’m here workin’.”

“Afraid o’ what?” I says.

“Gettin’ robbed,” says he.

“Well,” I says, “if I was Marion and married to you, that’s one thing I certainly would be scared to death of. Because, o’ course, you’ll keep all your savin’s in the kitchen cabinet.”

“I don’t expect we’ll have much savin’s at first,” he says.

“How much are they goin’ to soak you for board?” I ast him.

“Four dollars a week,” he says. “That includes three meals a day for Marion and two for me, and, o’ course, our lodgin’.”

“Either they are some o’ the best people,” says I, “or else they’re off their nut, or else they’s somethin’ about you that you leave home when you come to the office.”

He kept up his daily visits to me right along to the week o’ the ceremony. Four days before it was scheduled he ast me where I and my Missus had spent our honeymoon.

“Oh,” I says, “we spread ourself a little. We took in Niagara and Yellowstone and the Grand Canyon and the Canal, and wound up at Honolulu.”

“Goodness!” he says. “I couldn’t never afford that.”

“I couldn’t of, neither,” says I, “only for my father-in-law stakin’ us. He was a wealthy plumber in Wabash. But haven’t you thought about your honeymoon yet?”

“No,” he says; “I been too busy to think.”

“Busy with what?” I ast him.

“Bein’ in love,” he says, blushin’ prettily. “But do you know of any inexpensive trip we might take?”

“Sure!” I says. “The Theodore Roosevelt applies between here and Michigan City. You can go and come back the same day without entirely exhaustin’ a five-case note.”

“Oh, I want to go a little stronger’n that,” says he.

“Well,” I says, “why not hire a barge and drift down the drainage canal? Or rent a motorcycle with a tub on the side and bounce to Alton or East St. Louis?”

“I’m afraid o’ boats and I can’t ride a motorcycle,” says Quinn. “We was thinkin’ some o’ runnin’ over to Detroit and takin’ in some o’ the big factories.”

“I’ve heard ’em sing about honeymoons amongst the flowers,” says I, “and I suppose plants is just as good.”

“I and Marion’s both interested in machinery,” he says.

“Listen, then,” says I: “I got a friend that’s engineer on the Michigan Central and maybe he’ll let you ride the engine clear to Detroit.”

“That wouldn’t hardly do,” the kid says. “The dirt and grease and stuff’d spoil Marion’s new clothes.”

“Oh, that’s different, if she’s goin’ to have some new clothes,” I says.

“That reminds me,” says Quinn: “What is a man supposed to wear to get married?”

“It varies,” says I. “You wear somethin’ that’s appropriate to your father-in-law’s occupation. For instance, I was married in overalls and a jumper.”

“But Marion’s father’s retired,” says the kid.

“Take your choice, then,” says I, “between pajamas and a nightgown.”

III

I was hopin’ that, in honor of his weddin’, Harry’d take at least a month off. But no; he was back amongst us in five days.

“Hello, there!” I says, shakin’ hands with him. “You didn’t take much of a trip.”

“The little girl got homesick,” says he.

“What little girl?” I says.

“My wife,” he says.

“Where was you?” I ast him.

“All over,” he says. “We went to Rockford first, and then Lake Geneva, and then Milwaukee and Kenosha.”

“Which place made her homesick?” I ast.

“Oh, it wasn’t no particular place,” he says. “I guess it was when we was comin’ from Milwaukee to Kenosha; and she says, ‘Dearie, I wonder how father and mother’s gettin’ along.’ ‘Why, dearie?’ I ast her. ‘Well, dearie,’ she says, ‘you know this is the first time I ever been away from them for more’n two days, and they must be missin’ me.’ ‘Tell me the truth, dearie,’ I says to her. ‘Let’s not have no secrets from each other: Are you homesick yourself?’ So then she ’fessed up and says, ‘Well, dearie, I am, a little.’ So I says we would go straight home from Kenosha, but we better stop there, because I’d made reservations at the hotel; and besides, they got a big automobile works. She was tickled to death, and says, ‘Dearie, are you always goin’ to do what I want?’ So I told her she could just bet I was as long as I lived.”

“Do you ever call each other pet names?” I ast him.

“Sure, all the while,” he says. “I don’t think we’ve used our regular first names back and forth since we got engaged.”

“How many factories did you visit all told?” I says.

“Oh, I couldn’t keep track o’ them all,” he says. “Besides, I don’t think neither one of us really paid any attention to them. We was thinkin’ of each other all the time.”

“Yes,” I says, “and probably figurin’ on some new pet name to spring. What was you doin’ when you wasn’t inspectin’ machinery?”

“Just walkin’ round, drinkin’ in the fresh air,” says Quinn.

“Did you drink in the breweries at Milwaukee?” says I.

“Drink!” he says. “We didn’t need no liquor; we got intoxicated just lookin’ into one another’s eyes.”

“I’ve looked in your eyes a lot o’ times,” I says, “without even feelin’ like I wanted to sing tenor.”

“You ought to see her eyes!” Quinn says. “They’d intoxicate you, all right.”

“She must have regular bourbon eyeballs,” says I. “If I ever do want a cheap jag I’ll come out and call.”

“We’d be tickled to death to have you,” he says. “Only, o’ course, not for a while. We want to be left entirely to ourselves for a few weeks.”

“I suppose that’s why you come home from Kenosha,” says I. “The townspeople there must of just bothered the life out of you.”

“Old man,” he says, “I do want you to see her. I got the sweetest wife in the world!”

“What’s your idear in tryin’ to get me dissatisfied?” I ast him.

“I don’t mean it that way,” says Quinn. “O’ course I suppose everybody likes their own wife best.”

“You’re a fine supposer,” I says. “If what you suppose was true, a whole lot o’ private detectives would starve to death.”

“Anyway,” he says, “I’ll never look at another woman.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” says I. “Just because you’ve made one girl happy is no reason all the rest o’ them should be miserable.”

The next mornin’ he was layin’ for me when I blew in.

“Old pal,” says he, “I wisht I had a job that would keep me home.”

“That makes it unanimous,” I says.

“It certainly is tough, havin’ to be away from her ten or eleven hours a day,” he says. “She’s the best little wife a man ever had!”

“If I was you,” says I, “I’d kind o’ keep that quiet. You might get overheard by some unscrup’lous homewrecker, and, first thing you know, he’d steal her.”

“He’d have to kill me first!” says Quinn.

“They’d never hang him for that,” says I.

“Besides,” he says, “they couldn’t nobody take her away from me. She’s as true as steel! She’s the best little wife a man ever had.”

Now I figured, o’ course, that this sort o’ thing would wear off. I’d had other acquaintances with the same symptoms, but they’d been cured by time, along with plenty of exercise and cuttin’ fats and starches out o’ their diet. In about a month, I thought, he’d be back to normal.

But no. May come and went and we was halfway through June, and no change for the better. For over seventy days, altogether, on an average o’ five times a day, I received the straight inside information that Mrs. Quinn was the best little wife a man ever had. It looked like he’d never get over thinkin’ it was news.

I’m not a nervous guy, as a rule. I take life easier than pretty near anybody I know. But I leave it to you if the calmest fella in the world wouldn’t be affected by a thing like that if it went on long enough.

It got so’s my hands begin to shake and my teeth begin to grind when I seen him comin’. And I’d wake up five and six times a night and start bitin’ the sheets. And a couple o’ times, in my sleep, I hollered out: “She’s the best little wife a man ever had!” My own Missus, all smiles, would tell me about it in the mornin’.

When I caught myself orderin’ a Swiss ess for lunch one noon, I figured it was time to take immediate steps. First, I thought o’ pickin’ a quarrel with him and tellin’ him to keep away from me. But it’d of been just like slappin’ a baby. Then I thought o’ quittin’ my job and lookin’ for another. But I’m in pretty soft where I’m at and I’ll be in better when a couple o’ the fossils dies off. O’ course I could of framed it so’s he’d get fired; but I’m too good-hearted to pull anything like that.

I knew it wasn’t only a question o’ time when she’d say somethin’ or do somethin’ that’d result in him bein’ able to look in her eyes without gettin’ stewed. When that come off, he might still think she was maybe the best little wife, but they’d be enough doubt about it so’s he’d keep it to himself. Considerin’, though, the thickness o’ the shell of his bean, this probably wouldn’t happen for a year or more; and by that time I’d be fightin’ with the guards and claimin’ I was the Kaiser’s sister.

I says to myself:

“If he only played poker! If I could only get him and her mixed up together in a game o’ deuces wild!”

But connectin’ him with any game o’ cards, even flinch or authors, seemed so ridiculous that I’d of dropped the idear entirely if he hadn’t give me the openin’ himself.

The mornin’ after I’d ordered the liquid lunch he says:

“I wonder if you could spare me eats money today?”

“I suppose so,” I says. “But where did you squander your week’s salary?”

“Oh,” he says, “we always put most of it in the savin’s bank, keepin’ just enough for my lunches and carfare and incidentals. But I was out o’ luck last night and the father-in-law trimmed me of a dollar and a half.”

“Doin’ what?” I ast.

“Playin’ rhummy,” says he.

“I didn’t know you played cards,” says I.

“We play every night,” he says.

“Always rhummy?” I ast him.

“Oh, no,” he says. “All the different kinds.”

“How about poker?” says I.

“No; not poker,” he says. “They’s only four of us and that don’t hardly make a good game. But I like it better’n any o’ them. Before I met Marion, I and some o’ the boys where I boarded had a little session o’ penny ante every other evenin’. Just a little friendly game, with deuces wild.”

“Does your wife play?” I ast.

“She knows how,” he says, “because I’ve showed her the value o’ the cards. She picks everything up quick.”

“Well,” I says, “if you two could make up your mind to leave home some night, we’d simply love to have you come out and get in our game.”

“Maybe your game’s too big,” says he.

“No, indeed,” I told him. “Just dime chips, with a twenty-cent limit.”

“That ain’t bad,” he says.

“I wisht you would come out,” says I. “I know from what you tell me about your wife that my Missus would be crazy over her. And besides, it’s a good thing for a young couple to get away from the house once in a while. And we don’t only live twenty minutes’ ride from your place.”

“By George!” he says. “I’ll ask Marion. For one thing, I want to show her to you.”

“I’m wild to see her,” says I. “Tomorrow night?”

“I’ll call her up and then let you know,” says he.

And in fifteen minutes it was fixed.

IV

Well, I didn’t give the plot away to the Missus. I just told her I wanted her to know a young friend o’ mine from the office, and that he was just married, and they didn’t know many people or go round much, so I thought it’d be nice to show ’em a good time. And, o’ course, we’d have a little friendly game, because Quinn was crazy about poker.

We decided to ask the Hatches and Tuttles, and the Missus was goin’ to look on from the side lines, because eight’s too many. But, as luck would have it, the night we picked was the one when Mrs. Tuttle’s maid went out, and she had to stay home and take care o’ little Joe and Millicent. Big Joe, though, said he’d come alone.

Him and the Hatches was already there when Quinn and the best little wife a man ever had blew in. Now I always give people whatever they got comin’. Mrs. Quinn’s a mighty pretty girl. If I’d met her when we was both young and single, I might of fell in love with her myself, provided I hadn’t heard her talk. In the first place, she’s got a voice just like one o’ them air whistles that the flagman keeps pullin’ when they’re backin’ the Limited in. In the second place, all her conversation’s so sweet that when she winds up a sentence you feel like you got to eat a pickle. And besides that, she’s in the last and worst stage o’ giggleitis.

She tee-heed when she was introduced to Tuttle and the Hatches; and while, o’ course, they’s plenty o’ provocation for that, still, it’d be manners to try and keep a straight face. She laughed some more when she set down, and she pretty near had hysterics when Tuttle ast her if she’d lived here long. If she was a theater audience, you could put Frances Starr in this here play, Justice, and call it a minstrel show.

Well, the usual stallin’ was done, and then the Missus says:

“Maybe you folks’d like to play cards.”

“O’ course not,” I says. “We want to blow soap bubbles.”

“They’s seven of us here,” says Hatch. “Poker’s about the only game seven can play.”

“Oh, I adore poker!” says the bride, gigglin’. “Old sweetheart was learnin’ me the fine points of it last night.”

“Who’s old sweetheart?” I ast her.

“My own husband,” she says. “He told me we might play poker here tonight and he thought I better brush up my game.”

“We don’t play much of a game,” says the Missus. “Just ten-cent chips and a twenty-cent limit, and deuces wild in the jack pots.”

I didn’t make my speech on this occasion, because I’ve noticed that the wilder the deuces is, the wilder the women plays. So I says:

“To make it livelier, why not play nothin’ but jack pots and let the deuces run amuck all evenin’?”

The Missus looked at me like she thought I’d gone crazy.

“I thought that’s just what you didn’t like,” she says.

“I’m willin’ to sacrifice my own preferences,” says I. “I know the majority is against me.”

“I haven’t been in a real game for a long time, myself,” says Quinn, “and probably I won’t play very good. And we can’t afford to lose a whole lot. So if luck runs against us, you won’t mind if we quit early.”

“Certainly not,” says Hatch.

“No fear,” I says. “You won’t never hear Hatch kickin about anybody quittin’, so long as they quit behind.”

We moved to the dinin’-room table. Two chairs was brought in from the parlor and one from the kitchen, so’s none o’ the guests would have to stand. Proceedin’s was delayed while Cutie examined the wall paper and furniture.

“I think your apartment is dear!” she says.

“Thirty-five a month,” says I.

“Is that all!” she says. “Why, I and old honey boy could pretty near afford that.”

“But then you’d be left alone all day,” I says.

“Mother’d come over and stay with me,” she says; “and then, when it was time for old sweetheart to get back from the horrid old office, I’d send mother away so’s I could be alone with him.” She giggled some more.

“What are you laughin’ at?” I says. “I’m alone with him pretty near an hour every day and it’s no joke.”

“I’m afraid you’re a tease,” she says, and laughed so hard that she had to set down.

Hatch was passin’ out the checks.

“The usual number, eh?” he says.

“How many do you generally take?” ast Quinn.

“Twenty apiece; two dollars’ worth,” says Hatch.

“Mercy!” says Mrs. Quinn. “We don’t want that many. Dearie,” she says to her husband, “let’s just take twenty between us.”

So the Quinns’ original investment was two dollars, and so was Tuttle’s; while I and Hatch give up four each for ourself and lady.

“Remember, it’s all jacks,” I says, “and everybody’s got to ante every time.”

But when Tuttle started dealin’ they was only six checks in the center.

“Somebody decorate the mahogany,” says Hatch, just as if he didn’t know his wife was the slacker.

She happened to be busy smoothin’ her hair at the time and, o’ course, didn’t hear.

I didn’t have no deuce or nothin’, so I stayed out o’ the first pot. Mrs. Hatch tossed her cards face down, as usual. Quinn and his wife was settin’ next to each other, so’s they could hold hands durin’ the lulls. It was his turn after Mrs. Hatch, and he opened the pot.

“Oh, look, dearie!” says Marion. “I’ve got two tens and a jack and two deuces. Is that any good?”

“It’s good enough for me,” says Hatch, and throwed down a pat straight, face up.

My Missus and Tuttle passed, and Quinn gracefully yielded the pot to his bride.

“Goody!” she says, gigglin’. “Let’s see! I got eight checks more than I started with. That’s eighty cents. What can I get with eighty cents? Some stock1n’s, maybe, if they’s a sale.”

“You might of got some for yourself and your husband, both,” I says, “if you hadn’t called your hand before Hatch had a chance to come in.”

“Didn’t I play right, dearie?” she says to Quinn.

“Sure, you did, dearie,” he says. “We don’t want to break nobody.”

“Wait,” I says to myself, “till they begin losin’ and he won’t take it so cheerful.” It was my deal and again the pot was a dime shy.

“If somebody’s got to hold out their ante every time,” says I, “I should think it ought to be the host. I’m the baby that’s got to pay for the electric lights and the wear and tear, and the refreshments the Missus has cooked up.”

“Maybe I’m shy,” says Tuttle, winkin’ at me.

“I know I put in,” says Mrs. Hatch.

“That was last month,” I says.

“I don’t remember if I anteed or not,” says my Missus, and what does she do but come in again. And Mrs. Hatch never batted an eye.

Quinn opened this one.

“Shall I stay, dearie?” his honey girl ast him.

“I can’t advise you,” he says. “I’m in it myself.”

“Oh, I didn’t; know you was in it,” she says. “O’ course I ain’t goin’ to play against my old sweetheart.”

She laid ’em’ down, face up. It was one o’ these here jump straights. You couldn’t of made a hand out of it if you’d drawed seven cards.

“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Quinn,” says I; “but, if old sweetheart hadn’t been in, what was you goin’ to hold up?”

“The seven and the nine,” she says. “We lived out on Seventy-ninth Street up to two years ago.”

Well, Hatch raised and the Missus and Tuttle and I all passed. Quinn raised Hatch right back. Hatch stood it and Quinn said he didn’t want no cards. Hatch took two. Quinn bet twenty cents and Hatch passed. Three jacks was what he throwed down. Quinn took the pot; and we wouldn’t of thought nothin’ of it, only Mrs. Quinn insisted on seein’ what Harry had. She looked ’em over carefully.

“What is it?” she says.

“A straight,” says Quinn.

“Oh, yes; sure!” she says, and showed ’em to all of us.

It wasn’t no more straight than a rabbit. Ace, deuce, four, five and six; that’s what she showed us.

I wish you could of seen Hatch. He went up a mile.

“Great stuff!” he says. “Very foxy! But you won’t get away with that very often. Wait a minute!” he says. “You couldn’t even open the pot.”

“Oh, yes, he could!” says I. “He had a pair of aces.”

“I thought sure I had a straight,” says Quinn. “I told you I was all out o’ practice.”

“Shut up!” says Hatch. “You thought nothin’!”

“Never mind the way he talks,” I says to Quinn. “He’s just jokin’.”

“If I done somethin wrong, let’s play it over,” says Quinn; and that made Hatch all the sorer.

As a matter o’ cold facts, Quinn did think he had a straight. If Hatch had been as well acquainted with him as I was, he’d of knew he was incapable o’ trick stuff. Him and brains ain’t even stepbrothers.

On the next deal Mrs. Hatch passed out the whole fifty-two cards before we could stop her. When she mixed ’em up for another try, half o’ them was facin’ one way and half the other. She got ’em straightened out and then dealt only five hands. All o’ which added to her husband’s enjoyment o’ the evenin’. But we always allow for six minutes’ rest when she’s dealin’ and if her husband’s a winner he don’t notice the delay. But now he says:

“What the devil’s got into you? You better get a basket! You deal like you do everything else!”

“I told you this was just a friendly game,” says I to Quinn.

“You’re gettin’ smart too!” says Hatch to me.

“Listen, Jim!” I says. “Just because the kid made you lay down the best hand, with a little strategy, you don’t have to contract the hydrophobia and endanger the lives of hundreds o’ men, women and children. Didn’t you never run a bluff yourself?”

“Mind your own business!” says Hatch; and I could see that his wife was goin’ to have a pleasant trip home.

I don’t remember what happened when she finally did get seven hands dealt out right. But I do remember what come off on Quinn’s deal. I ought to.

Sweetness opened under the gun. My Missus and Tuttle stayed, and I tilted her with a four-straight flush. Mrs. Hatch was busy suppressin’ her tears and Quinn didn’t have nothin’. Mrs. Quinn just lingered, and so did the Missus and Tuttle.

“I don’t know how to draw,” says the bride. “I guess I’ll throw these three away and keep my two deuces.”

So she throwed three away; and, as usual, she throwed ’em face up. Her discards was the six, nine and ten o’ diamonds. She’d broke up a straight flush, pat. Even Quinn could see that when he noticed what she’d sloughed off; but her three new cards had already been dealt and they was nothin’ to be done, only feel sorry for her.

My wife and Tuttle each drawed to a pair and didn’t help. I had the three, four, and five o’ spades and a deuce, goin’ in. I catched the ten o’ spades, makin’ me a plain flush. Mrs. Quinn bet and I raised. Actin’ on her husband’s advice, she raised back, and I called. She’d hooked three clubs to her two deuces, and my flush looked like last night’s supper dishes.

“Now,” says Hatch, “I guess that’ll hold you.”

“I ain’t goin’ to cry about it,” says I. “1 can lose thirty or forty cents without breakin’ down entirely.”

Tuttle got his when Marion dealt. The Missus opened ahead of him and he just dallied. I quit and so did the silent partner on my left. Quinn stayed and his baby throwed hers in the ash heap, because she wouldn’t compete against him.

The Missus took three. Tuttle ast for one and Mrs. Quinn turned it over on him. It was a heart and he was drawin’ to four o’ them. He grabbed it and was goin’ to keep it.

“You can’t take that one,” says Hatch.

“Who says I can’t’?” says Tuttle.

“That’s the rules,” says Hatch. “You can’t take no turned card on the draw.”

“Was it my fault she turned it?” says Tuttle.

“It don’t make no difference whose fault it was,” Hatch says. “The card was turned and you can’t take it.”

“I’m goin’ to take it,” says Tuttle.

“You take it and I quit,” says Hatch.

“I should worry if you quit!” says Tuttle. “You’re always makin’ up rules. You think you run every game you’re in; but you can’t run me.”

“Quinn,” I says, “I warned you this was just a little friendly game.”

Well, the pair o’ them almost come to blows; but finally Hatch convinced him that he couldn’t take the card. We’d always played that way.

And then what does Mrs. Quinn do but turn over another one; and it was another heart!

Ten minutes’ intermission, durin’ which Tuttle got his hat on and started home, and had to be coaxed back. The card he finally got was a club and Quinn copped the pot. “I and the little girl’s certainly goin’ some,” he says. “I guess we’re rotten at this game!”

“Your guess is right!”says Tuttle. “You play like a boob, you and your wife both!”

Quinn give him a maddenin’ smile and sweetheart made it worse by gigglin’.

Mrs. Hatch lost her head on the next one and opened it for twenty cents, half cash. The Quinns couldn’t stick and the rest of us faded away. They’s no use participatin’ when Mrs. Hatch opens. If they’s anything better’n a royal flush, she’s got it. At eleven o’clock I still had my temper and about ninety cents. At three minutes after eleven I didn’t have neither.

It was Mrs. Quinn’s deal. Hatch opened. I set there with four cold treys. My Missus stayed and Tuttle stayed, and I raised twenty cents. Mrs. Hatch and the bride and groom passed. Hatch raised me back and the Missus dropped out. Tuttle stuck and I raised again. We raised a couple o’ times more. Then Hatch called me.

He was pat. I ast for one. Hatch bet me twenty cents and I was just goin’ to come back at him when I happened to look at my hand. I had six cards; the world’s bestest wife had wrecked me with two cards when I called for one!

I guess I probably raved. I didn’t light into the guests of honor. That wouldn’t of been polite. But what I said to the Missus and Hatch and Tuttle and Mrs. Hatch was ample. And Hatch and Tuttle egged me on.

“Your own fault!” says Hatch. “You ought to of protected your hand.”

“You was a sucker to draw at all,” says Tuttle. “It’d of been poker to of stood pat.”

“You’re a fine team to tell anybody how to play poker!” says I. “You,” I says to Tuttle, “you got as much license to win in any game o’ skill as I have to play Hamlet. And you,” I says to Hatch, “you wouldn’t never break even, only for your wife goin’ shy in every pot.”

“Don’t talk like that, dearie,” says the Missus.

“And don’t you call me ‘dearie’!” I says. “The best thing you can do is keep still!”

I said a whole lot more; and when I got through, Mrs. Quinn was laughin’ herself hoarse. Her bein’ a stranger was all that saved her from a spankin’.

At half past eleven the Quinns says somethin’ about goin’ home.

“Sure!” says Hatch. “You’re way winners. Sneak off, like a couple o’ pikers.”

“Oh, you mustn’t go yet!” says the Missus. “I got some sandwiches and coffee for you. We’ll stop playin’ right now and I’ll go out and get ’em.”

“You will not!” says I. “We’ll quit playin’ when we get a good ready.”

“But if Mr. and Mrs. Quinn has to go home,” she says, “we mustn’t keep ’em.”

“We won’t keep ’em,” I says. “Let ’em go home.”

And Mrs. Quinn giggled again.

If they was any diplomatic relations left between my wife and I, they was severed in the last few minutes o’ play. Hatch had suggested that we’d ought to raise the limit to half a buck. Mrs. Hatch and the Quinns and my Missus objected. Tuttle and I was for it. So the limit was raised to half a buck.

Mrs. Quinn opened a certain pot. Hatch raised half a dollar. My Missus had three queens. She just lingered. If she’d raised, Mrs. Quinn would of quit cold. But after the love birds had consulted a while she decided to stand Hatch’s tilt. She drew one card. Hatch took two; and somethin’ told me, while he was drawin’, that a pair was all he had. The Missus took a couple and didn’t help her queens.

Mrs. Quinn checked it. That’s somethin’ she’d just learned. Hatch shoved in five chips. I could see the Missus waverin’ and I was sure certain that she had Hatch trimmed. So I nudged her to call. She looked at me and I nodded my head. And then she tossed her hand away.

There was some whisperin’ between the dearies. It lasted two or three minutes. Then Mrs. Quinn called.

I’d been right about Hatch. I gathered his hand up from where he’d threw it, against the far wall. Two bullets was all he had. And the sweet young bride, with Harry’s full knowledge and consent, had called on fours and treys.

The final reckonin’ showed that Mrs. Hatch was seventy cents to the bad, beatin’ her former record by thirty cents. Hatch had lost seven bucks, Tuttle’d dropped six, and I and the Missus eight between us. The Quinns was about twenty-one dollars ahead and still speakin’ to each other; yes, and takin’ bites out of each other’s sandwiches.

“Well,” says Mrs. Quinn when they was ready to go, “we’ve certainly enjoyed this a whole lot and you was awful kind to have us over.”

“It was sweet o’ you to come,” says the Missus.

“You’ll have to come to our house sometime,” says Mrs. Quinn. “Maybe we’ll let you win some o’ that twenty-one dollars back. Won’t we, dearie?”

“I almost feel like givin’ it back now,” says her spouse.

Tuttle whispered in my ear.

“Get ’em out o’ here before I break some o’ your furniture over their bean!”

But, before they beat it, each one of us got a giggle and a few squeaks and a dainty handclasp from the fair one.

Hatch and his wife left right after ’em, Jim’s mouth all ready and open to begin ruthless warfare. Tuttle was the sad one. He had to wait till he got clear home before abusin’ anybody, and they was danger of his wife havin’ fell asleep.

As for the Missus and I, it only took me a half hour to bring her to tears; and then, o’ course, the sport was over.

V

I told you a while ago that if men seen their wives play poker before they was married they wouldn’t be married. Well, I believe that even if Mrs. Quinn had showed off her knowledge o’ the game to Harry when they was still engaged yet, he’d of gone through with it, anyway. He wouldn’t knew no better. He’s an exception to the rule, and to every other rule in the book.

Listen to what he’ had to say when he stormed my desk next mornin’:

“Did you ever see a girl like her! The first time she ever really played, and she cops most o’ the dough! I never seen anybody that picked things up so quick.”

“She certainly picked up most o’ the change,” says I.

“Old man,” he says, “she’s a wonder! The best little wife a man ever had!”

So my hands is still shakin’ and my teeth’s still grindin’, and I bite the sheets at night. The grand old game has failed me and Dame Nature’s workin’ far too slow. I must think up somethin’ else; somethin’ swift, sure, fatal!

• 3 •

Contract

When the Sheltons were settled in their new home in the pretty little suburb of Linden, Mrs. Shelton was afraid nobody would call on them. Her husband was afraid somebody would. For years Mrs. Shelton had bravely pretended to share her husband’s aversion to a social life; he hated parties that numbered more than four people and she had convincingly, so she thought, played the role of indifference while declining invitations she would have given her right eye to accept. Shelton had not been fooled much but his dislike of “crowds” was so great that he seldom sought to relieve her martyrdom by insisting that they “go” somewhere

This was during the first six years of their connubial existence, while it was necessary to live, rather economicallv, in town. Recently, however, Shelton’s magazine had advanced him to a position as associate editor and he was able, with the assistance of a benignant bond and mortgage company, to move into a house in Linden. Mrs. Shelton was sure suburbanites would be less tedious and unattractive than people they had known in the city and that it would not be fatal to her spouse to get acquainted and play around a little; anyway she could make friends with other wives if they were willing, and perhaps enjoy afternoons of contract bridge, a game she had learned to love in three lessons. At the same time Shelton resolved to turn over a new leaf for his wife’s sake and give her to understand that he was open for engagements, secretly hoping, as I have hinted, that Linden’s denizens would treat them as if they were quarantined.

Mrs. Shelton’s fears were banished, and Shelton’s resolution put to a test, on an evening of their second week in the new house they were dropped in on by Mr. and Mrs. Robert French who lived three blocks away. Mrs. French was pretty and Shelton felt inclined to like her until she remarked how fascinating it must be to edit a magazine and meet Michael Arlen. French had little to say, being occupied most of the while in a petting party with his mustache.

Mrs. Shelton showed Mrs. French her seven hooked rugs. Mrs. French said, “Perfectly darling!” seven times, inquired where each of the seven had been procured and did not listen to the answers. Shelton served highballs of eighty dollar Scotch he had bought from a Linden bootlegger. French commented favorably on the Scotch. Shelton thought it was terrible himself and that French was a poor judge, or was being polite, or was deceived by some flavor lurking in the mustache. Mrs. Shelton ran out of hooked rugs and Mrs. French asked whether they played contract. Mrs. Shelton hesitated from habit. Shelton swallowed hard and replied that they did, and liked it very much.

“That’s wonderful!” said Mrs. French. “Because the Wilsons have moved to Chicago. They were crazy about contract and we used to have a party every Wednesday night; two tables – the Wilsons, ourselves, and the Dittmars and Camerons. It would be just grand if you two would take the Wilsons’ place. We have dinner at somebody’s house and next Wednesday is our turn. Could you come?”

Mrs. Shelton again hesitated and Shelton (to quote O. O. McIntyre) once more took the bull by the horns.

“It sounds fine!” he said. “We haven’t anything else on for that night, have we, dear?”

His wife uttered an astonished no and the Frenches left.

“What in the world has happened to you?”’ demanded Mrs. Shelton.

“Nothing at all. They seem like nice people and we’ve got to make friends here. Besides, it won’t be bad playing cards.”

“I don’t know about contract,” said Mrs. Shelton doubtfully. “You’ve got good card sense, and the only time you played it, you were all right. But I’m afraid I’ll make hideous mistakes.”

“Why should you? And even if you do, what of it?”

“These people are probably whizzes.”

“I don’t care if they’re Lenz’s mother-in-law.”

“But you’ll care if they criticize you.”

“Of course I will. People, and especially strangers, have no more right to criticize your bridge playing than your clothes or your complexion.”

“You know that’s silly. Bridge is a game.”

“Tennis is a game, too. But how often do you hear one tennis player say to another, ‘You played that like an old fool!’?”

“You’re not partners in tennis.”

“You are in doubles. However, criticism in bridge is not confined to partners. I’ve made bonehead plays in bridge (I’ll admit it), and been laughed at and scolded for them by opponents who ought to have kissed me. It’s a conviction of most bridge players, and some golf players, that God sent them into the world to teach. At that, what they tell you isn’t intended for your edification and future good. It’s just a way of announcing ‘I’m smart and you’re a lunkhead.’ And to my mind it’s a revelation of bad manners and bad sportsmanship. If I ask somebody what I did wrong, that’s different. But when they volunteer—”

It was an old argument and Mrs. Shelton did not care to continue it. She knew she couldn’t win and she was sleepy. Moreover, she was so glad they were “going out” on her husband’s own insistence that she felt quite kindly toward him. She did hope, though, that their new acquaintances would suppress their educational complex if any.

On Wednesday night this hope was knocked for a double row of early June peas. Mrs. Shelton was elected to play with French, Mrs. Cameron and Mr. Dittmar. Mrs. Cameron was what is referred to as a statuesque blonde, but until you were used to her you could think of nothing but her nostrils, where she might easily have carried two after dinner mints. Mr. Dittmar appeared to be continuing to enjoy his meal long after it was over. And French had to deal one-handed to be sure his mustache remained loyal. These details distracted Mrs. Shelton’s mind to such an extent that she made a few errors and was called for them. But she didn’t mind that and her greatest distraction was caused by words and phrases that came from the other table, where her husband was engaged with Mr. Cameron, Mrs. Dittmar and the hostess.

The French cocktails had been poured from an eye-dropper and Shelton maintained perfect control of his temper and tongue. His polite reception of each criticism was taken as a confession of ignorance and a willingness to learn, and his three table-mates were quick to assume the role of faculty, with him as the entire student-body. He was stepped on even when he was dummy, his partner at the time, Mrs. Dittmar, attributing the loss of a trick to the manner in which he had laid out his cards, the light striking the nine of diamonds in such a way as to make her think it was an honor.

Mrs. Dittmar had married a man much younger than herself and was trying to disguise that fact by acting much younger than he. An eight-year-old child who is kind of backward hardly ever plays contract bridge; otherwise, if you didn’t look at Mrs. Dittmar and judged only by her antics and manner of speech, you would have thought Dittmar had spent the final hours of his courtship waiting outside the sub-primary to take her home. Mrs. French, when she was not picking flaws in Shelton’s play, sought to make him feel at home by asking intelligent questions about his work – “Do the people who draw the illustrations read the stories first?” “Does H. C. Witwer talk Negro dialect all the time?” And “How old is Peter B. Kinney?” Cameron, from whom Work, Lenz, Whitehead and Shepard had plagiarized the game, was frankly uninterested in anything not connected with it. The stake was half a cent a point and the pains he took to see that his side’s score was correct or better proved all the rumors about the two Scotchmen.

Mrs. Shelton was well aware that her husband was the politest man in the world when sober; yet he truly amazed her that evening by his smiling acquiescence to all that was said. From the snatches she overheard, she knew he must be afire inside and it was really wonderful of him not to show it.

There was a time when Mrs. Dittmar passed and he passed and Cameron bid two spades. Mrs. French passed and Mrs. Dittmar bid three hearts, a denial of her partner’s spades if Shelton ever heard one. Shelton passed and Cameron went three hearts, which stood. Shelton held four spades to the nine, four diamonds to the king, two small hearts and the eight, six and five of clubs. He led the trey of diamonds. I am not broadcasting the battle play by play, but when it was over, “Oh, partner! Any other opening and we could have set them,” said Mrs. French.

“My! My! My! My! Leading away from a king!” gurgled the child-wife.

“That lead was all that saved us,” said Cameron.

They waited for Shelton to apologize and explain, all prepared to scrunch him if he did either.

“I guess I made a mistake,” he said.

“Haven’t you played much bridge?” asked Mrs. French.

“Evidently not enough,” he replied.

“It’s a game you can’t learn in a minute,” said Cameron.

“Never you mind!” said Mrs. Dittmar. “I’ve played contract ever since it came out, and Daddy still scolds me terribly for some of the things I do.”

Shelton presumed that Daddy was her husband. Her father must be dead or at least too feeble to scold.

There was a time when a hand was passed around.

“Oh! A goulash!” crowed Mrs. Dittmar.

“Do you play them, Mr. Shelton?” asked his hostess.

“Yes,” said Shelton.

“Mrs. Shelton,” called Mrs. Dittmar to the other table, “does your big man play goulashes?”

“Oh, yes,” said Mrs. Shelton.

“You’re sure you know what they are,” said Cameron to Shelton.

“I’ve played them often,” said the latter.

“A goulash,” said the hostess, “is where the hand is passed and then we all put our hands together like this and cut them and the dealer deals five around twice and then three. It makes crazy hands, but it’s thrilling.”

“And the bidding is different,” said Mrs. Dittmar, his partner at this stage. “Big mans musn’t get too wild.”

Shelton, who had dealt, looked at his hand and saw no temptation to get wild; at least, not any wilder than he was. He had the king, queen and Jack of spades, four silly hearts, four very young clubs and two diamonds of no standing. He passed. Cameron bid three clubs and Mrs. Dittmar four diamonds. That was enough to make game (they already had thirty), and when Mrs. French went by, Shelton unhesitatingly did the same. So did Cameron. It developed that Mrs. Dittmar had the ace, king, jack, ten and another diamond. Cameron had none and Mrs. French reeked with them. The bidder was set two. Her honors counted one hundred and the opponents’ net profit was two hundred, Mrs. Dittmar being vulnerable, or “venerable,” as Mrs. French laughingly, but not very tactfully, called it.

Cameron lighted into Mrs. French for not doubling Mrs. Dittmar and Mrs. French observed that she guessed she knew what she was doing. Shelton hoped this would develop into a brawl, but it was forgotten when Mrs. Dittmar asked him querulously why he had not shown her his spades, a suit of which she had held the ace, ten to five.

“We’re lucky, partner,” said Mrs. French to Cameron. “They could have made four spades like a breeze.”

“I’d have lost only the ace of hearts and queen of diamonds,” said Mrs. Dittmar, doubtless figuring that the maid would have disposed of her two losing clubs when she swept next morning.

“In this game, everything depends on the bidding,” said Mrs. French to Shelton. “You must give your partner all the information you can.”

“Don’t coach him!” said Cameron with an exasperating laugh. “He’s treating us pretty good.”

“Maybe,” said Mrs. French to Mrs. Dittmar, “he would have shown yon his spades if you had bid three diamonds instead of four.”

“But you see,” said Mrs. Dittmar, “we needed four for game and I didn’t know if he’d think of that.”

And there was a time when Shelton bid a fair no trump and was raised to three by his partner, Cameron, who held king, queen, ten to five hearts and the ace of clubs for a re-entry. The outstanding hearts were bunched in Mrs. French’s hand, Shelton himself having the lone ace. After he had taken a spade trick, led his ace of hearts and then a low club to make all of dummy’s hearts good (which turned out to be impossible), he put over two deep sea finesses of the eight and nine of diamonds from the dummy hand, made four odd and heard Cameron murmur, “A fool for luck!”

“My! What a waste of good hearts!” said Mrs. Dittmar, ignoring the facts that they weren’t good hearts, that if he had continued with them, Mrs. French would have taken the jack and led to her (Mrs. Dittmar’s) four good spade tricks, and that with the ace of clubs gone, Shelton couldn’t have got back in the dummy’s hands with a pass from Judge Landis.

At the close of a perfect evening, the Sheltons were six dollars ahead and invited to the Dittmars’ the following Wednesday. Mrs. Shelton expected an explosion on the way home, but was agreeably disappointed. Shelton seemed quite cheerful. He had a few jocose remarks to make about their new pals, but gave the impression that he had enjoyed himself. Knowing him as she did, she might have suspected that a plot was hatching in his mind. However, his behavior was disarming and she thought he had at last found a “crowd” he didn’t object to, that they would now be neighborly and gregarious for the first time in their married life.

On the train from the city Friday afternoon, Shelton encountered Gale Bartlett, the writer, just returned from abroad. Bartlett was one of the star contributors to Shelton’s magazine and it was he who had first suggested Linden when Shelton was considering a suburban home. He had a place there himself though most of his time was spent in Paris and he was back now for only a brief stay.

“How do you like it?” he asked.

“Fine,” said Shelton.

“Whom have you met?”

“Three married couples, the Camerons, the Frenches and the Dittmars.”

“Good Lord!” said Bartlett. “I don’t know the Dittmars but otherwise you’re slumming. Cameron and French are new rich who probably made their money in a hotel washroom. I think they met their wives on an excursion to Far Rockaway. How did you happen to get acquainted?”

“The Frenches called on us, and Wednesday night we went to their house for dinner and bridge.”

“Bridge!”

“Contract bridge at that.”

“Well, maybe Dittmar’s a contractor. But from what I’ve seen of the Frenches and Camerons, they couldn’t even cut the cards without smearing them with shoe polish. You break loose from them before they forget themselves and hand you a towel.”

“We’re going to the Dittmars’ next Wednesday night.”

“Either call it off or keep it under your hat. I’ll introduce you to people that are people! I happen to know them because my wife went to their sisters’ boarding school. I’ll see that you get the entree and then you can play bridge with bridge players.”

Shelton brightened at the prospect. He knew his wife was too kind-hearted to wound the Camerons et al. by quitting them cold and it was part of his scheme, all of it in fact, to make them do the quitting. With the conviction that she would be more than compensated by the promised acquaintance of people they both could really like, he lost what few scruples he had against separating her from people who sooner or later would drive him to the electric chair. The thing must be done at the first opportunity, next Wednesday at the Dittmars’. It would be kind of fun, but unpleasant, too, the unpleasant part consisting in the mental anguish it would cause her and the subsequent days, not many he hoped, when she wouldn’t be speaking to him at all.

Fate, in the form of one of Mrs. Shelton’s two-day headaches, brought about the elimination of the unpleasant part. The ache began Wednesday afternoon and from past experience, she knew she would not be able to sit through a dinner or play cards that night. She telephoned her husband.

“Say we can’t come,” was his advice.

“But I hate to do that. They’ll think we don’t want to and they won’t ask us again. I wish you’d go, and maybe they could ask somebody in to take my place. I don’t suppose you’d consider that, would you?”

Shelton thought it over a moment and said yes, he would.

Before retiring to her darkened room and her bed, Mrs. Shelton called up Mrs. Dittmar. Mrs. Dittmar expressed her sympathy in baby talk and said it was all right for Mr. Shelton to come alone; it was more than all right, Mrs. Shelton gathered, because Mrs. Dittmar’s brother was visiting her and they would be just eight.

Shelton, who had learned long ago that his wife did not want him around when her head was threatening to burst open, stayed in town until six o’clock, preparing himself for the evening’s task with liberal doses of the business manager’s week-old rye. He was not going to be tortured by any drought such as he had endured at the Frenches’. He arrived at the party in grand shape and, to his surprise, was plied with cocktails potent enough to keep him on edge.

Mrs. Dittmar’s brother (she called him her dreat, big B’udder) was an amateur jazz pianist. Or rather, peeanist. He was proving his amateur standing when Shelton got there and something in the way he treated “Rhapsody in Blue” made Shelton resolve to open fire at once. His eagerness was increased when, on the way to the dining room, Mrs. Dittmar observed that her b’udder had not played much contract “either” and she must be sure and not put them (Shelton and B’udder) at the same table, for they might draw each other as partners and that would hardly be fair.

Dinner began and so did Shelton.

“A week ago,” he said, “you folks criticized my bridge playing.”

The Camerons, Dittmars and Frenches looked queer.

“You didn’t mind it, I hope,” said Mrs. Dittmar. “We were just trying to teach you.”

“I didn’t mind it much,” said Shelton. “But I was just wondering whether it was good manners for one person to point out another person’s mistakes when the other person didn’t ask to have them pointed out.”

“Why,” said Cameron, “when one person don’t know as much about a thing as other people, it’s their duty to correct him.”

“You mean just in bridge,” said Shelton.

“I mean in everything,” said Cameron.

“And the person criticized or corrected has no right to resent it?“said Shelton.

“Certainly not!”

“Does everybody here agree with that?”

“Yes,” “Of course,” “Sure,” came from the others.

“Well, then,” said Shelton, “I think it’s my duty to tell you, Mr. Cameron, that soup should be dipped away from you and not toward you.”

There was a puzzled silence, then a laugh, to which Cameron contributed feebly.

“If that’s right I’m glad to know it, and I certainly don’t resent your telling me,” he said.

“It looks like Mr. Shelton was out for revenge,” said Mrs. Cameron.

“And I must inform you, Mrs. Cameron,” said Shelton, “that ‘like’ is not a conjunction. ‘It looks as if Mr. Shelton were out for revenge’ would be the correct phrasing.”

A smothered laugh at the expense of Mrs. Cameron, whose embarrassment showed itself in a terrifying distension of the nostrils. Shelton decided not to pick on her again.

“Let’s change the subject,” said Mrs. Dittmar. “Mr. Shelton’s a mean, bad man and he’ll make us cwy.”

“That verb,” said Shelton, “is cry, not cwy. It is spelled c-r-y.”

“Tell a story, Bob,” said Mrs. French to her husband.

“Well, let’s see,” said French. “I’ll tell the one about the Scotchman and the Jew playing golf. Stop me if anybody’s heard it.”

“I have, for one,” said Shelton.

“Maybe the others haven’t,” said French.

“They must have been unconscious for years,” said Shelton. “But go ahead and tell it. I knew I couldn’t stop you.”

French went ahead and told it, and the others laughed as a rebuke to Shelton.

Cameron wanted things understood.

“You see,” he said, “the reason we made a few little criticisms of your bridge game was because we judged you were a new beginner.”

“I think ‘beginner’ is enough, without the ‘new,’” said Shelton. “I don’t know any old beginners excepting, perhaps, people old in years who are doing something or taking up something for the first time. But probably you judged I was a beginner at bridge because of mistakes I made, and you considered my apparent inexperience justified you in criticizing me.”

“Yes,” said Cameron.

“Well,” said Shelton,” I judge from observing Mrs. French eat her fish that she is a new beginner at eating and I take the liberty of stating that the fork ought never to be conveyed to the mouth with the left hand, even by a left-handed eater. To be sure, these forks are salad forks, not fish forks, as Mrs. Dittmar may believe. But even salad forks, substituting for fish forks, must not be carried mouthward by the left hand.”

A storm was gathering and Mrs. Cameron sought to ward it off. She asked Mrs. Dittmar what had become of Peterson, a butler.

“He just up and left me last week,” said Mrs. Dittmar. “He was getting too impudent, though, and you can bet I didn’t object to him going.”

“His going,’” said Shelton. “A participle used as a substantive is modified in the possessive.”

Everyone pretended not to hear him.

“This new one is grand!” said Mrs. Dittmar. “I didn’t get up till nearly eleven o’clock this morning—”

“Eleven!” exclaimed Mrs. French.

“Yes. Imagine!” said Mrs. Dittmar. “The itta girl just overslept herself, that’s all.”

“Mrs. Dittmar,” said Shelton, “I have no idea who the itta girl is, but I am interested in your statement that she overslept herself. Would it be possible for her, or any other itta girl, to oversleep somebody else? If it were a sleeping contest, I should think ‘out-sleep’ would be preferable, but even so I can’t understand how a girl of any size outsleeps herself.”

The storm broke. Dittmar sprang to his feet.

“That’s enough, Shelton!” he bellowed. “We’ve had enough of this nonsense! More than enough!”

“I think,” said Shelton, “that the use of the word ’enough’ three times in one short speech is more than enough. It grates on me to hear or read a word reiterated like that. I suggest as synonyms ‘plenty,’ ‘a sufficiency,’ ‘an abundance,’ ‘a plethora.’”

“Shut your smart aleck mouth and get out!”

“Carl! Carl I Mustn’t lose temper!” said Mrs. Dittmar. “Lose temper and can’t digest food. Daddy mustn’t lose temper and be sick all nighty night.”

“Shelton just thinks he’s funny,” said Cameron.

“He’s drunk and he’ll leave my house at once!” said Dittmar.

“If that’s the way you feel about it,” said Shelton.

He stopped on the way out to bid Mrs. Dittmar’s brother goodnight.

“Good-night, B’udder old boy,” he said. “I’m glad to have met you, but sorry to learn you’re deaf.”

“Deaf! What makes you think I’m deaf?”

“I understood your sister to say you played the piano by ear.”

Knowing his wife would have taken something to make her sleep, and therefore not afraid of disturbing her, Shelton went home, got out a bottle of Linden Scotch and put the finishing touches on his bender. In the morning Mrs. Shelton was a little better and came to the breakfast table where he was fighting an egg.

“Well, what kind of time did you have?”

“Glorious! Much more exciting than at the Frenches’. Mrs. Dittmar’s brother is a piano playing fool.”

“Oh, wasn’t there any bridge then?”

“No. Just music and banter.”

“Maybe the brother can’t play contract and I spoiled the party by not going.”

“Oh, no. You didn’t spoil the party!”

“And do we go to the Camerons’ next Wednesday?”

“I don’t believe so. Nothing was said.”

They did go next Wednesday night to the palatial home of E. M. Pardee, a friend of Gale Bartlett’s and one of the real aristocrats of Linden. After dinner, Mrs. Pardee asked the Sheltons whether they played contract, and they said they did. The Pardees, not wishing to impoverish the young immigrants, refused to play “families.” They insisted on cutting and Shelton cut Mrs. Pardee.

“Oh, Mr. Shevlin,” she said at the end of the first hand, “why didn’t you lead me a club? You must watch the discards!”

—

Author’s Postscript: This story won’t get me anything but the money I am paid for it. Even if it be read by those with whom I usually play – Mr. C, Mrs. W., Mr. T., Mrs. R. and the rest – they will think I mean two other fellows and tear into me like wolves next time I bid a slam and make one odd.

The Mailman Cometh

1 … Phil and His 4d

2 … Tour No. 2

3 … Own Your Own Home

I … It’s the Only Life
II … Welcome to Our City
III … The Last Laugh
IV … Uncivil War

• 1 •

Phil and His 4d

Chi. Sep. 26.

FRIEND DAVE:  Jest a short note Dave to let you know how wear geting a long and I would of wrote a long wile a go only I been so busy. Now I supose you will wander what has been keeping me busy well Dave Im a full fledjed moterist now and if you dont believe it keeps a man busy jest buy a car and try it your self.

Nell was after me all summer to buy 1 and I was going to get 1 of these here moter sickles with the bath tub attached on to them but when Nell seen it she says she wouldent never have the nerve to ride in it and she insisted on me geting a reglar car so I says I dident have money enough and she says may be we could get a hold of a 2d. hand car some wheres and she kept studing the want ads in the paper till finely 1 day she seen where a man wanted to sell his car for 1150.00 dollars and the car was a 1915 4d in good repares. The man was going to move out of town and I supose he dident want to stick it in his sutecase for the fear he would get some grease on his other shirt.

So she called the man up and says I would be over to see him that P.M. and when I got there he still had it yet and they dident seem to be nothing the matter with it so I give him the money and then I ast him how I would get the car home because I hadent never drove 1 and he says he would call up a garrage and get a man to come up and lern me so pretty soon the man come and I ast him how much would he charge and he says $.60 per hr. so bessides the $150.00 cash money for the car it costed me $.20 right off the real beffore I knowed how to run it. I ast the man would it go fast and he says he guest it would because the Russia army just ordered a hole flock of them.

It was supper time when I got her home but Nell says to hell with supper and I would half to take her out for a ride and while we was out we happened to think all of a sud den that we dident have no garrage to keep a car in it and we couldent leave it out in the st. all night for the fear some stew might trip over it and sew us for dammiges so Nell says she would sleep on the lunge in the liveing rm. and I could take the car in with me so I says all right. But you know we live on the 2d. floor and I hadent hardley got 1/2 way up the stares when I notised the horn wasent working and no way to warn the roaches that we was comeing. So I had to pull up on a step and wait till Nell went acrost to the delicatessen and got a man to come over and fix it.

Youd of thot that was bad luck enough for 1 day haveing the horn not work but Nell had been pairing her finger nales in the bed rm. and we hadent no sooner got in then we had a puncture. By the time Id chaste out to the drug store and got some cort plaster and stuck it on and blowed up the tire I was pretty well wore out and ready for a all night sleep. But I had to get up twict in the night and drive a way pinching bugs that was squeezing the horn and rouseing the hole building.

Well the next day was Sun. and I and Nell got up early to drive out in the country. It was so hot that I left my vest off and Id stuck a extra bottl a of gassoline in 1 of the pockets. Well the man that sold me the car hadent left hardley any in the tank so of coarse we run out of it before we went a mile from home. I says I would hurry back and get the bottle out of my vest but Nell says that would take 2 long and we was right in front of a garrage when it happened so I blowed the horn and a man come out and I told him we wanted gassoline and he says how much and I says how much is it and he says 11 cts. per gal. and I says give us a 1/2 a pt. but he says he dident sell nothing less then a gal. so we had to buy a gal. off him. I guess he must have thot we was going to frisco or some wheres. But I figgured may be we would meet an other moterist that was shy and we could sell him back what we dident need. But thats been a wk. a go and wear still carrying all that extra beasides the bottle I bought.

Well yest. I drove down to work and it rained all day and comeing home the car got all over mud and dirt so I took her in the bath rm. and filled the basin up with water and left her to soke and Nell wasent in when I got home and when she come I forgot to tell her where the car was and with out thinking nothing about it she jest seen the dirty water in the wash basin and pulled the stopper out. I got a hold of a plummer as soon as I could and if he had of came 5 min. later it would of been good night because the car wasent only a bout 10 ft. from the main pipe in the St. when he located her. And I guess you know how plummers charges for there time. $.80 is all it costed me.

Well the janiter found out this A.M. that we was keeping a car in the flat and its against the rules and he says he would make us cut it out if he had to put fly. paper on the stare way. I says what objections you got if we dont leave It bother no body and he says it tracks mud and oil on to the steps so I says well if we dont run it up and down the stares will you leave us keep it and he says yes. So tomorrow Im going to cut a hole in the screen to the window that connex on to the fire escape and then we wont have no more trubble with Mr. janiter. I give him a good cigar when we was threw talking. I supose tho that we will half to stick some paper over the hole in the screen nights or all the bugs in this ward will come In and monkey with the horn and so 4th.

Mean while Nells makeing up to the Thomsons that lives on the 1st. floor and Mrs. Thomsons a woman that if you dident know who she was youd think she was a hippopothenus and tomorrow night Nells going to ask them to go out with us and we will plant them in the back seat where theyll do the most good. The car will ride smoother that way tho of coarse it will be hard on the rear tires to rub against the pavement onct in a while when they aint used to it.

You can see where this here motering keeps a man busy Dave and its a hole lot of fun but dont never leave no body tell you its a cheap sport. Not even with a 4d it aint.

Your old pal.

PHIL.

• 2 •

Tour No. 2

I

CHGO. ILL.
JULY 1.19.14.

DEAR BRO. ED.  You will half to excus this pensil & they dont seem to be no ink in the bottle. your post cards come o k and you & Kate must of had 1 grand time up to mackinac and I and Minnie was sore we couldent go a long with you but I was right in the mist of fixing up the summer garden & Minnie says she dident have no close tho from the looks of the bills I got to day from the dept. stores she must of spend most of last mo. buying close but you been marred long enough to know what these women is tho I guess the irish girls dont come no wheres near the dutch girls when it come to spending money. When we was 1st. marred & I had the place on 31th. st. & was cleaning up 2 hunderd a mo. she spend most of that and I offten says to my self if I ever clean up 1 hunderd a mo. more I will be on easy st. but here I am cleaning up over $1000.00 a mo. in the new place & I dont have no more of it left then I did in the old days & she dont look no better. I dont know where would you of been at if you had of marred a dutch girl on your 1 hunderd & 50 a mo. but you was wise & picked out the right kind of a girl that dont throw a way all there money on close & Kate dont look so sloppy at that.

Well Ed the reason I am writeing to you so soon after you got back to Det. is I want to tell you the news a bout I & Minnie and if this wasent your busy season I would ask you to come over here & spend the next 2 mos. and look after the place and you and Kate could live in the house & probly in joy the change but I know they must be a lot doing in your busness in Det. at this time of yr. and you dont want to over look 0 so I cant ask you to pass up your busness on my acct. & we will half to shut up the house & leave Louis Shaffer in charge of the place & I hate to trust a dutch man to look after my busness & aspeshauly when I am opening the new summer garden but what else can I do & he is the only 1 that knows the ins & outs of the busness and dont drink nothing him self at lest he says he dont & I never seen him with a drink in front of him. & besides him being Minnies cousin its to his intrust to run things right and not steal nothing off of me & he knows I will treat him right if he treats me right. besides if I found out that he was grafting off of me a round the place I would brake him in 2 and he knows it & he knows it dont pay for no dutch man to monky with a irish man.

But I havent told you where is it we are going to and you wont beleive it & I dont hardly beleive it my self only I know its true because all day yest. I was husling a round and stratening things up & seeing the boys and fixing up whats to be did at the primeries & I hate to be a way when the primeries comes off because they aint no body that can handle the boys like I if I do say it my self. I all ways figured a man was a sucker to make his wife a promise because they dont never forget nothing but I made Minnie a promise with out thinking & now I am getting payed for it. It come off last winter the time the boys wanted I should go down to french lick with them and they wouldent take no for a anser so I says to Minnie I was going down to french lick & she says I was not going un less I took her a long & I says that this here was going to be a stagg party and they wasent no skirts invited and then she says she wouldent let me go neither & we had it back & 4th. and finely she agrede I could go but she made me promise that I was to take her any wheres she wanted to go this summer and thats the only way I got her to leave me go down to french lick.

Well the other day she sprung it on me and says do you remember what you promised me when I left you go down to french lick with them stews and I remembered all right but I says no what did I promise & she says you promised you would take me any wheres I want to go this summer & I says o yes I remember but things is going to be busy down to the place and I cant get a way for very long & where would you like to go to benton harbor or south haven or may be cedar lake or some wheres & we can stay a week. & she says I am not asking you where is it we are going because I know where it is & it aint to none of them places a round here & if your a good sport like your all ways clameing you will take me where I say. Then I says all right we will make it atlantic city or N. Y. city or niagara falls & we will stay 2 wks. and then she says if you will shut up your big mouth a min. I will tell you where is it where I want to go & then she sprung it on me & I would of dropt dead if it hadent of been a Sat. & things had to be looked after down to the place. Where do you think she says we was going no wheres but europe & 1st. I looked her in the eye to see was she may be kiding but she wasent kiding and so I says you must be crazy & did she think I was a million air & how could I leave the place all summer when the new summer garden was just open & she begin to bello and says I cared more for my busness then for she and I was a cheap sport and she knowed I was dirty with money but what good did it do her and if I was going to brake my promise she would brake hem that she made when we was marred & would go back to milwaukee & stay there till she found some body that was not tight with there money & she knowed of a hunderd men that would be tickelld to death to be in my place & I knowed she was telling the truth because they is that many right here in Chi judgeing from the way they lamp her when her & I go out any wheres to gather. May be I was a sucker to marry a dutch girl & a girl as pretty as her but I done it & I aint sorry and if these willy boys gets to fresh a round her I will brake them in 2. Well if I had of wanted to be mean I could of turn her down & after she pretty near drownd the house out crying she would of been o k again but I figured a promise was a promise and if a mans ever going to do some thing for any body his wife should ought to get in on it 1st. & it aint like I was broke & cant a ford it and we done a $1300.00 busness this last mo. and pretty near that good in may and Minnie knows it to.

Well shes went up to milwaukee to brake the news to mother & all them other dutch men and she left me orders to go down to 1 of the steam boat co. & see what kind of a trip can we make. You can bet I wont go no futher then I half to. I wisht you & Kate could go a long with us but I know a trip like this here is going to cost more then you can a ford & if it wasent for youre leaveing your busness I would take you a long as our guest & pay for it but I know you will say no & its busness before plesure. Any way we will keep you posted & may be bring back a present for you & Kate.

Well Ed. take good care of your self and go home nights.

your Bro.

Larry M. Burns.

CHGO. ILL.
JULY 3.19.14.

DEAR BRO. ED.  I guess I put 1 over & I wont half to be a way all summer but only a little over 3 wks. & I will be keeping my promise at that. I went down town to a steam boat co. yest. and asked them what was the shortest trip they had to europe & back and they tells me I could go over to plymouth & England and that would take 6 days on the boat & I could start back the 1st. day after I got there if I want to and get back here 2 wks. afte I left here but they wouldent hardly be no senc in makeing a trip over there with out staying wile so I & the man at the steam boat co. figure it out where we could spend 6 days getting over to England & then stay there a wk. & take in Ireland and see some of the places uncle Johnny use to tell us a bout & then come back on the boat to N. Y. city and then if Minnie hasent had enough travveling we can stop up to niagara falls on the way back home from N.Y. city or may be stop off in Det. & make you a little visit or I could leave Minnie in Det. with you and Kate & come home a lone by my self. I thot it took more than a wk. to get a crost the ocean or I wouldent of never made no holler in the 1st. place & it wont put me out none to be a way 3 wks. but I was scared I would half to be a way 2 mos. & miss the primeries. It will cost me a bout $240.00 for I & Minnie on the boat & that includs meals and thats in the 2d. cabin which is right behind the 1st. cabin so the wind is broke for us and it aint near so cold as if we had to ride in the 1st cabin. Besides the 2d. cabin must be near the center of the boat where it aint such ruff rideing but some people that has did a lot of travveling on the ocean likes ruff rideing and pays a little more money to ride up in the 1st. cabin near the head end of the boat. All to gather with the $240.00 for boat fair & meals and R. R. fair & every thing acrost the ocean & from here to N. Y. city & back wont be over $500.00 for the 2 of us and theys X curshons on all the R. R. to N. Y. city and back this time of year so may be it wont be up to my figure $500.00 and the place if Shaffer takes care of it right should ought to clear at lest 2 times that sum dureing the time wile we are a way. Theys a boat leaves N. Y. city Tues. the 21 of the mo. and thats the 1 I guess I & Minnie will take but I will half to see if that dates all o k with her & that she aint got no dutch picknicks to go to a long a bout that time. She is comeing back from milwaukee for the 4th. and will be home when I get home tonight and if the 21 of the mo. is all right with her I will buy the boat fair Monday.

Well Ed. enough for this time and hopeing you dont run up against no full hands.

Your Bro.

L. M. Burns.

CHGO. ILL.
JULY 10.19.14.

DEAR BRO. ED.  You will excus this pensil I got pen & ink but the pen dont work good. Well Ed. I couldent put that over a bout going to England & Ireland and comeing right back again because Minnie wouldent stand for it & says I was welshing & I says what do you mean by welshing I promised to take you any wheres you want to go & you says you want to go to europe so what kick you got comeing because if Ireland & England is not europe where is they. Then she says You dont know if there europe or not but that dont make no diffrunce because if thats where your going to take me I aint going for who cares a bout them places. I says I am irish & thats why I want to go up Ireland & she says yes your people was irish but you couldent never make no body beleive you was irish because your nose turns the wrong way and you cant talk no more irish then I can and if you was to go over there and tell them you was irish they would run you out & besides if all the irish is as tight as you I dont want to see no more of them & I will give you your choise ether you can take me on a real trip to europe or I will go up to milwaukee and stay there. For a wile I felt like telling her to go to milwaukee or some wheres else but you know how it is & a man dont feel like being nasty to a woman even his wife it dont make no diffrunce what a fool she makes out of her self. So finely I give up argueing with her & let her have her own way and Monday I & her went down to gather to the steam boat co. and heres what we got framed up and its all framed up. We are going all over the world and we are going to see all they is to see and then sum & I got the hole trip right here in a book.

The trip what we are going to take is what they call tour no. 2 & they will be 6 or 7 people going a long with us and 1 dont know what is there name but Minnies got there name and we never seen them but the steam boat co. fixed it up that we all was to go to gather & when a gang gos to gather like that it dont cost no body so much money but it is going to cost a plenty at that & if it costs so much to go with a gang I would hate to go a lone or I & Minnie a lone to gather & no body with us. In the 1st. place we go from N. Y. city to bremen & from there to Germany & the fair on the boat will be $70.00 a peace & that includs meals & our party are going to ride in the 2d. cabin & have the wind broke for us. We dont stop at ether England or Ireland so you see its a fast boat we are takeing & we leave N. Y. city On Thurs. the 23 of JULY & the name of the boat is prince S. N. katrina and we will be 7 days getting to bremen the 1st. stop so we should ought to get to bremen the 30 of this mo. but may be not till the 31. when ever we get to bremen we hop right on a train and go to handover a old town that must be older then Chgo. but we dont only stop there a part of 1 day so I dont mind if its old and you know Det. & Chgo. is both old but they got new hotels so whats the diffrunce and we probly wont half to stay over night any way. Then theys an other old town hildesheim thats a bout as old as handover & we wont stay there no longer then we half to and after we get out of there we go to Germany & berlin & we stay there 4 or 5 days but as Minnie says the dutch word for beer is the same as the american so I will get a long o k and 1 of the places there that we got to visit is sans souci & may be its a immatashon of the 1 in Chgo. & they got a dance hall & tables & if thats right we will have a good time. after we get threw germany we go to dresden & prague & Vienna & then we go up to Venice where they got the boats in stead of the st. cars and the Dog house & I guess I can show them wops a thing or 2 a bout puting the spagety a way & then we spend 4 or 5 days a round them wop lakes & may be I can catch a few musky and then we go to switzerland & lucerne & then back to germany and I dont see why should we go back unless they think may be we would of left some of our bagage when we was there before. & some of the places we got to go to is heidelberg & frank fort & may be while I am there I can buy some sausige cheap for the place eh Ed. Then we go to mayence & cologne & amsterdam and the hague where all them diffrunt countrys met to gather & fixed it up that they wasent to be no more fighting back & 4th. and brussels & Bellijum & then we finely get to Paris and we stay in Paris 5 days & they got a lot of places down in the book where there going to take us to in Paris but they dont look good to me & I wouldent be suprized if I snuck off by my self and done a little sight seen only if I snuck a way and left Minnie a lone some of them french willy boys would probly get fresh or else she would go in to 1 of them Paris hat & dress stores & start chargeing things like she does a round here only there even worse burglers in Paris then in Chgo. & she would come back here looking swell probly but I would half to eat the free lunch down to the place the rest of the winter.

When we get threw Paris we go to a place called cherbourg where they got a steam boat co. that will bring us back to N. Y. city & the hole trip costs us $395.00 a peace and thats just wile we are in europe & dont includ the boat fair over & back and thats a bout $140.00 a peace but the $395.00 includes the fair on the trains & boats we ride on in europe & the hotel bill but we got to pay for the drinks but the $395.00 includs guides to guide us a round & hacks to take us a round to diffrunt places only the guides probly talks there own languidge & they wont do me no good. & it dont includ tiping the waiters but if there any thing like the waiters down to the place they wont build no bungleohs off of what I give them. The trip will take us 64 days all to gather & I figure I will be lucky if I get off with less then $1200.00 figureing $1070.00 for boat & R. R. fair & hotel bord bill & loging & the other $130.00 for drinks & what ever Minnie buys in Paris and may be a little present for your self.

We leave here on the 21 of this mo. & we got X curshon rates 2 & from N. Y. city & the round trip is $26.00 a peace not includeing birth & meals on the train & I forgot to put that in wile I was figureing the expences so you see it will cost me nearer $1300.00 then $1200.00 & I guess a trip like that would bankrup you wouldent it Ed. so your lucky you dident marry no dutch girl or no pretty 1 thats got these nosions in there head a bout travveling. I wisht I had of stayed a way from french lick last winter because evry body accept I & Pat was on the wagon.

I will be pretty busy before we start but may be I will get time to write to you from N. Y. city because I aint going to spend no time monking around before we take the boat.

my regards to Kate & be good Ed.

Your Bro.

Larry M. Burns.

N. Y. city.
JULY 22.19.14.

DEAR BRO. ED.  Here we are I & Minnie & Minnie is all dressed up like a horse and got a bunch of new close and she got them in Chgo. the day before yest. so the bill will be waiting to wellcome me home the last of Sept. The boys give me some send off & when I got on the train I dident know weather I was going to europe or oak park & Minnies folks from milwaukee was down to the train to see us off & I guess Minnie was sore a bout me being lit up but a man dont start for europe evry day & if I am spending $1300.00 I am going to get a run for my money.

We got here this a m & come to the king charles hotel & thats where I am at now & Minnies takeing a nap & shes sore at me now because I turned her down when she wanted to get some money off of me to go over on 5th. av. & get more close & I turned her down because she dont know when to stop and shes got enough close now to start a dept. store & shes got a trunk a long with her besides 2 suit cases and a grip she borrowed off of her mother that looks like it was boughten before the fire and all I got for my close is 2 grips but I brung pretty near all the good close I got includeing the dress suit that I bought for the sullivan banquit & 1/2 a doz. shirts besides my sox & 3 changes of under ware and 1 doz. collars and a couple extra ties & my patent lether low shoes and a cap to ware on the boat & my over coat that Minnie made me bring a long tho we will be back home the last of Sept. and then of corse a couple of night gowns. I guess them other passengers on the boat will look at me when I get that old soup & fish on eh Ed.

1st. thing this a m after we got our breakfast we went down to the steam boat co. N. Y. office & fixed things up and was interduced to the rest of the party that is going a long with us in our party and they is 7 of them besides I & Minnie and 2 of them is a marred couple & then theys a couple men that Minnie says is school teachers and 3 girls a bout 25 yrs. of age and pretty good lookers but they acted like they was proud & stuck on there self. I cant tell you there names but Minnies got them wrote down some wheres.

The steam boat co. man asked us how many cabins did we want & he looked right at me because I guess he figured I looked more like ready money then the rest of them and may be he thought I was paying all there fair and I says 1 cabin is all we want and he says I mean for the hole party & I says we are all going to gather in the 2d. cabin and he says how do you want to sleep and I says as good as we can & then 1 of the girls buts in & says us 3 girls is to gather and we want 1 cabin and I says all right you can take the 1st. cabin and pay the diffrunce besides brakeing the wind for us. I guess that woke her up because she dident say nothing more. Minnie horned in then and fixed up a bout our rooms while I was talking to 1 of the school teachers and he acts like a pretty good guy and we laughed & joked to gather while the rest of them was fighting over there rooms. I told him that story a bout the 2 irish men pat & mike that come over on the boat to gather & I thot he would bust laughing. After we was fixed up some of them went down to the dock to take a look at the boat but I figure I will see enough of it while I am on it & I & Minnie come back to the hotel to get rested up and tonight may be we will go to a pitcher show some wheres & I guess they must be some good ones a round here if you know where to find them at.

Now I got to see a bout getting our bagage took down to the dock & speaking of bagage I musent forget to open up the trunk again & slip in a couple cakes of soap and a couple towls thats got the king charles printed on them and they is to good to use down to the place but we can spring them at home when Minnies folks or some body comes to visit.

Well Ed. be good & dont take no wooden nickles & of corse you wont get no male from me till we get acrost on the other side of the ocean because they aint much chance of us runing in to a male box on the ocean eh Ed. With out no jokeing this is going to be a grand trip & I wisht you could go a long & may be some day I will have enough saved up so as I can take you a long on an other trip. With out no jokeing I wouldent miss this trip for nothing now I got started on it and just think of going a round the world & seeing all they is to be seen & I feel sorry for men that aint had my luck or aint good busness men like I or what ever it is that I owe my sucess to and cant take these trips but has got to stay in 1 place all the time and not never see nothing. But be good & give our regards the wifes & mine to Kate and dont take no wooden nickles & if you do get a chance run over to Chgo. & see how the place is getting a long but I guess Louis Shaffer will run things o k and he should ought to.

Well be good Ed.

Your Bro.

Larry M. Burns.

ps  Dont worry a bout us because they say this steam boat co. dident never have no wreck & is the safest co. they is & they dont go near where them ice bgs. is at so they is not much danger of nothing going wrong & I am not worring because it dont get a man nothing to worry. Be good Ed. & dont take no bad money.

on the prinzessin Katrina.
JULY. 25.19.14.

DEAR BRO. ED.  I bet you dident think you would get a letter from me so quick & I wouldent of knew enough to write 1 only I was walking a long the deck with prof. Baker 1 of the school teachers in our party and we come to a male box right on the boat and I dident know what it was at 1st. but I asked him & he told me and it says on it some thing in german or dutch and it means the male closes for N.Y. city at noon evry day so I asked prof. Baker how they got the male back to N.Y. city and he says they put it in a bbl. & throw it over bord & the boats comeing from the other way is suposed to pick up these bbls. & take them a long & there speed boats so it dont take them hardly no time at all to get back to N.Y. city so you will rec. this letter a lot sooner then if I maled it over acrost on the other side.

Well Ed. this is some boat & its a bout 3 times as big as the city of benton harbor & its 4 storys high & 600 ft. long & has got electrick lights & they must have there own electrick light plt. on the boat or else they got wires conecting with the cabels on the bottom. & I am glad we pickt out the 2d. cabin in stead of the 1st because the 1st. cabin has got 4 hunderd pgrs. & we only got 330 so we aint so crowded but I was wrong a bout the 2d. cabin being back of the 1st. 1 because the 1st. 1 is right in the middle of the boat and they must begin numbring from the middle but it dont make no diffrunce because the weather has been grand & if we was in the 1st. cabin where they dont get no breeze we would probly suffakate. The book all so speaks a bout they being 4 saloons on the boat but I only seen 3 of them so far but 3 is a plenty & if a man drinks all they got in 1 of them hes doing pretty good. I been all over the boat wile Minnie hasent did nothing but set in the parlor & walk up & down the deck a couple times a day & chin with the other skirts & I been trying to get her to livun up but nothing doing & may be she is sea sick but I dont see how even a woman could get sea sick because the weathers been grand & the oceans just as smoth as mich. av. prof. Baker who has been acrost before I dont know how many times showed me all over the boat from the engine room to the steerage where the steering is done at. I told Minnie a bout they being a jimnasum on the boat & she says I better go in there evry day & work some of the fat off of me & may be thats a good tip because I have fated up some since I got a chance to rest up my self & let others do the heavy work a round the place. The boat is 20 thous. horse power so prof. Baker tells me but I guess it gets a long better then 20 thous. horses would if they was pulling out here in the middle of the ocean. they got a wire lest tellegram on the boat & we get all the news from all countrys evry day but they aint been nothing from Chgo. as yet & I aint seen your name menshoned Ed. so may be they dont know who you are. Then they got a barber shop & them saloons I was telling you a bout and 2 or 3 rooms to smoke in & play cards & I am going to get in to a game tonight with some men I met on the boat & I wouldent play no cards if Minnie would livun up & pal a round with me but any way I am haveing the time of my life & if she aint haveing a good time with them skirts its her own falt.

I wisht you could see the meals they hand out & no wonder they soak a man for the boat fair because the meals is included in it. I thot breakfast must be there big meal when I seen it but they come back at noon with 9 or 10 corses & then at supper they hand you enough to choke a horse but they aint managed to choke me yet but Minnie makes me ware the soup & fish at supper because the 2 school teachers done it the 1st. night & the collars enough to choke me. It is some swell dinning room where we eat at & its full of pretty pitchers drawed by a man named Louis Seize & there pretty good for a dutch man. Our party of 9 eats at 1 table but we dont all get there at onct most of the time but we was all there to supper to gather last night & we had a swell time because this here prof. Baker got after me to tell some storys & I told the 1 a bout the 2 irish men mike & pat that come acrost to gather on the boat & then I told them the 1 a bout the men driveing up to Fogartys house in the auto. and asking weather Fogarty lived there but I dont know if I ever told you that 1 or not. Two men drove up to Fogartys house in a auto. & 1 of them run up and rung the door bell & Mrs. Fogarty come to the door & 1 of the men says does Fogarty live here and she says yes bring him in. you see she thot Fogarty was piped & they was bringing him home & the men was just friends of Fogartys & was trying to find him & so they asked his wife if thats where he lived. Any way I told them that 1 & 3 or 4 others & I thot theyd bust laughing & then I asked them why dident we all go in the cafe to gather & make a night of it but the 3 girls says they was sleepy & Minnie had a date to play rummy with some of the skirts on the boat & the other man & his wife in our party is a couple grouchs & so I & prof. Baker & the other school teacher set down to gather in the cafe & told storys & histed a few till it was time to go to bed. I lerned all the names of our party & the 3 girls is miss hendricks & lamont & griffith from What Cheer iowa so why should they be swelled on them self & I guess there o k when you know them better. prof. Baker is 1 of the school teachers & the other is prof. Hunter & they teach school in some collige in O. & the marred couple is mr & mrs chambers from down south some wheres. at supper last night this chambers asked me what busness was I in & I was getting ready to tell him when Minnie horns in & says I was a dr. & prof. Baker & Hunter both knowed she was kiding because I all ready told them a bout the place but I dont know if they give it a way to the others or not but I guess chambers fell for the dr. stuff o k because he begin asking me a bout hay feever & if Minnie hadent of change the subjeck I would of been up against it.

Well Ed. its time to go down & wash up & put on the soup & fish & get in on the big feed and after supper I will see how the cards is runing & if I can help pay expences. Minnie coped $3.00 out of the rummy game last night so if she can win I should certinly ought to because she plays cards like a cow. any way I will make them go some. regards to Kate & watch your step & dont slip.

Your Bro.

Larry M. Burns.

on the prinzessin Katrina.
JULY 26.19.14.

DEAR BRO. ED.  I only been up 1/2 hour & its 11.30 but I dident get no to much sleep because we had some seshon last night & it dident brake up till 6 this a m but I trimmed them for $120.00 and in a $1.00 limit game at that & they was all men I never seen before & at 1 time I was $130.00 a head of the game & would of gave anything to have it broke up because I was so sleepy I couldent hardly keep my eyes open but I dident feel like quiting way a head because they was a pretty nice bunch of gents I was playing with. I dident hold no real big hands all night outside of 1 ace full & 1 ten full but I helped evry pair I drawed to pretty near & no body helped against me when I had the openers. They was $30.00 in the pot I coped with the ten full & that was the bigest pot they was & 1 guy filled a flush that time & an other had 3 kings to go in on. prof. Baker set behind me till he got to sleepy to set up. He kept calling me dr. Burns and pretty soon the hole table were calling me doc but as long as I was winning I dident care if they called me hinky dink. I wisht I could grab off $120.00 evry night wear on the boat both comeing & going & the trip wouldent hardly cost me nothing. I told prof. Baker that when I seen him out on deck a wile a go but he says I was lucky to get 1/2 that much in a mo. playing with 2d. cabin pgrs. because they wasent genally dirty with money. He says he wouldent be suprized if that 1 game broke the most of them but they wasent no body handed me no iou but I will be careful next time.

The weather keeps on grand & the oceans as smoth as glass & the capt. says we may probly get in to bremen a head of time but I dont care now & I aint in no hurry as long as I keep on catching my 3d. man.

This is just a short note & I aint had no breakfast yet & you will half to excus the pensil but I dont know where it is they keep there pen & ink. So long Ed. & dont take no counter fit money.

Your Bro.

L. M. Burns.

on the prinzessin Katrina.
JULY 28.19.14.

DEAR BRO. ED.  Minnies livund up finely Ed. may be because the trips pretty near over and wear geting near germany & I guess shes been home sick & she may be thinks bremen will be some thing like milwaukee. I took them for $40.00 more in the game yesterday p m & I coped $15.00 last night but I would of got more if I had of started sooner only Minnie woke up and wanted I should play rummy with her & the 3 girls & I had to do it tho rummys a rummy game just like its name & espeshaly when you play with women. The 3 girls was all calling me dr. Burns & you cant never tell me they dont know I aint no dr because they couldent hardly help from laughing evry time they says dr. & they kept asking me what to do for hay feever & other kinds of dizees & I kided a long with them & told them the cure for evry thing they brung up & I told them when they had hay feever the only thing to do was to hit the hay & I thot theyd bust laughing but all the time Minnie thinks I got them fooled & when I told her in the state room that they was wise she says they wasent so shes trying to kid somebody and shes a bout the only 1 thats geting kided out side of may be mr. & mrs. chambers. I was in a hurry to get in to the real game so when 1 of the girls asked was we tired of playing rummy I says it was kind of tire sum & finely they cut out the game but then miss Hendricks says that miss Griffith was a shark at telling fortuns with cards & did I want my fortun told & of corse I had to say yes tho I could of told my fortun a hole lot quicker if they had of let me run a long to the big game. well miss grifiith told my fortun & she says I am going to make a lot of money more money than I ever dreamd a bout & that I am going to have nothing but good luck from now on & it was a pretty good fortun but of corse they aint nothing in that bunk tho some people beleives it.

When she got threw I says how much was it & she says $.50 & I wasent going to be no cheap skate so I give her a 1/2 dollar & told her to buy some candy & she kept the money & of corse Minnie balled me out for it when we got in the state room where I went to get my money before geting in to the p g game & Minnie says if I am giveing money a way to women I wont half to leave home to find 1 thats willing to take it but if miss Grifiith wasent a pretty girl Minnie wouldent of cared if I had of gave her $.75 in stead of $.50. Well my luck started all o k but as I say the game only lasted a little wile and I only got a way with $15.00 but thats a lot better then looseing $15.00.

Today Minnies been after me to walk up & down the deck all the time & we must of walked 70 miles & shes still walking but I cant see nothing in walking up & down when they aint no new senery but nothing but the same ocean to look at all the wile & when you see it onct you see it all ways. I will walk all she wants me to when we get where they is something to see say in germany or Paris.

well Ed. the trips pretty near over I mean the ocean trip & its been a grand trip & if any body ever tells you a mans libel to get sea sick or not in joy evry minut of the trip you tell them there off there nut.

Kindest regards to Kate & dont take no bad money.

Your Bro.

Larry M. Burns.

ps  when I say a man in joys evry minut of the trip I mean he in joys it if hes after a rest because they aint realy nothing doing on a trip like this & a man would get pretty tired if it wasent for the p g game but its all o k for a man that wants to get a way from busness & not have no excitmunt for a wile.

on the prinzessin Katrina.
JULY 30.19.14.

BRO. ED.  Well Ed. here we are and we dont know where we are & this was the day when we was suposed to land in bremen but we aint in no bremen or no wheres else as yet and they aint no telling when we will get there tho the capt. says we will get there the day after tomorrow at night & that will be 2 days late but how are you going to tell weather the capt. is telling the truth or if he knows where hes at because he wasent telling the truth when he says we would get in a head of time & he wasent telling the truth when he says they would be good weather all the way. I wisht I had of stayed home from french lick last winter & I wouldent of been here.

I guess the worst is over now & if I thot it wasent I would tie a peace of led a round me & jump over the side but all the rotten things that could hapen has hapend all ready so the worst must be over.

in the 1st. place I got in bad with the party at the supper table the night before last & I will tell you how it come off & you see if you think they had a lisence to get sore. prof. Baker asked me to tell them some storys & I started off with thats a bout pat & his wife haveing the scrap a bout there pig and the story dident go very good so I thot I would wake them up and I told them that 1 a bout mr. & mrs. Flynn & the burgler & they aint realy nothing wrong a bout the story only just them 2 words but the 3 girls got up & beat it and so did mr. & mrs. chambers & Minnie says where do you think your at in a baroom & the only ones that stuck with me was the 2 profs. I felt pretty rotten & I asked the profs. would they drink a bottle of wine with me & they was willing but we dident stop at no 1 bottle but had sevrul & they let me lap up the most of it & then like a rummy I went & got all my money accept $50.00 & got in the big game & I never played in such luck 1n my life. right off the reel I have 3 aces to go and the pots opend a head of me & stayed with & then I tilts it & the 2 thats in stands the raze & we draw cards & the guy a head of me catches 2 trays to a pare of them & him standing a raze on 2 trays. I fill up & we go to it & it costs me some thing like $32.00. If this guy had of had any lisence in the pot I wouldent of gave a dam. I anteed a way a bout 20 bucks then with out getting nothing & then finely I picks up a doose full & all they was out against it was a 6 full & 4 5 spots & finely we begin playing roodels & I got 1 big hand a ace high flush & bumped in to another 6 full & they cleaned me out of what I had with me a bout $185.00 & I was going back to the state room & get the $50.00 but prof. Baker wouldent let me. Of corse I got my letter of creddit but I cant get nothing on that till we land & Minnies got a roll on her but I couldent get it off her with out a shot gun. the servunts on this here boat wont buy no french auto mobiles with what I give them. well we went up on the deck after I was cleaned prof. Baker & I & prof. Hunter & it had turned off cold & prof. Hunter says they was a storm comeing up & it looked like it was going to be ruff & the boat was beggining to stagger all ready before we went to bed but it wasent nothing then to what it was when we got up in the morning only I dident get up & I only got up just a little wile a go after being in my birth since the night before last. Ed. we had some storm and the capt. says it was the worst he seen in 20 yrs. of going back & 4th. acrost the ocean & back. They was 2 or 3 times when the smoke stacks was down in the water where the keels suposed to be & the keel was up where the smoke stacks is genally at. The capt. add mited that he dident know weather we was up or down or headed for bremen or cedar lake. Orders was gave that no pgrs. was to be aloud on the deck but they dident half to give no orders like that because they wasent no body could of stayed there unless they was naled down. Do you remmember that coster I & you & Kate & Minnie rode on out to forest pk. well Ed. that was as smoth as mich. av. come paired with this here boat. I have road in taxi cabs & seenick railroads that was pretty ruff rideing but I could lay down & go to sleep in 1 of them after what I went threw.

I dont know wich was sicker I or Minnie but I guess I was because they couldent of been no body sicker then me & still be a live & they was sevrul times when I would of gave a man a dollar to shoot me threw the tempul. I bet if they was 1 of them bbls. with the male in throwed over bord yest. it rolled all the way to N.Y. city with out no boat picking it up. I use to get pretty bad when we was kids & laped up them manhattan cock tails but nothing like this & onct or twict I was sick going over to st. Joe but if I had of been that sick yest. I would of thot I was in the best of helth. I fell out of the birth 3 times & the 3d. time I just layed there on to the floor and rolled a round because that wasent as bad as rolling a round in the birth for a while & then geting bumped on to the floor out of the birth. 1 of the waiters come in & picked me up some time last night & it was geting commer then & so I got a little sleep but I feel rotten yet & I dont half to go in to no jimnasum now because they aint nothing left on me to work off. Minnies still in her birth & I asked her a wile a go when was she going to get up & she says never but she will get over that just like I done.

Well Ed. the boat has went out of its corse and the capt. says he knows where hes at but how do we know if he knows or dont know & he says we will be in bremen on the 1 of AUG. late that day & I hope we will before an other 1 of them storms comes up & if we ever do get to bremen I will stay there or in europe till they build a bridge over the ocean because I wont take no more chances on a boat after what I went threw. In stead of stringing a man up for murder they should ought to put him on 1 of these here boats & make him ride acrost the ocean & back till he couldent stand it no more & I guess a bout 2 trips like this here would finnish him. what I cant figure is why they give you all them swell meals & they must know all the wile that there going to be waisted.

Well Ed. I lost my repatashon & I lost my money & I lost evry thing else & that girl that told my fortun & says I was going to have nothing but good luck was some fortun teller was she not & I got a nosion to ask her for my $.50 back only I guess she wouldent speak to me now.

Your Bro.

Larry M. Burns.

on the prinzessin Katrina.
JULY 31.19.14.

DEAR BRO. ED.  The weather is grand and we are haveing grand weather and are geting a long grand & you wouldent never guess that they had been a storm to see the ocean now because its just as smoth as grand blvd. I & Minnie is both o k again and the both of us is feeling o k & it dont hardly seem posable that just a little wile a go I was pretty near deth & dident care weather I got well or not & the sooner I dide the better. Prof. Baker says that when a mans sea sick he is a frade at 1st. that he is going to die & after words he is a frade he isent. & thats pretty good & just hits the nale on the head 1st. a mans a frade he is going to die and after words is a frade he isent. prof. Baker was kiding me this a m & come up to me & says I want you should give me some addvise dr. Burns what is the best thing a man can do when he is sea sick & I says can tell you the best thing I done & you dont half to go to no dr. to lern how. prof. Baker says he wasent a bit sick all threw the storm but after words I asked the capt. if he knowed of any body on the boat that wasent sick & he says no even the boat it self lost its cargo. our party havent all been able to set down to the table since the night I got in wrong but I & the 3 girls is friends again so the only people thats mad at me yet is mr. & mrs. Chambers & of corse Mimiie but she aint mad at me no more for geting in wrong but now she is mad at me because shes been sick & to hear her tell it you would think it was my falt & it was me that was ruff & not the ocean. but she will be better when we get to bremen & we will get there sure tommorow because I was asking the capt. a bout it & he says we will get there sure tommorow because they aint no more storms in sight but its going to be grand weather & they aint nothing can stop us from going right a long in to bremen. I am certunly anxius to get there & I guess I had enough rotten luck & cant have no more & the girl that told my fortun says she ment that all that good luck was just going to comense now in sted of 3 or 4 days a go. & now that wear pretty near there I can realy say its been a grand trip & I wouldent of missed it for nothing in the world & I am glad I fixed it to come & let Minnie come a long with me though she says I wouldent never of came if it wasent for she makeing me & of corse clames all the credit but I all ways wanted to make this trip & if she only knowed it I was thinking a bout comeing before she ever said a word. & I feel that I am pretty lucky to have the money & make a trip like this & I feel sorry for people that has to stick a round home all the wile & dont never see nothing. I dont wonder that people gos nuts a bout travveling acrost the ocean & a trip like this makes michigan city & benton harbor & them places look pretty sick.

I will drop you a card from bremen or may be wait till we get to Germany & drop you a card from there because I know it must be pretty slow for you to be shut up in Det. & me haveing this big time.

Your Bro.

L. M. Burns.

on the prinzessin Katrina.
AUG. 1.19.14.

DEAR BRO. ED.  This is a good buy letter Ed. & I dont know weather you will rec. it or not. If you rec. this letter you will know long before you rec. it whats came off & probly you all ready know it that theys a war bet. germany & England & france & russia and pretty near all the countrys in europe accept norway & ejypt. The news was gave out on the boat this a m but prof. Baker says the boat got a wire lest tel. a bout it yest. or even before that but was keeping it a secrit & if they had give it out when they got it I would of made them run in to England or Ireland and let me off of the boat but now there going to try & run a head to bremen & what chance have I got when them dutch gets a hold of me because prof. Baker says theys nothing but dutch in bremen & if a man cant talk no dutch or prove that hes a dutch man they will murder him a live. & if we dont get to bremen before the England or france navey gets us we aint got no chance neither because they will see the dutch name on the boat & blow us up before asking us who are we. prof. Baker says the capt. told him it was pretty near a cinch that we would get to bremen o k & he says I should ought to be great full that my wifes a dutch man because the wont do nothing to her & she will be o k, wile the men on the boat thats got wifes that isent dutch will be murdered both them & there wife. I says what will Minnie do all a lone a mist the dutch men with out no husband to look after her & he says a pretty girl like she wont have no trouble because 1 of the dutch army offisers will fall forher & probly want to get marred to her or may be the zar him self will fall for her & she will live in a palice. prof. Baker says I would be o k if I could talk dutch & he tried to lern me how but I am to nervus & cant lern nothing & all the rest of them in our party can talk dutch accept I & mr. & mrs. chambers & so us 3 will be the ones they get & even if they dont kill us right a way but stick us in jale I will half to be lockd up with them & they aint no good & never was.

Ed. I am to nervus to write & I am just writeing to tell you whats came off & if 1 of these dutch men gets Minnie I want you to have the place Ed. & if any body makes a fus a bout it show them this letter & I dont want none of Minnies people to get a hold of it after what shes pulled off. I now now that the old man was right when he says I shouldent of never mixed up with the dutch. but its to late & what can I do. Minnies going to get rid of me just like she wanted to & the reason she done it this way in sted of sticking a knife in my back is because they cant never prove this on her. & prof. Baker says that any body with sence could of saw this comeing & Minnie knowed it before we left home & probly some of them dutch friends of hern tiped her off. your lucky Ed. & if I was to do it over again I would marry some old stiff with out no looks & it wouldent be no dutch man neither.

I been up on the deck since I begin this letter to see was they a boat comeing after us but they is none & evry body says its a cinch we will get to bremen. remmember Ed. I want you to have the place & an other thing I want you to do is to tell this hole thing to pres. Wilson & show him this letter if you half to go clear to Wash. & see that he gets these dutch for what they done to me. I am to nervus to write Ed. but I want you to have the place & dont let Minnies folks get a hold of it & take it your self Ed. you & Kate & do the best you can with it. Its a good thing now that you tended bar all them yrs. at callighans. If Louis Shaffer says any thing to you brake him in 2 & tell him what you think of he & his famly the hole kit & caboodel of them.

I been up on deck again & the capt. told prof. Baker we would be in bremen in 4 hours & prof. Baker says he will male this letter for me & look you up when he gets back. some day he will be back in the good old US but I wont never be Ed. & I wont never see you again & I wont even be burred in the semmitery where I payed for the lot & may be not burred at all but eat up by the croes. Minnies got the st. room door locked & wont let me in but I seen her since the news come & I told her what I think of her. She busted out crying & may be shes a little sorry now but what good is that now & why did she do it & why did she in sisst on us comeing & make me come when some thing told me I should stay home or go to cedar lake & why did I ever make that trip to french lick last winter or why wasent I sattisfide to marry a plane irish girl like you & leave the dutch to the dutch.

I am to nervus to write & I just want to tell you the place is yours & you wont never see Ninnie again because even if the zar or some other dutch man dont grab her she will be a shamed to look you in the face. & good buy Ed. & god bless you & the same to Kate.

from your Bro.

Lawrence Martin Burns.

ps  prof. Baker says he will do all he can to save me but what chance has he got. If its comeing its comeing & I been a good man Ed. but I dident have no sence.

II

BREMEN, GERM.
AUG. 2. 19.14.

BRO. EDDY.  Well Eddy I says good buy to you in my last letter & I give prof. Baker the letter to male for me in case some thing hapened but nothing hapend & it wasent nessary for him to male the letter & I maled the letter my self & now Im writeing you an other letter when I dident expect never to be writeing to no body again & I wouldent of maled that other letter only I was to nervus to know what was it I was doing & now I got to write you this letter & let you know Im still a live & they wasent no navy over took us and when we got here they wasent no body even looked mad let a lone ack like they was going to shoot us full of holes. Minnie & prof. Baker says every body here are talking a bout the war.

As far is Im consernd I dont know what there talking a bout because they dont talk nothing but dutch & for all as I know they may be talking a bout the ball game. There all exited tho & theys solders all over town but what do I care a bout there solders because if they start after us all as we got to say is wear america citzens & they dont dare touch us. If they beggun monking with us uncle sam would here a bout it some ways & I guess pres. Wilson would make them wisht they had of left us a lone.

But Ed a man aint got no busness over here un lest he can talk dutch & Im glad our trip is spoild for us because I know now that I couldent never have no fun runing a round with people that I cant under stand a word of what there saying & when 1 of them comes up to me & shoots off there mouth I dont know are they saying how do you do or go to hell. Minnie can under stand them tho & I guess I would here a bout it if any of them says some thing out of the way but if she was to get 1 of her spells & see some dutch man that she wanted to kid a long with him she could go a long just like I wasent a round & he might may be call her deary & I wouldent know was he calling her deary or asking her would she pass the pickles.

So Im glad wear going to take the next boat back home & prof. Baker is down to the steam boat co. now makeing in querys a bout what time does the next boat leave for N. Y. city & wear going to be a bord of it & may be you will see us pretty near as soon is you get this letter because I & Minnie got it fixed up to stop off in Det. on our way home from N. Y. city to Chgo. because I got to waist a little time on acct. of Minnie geting dissapointed in her trip & cant go strate home to Chgo. like I want to & if I had my way a bout we wouldent never of left. But I got to stall a round a wile so as she wont have no holler comeing. In the book it says they got a boat leaveing here tommorow but prof. Baker says may be they might not be runing reglar on acct. the war & thats why he went down to see a bout it. We aint unpack none of our bagige because we dont know for sure a bout our plans & Minnies laying down here in the hotel & geting rested tho I told her if we was going to start right back on the next boat to N. Y. city she would probly be laying down all the way home on the boat like she was comeing over most of the time so why not stand up or walk a round wile shes got a chance. But you cant tell a woman nothing & if she had of listen to me we would of been in joying our self at cedar lake or st. Joe or some wheres & not makeing these rotten trips back & 4th. acrost the ocean & back.

The 3 girls from What Cheer ia. thats in our party wanted we should keep on with our trip & go all a round Germ. & up to Venice & them other places like in the book & they says if we would stick a round a few days the war would probly be over but prof. Baker & prof. Hunter says they aint no chance of the war geting over quick because the armys is so mad at each other. 1 of the girls miss Griffith says well what if the war aint over we can go a head & make our trip & they wont shoot at us because we aint on 1 side or the other & I says no they wont shoot at us but if 1 of them canon balls was comeing right at our head it wouldent stop & ask us was we dutch men or america or egiyp. After our head was shot off the men that done it might look in our pocket & see they made a miss take but what would that get us? & besides I says if wear not on 1 side or the other wear right bet. the both of them & that would be a fine place to be at. I says if I want to commit suside I will take either or go on the water wagon.

Well Ed I supose the papers over there is full of the war but may be they dont know over there what is it there fighting a bout & I wouldent of knew neither only prof. Baker told me & hes a smart man Ed & teachs school. Some guy from Hungry was walking down the st. with his wife & I guess she must of been miss took for some body elses wife & any way some body took a shot at the both of them & croked them & the Hungry police men says the men that done the shooting was from Servia & the people over in Servia got sore & says they wasent no such a thing so they went to it & then of corse the other countrys took sides with there pals just like as if 1 of your freinds got mixed up & you seen he was going to get the worst of it & you mixed up in it & the other guys freinds horned in & made it a good 1.

So you can see how it got started & now there all fighting accept italy & I never seen a wop yet that was looking for trouble or 1 that would come out & fight with out a knife accept Hugo Kelly & he wouldent of un lest hed of had a irish name. It all started over them police men saying that the shooting was done by them fellows from Servia & if the police over here is any thing like at home there probly wrong & so the hole things a bout nothing & besides that it dont do them diffrunt countrys no good to call each other names because they all talk diffrunt languidges & Id hate to fight with a man & not have him know what was I calling him. It would be like swareing at them rats a round the place & they dont know what Im talking a bout.

Well Ed its a bout time prof. Baker was comeing back & teling us what did he find out so I will close & I bet your glad to here from me & know wear safe & I will wire you when we get to N. Y. city & let you know when we will reach Det. My best to Kate & go home nights Ed & be have your self.

Your Bro.,

L. M. Burns.

BREMEN, GERM.
AUG. 2.19.14.

BRO. ED.  Here I am Ed writeing to you again tonight & I all ready wrote you 1 letter today but in the letter I all ready wrote I says we was comeing home on the next boat but come to find out they aint going to be no next boat & so Im writeing to you again. Dont worry Ed. Wear safe & all o k & will get home sooner or latter & I cant tell just when but wear all o k & dont worry. prof. Baker went down to the steam boat co. this a m & asked them was they an other boat going back to N. Y. city tommorow & they says they dident know. Then he says well you should ought to know because you got it down in the book that theys a boat leaveing tommorow & if you say in your book your going to run a boat you should ought to run it.

Then they says well may be if you oned this here co. you would run a boat & not care what hapend to your boat but we aint going to start out with no boat & have the england navy shoot a hole threw it & drownd evry body. He argude with them for a 1/2 hour but we might as well of argude with a crossing police man & when he seen they wasent no use of argueing no more he went & seen the america counsil that they got here & the counsil says if we stuck a round here we might probly be all o k & nothing hapen to us but we might may be be better off if we took a train & went to some new trull country so prof. Baker come back & put it up to us what would we do & we says where could we go if we dident stay here & he says they was 2 countrys we could get to in a hurry that was new trull countrys & that means there countrys where they dont have no fighting because its against the law.

The 2 countrys he says was holland & Belljum so mr. & mrs. Chambers & the 3 girls & Minnie wanted to go to holland but I seen where they was a good chance to shake mr. & mrs. Chambers who I aint got no use for them so I says why not each of us go where they want to now that the tours broke up & I says that because Im sick & tired of hanging a round them Chambers & all so I found out that they dont talk nothing but dutch in holland & I dont want to be in no more places where Minnie can talk & I cant. So I says I was going to Belljum & I finely got Minnie coxed a round by me promussing her I would buy her a Brussels carpet over to Brussels & Brussels is the capitle of Belljum & where they make them swell carpets & they dont cost near as much is a Orentul rug that Minnies been after me I should buy for the house.

Well heres how we finely got it fixed up the Chambers & the 3 girls is going to holland & I hope the girls has a good time because there all o k but I dont see how can no body have a good time with them Chambers. prof. Hunter aint going no wheres but is going to stay here in germ. & write a book a bout the war & if he wants to be a sucker all right & he wanted prof. Baker should stay here with him but prof. Baker says no he would go a long with I & Minnie to Belljum because he wanted to here some more of my storys & I guess he wasent kiding none at that because I never seen a man laugh like he when I pull 1 of them storys & I thot he would bust laughing when I sprung that 1 a bout the 4 irish men at the pick nick.

Well Ed we all ready says good buy to the Chambers & them girls & Im writeing wile wear waiting for the time when our train gos & the others has went all ready & wear all ready when the trains ready because we dident un pack none of our stuff & wear all ready to go. I dont know what kind of a dump is Brussels but prof. Baker says theys plenty to drink there & if we dont like it we dont half to stay but can go some wheres else & pretty soon take a boat from there over to england & get a boat from there to N. Y. city but I dont mind sticking a round Belljum a wile as long as its a new trull country where they cant be no war & fighting.

Tell Kate not to do no worring & wear all o k & will get a long o k as long is prof. Bakers with us.

Your Bro.,

Larry M. Burns.

BRUSSELS, BELL.
AUG. 4.19.14.

DEAR ED.  What do you think Ed? wear in a new trull country that dont never do no fighting & all there talking a bout a round here is the war only there talking it in Belljum languidge so as I wouldent knew what was they talking a bout only for prof. Baker & he must be able to talk all the languidges they is. He says the Belljums is all exited because the dutch army are trying to walk acrost a part of Belljum on there way from germ. to France & the Belljums is trying to not let them & did you ever here any thing to beat it because its just like as if a man wanted to walk from 35 to 34 st. & I wouldent leave him walk on the side walk in front of my place but made him walk out in the middle of the st. & some of the Belljums is fighting the dutch army over east of here some wheres to try & keep them off of Belljum & some body will get hurt all for nothing & prof. Baker says england has declaired war on the dutch men for walking on Belljum & I dont see what is it to england where the dutch men walks & besides germ. & england all ready been fighting for 2 or 3 days so whats the use of declairing war now & its just like as if I was to go up & bust you in the jaw & then when you was laying on the ground I would say Im sore at you.

Prof. Baker says they aint no danger where wear at because Paris is where the dutch men is going & Paris is way south of here & to come threw here to go to Paris would be just like a man that wanted to go from lincoln pk. to So. Chgo & went a round by la Grange or if I & you was going down to new Orleans from Chgo. & went threw Omaha & we wouldent be no such suckers as that eh Ed? & the dutch men isent so smart that it hurts them but they aint no such suckers as that neither.

Well Ed wear not in no danger you see & besides as soon as the england army wake up & get busy they will make the dutch men look like a rummy because they tell me the irish has called off there quarl with england & are going to help clean up germ. & besides where wear at here in Brussels aint only a short distence from Austin where you can get a boat for england & they must be boats runing from england to N. Y. city so we can stay here or not stay here just like we want to only I want to stay here a wile because this looks like a live town Ed & plenty doing & I could have some time here if I could know what there talking a bout & Minnie likes it 1st. rate & as long is wear both in joying our self why should we leave? Only I cant get in no card game because Im not what you could call dirty with money & besides I wouldent know to here them talk weather they was razeing the pot or complaneing a bout the heat.

They aint no use of you & Kate trying to write us no letters till we get home because the way things has turned out we dont know where wear going to be at from 1 day to the next. I will keep you post it how we get a long & you dont need to do no worring because wear haveing the finest kind of a time & it seems like a dream me thinking we was going to get mixed up in the war & shot full of holes.

Your Bro.,

L. M. Burns.

BRUSSELS, BELL.
AUG. 6.19.14.

BRO. ED.  What do you think Ed? The little Belljums has licked the stuffng out of the dutch men down to Liege where they been fighting all the wile & it looks like the dutch men was licked so bad they wouldent be no more war & the dutch men will probly give up when they see they aint good enough to even beat little Belljum let a lone france & england & russia & after this any time a dutch man talks to me a bout fighting I will give him the laugh & I been haveing a lot of fun kiding Minnie because shes all ways been teling me what fighters the dutch men was. & now look at them. This towns went plum nuts & the people gos a round holering like a bunch of collidge boys thats had a bronix cock tale.

Well Ed you cant hardly blame them from feeling good because they thot they dident have no chance of stoping the dutch men & look what they done to them. & they say a round here that they was 4 hunderd thousend dutch men killed & thats more then they is in Milwaukee & they cant be many more of them left so it looks like the war is pretty near over & these little Belljums done it & I guess I dident know what I was doing when I made Minnie come to Belljum insted of going to holland where they aint no exitemunt. I guess I cant pick a winner eh Ed? & when I get back home I can tell the boys I was right here in Belljum when the Belljums cleaned up the dutch men & when ever a dutch man comes in to the place I will kid the life out of them only of corse I wont kid them & make them sore if there buying a drink & in joying them self at there own expence.

Heres what come off Ed. The dutch men was trying to make the Belljums let them go threw Belljum & the Belljums says no; the dutch men pulled there gun & beggun shooting & then the Belljums pulled there gun & beggun shooting back & they fired back & 4th. till all them dutch was killed 4 hunderd thousend of them & they wasent no ducks or partige to shoot so the Belljums quit shooting. The news got up here & evry body went crazy & now this town looks like the old 1st. ward ball a bout 5 a m. I says to Minnie well do I know where to come for exitemunt or dont I? & she says shut your big mouth so she just as good is add mitted Id picked the right spot & them people that went to holland is down on a dead 1. we will stick a round here un till the exitemunts over & then we will look up a bout getting a boat at Austin for england & then catch the boat for N. Y. city.

Your Bro.

Larry M. Burns.

BRUSSELS, BELL.
AUG. 10.19.14.

DEAR EDDY.  That was a hole lot of bunk Eddy a bout them Belljums killing all them dutch men & they may of killed 2 or 3 dutch men but not no 4 hunderd thousend or no wheres near that amt. or else how could the dutch men of did what they done now? We just got the news here a little wile a go & we was pretty much worred when it 1st. come but prof. Baker went up & seen the america counsil & he says they aint no reason for us worring because all america citzens is safe if they mind there own busness. Heres what come off Eddy. The dutch men beat them Belljums down to Liege where they been fighting all this time & thats the way you spell it only it aint spoke nothing like that & youd think it was Liege like the national or american Liege but it aint nothing like that when you say it.

Well the Belljums left the dutch men grab Liege off of them & now what do you think the dutch men is doing? there comeing over here to Brussels & aint that just like a dutch man to go all over trying to get some wheres right clost to them? & its the same way when they talk & I bet if a dutch man was trying to get from Det. to Chgo. they would take the wabash to st. Louis & come a round that way. Now there trying to get to Paris & there 1/2 way there & insted of going a long down there they got to come over here & see if may be they isent some sour crout laying a round lose.

Well of corse we aint in no danger as long is we mind our own busness but its going to be a pretty stiff proppisishon for me to mind my own busness when theys a hole lot of dutch mens struting a round. prof. Baker says pretty soon we will get our pass sports that you got to have when you want to get some wheres else in europe from where your at & I says why shouldent we get them right a way & get out of here now? & then we wont half to worry a bout minding our own busness when the dutch men gets here but he says they aint no trains runing over to Austin & we will may be half to hire a taxi cab or a horse & buggy or some thing & before we can do that we will half to find 1 of them things & then borry enough money off the america counsil to pay for it because they wont trust no body for nothing over here now & not even Minnie cant start no charge acct.

Prof. Baker says we aint in no danger of geting struck by no canon balls because the mare of the town aint going to try & stop the dutch men from comeing in here & I wisht I was the mare of the town because I would give them the fight of there life & I bet they wouldent never get in here if I was the mare of the town. I guess you seen me handle dutch men before this eh Eddy? & if it wasent for geting Minnie & prof. Baker in trouble I would give them a battle mare or no mare because I aint never seen no dutch man yet that wouldent quit when I went after them. But on acct. of Minnie & prof. Baker I got to mind my own busness & not start no trouble but the dutch men better not try & start nothing with me or they will get the worst of it. I dont half to tell you that Ed.

Your Bro.

L. M. Burns.

BRUSSELS, BELL.
AUG. 16.19.14.

BRO. EDDY.  Well Ed. this is a grate place for storys & theys as many storys a round here is they is on the massonic temple. The latest story they got now a round here is that the dutch men has tooken Liege & they says the same thing a wk. a go but it wasent right that time but now its the right dope so how can a man tell what your going to beleive. They cant Ed & thats all they is to it. When they tell so many diffrunt storys you cant tell which to beleive & which to not beleive & Ive quit worring a bout it & let them beleive what they want to & it dont make no diffrunts to me any way because the dutch men cant do nothing to us even if they come here where wear at & may be they aint comeing after all because the story a bout them comeing may be wrong if the other storys is wrong.

Any way we would be all o k Ed if we wasent pretty near broke & wear runing so shy that we cant spend no more in joying our self but got to save up all we got to pay our fair from Austin to england & then we got to get some more in england to buy our ticket acrost the ocean & I dont know who are we going to borry it off of but prof. Baker says hes got friends over there who we can get it off of & I wisht we could start right now but we cant get a hold of no horse & buggy or taxi cab to take us to Austin & prof. Baker says we should ought to start out & walk but on acct. of Minnies feet hurting her I & her couldent do that & I told prof. Baker if he was in a hurry to go a head by him self but he says no we would all stick to gather. I guess prof. Bakers afrade he might may be miss 1 of them storys of mine if he was to go off & leave us & he sure does like them storys Ed & he just eats them up.

Well Eddy theys nothing much to write a bout wile wear just here waiting & I will let you know the minut I have any news & kindest regards to Kate.

Your Bro.,

Larry M. Burns.

BRUSSELS, BELL.
AUG. 22.19.14.

DEAR BRO. EDDY.  Talk a bout dutch men Ed. I dident know they was so many in the world & all the dutch men they is must of walked threw here yest. & today. The mare surenderd the town to the dutch men yest. & they wasent no exitemunt a bout it he just says the town is yrs. like they says to us in denver that time the elks had the convenshon in denver. & the dutch men just come in and took it but I dident have no idear they would be so many of them but I thot they might may be a couple thousend but no they been walking threw here for 2 hole days or may be they been walking a round in circuls & the same 1’s is comeing threw now that was threw here yest. & you cant proove it by me because they all look a like but prof. Baker says no there all diffrunt & he says theys a lot more of them we havent seen but any way Ive saw all I want to see & if I dont never see an other dutch man all my life I can still say I seen enough & when theys such a gang of them to gather & all looking just a like I should think theyd get all balled up & none of them know weather he was himself or some body else.

People use to say I & you looked a like Ed & they wasent giveing you none the worst of it but how would you like to look like a bout a million other dutch mens & all be walking a long & you wouldent know weather you was here or a mile a head. There all going to paris prof Baker says but they wont be enough hotels & bording houses to take care of them all when they get there & if I was them Id make some of them go some wheres else because they all of them will want the same things to eat liver worst & pretsils & you cant expect no 1 town to have enough of them things a round to feed the hole Germ. army.

But Id like to own 1 of them paris brewrys now eh Ed. prof. Baker says I want to be care full what I write in a letter a bout the dutch men because there libel to get a hold of the letters & read them & might may be get sore so I will be care full & I dont half to tell you what I think of them any way do I Eddy because I & you thinks the same thing a bout the dutch men & any body that wants my share of them can have it & besides I guess they wouldent dare open no letters because I would get the P O dept. after them & its a peneteniary ofense.

Prof. Baker says they will leave some of the officers & solders here in this town to take care of it wile the rest of them gos on down to paris & I guess he knows what hes talking a bout because hes been talking to some of the dutch officers in dutch & they give him the dope but l dont see why does any of them want to stay here or why they should ought to because we was geting a long o k before the dutch men ever come here & just as good as we are now & may be better as far is Im consernd they can all go down to paris or Pittsburgh or any wheres else theyve a mind to. but we cant do nothing a bout getting out of here till theyve all went threw & things is quited down & I will let you know when we get ready to start & give Kate our kindest.

Your Bro.

L. M. Burns.

BRUSSELS, BELL.
AUG. 24.19.14.

DEAR EDDY.  Well Eddy wear all fixed up & prof. Baker done it & wear going to get out of here tommorow or next day & the dutch men is going to send us down to Austin in a auto mobile & it wont cost us nothing & prof. Baker done pretty good to get it fixed up & he done it by talking to the dutch officers in there own languige. He says some of them is pretty nice fellows & a couple of thems been over to the U S & knows some people he knows & the fellows hes been talking to is officers thats left here to gard Brussels & theyve got a hole lot of solders left here with them to help gard the town but all them dutch men or the most of them that went threw here is pretty near down to paris by this time & the 1s thats here is just men that aint going no wheres & prof. Baker says they aint going to hurt no body.

Some of them talks america he says & hes frammed it up for I & Minnie to meet 1 of them tommorow &,the 4 of us is going to have a little party on the dutch man & I hope we get some thing to eat out of it because we aint been what you could call crowding our stumick & if it wasent for prof. Baker laying in a stock of crackers-and-cheese & bread when he herd the dutch men was comeing we would be up against it but its pretty near all over now because this here dutch man that wear going to have the party is the 1 thats going to send us to Austin & theyll be plenty to eat for us there because they aint been no war over that way & besides we wont only stay there till its time for the boat to go.

Prof. Baker says this dutch man is all o k & as nice a man is you want to meat & may be he aint realy no dutchman but got mixed up in the army some ways but his names Klinke or how ever you spell it so I guess hes a dutch man or any way hes got a dutch name but if he sets up the lunch & gives us some thing to wash it down I wont care if hes a dutch man or a hunk or what is he.

Wear still staying in the hotel where we was before all this come off & the eating was all o k before all this come off but now the hotels full of dutch officers & solders & they get most evry thing-they is to eat & the sooner we get out of here & some wheres else so much the better. But if we dont get out of here & on the way home pretty quick they wont be no chance for me to be home for the primerys & besides I want to get home before Louis Shaffers played to many tunes on the cash rejister. Eh Ed.

Your Bro.,

Larry M. Burns.

BRUSSELS, BELL.
AUG. 26.19.14.

BRO. EDDY.  Here I am Eddy hideing & I dont know whats going to happen to me & I cant tell you where Im hideing at because some of them dutch men might get a hold of this letter & open it & I dont even know will I ever get it maled but if I dont never get out of here a live & some body should male this letter you will know what come off & what them dutch men done to me. Heres what come off Eddy & we should ought to knew better then trust a dutch man & look what we got for it.

This here Klinke the dutch officer that promussed to give us some thing to eat come up to I & Minnies room in the hotel yest. a m & I & Minnie & prof. Baker was all seting in there talking & this here Klinke knocks & we says come in & in he come & says did we want to have lunch with him & he talked america just as good as I or you & we says sure we would have lunch with him because we was hungry is a bare & prof. Baker interduced I & Minnie to him & he says he was please to meet us & then we went down stares all to gather to the dinning room of the hotel. They was an other dutch officer there & we was interduced to him & set down & ordered some thing to eat & you can bet I ordered some thing to Eddy because my stumick felt like the colliseem & I ordered evry thing I could think of & wile we was waiting for them to bringin the stuff we ordered this here Klinke calls 1 of the solders & says some thing to him in dutch & pretty soon he comes back with some wine & I wisht you could of seen me go to it & any way we eat & drink & set there all p m & was haveing a real time but I might of knew them 2 officers wasent right & I will tell you what come off.

1 of them says he had it fixed up that they was to be a auto mobile to take us to Austin a bout 5 oclock & we might is well injoy our self till then & so we set there & I bet I must of drink 4 or 5 qts but you know it dont never faze me Ed & I was all o k & finely prof. Baker, says mr. Burns should ought to entertane us with 1 of his storys & Minnie says you better not get Larry started because he dont never know when to stop & I says I guess I know when to stop, all right & Klinke says sure go a head & tell us a story because theys nothing I like better than a good story & prof. Baker says well this old boy dont never tell nothing but good 1s & he had me right there at that eh Ed.

I dident want to tell no story but they coxed me & I finely says to my self well why not do some thing for them because they been treating us pretty good so I told them 1 or 2 & I told them the 1 a bout the pick nick & I thot they would all bust laughing even prof. Baker who herd it before but he dident laugh no harder then them dutch officers & finely they says is all your storys a bout irish men & dont you know none a bout dutch men & I says sure I know a hole lot of them a bout dutch men & then I told them the 1 a bout the 2 dutch men quarling over there wife & it went good & they hollered for more & then the trouble beggun & I will tell you how it come off.

I guess you may be herd the story Ed because I told it a couple times & I dont know weather you was there or not but any way heres the story & its a bout a dutch man that use to keep comeing in to a place that was ran by a irish man & when hed get a few drinks under his belt he use to holler hock the kiser & that means hurah for the kiser in dutch. & evry time this here dutch man would get a few drinks under his belt he would holler hock the kiser & he use to keep comeing in to the irish mans place & hollering that evry time he got a few under his belt.

So 1 night the dutch man was broke & he come in to the irish mans place all lit up & says would the irish man stand him off for a drink & the irish man says no you bought all your drinks some wheres else tonight so you can go some wheres else & get stood off for an other 1 & the dutch man says I cant get stood off no wheres else & the irish man says well you cant get nothing here & the dutch man says will you lend me the money & then I can go some wheres else & get the drink & wont bother you no more & the irish man says how much money do you want & the dutch man says just a dime thats all. & then the irish man says if you dont want to borry more then a dime why dont you hock the kiser?

Well Ed that dident make no hit like I thot it would & they wasent no body done no laughing not even prof. Baker & they wasent nothing said for a bout 1 min. & then this here other officer that I dont know his name got up & grabs me by the sholder & says come a long with me I want to see you out side & they wasent nothing I could do but go a long with him & prof. Baker got up & was comeing a long with us & the officer told him to set down where he was at & mind his own busness & then I seen it was serius & the dutch man was good & sore & heres what come off Ed.

He took me out side where they was a bunch of dutch solders & then he says to me that was a good story you told wasent it & I dident say nothing & he says the irish man got the best of the dutch man in that story dident he & I dident say nothing back & he says well heres where the dutch men gets back & then he hollers to a couple of them solders & says some thing to them in dutch &s then he says these here solders will take care of you & then he left me & them 2 solders grabed me & what do you think they done Ed.

They throwed me in to a corner of the yard of the hotel that there useing for a jale & there I was locked up with some other prissoners & couldent get out & I says to the solders you better leave me out of here before you get your self in trouble & they just laughed & beat it out of the room & left me there.

Well Eddy the prissoners in there was all Belljums or french men or some thing & they couldent under stand what I says to them & I couldent make no head or tale out of what they says to me & so they wasent no body I could talk to. I dident know what was comeing off & I must of set there a hour wondring what was they going to do with me & then this here officer not Klinke but the other 1 come in with 1 of the solders & come up to me & says some thing to the solder in dutch & then he says to me may be youd like to know what wear going to do & I says it dont make no diffrunts to me what are you going to do & he says no I supose not but any way Im going to tell you & this is it.

Evry hour from now to morning you got to get up & stand on your feet & holler hock the kiser & the gard here will come & tell you when its time for you to holler & if you miss a hour with out hollering your going to get shot as a spy & I says you know I aint no spy & you better be care full what you do to me or uncle Sam will get after you & he says uncle Sam wouldent never miss you because hes got a hole lot of jokers & I says what have you did with my wife & prof. Baker & he says Im not runing your wife or prof. Baker & I got enough to keep track of with out worring a bout them. Then he left me & went away from me & they wasent nothing more come off till finely the gard come up & says some thing in dutch & I couldent make no head or tale of it & then he points at me & says hock the kiser & I just laughed at him & then he pulls out a gun & points it at me & says hock the kiser so what could I do Ed & I had to get up & holler it but I bet I wouldent of never done it only for the gun & they isent no dutch man could make me do nothing with there bear fists.

Well Eddy the same thing come off 4 or 5 or 6 times & the last couple times I was a sleep & the gard had to waken me up & finely in come Klinke & it must of been a long a bout midnight & he come up to me a long with the gard & says some thing to the gard & then asked me was I sorry & I says what for & he says you know what for you insulted the emper of Germ. & I says I dident mean to insult no body & he says all right then come a long with me & your pretty lucky to not get shot for what you done.

Then I & him walked out & he says the best thing you can do is beat it out of town & I says where would I go & he says you better beat it for Austin & I says I aint going no wheres with out my wife & prof. Baker & he says they all ready went & I says when & he says we sent them a way from here in a auto mobile but they only been gone a bout 6 hrs. & if you run fast you might catch up with them & then I says aint you going to give me no auto mobile & he says I should say not your lucky to be a live & then he give me a peace of paper & says it was my pass sport & thats the last I seen of him. only before he left me he says dont let yourself be seen a round here tommorow or no time or its all off with you.

Well Eddy I started out of town but how did I know which way to go & evry little wile theyd be a dutch solder jump out at me from behind a tree or some thing & hold me up & make me show them the peace of paper & I wasent geting no wheres & it was dark is pitch & finely I snuck in where Im at & now its morning again but I dont dare go out or them officers might see me & I dont know where Minnie & prof. Baker is at or whats going to happen to me & there a fine team to go runing off & leave me here & if a man cant trust his wife & his friends who can they trust. Nobody Ed. I dont know will I get this letter maled but if I do get it maled & you dont here no more from me you will know how it come off.

Your Bro.,

Larry M. Burns.

AUSTIN, BELL.
Sept. 1.19.14.

BRO. EDDY.  I dont know weather you got my last letter or not but it dont make no diffrunts Ed because now I guess we will get home all o k & I can tell you what happend to me when I see you but I dont know when will that be unlest you can get a way & come to Chgo. because we aint going to stop off at no Det. or no wheres else but if we ever get to N. Y. city wear going strate home.

I told you in my last letter which I dont know if you got it or not a bout me being a prissoner & the dutch men haveing me locked up in jale & I bluffed them in to leaveing me out & if it hadent of been for me haveing all the nerve in the world Id of probly been there yet or may be shot as a spy & I was in hideing pretty near a hole day in a house in Brussels but finely I snuck out & started for here where Im at now only they spell it Ostend over here but that dont make no difirunts.

Ed I wont never for get my trip comeing here as long is I live & they aint no danger of me for geting it for a wile any way because my feets so sore there a bout ready to drop off & I dont know how far I walked but I walked over 1/2 the way from Brussels here & the rest of the time I was rideing in farmers waggons & could of road all the way may be but I dident have no money & I dont know how far is it from here to Brussels but its far enough & I dident have nothing to eat the hole trip accept just a couple peaces of bread that I beged off of farmers just like a bum.

Well Ed I couldent tell you in a hunderd yrs. all I went threw but I will tell you when I see you because they isent time to write it all. I come in here last night pretty near dead & went up to the america counsils place & they give me some soup & some brandy & I layed down & the counsil asked me who was I & I told him & he says your wifes been up here evry day to know had we herd any thing a bout you & I know where shes at & will send for her & I says never mind sending for her because I dont want to see her or no body else but he dident pay no a tension.

Pretty soon in come Minnie & prof. Baker & Minnie beggun screeking & throwing on a lot of aggony & I says cut it out & dont come near me you run off & left me & I dont want nothing more to do with you & then prof. Baker told me to shut up & I told him to shut up him self & we had it back & 4th.

Finely he told me how it come off & heres how it come off. & it wasent there falt Ed because they tride to make the dutch officers leave them wait for me so as they could bring me a long in the auto mobile & the dutch officers says no I would half to be punnished for insulting the emper of Germ. & they would give me a good scare & then make me walk to Austin & they promussed they wouldent do nothing to me but just scare me & Minnie says couldent her & prof. Baker wait till theyd scared me & then take me a long in there auto mobile & the dutch officers says no & if you dont hurry up & get out of town your self some things libel to happen to you so thats why they come a way & leave me but what do you think of them dutch officers Ed geting swelled up & thinking they scared me. Fine chance eh Ed. But they made me walk all right & I wisht there feet was as sore is mine.

Well Ed prof. Baker borryed the money off of the america counsil & wear going to dover Eng. on a boat tonight & then wear going to catch a boat for N. Y. city as soon is theys 1 leaveing & it cant leave to soon to suit me & prof. Baker says if wear lucky we should ought to be in N. Y. city in a little over a wk. & then Minnie says O lets stay a little wile in London & in joy our self because they aint no war there & I says no & they wasent no war in Belljum neither & if Londons a new trull country like Belljum I dont want to go no wheres near it & we aint going to stay in no London or no wheres else but wear going to N. Y. city as soon is we can & then we wont get in to no more trouble.

Minnie says I guess we better not stop in London at that because youd probly want to tell them some storys & youd probly wind up by insulting king Geo. & get us all in bad & may be get us all shot & then I told them how clost I come to getin shot in Brussels & Minnie says you dont half to tell us that because you was 1/2 shot before you left us & we talked a wile longer & finely I says I wanted a place to sleep & Minnie says you look like you should ought to sleep in the bath tub & I says is that so. & she seen she was going to far so she shut up.

Well Eddy this towns full of refuges thats been drove out of there homes & there all looking for boats to take them some wheres & theys going to be some crowd on the boat over to Eng. but prof. Bakers got things fixed up so as we cant get crowded off but will have rms. to our self & its a bout time he done some thing after interduceing us to them dutch officers & geting us in to all that trouble.

I dont care if the oceans ruff or smoth going back Ed because Im going to stay in bed all the way & you wont here nothing more from me till we get to N. Y. city & may be not then. This has been some trip Ed. & if my hare aint gray it aint this trips falt.

Your Bro.,

L. M. Burns.

CHGO., ILL.
Sept. 11.19.14.

BRO. EDDY.  Excus this pencill Ed & all so for not writeing to you before & I would of wrote you from London Eng. or from N. Y. city or some wheres only I figgured on acct. of us comeing home from Eng. on the 1st. boat that we would get to the U S as soon is a letter would & thats why I dident write you nothing from London while we was there & we wasent in N. Y. city only long enough to go from the boat to the station where we took the train at & we just got here this a m & I went right down to the place from the station & I went right down there because I wanted to see how was things geting along & what do you think Ed? Louis Shaffer wasent down to the station to meet us or he wasent up to the place & Joe harding that was on watch says he hadent been a round for 2 or 3 days.

Thats a fine thing for a man to do when you leave him in charge of your place but thats a bout all I should ought to of expected from a dutch man & I hope hes quit because that will save me from the trouble of fireing him because I wouldent have no dutch men a round my place after what I went threw & the sight of 1 of them makes me sick. But I cant tell weather I been doing a good busness or a rotten busness till I see Louis Shaffer & hes got the bank book & all the rest of it & I dont know nothing till I see him but Joe says they been doing good busness & the summer gardens been doin grate & evry things o k as far is I could see & its a bout time I was haveing a little luck eh Ed?

Well Ed we come acrost from Austin to dover on a boat & I wisht you could of saw it because they must of been a thousand people on the bord of it & they was room for a bout 2 or 3 hunderd & they was hanging over the sides & evry wheres else & I expected evry minut to see the boat sink down in the bottom of the water & then when we got over to dover we had to stand up in the train all the way to London & then we had to lay a round London 2 days and then an other train to south Hampton where the boats leaves from but finely they was 1 going & we took it but we had to pay extra on acct. the crowd going & we got rotten rooms on the boat at that & we was 7 days comeing acrost & they was the longest 7 days I ever seen because wed spent all the money we borryed on the boat fair & they wasent no games on the boat but even if they had of been I couldent of got in to them.

But who do you think was on the boat Ed. mr. & mrs. Chambers & them 3 girls & they says they figgured it out we must be dead on acct. of us being down in Belljum where all the fighting was at & they was mighty supprised to see us & wanted to here all a bout it & I says let prof. Baker tell you a bout it but prof. Baker says mr. Burns is the best 1 at telling storys & let him tell you all a bout it.

So they wouldent have nothing else but I must tell them all a bout it & I give them the hole story & told them a bout me geting locked up in prisson by the dutch men & busting my way out of prisson & how they was going to shoot me as a spy if I hadent of knocked down the gard & broke out & a bout the dutch officer trying to flirt with Minnie & a bout me busting him in the jaw & geting a way with it right in front of the hole dutch army & a bout the Belljum woman that they was going to burn up her house & I stood up in front of the house & told them I would kill the 1st. man that started some thing & they seen I was in ernest & beat it a way from the house & a bout the canon balls just missing us when we was walking down Main st. Brussels.

I told them evry thing we seen & done & the girls wouldent hardly leave me for a minut they was so exited over what was I telling them but mr. & mrs. Chambers wouldent lissen to none of it & wouldent stay a round where we was at & I guess they was sore they picked out holland where they wasent no exitemunt or nothing. If it hadent of been for me telling them storys a bout the war we would of had a rotten trip because they wasent nothing doing at all on the boat & if I told them storys onct I must of told them a hunderd times because they kept after me to tell them again.

Prof. Baker says the storys kept geting better the more I told them but that was just my way of telling them Ed & I will try & remmember evry thing we went threw so as I can tell you & Kate when I see you & I wisht youd come over and pay us a visit so as you could here all a bout it. I bet they will be a crowd down to the place tonight because our name was in the paper where we got back from europe & all the boys will want to here the dope & I guess Im the 1 that can give it to them eh Ed.

Well Ed I dont know if Im glad we made the trip or not because it cost me a hole lot of money & I was figgureing up on the train comeing home & it cost me a bout 8 hunderd dollars all to gather & that includs all expenses including $140 for the fair acrost the ocean & $150 comeing back acrost the ocean & a hunderd dollars R R fair on this side of the ocean comeing back & 4th. to N. Y. city & back & all expenses includeing what I lost in the poker game & I wouldent of never lost it if the cards had broke good a couple of times. & besides the 8 hunderd dollars Minnie lost some of her close & only brung a bout 1/2 of them with her a way from Brussels.

She says shes got to have a hole new out fit & how much will that cost me godd knows I dont & for all my money what did I see. Nothing but a hole lot of water & 3 or 4 1 horse towns that you could stick them in the Chgo. river with out over flowing the banks & a lot of scared Belljums & a bout 3 times as many dutch men is they is in milwaukee & you could go up to milwaukee 3 times & see as many dutch men is we seen & it wouldent cost you over 10 dollars & thats not saying I would want to throw a way 10 dollars or $.10 cents to look at dutch men tho Id give up $.75 cents to see 1 or 2 of them say hands Wagner or Frank Schulte.

But still in all I cant say the trip was waisted & probly we seen more exitemunt then wed of saw if we took the reglar tour No. 2 like it was in the book & besides that I had the satisfaction of showing them dutch men that I wasent afrade of there hole army.

But what do you think now Ed? We hadent no sooner got home than Minnie pulls it on me that on acct. of our trip geting broke up by the war she realy had an other trip comeing & would I take her up to black Lake Mich. where her sisters been all summer & I says black Lake wheres that? & she says its up in Mich. near holland. Near Holland I says.

I should think youd got enough of being near holland because when we was in Belljum we was near holland & look at the time we had.

She says yes but they wont be no danger of us getting in trouble up to this place if youll just keep your mouth shut & not tell no funny storys & I says shut up your self & quit talking a bout trips because Ive herd enough a bout trips & next time you want to go vissiting you can go over on the north side & vissit the animuls in lincoln pk. but you wont never get me to go a long with you because Im not never going out of the 3d. ward again & she says it wouldent be fare to the rest of the city for you to stay in 1 ward & I says your to smart & she dident say nothing back.

Well Ed I hope you & Kate can come over & pay us a vissit & may be you could come when prof. Bakers here because he promussed he would come to Chgo. when he got a chance & I says to him dont for get our No. & he says you bet I wont because I will want to here you tell some more storys so you see Eddy he likes them storys of mine pretty well even if the dutch men dont.

Write & let us know how are you geting a long Ed & take care of your self & dont take no bad money. Kindest to Kate.

Your Bro.,

Larry M. Burns.

• 3 •

Own Your Own Home

— I —

It’s the Only Life

Chicago, May 3  –

Brother Charley.  I bet when you here what I & Grace has made up our minds you & Mary will wisht you was doing the same thing or may be you will follow our exampel & do the same thing & I hope you will because its the only way to live when you got childern.

Charley we made up our minds to buy a place some wheres out in the subburbs & build a house not a grate big house of corse but a house where a man can move a round in with out bumping in to the walls all the wile and have enough ground so the childern wont half to be cooped up all the day like in a flat but can run around & get some exxersise.

The other day the Walters come to see us & stayed all p m & little Ed & the baby both of them hollered all the wile they was there & when the Walters had went I says to Grace its a bout time you lerned them babys to shut there mouth when we got Co. & Grace says I cant do nothing with them because there cooped up in the flat all day & dont never get out & how can you expect them to be nothing but cross & mean all the wile. She says you are makeing good money now & I dont see why is it we cant find a place out in the country some wheres & live there & it wouldent take you no longer to get to work then it does now with this rotten L servus.

So I says well when our lease runs out in Oct. I will look a round in some of them subburbs & see can we rent a house reasonible or may be we can buy a little 1 on payments. Then Grace says lets buy a lot some wheres & build our own house & I says what do you think I am rockefellow & she says no but you dont half to be rockefellow to build a house now days because you can borry the money & pay it back a little to a time & just like paying rent only your getting more for your money. Then she says and besides I got $500 in the bank that you can take & how much you got in the bank your self. I had got out my bank book & seen where I had a bout $300 & with her $500 that makes a bout $800 & we can get a nice lot some wheres for that amt. & then pay for the house by the mo. & build a bungello say costing $1200 and have it all payed for in 1 yr. by paying $25 per wk. & meen time we can live on $25 per wk. & cut down on cloths & nickle shows & groserys.

I am going to get off tomorrow p m and Annies comeing over to look out for the babys while I & Grace gos to 1 of the subburbs & we are going to look them all over 1 to a time before we chose the 1 we want so it may be will be 2 or 3 mos. before I can write & tell you where are we going to locat at. But now I cant hardly wait till we got our lot & started to build our bungello because a man aint realy liveing when he is liveing in a flat & espeshaly when youve got childern. You better get busy Charley & get in to the game.

Kindest to Mary.

Fred A. Gross.

Chicago, May 5  –

Brother Charley.  I dident think I would be writeing you this news so quick but we got our lot all ready & its out to Allison 16 mi. west of the Loop on the c d & x & it dont only take 40 min. for the trains to come in to town & it takes me 35 min. now to go in on the L. We was going to look over all the subburbs but Allison was the 1st. 1 on the list & Grace got stuck on it right a way & so did I & we went a round with the real estate man & he showed us some swell lots & 1 that you couldent get a way from because it was big & roomy & 3 big trees on it that the real estate man says is maple & a real bargun because its 100 ft. frontidge & 150 ft. deep & only $1500 & we can pay for it when ever we get ready provideing its in side of 2 yrs. & thats easy.

I had $100 a long with me when we went out & when I seen what a bargun we was gettin & the real estate man says we better hurry if we wanted it because some body else was libel to see it & cop it out so I give the real estate man the $100 to bind the bargun & he is going to get the papers fixed up today & then I will give him the other $700 we got saved in the bank & then we can borry the money to build the bungello & pay that back a mo. at a time & finnish up paying for the lot after words. We figure that in 2 yrs. we will be all cleaned up & have our own home & not be worring a bout no rent onct a mo. & theyll be room for the kids to play a round all day with out no danger of them being ran over by a st. car or some thing.

I got a date with the real estate man to get the papers fixed up & must hurry down town. You better get busy Charley & get in to the game.

Kindest to Mary.

Fred A. Gross.

Chicago, May 7  –

Dear Charley.  Well Charley I guess I was in to much of a hurry & it dont look now like we would start building this summer but will half to wait till later on. I dident know how they done them things but found out that theys a lot of red tape & you cant do them things in no hurry like I thot. The real estate man dident have no papers fixed up the day before yest. like he promused but had them fixed up yest. & he give me the warranty deed or what ever it is they call it & I give him my note for $700. for the rest of what we owe on the lot & the notes for 2yrs with 6% int. per annum & all so cost me $25. to get what they call a garantee polisy from the title & trust Co. which garantees that the title is o k & they cant no body take the lot a way from me un less I dont pay up the bal. which of corse I will pay up as soon is posable.

Well after this was fixed up I went a round to the bank where I had my saveings at & went to the real estate dept. & seen the man there and asked him did they make building lones & the man says yes. Well I says I want to borry $1200 to build a bungello out to Allison & he says do you own a lot & I says yes & he says let me take a look at your papers so I show him my papers & he says yes you own a lot all but paying $700 more on it. I says yes but I own it because there is the deed & the garantee polisy & when I get threw paying you back what you lone me to build the house I will pay off the bal. on the lot & he says o no you wont because we dont do no busness that way & 1st. you got to pay off what you owe on the lot & then may be we can fix it up a bout a building lone but I wont promus nothing. Well I argude with him but nothing doing & when I come home & told Grace I thot shed cry her eyes out but finely we seen they wasent no use in that so all we can do now is save up & pay off the $700 we still owe on the lot & then we can start building & meen time we can be planing the bungello & we figure that we can save $30 per wk. in sted of $25 if we live pretty clost & can have the lot payed for in less than 6 mos. & that will be in Nov. & we can be all ready to start building & get the foundashun layed before real cold weather & then the carpenters can finnish up dureing the winter & we can be in the house next spring & we will half to renew our lease for 6 mos. but we dont care nothing a bout that because it aint so bad liveing in a flat dureing winter when the kids couldent be out much any way.

Kindest rgds. to Mary.

F. A. Gross.

Chicago, Nov. 2  –

Brother Charley.  Well Charley we got our lot payed for sooner then we figured & its all payed for now because Graces old man come acrost on her berth day & give her $100 & says it was for her to buy cloths with but she says we would stick it right in to the lot & the old man wouldent never know the dffrence & I says all right thats fine. But the man that owned the lot before we got it stuck us up for $20 int. & I dident see how they could be int. when we dident yet have the lot no where near a yr. but the real estate man says it was right & what could I do.

But we aint going to build no bungello after all because Grace lerned from her brothers wife Gus Walters that bungellos was all out of date & no good & they wasent no room in them & if you was going to build a house why not build a good 1. So we been talking to a young archateck & he says we can put up a swell 2 story house for $2000 & he will draw up the plans & see that the house is built o k & all we half to give him is 5% of what the house cost or $100 & he will over look the hole busness & hes a good archateck all right because he graduated out of the univ. & got his office way up on pretty near the top flr. of the Jackson bldg. Him and Grace has been figureing out plans for the house all yest. & today & I am going down to the bank as soon as they get there plans all fixed up & the contrack let & fix up a bout the lone & they wont be no trouble a bout it now because I got the rec. in full for the lot & dont owe nothing. The archateck says he will have the plans drawed up in a day or 2 & the contrack let before the end of the wk. & he says it should ought to be easy to get a contrackter cheap now because its the dull season & if the work is huryed a long they can get the foundashun in before real cold weather & the house finnished by the middle of march & our lease is till the 1 of May but may be I can get rid of it the 1 of march by sub leaseing it to some body else.

Well Charley we wont be able to do no high flying for the next couple yrs. because we got to keep on puting a way $30. per wk. & if we can do that we should ought to have the hole thing payed for archateck & all in less then 1 yr. & 1/2 int. incluseive & I figure the hole thing includeing the lot will amt. to a bout $3700 & thats a lot of money but look what wear geting a nice home of our own where decent people lives & a big yd. where we can let the kids run a round & may be raise chickens & have a garden. I guess thats better than paying $25 per mo. rent & being cooped up in a 4 room flat eh Charley.

Kindest to Mary.

Fred A. Gross.

Chicago, Nov. 15  –

Dear Charley.  Charley wear going to have some house. The plans is drawed & the contrack let & there going to begin building tommorrow that is brakeing ground for the foundashun if I can get things fixed up down to the bank this p m. Ive gave the archateck $25 as 1st payment for his work & I dont half to give him the other $75 till 30 days after the house is done next march.

I will tell you a bout the house Charley & you can see how swell wear going to be fixed up. The house is going to have 7 rms. 3 down stares & 4 up stares. Down stares they will be the parler & the dining rm. & kichen & up stares a rm. for I & Grace & a rm. for the kids & a rm. where you & Mary can sleep when you come to vissit us & a rm. for the hired girl if we ever have 1. Then of corse they will be a bath rm. The house is 2 storys besides the cellar & the house is going to be wood painted green & a frt. & back porch. It will be het with hot water from the boiler down cellar & be sides we will have a fire place in the parlor. They will be gas & electrick lts. & all moderate conveenyenses. Its going to be set bk. 50 ft. off the st. & that will give us a big lawn beside a big bk. yd. where we can have chickens & a garden.

Its all in the contrack & the contracker cant get a way from it because if he does he wont get no money & the $2000 includs evry thing & hes got to be all done with the house by the 1 of march & the archateck over looks evry thing & sees that all the work is o k so I dont half to do no worring but all I half to do is to pay so much per wk. down to the bank. If Id knew how easy it was Id of build a house long a go but I thot a man should ought to know some thing a bout building him self before he tackeld it but a man dont half to know nothing because the archateck takes it all off of his hands & does all the worring for $100. Well Charley I got to shave & go down to the bank. You better get busy & get in to the game Charley & dont stay cooped up in a flat all your life.

Best rgds. to Mary.

F. A. Gross.

Chicago, Nov. 16  –

Brother Charley.  Well Charley I dont see how it is that these banks ever gos broke & blows up & they take a bout as many chances as the phone Co. that makes you put in your nickle before you get a hold of cent ral. & here the papers keeps after us for not halling in all the stick up men they is on the sts. & dont never say nothing a bout halling in these here banks that is the worst stick ups they is. I went down to the bank yest. p m & seen the man in the lone dept. & showed him the lot was all payed for & I had the plans all fixed up for the house & he says how much is the house going to cost & I told him $2000 & then he stalled a round for 1/2 a hour & come back & asked me how much did I want to borry & I says $2000 & he says well we will lone you $2000 but not no more then that & I says who asked you to lone more then that & then he says let me see your contrack with the contrackter & I showed it to him & he says the only way we do busness is to have enough money to pay for evry thing includeing the extras & the archateck & all that & we do the paying down here to the bank & you dont have nothing to do with it but we keep the money and pay it out on the orders of the archateck. I says all right thats all right with me & I wont half to worry a bout it. He says you will half to indors the archatecks orders & I says all right.

Then he got a pensil & a peace of paper & says how much do you owe the archateck & I told him & then he says they aint nothing in the contrack a bout electrick light fixtures or finnished hard ware or wall paper so I called up the archateck & he says no they dident never includ them things because they was picked out to sute our tast after the house was build. So I come back from the phone & told the man we would pick them things out after words & pay for them our self & he says O no you wont because we got to have all the money here to cover all the expences. I says well then add it up what you think it will be & I will borry that much more but he says no $2000 is all we can lone you. I says well them things wont come for a long wile & meen time they can be building the house & long before they get it build I will give you the rest of the money but he says no your own moneys got to be payed out 1st. & ourn after words. So I called up Grace & told her a bout it & she says how much extra will it be & I got the man to figure it up & he says the total would be $305 besides the $2000 & the extra $305 is $75 for the archateck & $70 for hard ware & $50 for wall paper & $50 for electrick lt. fixtures & $30 for insurence & $30 more for the banks comishan which I got to pay the bank for there trouble when Im the 1 thats haveing the trouble. The insurence is for 5 yrs. & if the house burns the bank gets the insurence & I dont get nothing but I pay for the insurence & then besides all that they will be $25 more that the bank sokes me for geting an other garantee polisy for them self so they will be sure the title is o k & I all ready payed $25 to find out the same thing & Im satisfide but I got to pay for an other 1 for the bank.

Well Charley I got to dig up $330 some wheres & I dont know where it will be at but its got to be some wheres or they wont be no house & winters geting closter all the wile. Dont never get mixed up in nothing like this Charley. If it wasent to late Id tell the bank to go to.

Fred A. Gross.

Chicago, Nov. 20 –

Brother Charley.  Wear started at last & Grace borryed the extra $330 off of her old man & Ive gave it to the bank & now they got it all tho there suposed to be loneing it to me & I pay the int. & the comishon & all that & dont never even see the money or dont know weather they is any or not. But what do you think Charley the bank wont even let me pay it back when I get it but I got to wait 2 yrs. & 1/2 & pay int. all that time before I can pay it all up even if I should pick up a million dollars on the st. tomorrow & I cant pay so much per wk. but I got to pay it this way. 6% int. twict a yr. besides paying back on the prinsipal evry yr. for 5 yrs. unless I want to pay it all up in 2 & 1/2 yrs. & if I dont it will be $400 evry yr. for 5 yrs. be sides the int.

& yet the papers keeps after us and pans the life out of us because theys 1 or 2 stick up men a round town.

I had to bring the contrackter to the bank with me & him & the man in the bank went over the contrack to gether & fixed up how he was going to get payed & he gets a little at a time & the sub contrackter hes hired for the diffrent parts of the house gets there money when ever the contrackter tells the archateck they got some comeing & then the archateck signs a order on the bank & I in dors the order but before the archateck signs the order he over looks the work & sees that its o k so I dont half to do no worring a bout that.

Well theys 1 good thing Charley I wont half to lay a side no $30 per wk. but will only half to lay a side a bout $45 per mo. provideing I dont want to get all cleaned up till I half to which is 5 yrs. from now but if I want to get all cleaned up as soon as I can which is 2 1/2 yrs- I will half to lay a side a bout $80 per mo. & I guess thats what I will do. We dont half to worry a bout the $330 Grace borryed off her old man because he sends her $100 evry berth day & he wont half to send her nothing for 3 yrs. & we will be all square.

Fred A. Gross.

Chicago, Nov. 29  –

Dear Charley.  Well Charley they started work on the house & what do you think they done right off the real. They dug the foundashun the rong way of the lot & now they got to do it all over again but it wont cost me nothing because its there own fault & they dug the foundashun like as if the long way of the house was going to run the way the st. & it dont run that way in the plans & they got to fill in part of what they dug out & do some more diging & it dont matter but it takes time & if they dont hurry up & get the foundashun layed the ground will be froze stiff & they cant get started before winter. I told Grace to let them go a head & build the house the way they started but her and the archateck give me the laugh & so there going to have it did over.

It snowed a little this a m but the archateck says that dont make no diffrence as long is it dont freez hard & the ground gets froze. You see the foundashun is concreet & if it should get froze it might maybe crack some time & brake & give a way & the house might may be fall down on our head.

Well Charley I guess things will go a long o k now & Im glad wear started & if I was you I would get in to the game because liveing in a house is the only way to live when you got childern & I guess its all right for the bank to have all my money & all the papers a bout the house & lot because this is a old bank & no chance of blowing up but it seems kind a funny that I cant keep the papers or nothing to show that I own a lot or own any thing but liveing in a house is the only thing when you got childern & speaking of childern how is little May & both Ed & the baby is geting a long o k.

Kindest rgds. from I & Grace.

F. A. Gross.

Chicago, Dec. 23 –

Brother Charley.  This is to wish you a mary xmas & Charley I know you will exxcus I & Grace from not sending nothing to you & Mary this yr. but this house building has got me on the jump & I cant spend a nickle on nothing this yr. Grace is sending little May a box of candy that she made her self & next xmas may be we will be better fixed & can send you some thing as usul but you can see where wear up against it this yr. & cant send nothing because things cost a hole lot more then I thot or I wouldent never of started to build.

The latest is the archateck told me we should ought to do some gradeing on the lot a round the house because the weather was so good & then we wouldent have to do no gradeing in the spring but could get busy right a way & fix up the lawn & plant the grass seeds. Well I told Grace a bout it & she says it was in the contrack that the contrackter had to do the gradeing with the dirt that was dug out of the ground where the foundashun is at & I told the archateck a bout that & he says on acct of there diging the foundashun the rong way at the start they wasent no dirt left over because they had to fill in where they dug out and shouldent of dug so I had to go & get a hold of a man to come & do some gradeing a round the house & he stuck me up for $60 but thats all over now & out of the way.

Then Grace found out that they was only 2 of the rms. up stares that theys a place for closets in them & I says 2 closets was enough but she says no they got to be closets in all 4 of the rms. up stares & I asked the archateck a bout it & he says it was foolish, but Grace kicked like a mule & the archateck says he could put in the closets but it would make them 2 rms. smaller. I asked him if it would cost more money & he says no he dident think so so we had him go a head & make plans for 2 more closets & yest. he come & told me it would cost $50 more & I says I thot you told me it wouldent cost nothing more & he says I thot so my self but I was miss taken. So what could a man do but pay the extra $50 only I aint payed it yet but will half to.

But the house is geting a long fine & the out side is most all up & they are in a hurry to get the roof finnished before the real bad snow comes & as soon is they get the roof on they wont care if the weather is rotten or o k.

Best wishes for a mary xmas to you & Mary & little May & kind rgds. & I know youll see how it is.

Fred A. Gross.

Chicago, Jan. 21  –

Dear Charley.  They got me all most drove crazy & if any body ever says to you build a house bust them in the jaw. The archateck keeps ringing me up on the phone all the wile a bout 5 times a day & asking do I want this or that & what do I know a bout it & he is getting payed for doing the worring but in sted of him doing it he lays it all off on to me, some times he wants to know do we want a tin or ivory bath tub & its in the contrack for us to have a ivory bath tub but when I tell him that he says I thot you might of wanted tin because ivorys going to cost more money & when I say what do I care what it costs because all I half to pay is what the contrack calls for then he says the price of ivorys went up & we cant put it in for the money I thot we could so I & Grace argu it out & then tell him to go a head & its $25 or $30 more or what ever it is.

Then he keeps wanting me to tell him if we want this or that & how do I know what is it we want when its all in the contrack & he should ought to know with out bothering me. & besides that the real estate man told me that taxes was pretty near nothing in Allison but I got notise to day that I owe $40 taxes & if thats pretty near nothing Im glad it aint no big amt.

Then an other thing when the archateck drawed the plans he made a misstake a bout putting in the radiators for the hot water heat & he aint got enough of them in & hes going to put in 2 extra 1s and he aint told me yet what that will amt. to but it will be a plenty.

Where I was going to lay a side $80 per mo. I aint laying nothing a side & they dont seem to be no chance of ever saveing a nickle un lest we dont eat nothing & you know Charley I wasent never the man to starv my self to death. I told the man down to the bank a bout the radiators & the bath tub & he says I should ought to of had some sort of writen contrack with the archateck so he couldent keep hanging them things on me all the wile but its to late now & any way I guess they wont be no more trouble tho I wisht they would go a head & not worry me to death asking them questions.

Rgds. to Mary.

F. A. Gross.

Chicago, Feb. 2 –

Brother Charley.  Well Charley Im up against it now right. We was so busy down to the station & a round town that I dident get out to Allison for 2 wks. & I went out there yest. & went to the house & they wasent no body working & I seen 1 of the naybers & they says they hasent been no body working for a wk. tho the weathers been grand & they should ought to be husling on the job to get it finnished before the 1 of march.

I called the archateck up & asked him what was comeing off & he says the contrackter couldent do no more till he got some more lumber & the lumber Co. wouldent let the contrackter have no more because it wouldent trust him for no more money & if I would garantee the money all right. What do you know a bout that Charley ?

I says why should I garantee the money when its all down to the bank & the archateck says that dident make no diffrence to the lumber Co. because the contrackter all ready got all the lumber that was called for in the contrack & now he wanted some more & I says what for & he says the contrackter used more lumber then the archateck thot they was going to need. Well I says I wouldent garantee nothing & the archateck says he wouldent neither if he was me but if we couldent get no more lumber the work would be held up till we did get some so there you are.

I talked to the man down to the bank & he says the contrackter wasent no good & dident have no credit & if he used more lumber then the contrack called for he should ought to pay for it him self. I called up the contrackter & told him a bout it & he says he was sick of the job any way & I could go jump in the lake because he wasent going to do no job where he was loosing money.

I told them that down to the bank & the man says I could make the contrackter finnish the job but if he couldent get no credit & dident want to finnish the job I wouldent have no house for a yr. or just as long as the contrackter felt like. I says no because it says right in the contrack that the house must be all done by the 1 of march & the man at the bank says yes but suppose it aint done then what will you do a bout it. I says I will sue the contrackter and they says you couldent get a nickle because theys no penalty in the contrack for him not geting threw by the 1 of march & even if they was you couldent get nothing out of him if hes broke & hes probly broke or else they wouldent be no trouble a bout him geting credit.

So I went to the archateck & talked it over with him & he says the contracter under bid on the contrack & seen he couldent build no house like mine for no $2000 & thats why he wanted to quit & I says that may be so but what do I care if he looses money its his own falt & we will make him go a head & finnish the job.

Then the archateck says yes you could do that but you couldent make him finnish it in no spesifide time & he might be 10 yrs. doing it so the best thing you can do now is let me get a boss carpenter to finnish the job & let all the sub contrackters go a head with there part & the carpenter can do the work the contrackter was going to do & you can pay him by the wk.

I says how much more will that cost. He says hardly any more & you will get the job finnished quick that way so I says all right go a head & hire a carpenter so hes going to hire a carpenter but he says they aint no chance in the world of getting the house build by the 1 of march & may be not till the middle of march & I & Grace all ready had the flat sub letted to a famly from the 1 of march to the 1 of May & they was going to keep it after words for them self so now I & Grace will half to stay at some hotel or some wheres from the 1 of march till the house is finnished & it will cost us some more money besides storeing our furnitur for a couple wks.

But may be by the 1 of march the house will be so as we can stick the furnitur in it but I dont know & they got me worred & the archateck aint worrying at all tho thats what he gets payed for. I give him $100 to worry for me & then I take his job a way from him. If it would do me any good to go out to that contrackters house & brake his jaw I would do it but what would that get me. Nothing.

I hope the archateck can get a hold of a good carpenter right a way & rush the job threw but theys no teling how long it will be & I lerned all ready not to look for no good luck.

Kindest to Mary.

Fred A. Gross.

Chicago, Feb. 24 –

Dear Charley.  What do you supose has come off now. the archateck is sick & cant be on the job no more & left the work to his cousin & how do I know weather the cousin knows a house from a box car but what can I do. I asked the cousin what was the matter with the archateck & he says it was a nervous brake down & he thot he got sick worring a bout my house because evry thing had went rong. I says he aint did no more worring then me & I dont even get payed for worring.

Well the cousin is worse then the archateck a bout asking questions that I dont know nothing a bout what to anser & if asking questions made the archateck sick his cousin wont live a wk.

A cording to the contrack the house should ought to be finished a wk. from now but it aint no further a long then it was in januery as far is I can see & this here boss carpenter they got working wouldent never be pinched for speed. I was out there today & asked him how much longer he would be working & he says I cant go very fast now because Im waiting for them to bring the mill work. So I got to call up the mill work people tomorrow. The longer they dont deliver the mill work the longer it will take them to be threw with the house & Im paying this here carpenter by the day and besides that we got to go & bord some wheres after the 1 of march because the real estate people took the flat off of our hands when we told them we wanted to get a way the 1 of march & they all ready sined up with them people that we had the flat sub letted to & we will half to move out on or before next tues. Where wear going to I dont know & I guess we might as well burn up the furnitur & go & throw our self in the lake.

Your lucky Charley that you aint in no jam like this & if any body ever pulls this home stuff on you bust them in the jaw.

F. A. Gross.

Chicago, Feb. 27  –

Brother Charley.  Well Charley we finely got the mill work people a couple of swedes to bring there stuff a round but before they brung it I & they was down to the bank 4 times argueing & they was scared they wasent going to get there money because they had sined a contrack with the contrackter that blowed up on me & thot because they dident have no contrack with me I was going to beat them out of there stuff.

The man at the bank kept telling them that the money was right there for them when they got there work delivered but that dident do no good & the swede that was down there with me called the bank a lire & me a lire & a crook &, I called him some things to only I couldent call him as bad as he is.

Well if it wasent for haveing the job held up I would of told him & his mill work to go to h – ell but what could I do because it would take 3 wks. to get the work did some wheres else & all that time we would be paying bord & paying the carpenter to & not getting no where. So finely I had to sine a paper garanteeing that the swede would get the money that the bank all ready had for him & that was all he wanted was my garantee tho I couldent of got the money myself with a stick of dinamite. He promused to deliver the mill work today but I wouldent give a nickle a thousand for his promuses.

Well we got a place to bord & a place to store the furnitur & its going to cost us $12 a wk. for our board & $6 to store the furnitur besides geting it moved which will cost $30 from the flat to the store house & $10 more from there to the house if the house is ever ready for it.

Thats a bout all the news I got for you this time & I wisht I had some good news but I guess Im lucky to be a live.

Rgds. to Mary.

Fred A. Gross.

Chicago, March 29  –

Brother Charley.  Well Charley we been held up again & this time it was the electrick lt. fixtures & Grace picked them out & they cost $100 in sted of the $50 we stuck in the bank to pay for them so the extra $50 comes out of my pocket & besides that the archatecks cousin says the contrack only calls for 2 cotes of paint on the out side of the house where they should ought to be 3 & he can get an other cote put on for $30 which is pretty nice of him. & besides all that Im paying the carpenter now evry wk. for 5 wks. & all he gets per day is $5 so thats a bout $150 extra but if theys something left in the bank when they get all threw I will get it back or can leave it to apply on int.

The archateck is still sick yet & I havnt saw his cousin the last couple wks. but I guess the carpenters doing things o k & as far as I can see a archateck might as well stay sick all the wile for all the good he is accept drawing pitchers of the new house before its build.

F. A. Gross.

Chicago, April 13 –

Dear Charley.  The house is pretty near finnished Charley & it looks fine & worth all the trouble & Grace come out with me to see it yest. & is plum nuts over it so evry things o k but my troubles isent over yet & heres the lattest. The village of Allison has ordered us to put in a new cement sidewalk & we got to have a side walk up in to the yard up to the house as well as a long the st. & its going to cost a even $100.

Well thats pretty bad but that aint nothing. I asked a man a bout soing grass seeds & fixing up the yard & he says it must got to be graded 1st. I says what do you mean graded & he says its all ups & downs & the ground a round the house is lower all ready then the ground out by the st. I says it was in my contrack for the contrackter to grade the lot but he dident do it so I got an other man to grade it for $60. He says well then you got stung for $60 because they hasent been no gradeing did that I can see. I argude with him a bout it but he says he wouldent so no grass seeds or have anything to do with it un lest it was graded & he said he would grade it & put black dirt on it so as the grass would grow & all so put in a drive way of cement & gravvle all for $150.

Well Charley they wasent nothing for me to do but hire him & did you ever here any thing like it.

The gas has been ran in to the house from the st. & the stove should ought to be there any day now & the house is all wirde for electrick lts. & all that part of it is o k & the only thing there doing now is fixing up the flors with pollish & when thats did theyll be all threw but it takes time to do that & I wisht it was all over because wear sick of bording to say nothing of paying for the bord & paying the carpenter all the time. & I still got the finnished hard ware to pay for & thats $70 & when the 1 of July comes theyll be $60 int. to pay so you see I got some thing to worry me Charley & I bet John E. rockefellow would be worring to if he was me.

F. A. Gross.

P.S.  I put $70 in the bank to pay for the finnished hard ware all ready but some way the archatecks cousin got balled up & give some body some thing they dident have coming & the man at the bank reffused to pay the order for the finnished hard ware & I went down to see why not & he says all the money was drawed out all ready & they wasent nothing left. I dont under stand it but I quit trying to under stand a bout this here house.

Allison, Ill., May 6 –

Brother Charley.  I bet you wont never believe it but wear in our house & we been here 2 hole days. The furniturs here & the movers busted it all to peaces but we dont mind a little thing like that. Grace is tickled to death & as long as shes plesed its all o k but I got so much to do I aint got much time to write. I called up the archateck today to see would he come out & see if things looked o k to him but he was still sick yet but the cousin come out & we was haveing supper & he set down with us tho we dident have nothing to eat because the gas stove aint come yet & even if it come it wouldent do no good because the gas aint conected. Well the archatecks cousin says the house looks o k to him accept that theys a few things the matter & should ought to be fixed up. He says you got a mitey nice place here for $2000 besides what you payed for the lot. I says where do you get that stuff $2000 besides what we payed for the lot. We payed $1500 for the lot besides int. & I dont know how much more then $2000 the house is going to cost us but I bet its closter to $3000 & then I & him set down & figured it up. They aint no chance now for getting the bank payed up before the 5 yrs. is up so 1st theys $2000 & then theys $320 int. on the $2000. Then theys $25 for the garantee polisy that I payed when I got the lot & $25 for an other 1 when I got the money at the bank. And I payed for the finnished hard ware twict & thats $70 each time or $140. Then I give the bank $30 for insurence & $30 for comishon & I give them $75 for my bal. on what I owed the archateck & the $25 I give him to start with & $50 for the wall paper. That money I give them for the archateck & the wall paper was payed out some wheres else so I pay that twict & $60 for gradeing but that gradeing dident take so I payed $150 more for the same job the 2d. time & $50 for 2 extra closets in the house & $300 for the carpenter that done the work when the contrackter quit on me & $100 for cement walk & its all cracked all ready & $46 for moveing & storeing the furnitur & its all busted to peaces & $50 extra for electrick lt. fixtures because Grace seen some she liked & of corse they was the most expensiv & $30 for a extra cote of paint that I dont know weather we needed it or not & I dont know weather it was ever put on & $96 for our bord bill where we stayed at.

Well we figured that all up & it amts. to $1600 & that dont include the $2000 or the $1500 for the lot so what was suposed to cost me a bout $3600 or $3700 is going to cost me $5300 & I aint got a cent in the world & theys int. do the 1 of July & besides that we got to buy cole to heat the water for the bath tub & wash basens because they was suposed to put in a gas heater but they made a miss take & put in a cole heater & the archatecks cousin is sorry they made the miss take but says we can get it changed to a gas heater for a bout $125.

After hed went I looked a round & I just got threw looking & I found out that all as is the matter with the house is that the doors thats shut dont open & the doors thats open dont shut & you cant lock none of them & you cant open none of the windows which is all o k now because it aint hot yet & we aint got no screens tho we ordered them 1 mo. a go & theyll cost $50 more & theys no room in the kichen for a stove or a table & the roof of the house leeks & we aint got no electrick lamps that we ordered when the fixtures was put in & we will half to go to bed when it gets dark nights un lest we want to run a round with candles like I been doing & the cellers full of water & besides that the sewer backs up in to the cellar from the st.

But the kids seems to be havein’ a h – ell of a time espeshaly little Ed. & Grace is running a round like a chicken with there head off & tickled to death so what kick have I got comeing even if I owe more money then Ill ever see & my hares turned gray & the papers is paning the life out of the dept. because theys 1 or 2 stick up men a round town.

Tommorrow I got to buy some cole to run the heater & coles only $8 a ton out here & I got to buy a refidjerater because we was suposed to have 1 build in but they left it out while the archateck was sick & I got to get a plumer to take the water out of the celler & see weather he cant coax the sewer to stay out doors. I dont know where theyll put the gas stove if they bring it & if we was to put both the gas stove & the kitchen table in the kitchen Grace would half to cut her self in 2 to get in & cook the meals or wash the dishs. Well Charley Im going to bed & its 10 to 1 the bed will brake down but if it does Ill lay right there on the floor & not never know the diffrence.

Rgds. to Mary.

Fred A. Gross.

Allison, Ill., June 25 –

Brother Charley.  Well Charley we been liveing hi the house a bout 6 wks. now & the gas stoves been here; 4 days & I dont know how they remembered to bring it & we finely managed to get 2 of the windows open & its been frightful hot but we dont dare keep them open very long to a time because the screens isent here yet. We got the stove & the table both in the kichen & they aint no danger of me going in the kichen & bothering Grace because if I went in there it would take this here Houdini to get me out.

Well Charley the archateck finely got all o k again and come out to see us & what do you think he pulled on me. He says my cousin was telling me that your place cost $1600 more than you figured & I says yes it did. So just as he was going he left me a bill for $80 & he says he was suposed to get 5% of the cost of the house & if they was $1600 extras he should ought to have $80 more. Do you know what I says to him. I says wait a minut you got it figured rong. I bought a lawn more today to cut the grass when it comes up & it cost me $8 so I think you should ought to add on 40 cents. Then I shut the door as clost as it will shut & he beat it & stopped out side to take some pitchers of the house & I supose he will try to soke me 5% of what it cost to get them pitchers developped.

Well Charley next wk. I got to pay the 1st. int. on the lone down to the bank & I dont know where the moneys comeing from & I says some thing a bout it to Grace & she says she would write & ask her old man. Hes a good old scout Charley & I bet he will come acrost but I hate to be touching him all the wile. But theys 1 thing sure he wont never half to give Grace no more berth day pressents not even if he lives 20 yrs. more.

The Walters was out to see us today & there tickled to death with the house & they got the building bug now. Well Charley after alls said & did its the only life when you got children & if I was you Id get busy & get in to the game.

Kindest to Mary.

Fred A. Gross.

— II —

Welcome to Our City

Allison, Ill., July 8.

Brother Charley.  Well Charley evry things going a long smoth & last wk. I payed the 1st. int. on my lone down to the bank and now I dont half to worry a bout that again untill Jan. Graces old man come acrost with the money so as I could pay the int. & dident make no holler a bout it but I bet he wishes I & Grace had of stuck in our flat over on the s. side insted of building because we was not never so hard up when we was liveing in the flat that we had to ask him to pay our rent.

I dont like to be no drag on the old man but you can see how it is Charley or that is you could see if you had build a house. It looks like you dont run up agin the real expences until youve got it all build. I allways thot it was real old houses that half to be repared & fixed up all the wile but Im finding out now that the new ones is twict as bad as the old ones.

But dont think we aint satisfide Charley because wear perfectly satisfide so dont get the idear we aint satisfide & you couldent higher Grace & I to go back in town & live in a flat because they aint nothing to that kind of liveing & this has got it beat all hollo. The babys is a hole lot better than they was in the city. That is they would be if the house wasent damp & if it wasent for the smell of the paint that I guess we aint never going to get rid of it. But they aint all cooped up like they was in Chi & now they can get out & run a round with out no danger of falling under a st. car & geting there leg cut off. By a st. car.

Of corse we miss the Walters & the Arnolds & others that we made frends of them in the city a speshally Grace but as I say if they cared any thing a bout us they could get out here & see us because they know Grace cant get a way on acct. the babys & besides this towns got plenty of fine peopl liveing in this town & as soon is we get acquainted we can for get all a bout the peopl we knowed in Chi & not never think a bout them.

I guess the last time I wrote to you we wasent no wheres near setteled but wear pretty well setteled now & things a round the house is beginning to look O. K. & you can open most of the windows if you start them with a crow bar & then give a quick jerk.

Kindest to Mary.

Fred A. Gross.

Allison Ill., July 24.

Dear Charley.  I supose you been geting a hole lot of rain to because I see in the paper where its been raining all over the u s & if it rains any more I will half to buy 1 of these here divvers sutes to go down in the basemunt with it & fix the heater that we heat the hot water with. A bout the 2d. day it beggin to rain the water beggin runing in the basemunt & now its pretty near as deep like it was in the brandy wine crick where I & you lerned to swim do you remember Charley. I called up the plummer & he come up & seen it & says the drane pipes would carry it off & I had to give him $.50 cents for telling me that & it wasent true at that because they aint carryed none of it off as far is I can see & if a plummer gets $.50 a peace for evry time he lise to you I wonder what does he charge when he tells a man the truth only I guess that dont never hapen. Well any way you could dive off the top step of the stares in to the basemunt & not bump your head on the floor & Grace says I should ought to dig some angel worms out in the yard & set on the basernunt stares & fish but I guess all the fish in the house is liveing up stares. I mean wear the fish for building a house. Suckers see Charley.

An other good thing all the wood that was left over from building the house is down in the basemunt & Grace has been useing it up pretty fast building fires in the fire place all tho its been so hot outdoors & in the house to that you cant hardly stand it but she says the fire looks so pretty that she would like to keep it burning all the wile & why not when we got all that wood. Well I says that wood will burn just as good in the winter time when you need a fire in the fire place & it will look just as pretty burning when its cold & the sooner you burn up all that extra wood the sooner we will half to buy some reglar wood to burn. I says if your going to throw a way money just to make things look pretty why dont you buy a car lode of dimonds & scatter them a round the front yard. They would look swell as long as they last.

Well she says the fire keeps me from geting lonesom. I says if your lonesom why dont you dress the babys up & go out and see some body & she says I aint got no close to ware thats good enough for this place so my little talk is going to cost me $20.00 dollars because shes going to buy some clothes & have a couple dresses made up. But as I say we can save on fire wood as long as the basemunts full of water because you cant get to where the wood is at with out buying a sale boat or some thing & even if you got the wood it wouldent burn on acct. it being soked.

Regards to Mary & we wisht you could get out & see us.

F. A. Gross.

Allison, Ill., Aug. 13.

Brother Charley.  Well Charley it looks now like we was going to bust in to socitey & Grace wont be lonesom no more. She got her close made & all finnished up 2 days a go all ready & I thot shed go calling right a way but she says no it wouldent be right to take the childern a long the 1st. time she intcrduced her self to the peopl out here on acct. they might cut up & rase the devvil & may be brake some thing in some strangers house so she says it was up to me to stay home with the childern wile she went a round & made a few calls & Im going to stay home with the babys next Sun. after noon because thats the 1st. day I can get off on acct. theys 2 other fellows in the dept. laying off now & the rest of us is kept pretty busy. But of corse me not being able to go a long with her & make the calls Ive got to get some cards printed so she can stick them on the piano or some wheres in the house where shes calling at so it looks like I wanted to come but couldent.

Grace says she dident hardly know where to make the calls because we dont know where no body lives that is we dont know if the famly 2 doors a way from us is pres. of the gas co. or runs a hawk shop. But I told her the best way to do was start right in on this side of the st. we live on & go from house to house & if she seen after she got in that the peopl wasent no good she could say she made a miss take. The name of the peopl that lives next door is Hamilton because thats what the real estate man told us when we got the lot so you see we know his name & when Grace gos up to the door & says is Mr. Hamilton in they will be tickeld to deth on acct. of us knowing there name & wile she is calling on Mr. Hamilton she can feel a round until she knows what is the name of the peopl that lives on the other side of them & so on.

She wont stay more than 1 hour or so in 1 place the 1st. time & she wont be able to cover more than the 1st. 3 houses the 1st. day, but probly she will find 1 or 2 of the ladies thats good sports & will be willing to come over & stay with the childern a day or 2 next wk. so as Grace can go & call on the other peopl a long the st. with out waiting for the next P.M. I can lay off.

The Hamiltons has got a swell big house build out of stones or concrete blocks & they probly got a bbl. of money but you know the old saying Charley all men was crated free and wear just as good is them even if we got all my pay for the next 30 yrs. spent all ready.

Best to Mary.

F. A. Gross.

Allison, Ill., Aug. 16.

Brother Charley.  Well Charley Grace wont be lonesom no more because now she called on 4 famlys a long the st. today insted of 3 like she intend it & of corse the more you call on the more of them has got to call on you back. The reason she made it 4 insted of 3 was on acct. of her only staying to the Hamiltons 1/4 of a hr. because they says they was going out some wheres & would half to leave her.

We had a early dinner & she got over to the Hamiltons a bout 1 in the P.M. & she was toged up in her new close & looked like a million $.

She told me all a bout it when she come home. A womman come to the door & Grace says how do you do Mrs. Hamilton I was afrade youd be out & the womman says who did you want to see & Grace says you or Mr. Hamilton or the both of them & the womman says I will see are they in. So the womman says what name & Grace says Grace Gross & the womman says have you got a card a long with you & Grace dident have none but the cards I had printed so she give her one of them. They set me back $.50 for 100 of them Charley but I thot I might as well make it a good 1 wile I was doing it & besides if Grace dont loose none of them 100 should ought to last her untill shes called on the hole town. The cards says on them F. A. Gross asst. Chief of Detectives Chicago Police dept. & then down on the bottom 20 years in the service in red tipe.

The higher girl left Grace standing in the vestry bull & pretty soon a man come out & he was Mr. Hamilton & he ast Grace to come in the parler & set down so Grace went in & Mr. Hamilton says what can I do for you & Grace was kind of im barrist & couldent say nothing & Mr. Hamilton says aint you made a miss take or may be you think I can give you some informashun a bout some thing & Grace seen that was a good chance to find out what was the name of the peopl that lived in the next house next to the Hamiltons so she ast him & he says there name is Carpenter & she says what busness was they in & Mr. Hamilton says if you want to find out any thing more a bout them you will half to ask them your self. So Grace says it dident make no diffrunts weather she knowed any thing more a bout them or not & then she says hows your wife & Mr. Hamilton says what are you trying to get at. He says Im sure you must of made some miss take because nether I or Mrs. Hamilton have did any thing against the law or the Carpenters nether & Grace says what do you mean & Mr. Hamilton says what do you mean yourself comeing a round trying to pry in to some bodys affares. We aint use to receiving calls from female detectives. & then all of a sudden Grace caught on to what was he getting at.

You see Charley Mr. Hamilton thot she was a detective on acct. the card shed give the higher girl & he thot it was her card & not my card & when Grace seen what had come off she pretty near died laughing & all the wile Mr. Hamilton just stood there & looked at her & finely when she could say some thing she says thats a grate joke & Mr. Hamilton says may be it is but its over my head & then Grace explaned it to him the hole thing & told him we was his new neighbors & she was just paying him a frendily call so pretty soon be beggin laughing to & says he would call his wife because the joke was too good to keep. His wife come in & Grace ast her if Mr. Hamilton had told her a bout his miss take & she says no so Grace had to explane it all over again only Mrs. Hamilton must of ett to much dinner. She dident laugh at all but just set there like she was in pane & pretty soon she says she was sorry Grace couldent stay any longer but her & Mr. Hamilton was going out & would Grace excuse them & Grace says sure & got up to go but then Mr. Hamilton come in & told Grace to be sure and hand 1 of them cards to who ever come to the door over to Carpenters so Grace promussed she would & then she says good-by to Mr. & Mrs. Hamilton & told them to be sure & come over & see us & Mr. Hamilton says he certunly would weather Mrs. Hamilton did or dident & he was just kidding a little but Mrs Hamilton must of got jellus a bout him & Grace jolling each other because she slamed the front door when Grace come out. Or else as I say she ett to much dinner probly.

So then Grace went to the Carpenters & rung the door bell & Mr. Carpenter him self come to the door & she give him 1 of the cards & he says well whats the charge & she seen he was makeing the same miss take Mr. Hamilton made so she went a long with it & says she would like to talk to he & his wife a few minuts & he says you can talk to me but I cant bother my wife because she aint finnished her dinner & then Grace told him to go a head and finnish his dinner to but he says he wouldent untill she told him what she wanted so she explained the joke & told him what come off over to Hamiltons & then he laughed & says he would finnish his dinner & bring his wife in so Grace set there in the parler a wile & finely Mr. & Mrs. Carpenter come in & she set there talking to them pretty near a hr.

& they had a grate time talking & laughing & wile she was there some body come to the front door & Mr. Carpenter went to the door & Grace says it sounded like Mr. Hamiltons voice out side the door & he ast Mr. Carpenter was he arested & Mr. Carpenter went out on the porch & Grace couldent hear what was they saying but of corse they was come pareing nots a bout the joke because she herd them laughing out on the porch. Well finely Mr. Carpenter come in again & finely Mrs. Carpenter ast Grace dident she have some more calls to make so Grace says she did & she left the Carpenters & forgot to find out from them what was the name of the peopl that live in the 3d. house a way from us but it dident make no diffruns because the woman that come to the door at the next house told her the name & the name is Carry & Mr. Carrys the man that keeps the grosery store or 1 of them & Grace & Mrs. Carry had a nice long talk & Grace told her a bout what come off at Hamiltons & Carpenters & Mrs. Carry says she would bet Grace that they wouldent nether the Hamiltons or the Carpenters call on us & Grace says why not & Mrs Carry says because they aint nether 1 of them called on me yet & I have been here over 1 yr. & Grace says well did you call on them & Mrs. Carry says of corse not so they must be some bad blood some wheres that we dont know nothing a bout.

Well Grace went to Moreheads from Carrys & seen the Moreheads & then come home & you can bet I was glad when she finely got home because little Ed & the baby both of them gets pretty mad a bout 5 P.M. in the afternoon & they was giveing me all I could do.

& Mrs. Carry says next time Grace wants to go out she can bring the babys over to her house & the higher girl will watch them.

Rgds. to Mary.

F. A. Gross.

Allison, Ill., Aug. 81.

Dear Charley.  Well Charley they aint nothing much come off since the last time I wrote you a letter and they aint nothing much to write a bout & I wouldent be writeing only I was figureing on takeing a bath tonight and I cant take no bath so Im writeing you a letter insted and why I cant take no bath is because the waters shut off all over town & the water co. says may be it wont be turned on for 2 or 3 days.

Of corse I can wash my hands down town to head quarters but Grace or the kids cant wash theres unlest they go over to the Carrys where they got a sistern & that makes it pretty tough on Grace but little Ed & the baby wont make no holler and they would be tickled to deth if they dident never half to be washed.

Any way they all ways holler like they was being murdered when you touch them with soap and water. The Hamiltons has a sistern to & I ast Grace why dident she use theres on acct. it being next door to us & handy but Grace is kind of sore on Mrs. Hamilton for not comeing over to see us. She will come over all right when she gets up her nerve & I wouldent worry a bout it if I was Grace but you know how wommen feels & probly Marys the same way.

Grace has called on a bout 15 or 20 famlys now & left the kids over to the Carrys wile she was makeing the calls & her and Mrs. Carry is pretty good frends & Mr. & Mrs. Carry comes over offen in the evning for a game of cards.

Im thirsty and I guess its a good thing we got a couple cases of beer in the house because they aint no water and I and Grace can drink the beer when wear thirsty & the kids can drink milk so we wont starve to deth because of some thing to drink only we cant take no bath in beer or milk.

The man from the water co. says this dont happen offen I mean the pump brakeing down & he says I want to remember that Im saveing money on water bills all the wile they aint no water.

Regards to Mary.

Fred A. Gross.

Allison, Ill., Sep. 14.

Brother Charley.  Well Charley Im planing a big surprise for Grace and the reason Im doing it is because shes been feeling so bad over them peopl not comeing to see her. Im going to have the Hamiltons & the Carpenters over here to dinner Sun. & Grace knows theys going to be Co. but she thinks Ive ast the Walters to come out from town. I had to tell her some body was comeing so as she would be sure and have enough to eat so I told her the Walters was comeing & she will be supprised & tickeled to deth when she sees it aint the Walters but the Hamiltons & Carpenters.

The idear come to me when I was down town yest. & the way it come to me I was trying to figure out some way to cheer Grace up. So I thot of this idear & then I set down & tride to write a letter to them peopl asking them to come & it took me so long to write the 1st. 1 that I seen I wouldent never have time for nothing else if I wrote 2 of them so I ast the tipewriter in the chiefs office would she write a couple of letters for me. I & her frammed them up together. In the letters I says my wife would like to have them come over to dinner Sun. noon & it wasent going to be no big party so they could ware what ever they had & not feel a shamed & we wouldent dress up much our self so they wouldent need to. The tipewriter dident only half to write the letter onct because she put a peace of this here copy paper in bet. the regular paper & wrote both the letters at onct only changed the names at the top.

I cant hardly wait untill Sun. and see how supprised & tickeled Grace will be.

Rgds. to Mary.

Fred A. Gross.

Allison, Ill., Sep. 18.

Brother Charley.  Well Charley Im the 1 that got the supprise and not Grace. And besides a supprise I got a bad scare to because Grace carryed on so that I thot she was going to be took down sick. What do you think of them bums Charley I mean the Hamiltons & Carpenters. When they dident pay no tension or send me no anser to the letter I wrote them I thot sure they must be comeing because if they wasent comeing they would say so. Thats what I thot. But a long come Sun. noon & no sine of them & Grace got fichety & says what do you supose is the matter with the Walters that they dont come & I stalled her off and says may be they would come on the train that gets here at 1 a clock & she says my dinner will all be spoiled & finely after the 1 a clock train come & no body showed up I had to tell her the truth. Grace scolded me like Id stole some money or some thing & when I says I would run over to there house & see what was the matter she says if I moved a step out side the house she would take the 2 childern & run a way & then she had histeriks & all the rest of it & she says even if them peopl had of came she would of slamed the door in there face & I dont know yet what she was sore a bout tho of corse I was a little sore myself on acct. of them peopl not leting me know or nothing. But Grace wasent sore at them but she was sore at me and if you can tell what license she had your a wonder.

I thot for a minut they may be might not of got my letters & then I remembered that I dident male the letters but stuck them under there doors when I come home night before last so they couldent help from getting them.

Finely I couldent stand it no longer & beat it out of the house & took a long walk. She was better when I come back & says she was sorry shed carryed on so & she supposed I thot I was trying to do the right thing but Id made a awful mes out of it & I says could I help it if them peopl dident have no manners & she says no it wasent my falt but after this she wisht I would leave her to do the inviteing to the house. She dident half to wish that Charley because Ive had more then enough for my share.

The Carrys is comeing over tonight to play cinch & may be we can get rid of some of our big Sun. dinner thats still left yet because they dident nether 1 of us have the heart to eat it.

Regards to Mary.

F A Gross.

Allison, Ill., Oct. 3.

Dear Charley. Well Charley it looks like we wasent dead ones after all. A little boy come to the house after supper tonight & give me a letter only it wasent no letter but a invatation to a dance here in Allison the 17 of this mo. & the dance is being gave for the benifit of the Bellgiums that got killed in the war. This here invatation was addressed to the Hamiltons but if we get theres they got ourn so whats the diffrunts & besides you can bet I aint going over to there house to say any thing a bout it & if they dont want ourn they can come over here and get there own.

The dance is going to be down to the opra house where they give there shows when they have them. Well I guess you know how I all ways been a bout danceing Charley & never cared nothing a bout it & I was going to tell Grace of corse we wouldent go but when I give her the invatation & seen how good she felt a bout it I dident have the heart to say nothing a bout not going. I throwed the out side cover a way before I give Grace the invatation and she says are you sure its for us & I says dident the boy bring it to us & besides wont our money do them Bellgiums as much good as any body elses. Tho where the Bellgiums needs help any more than I need it I cant figure out. I dident tell Grace nothing a bout the invatation being addressed to the Hamiltons for fear shed want I should go over & change with them.

Well I says do you want me to go and she says certunly but you cant dance & I says well I can go there and set around & talk wile you dance and she says o no she wouldent do that way & if I wouldent dance she wouldent go so I says all right I will brush up & practice a little & may be I can get a way with it & she says you cant do nothing of the kind because the dances there dancing now isent nothing like what you use to dance the walts & the 2 step and them things. They aint danceing them things no more because now there all danceing the 1 step walk & the foxs trot and we will half to take some lessons the both of us.

I says I suppose we got a hole lot of money to throw a way on takeing danceing lessons & then she beggin to cry so I says all right you fix it up with some teacher & we will take a few lessons just enough so as to get a way with it.

So you see what Im up against now Charley & I got to take danceing lessons & then go up there & mix a round with them swell dames & get stepped on but Grace will have the time of her life & I aint got the heart to say no. The dance ticket that come along with the invatation costs $2.00 dollars & probly the lessons will cost that much more or may be more than that so Im lucky if I get a way with less than a 5 spot.

I supose youve lerned the new dances all ready Charley & I wisht you was here to take my place.

Regards to Mary.

F. A. Gross.

Allison, Ill., Oct. 8.

Brother Charley.  Dident I say some thing a bout a 5 spot that this here dance busness was going to cost me last time I wrote you a letter. Well Charley its going to make a 5 spot look like 30 cents before its over & I wisht Id says no in the 1st. place & left Grace bellow if she wanted to. Weve tooken 1 danceing lesson all ready & it costed $2.00 dollars & we got to take an other at the same price because we aint lerned enough yet & I got to buy some pattent leather shoes & a shirt & so 4th. because Grace says they wont be no body go up there with out being drest up in a dress sute of evning close & she laughed at me when I says I was going to ware the uneform I use to ware before I was put in plane close but I bet if I wore that uneform I wouldent be the worst looking 1 in the hall if I do say it but Grace says nothing but a evning dress sute will do so I got to rent 1 of them besides buying the junk that gos with it & the rent of the sute a lone will cost me $3.00.

Well Grace was wondring what would she do a bout the childern wile we was to the dance & I says she should ask Mrs. Carry to take care of them & she says the Carrys is probly going to so shes going to ask Mrs. Carry is she going & if she is that will mean we will half to higher a girl some wheres to come & stay with the childern wile we go to the dance.

Regards to Mary.

Fred.

Allison, Ill., Oct. 11.

Brother Charley.  Well Charley we had some more trouble since the last time I wrote you a letter only I dont know if its trouble or not but Grace feels pretty bad a bout it tho I says she shouldent ought to worry because the Carrys wasent no good any way. Grace was figureing on haveing Mrs. Carry come over & stay with the childern wile we was to the big dance next wk. if Mrs. Carry wasent going to the dance her self so when the Carrys come to play cards the other night Grace ast them was they going to the dance & they says no what dance & Grace told them & ast Mrs. Carry would she come over & take care of the childern or that is she & Mr. Carry would just half to set in the house because the childern would be a sleep only of corse it wouldent be right to go off & leave them a lone & the Carrys could just set here & play cards or do any thing they had a mind to. Well Mrs. Carry ast who was giveing the dance & Grace says the invatation was sined by Wm. Marston & he was the man that the money was to be sent to only Im going to take my money a long to the dance & give it to him at the door. Well Mrs. Carry says why Mr. Marston is the real socitey leader & Grace says well what of it & Mrs. Carry says it must of been a miss take you geting a invatation & then I buted in & says what do you mean a miss take I guess wear as good as any body & better than some & why shouldent we get a invatation & then Mrs. Carry blowed up & says I supose you think your better than I & my husband & I says no I dont think no such thing & she says well you get a invatation to the dance & we dident so if you go that will show you think your better than us.

I says it wont show no such a thing because you not geting no invatation was probly a miss take & she says no it wasent no miss take but geting 1 was the miss take & then Grace flew up & says your sore because wear going to the dance and your not ast & then Carry & his wife & Grace & I all lost our temper & we had it hot & heavy & I guess you know Charley that we dident get none the worst of it. So finely I told them to go home and they says you dont half to tell us to go home & whats more you wont see no more of us & I says I lived 45 yrs. & got pretty fat before I ever seen you & thats a bout all that was said & they beat it and wear threw with them. If Mrs. Carry had of been decent we might of fixed it up for them to get ast to the next big dance only she was so sore about us geting a head of them that she couldent keep her mouth shut.

I guess you can see that Mrs. Carry aint going to take care of the childern wile wear to the dance & even if she would we wouldent let her because its 10 to 1 she would stick a knife in them or give them cloraform or some thing. And Grace will half to higher a girl from here in town to come & set in the house wile wear to the dance.

Kindest regards to your self & Mary.

Fred A. Gross.

Allison, Ill., Oct. 18.

Dear Charley.  Well Charley I guess its pretty lucky I dident murder some body last night & it may be a good thing I wasent carrying my gat with me last night on acct. of it looking funny & sticking out threw the coat in my evning dress sute. I bet I would of shot some body sure & they would of had a detective up for murder for a change insted of for takeing money from stick up guys & dips. I might as well tell you what come off tho they aint no part of it Im proud of accept keeping my self from murdring some body. Grace is sick a bed over what come off & I cant talk to her a bout it & theys no use talking to the kids because they dont under stand & I got to tell it to some body so I guess your elected.

Well Charley we was figureing on getting up to the dance a bout 8 a clock but the sute I rented was to small for me & Grace had to make the pants of it biger a round the waste & then she had trouble her self geting her new close on & her hare all fixed up & evry thing & it was pretty close to 9 a clock before we got down to the opra house where they have the dances at. Well we went in & a servunt told us where to put our hat & then we went up stares to where the danceing is pulled off & they was a man seting at a table out side the door & he looked at us & dident say nothing so I went up to him & says who I was & he says aint you made a miss take. I says I dont know if I have or not & he says if we want police protection a round here we will ask for it. I says I aint here to work but Im here to dance & he says this here is a invatation dance & I says yes & I got a invatation & he says lets see it so I halled the ticket out of my pocket & showed it to him & he says it must of been some miss take & I says why & he says because I sent out the invatations my self I and a lady did & we dident send none to you. I says well I got 1 dident I & he says yes but I dont know how you got it. I says well I dident steal it & he says no I dont say you did but I know you wasent suposed to get no invatation because you wasent on our lists. I says well wear here any way & he says yes but if I was you I would go a long home before any body else got here because its a miss take & we will say no more a bout it.

Well I seen that Grace was ready to cry on acct. of disapointmunt so I made up my mind Id go threw with it so I says are you the only 1 thats got any thing to say a round here & he says no but Im 1 of them & I says well you get the rest of the officers to gather & see what they got to say a bout it & he says theys no body here yet but if you want to wait untill the rest of the comitty comes all right I got no objection only Im just teling you for your own good that your makeing a miss take & the best thing that you can do is to go home.

Then Grace says come lets go home & I says I wouldent untill Id talked with the rest of the comitty & there we stood & stood and the guy dident even say we should set down so finely I told Grace to set down & she wouldent set down but all she could say was lets go home. Finely the peopl beggin comeing & they all starred at us tho I bet we dident look no worse then they did & the Hamiltons come & the Carpenters & Grace whispered to me who they was & they dident even speak to us & finely the music beggin & they all started danceing in the room in side where we couldent see them & finely I went up to the man at the table & he says are you still here & I says you bet I am & Im in a hurry to see your comitty & he says all right youll see them quick enough as soon is the 1st. dance is over & he got up & went in the room where they was danceing & pretty soon the music stoped & he come out with 2 ladies & 3 gents with him & 1 of the gents was Carpenter.

Well the man says heres a gent that says he got a invatation to the dance & I says yes & you seen my invatation all ready. He says Yes Ill admit you had a invatation but wear going to leave it to this here comitty weather it was a miss take or not & then they wisperd to gather for a minut & then the man says its just like I told you your here threw some miss take & the best thing you can do is go home. So then I says your a fine bunch of stiffs & I looked right at this here Carpenter. I says your a swell gang of stews & before I get threw with you youll all be wareing the bracelits & I was going to tell them some more but just then this here Hamilton come out of the room where the danceing was at & says are we pinched & I says no but your libel to be & he says whats the excitement & Carpenter told him a bout me haveing the invatation & then it come out that Hamilton dident get no invatation & the boy that left it to our house made a miss take & we dident have none comeing & if it hadent of been for Grace bellowing & makeing a seen I would of soiled some of there collers but they was nothing for me to do but get her out of there but as I say if Id of had the old gat a long with me I bet Id of cut loose before I left there.

Well I pretty near had to carry Grace all the way home & put her to bed & douse camfer all over her face & I finely got her to sleep & sent the girl home that was there to take care of the childern but I couldent go to sleep my self & I aint slept yet & I called up the chief this a m & told him the wife was sick & I couldent come down & here it is pretty near noon & I aint even herd nothing a bout breakfast yet tho the childerns had theres because Grace remembered to give them theres but I guess she thinks Im saveing up my appetite for the refreshmunts at the next dance.

A fine bunch of stiffs eh Charley.

F. A. Gross.

Allison, Ill., Oct. 22.

Dear Brother Charley.  Well Charley it looks like we would move back to the s. side if we could sell the place on acct. of Grace says she cant never spend a happy minut again out here & I aint so stuck on it my self. But we wont sell it for less then $1000.00 more then it costed all to gether because somebodys got to pay for whats come off & for them danceing lessons & Graces dresses & that dress sute I rent it & the shirt & shoes & all the rest of it. Grace spoke a bout moveing last night & I couldent argue against her a bout nothing the way shes feeling these days.

I promussed I would see could I sell the place & of corse if I could sell it for cash I could pay off what I owe at the bank or if I couldent sell it for cash the peopl that bought it off of me could asume the morgidge.

I will write & let you know how I come out.

This was Graces berth day & just as if she wasent feeling bad enough with out what come off she got a letter in her old man’s hand writeing & she beggin to smile when she seen it & says pa dont never for get my berth day & shed for got her self for a minit & thot she was going to find 1 of them $100.00 checks like he all ways sends her on her berth day but when she opened the letter insted of a check it was a reciet for $100.00 of the money we all ready borryed off of him. Well that pretty near finnished her tho of corse you cant blame the old man tho it would of been better if he hadent wrote at all but just let it go.

I wisht I could of gave her some thing nice to make up for it but I guess you know I aint got no money to throw a way eh Charley.

Regards to Mary.

F. A. Gross.

Allison, Ill., Nov. 1.

Brother Charley.  Well Charley we aint going to move back to the s. side or no wheres else but wear going to stay here. I seen the real estate man today that sold us the place & ast him what could we get for it house & all & he named a price that wasent even what I got sunk in the place & I says youll half to come a bout a $1000.00 higher then that & he says you aint got a chance in the world to get what you want so why dont you stay where your at. You wont find no better town no wheres.

So I told Grace I guessed wed half to stay & she says well all right & I ast her what come over her all of a sudden & she says she had called up Mrs. Carry & told her all about the dance & Mrs. Carry talked pretty nice a bout it and the Carrys is comeing over tonight to play cinch. & the Walters was out here to supper night before last & says they wisht they had a home like ourn in the subburbs insted of liveing in a dirty flat so you see Charley we aint so bad off after all & liveing out heres the best thing that could happen to the childern.

So I guess they aint no danger of us moveing for a wile.

The door bell just rung so the Carrys is here & I got to close.

Best rgds. to Mary from both of us.

Fred A. Gross.

P.S.  I tore this letter open again after I had it pasted up all ready. That wasent the Carrys that rung the door bell but a man & his wife name Curtis thats in the wood & coal busness out here & as nice peopl is youd want to meet. Theyd came to call on us & the Carrys come after words & we played rummy 6 hand it & they dident go home untill a bout 10 min. a go and its pretty near 1 a clock but we wasent playing cards all the wile but part of the time we was eating refreshmunts. Grace cooked up a welch rabbit & we had some beer to go with it & I guess this here Curtis dont like his beer. Wear going over to the Curtisis Mon. night & they got 1 of these here phonagrafs to dance by so I guess all that money wasent waisted eh Charley.

Regards to Mary.

— III —

The Last Laugh

Allison, Ill., Jan. 2.

Brother Charley.  Well Charley I supose you been haveing rotten weather down east just the same like we been haveing out here and here it is only Jan. and me all ready sick & tired of winter and wisht spring was here all ready but of corse they aint no chanct of real good weather for 4 mos. & a mans waisting time when you wish for some thing they cant have. If it done any good to wish I would be chief of police all ready and geting the big money. Well Charley when you move out in a subburb they aint no chanct for a man to spend a quite evning at home onct in a wile because theys some thing doing evry minut out here ether Co. comes to our house to set a round & play cards & lap up our beer or else we go some wheres else to some bodys house & play cards but you couldent drowned your self in the beer they give us when wear at there house but when there at our house its diffrunt. But Grace is haveing the time of her life & says she dident never know what a good time was when she lived in the city & says she use to think she wouldent care nothing a bout society but its grate stuff when you get in to it so is long is she feels that way I wont try & spoil her fun tho it keeps me broke buying clean collars & geting my best close prest.

Theys a little irish girl that lives down the st. a bout 17 yrs. old & Grace highers her to come & set in the house wile wear out nights & shes got a fellow stuck on her & he comes & sets with her & Grace pays the girl $.50 a night & I guess thats pretty soft for the girl eh Charley because she gets $.50 for spending a evning in a house thats a hole lot better then her own house & pretty soft for her bow to because it dont cost him nothing for a place to spark his girl a way from her old man & old lady & when I was corting Grace it use to cost me real money to take her out some wheres so her old man couldent keep popping in on us evry time I got ready to hold her hand. By rights the girls bow should ought to pay the $.50 insted of Grace because if hes any kind of a sport it would cost him more then $.50 to take her to Hofmanns garden or some wheres else a way from her perants. But Grace says we cant leave the babys in the house a lone because they might start crying but there both to sleepy to cry in the evning & besides supose they did start crying the little irish girl & her bows probably to busy smacking each other to hear them & even if they herd them what would they do a bout it because I never found nothing yet that would make them kids stop crying when they wanted to cry unlest it was a shot gun or some thing. Well Grace says she thot it would be nice to show the little irish girl & her bow where we kept our beer so they could help them self if they got dry but I says nothing doing & if they want to drink our beer the girls bow can pay $.15 a pt. for it like hed half to pay in a garden only when he was helping him self to our beer he wouldent half to tip no rotten waiters. I guess Grace thinks wear runing the county hospitle or some thing.

Well Charley I hope you & the Mrs. is getting a long O. K. & standing the bad weather O. K. & I guess they must get more for postige stamps in N. Y. city then they do here & is that the reason you dont write onct in a wile.

Kindest to Mary.

Fred A. Gross.

Allison, Ill. Jan. 11.

Dear Charley.  Well Charley we was to a party the night before last & wear going to an other party next wk. & it takes most of my time geting my shoes shined & they talk about Chicago being a live place well Charley its like a grave yd. come pared with this place & some thing doing evry minut when your a good dresser & the peopl likes you.

The party last night was over to Curtis house the wood and coal man & no wonder his wife ast us to the party because there geting a bout $20.00 dollars per mo. out of us for 2 & 1/2 ton of coal & it wouldent hurt them none to give us a party onct a mo. & have champane wine but they dident give us no wine only beer & not hardley enough of that to wet your tungue & of corse Id rather have a glass of beer then all the wine in the world but when Im dry 1 or 2 bottles dont even clear my throte & they might is well give me a spoon full of butter milk & expect me to have a good time & if I was in the wood & coal busness I bet I would give my frends enough to eat and drink when they come to see me espeshaly when the peopl that comes to see you is the peopl that you might say buys your groserys for you. & all they give us to eat was ice cream & cake & coffee & Grace hadent gave me much supper on acct. she thot we would get a reglar meal to the party. I bet the next time I go to a party a round here I will stick a couple crackers in my pocket & a little cheese to go with the beer but I guess if I want enough beer I will half to take a long some of my own to.

Well they told us it was going to be a card party so I and Grace thot of corse they would play cinch or rummy or may be whist but when we got over there they sprung this here game they call auction bridge whist. Mrs. Curtis says if I played whist I wouldent have no trubble lerning this here game but in this game you bid back & 4th. like pitch only you half to say what you are biding on & they got a lot of funny sines that means some thing & a mans got to go threw collige to lern all them sines so I just set there & played when it was my turn & onct I had a hole fist full of spades & bid 3 spades but my pardner took it a way from me with 1 heart & that counts more then 3 spades & I left her have it & they wasent a heart in my hand & when I layed it down she balled me out like it was some crime Id pulled off & we got set & she balled me out some more & of corse I couldent say nothing back because she was a woman & I dident even know her name & all I says to her was If you had left me have it with 3 spades they wouldent have been nothing to it & she says you couldent of even made 3 spades because you couldent make nothing only a mess of things so I says yes & you couldent make nothing only a monkey out of your self so the peopl we was playing with give her the laugh & she seen she was geting the worst of it so she shut up her mouth.

Well Charley I & Grace dident win no prize but the woman that give me the balling out dident win nothing nether so she wasent as smart is she thot she was but any way the gents prize was a box to put your collars in & if I had of win I would of throwed it a way as soon is we got out side the house because I aint got so many collars that they aint room for all of them in the drawer & of corse I dont never have them in the house all at onct nether because theys 3 or 4 of them gos to the landery evry wk. The womans prize was a pare of silk stockings & even if Grace had of win them she would half to take them down town & change them off because they was plane black & she aint in morning for no body. So the peopl that win the prizes was well come to them eh Charley.

Well the Carrys is giveing a party next wk. & we come home with them from the Curtis party & Mr. Carry ast me how did I in joy my self & I says O. K. only I could of got a way with a couple more bottles of beer with out standing on the pianno & singing a song & wouldent have no trubble keeping a wake if they played rummy or cinch or some game with a little life to it so I guess after what I said the Carrys will know enough to play some kind of cards at there party where you dont have to wave no diffrimt colered flags to tell your pardner what to bid & give us enough to drink & not serve there beer in no medisine dropper like they was afrade to give us a over dose & poisen a man.

Well Charley the rotten weather keeps up & I supose the merchunts is glad the cold weather keeps up because they all ways say they dont do no busness when it aint cold a round after xmas time so some bodys satusfide with the weather I mean the merchunts & I guess may be they get there coal at 1/2 price or may be there wifes is warm blood it & not kicking all the wile a bout how cold the house is.

Rgds. to Mary.

Fred A. Gross.

Allison, Ill. Jan. 16.

Brother Charley.  Well Charley we dident have no more fun to Carrys party last night then over to Curtis the night they give there party & we played this here auction bridge at Carrys to & I set there & pretty near went to sleep & Carry dident give us no beer but instead of beer they give us some thing they called punch & they was suposed to be a punch in it but I could of swum in it with out no danger of geting a red nose & the stuff they give us to eat would of been a bout enough for 1 man all to gether but when it was splitted up for 16 peopl a canery would of starved to death trying to make a meal off of it & the Carrys runs a grosery store at that so they should ought to be able to get stuff to eat without paying no hold up price for it but may be they thot if they give us some thing to eat we wouldent buy no groserys off of them for a day or 2.

Grace come in a little wile a go looking mad so I says whats the matter & she says nothing & I says you cant fool me so she told me a bout passing by Mrs. Carpenter & Mrs. Hamilton & she spoke to them & they dident nether 1 of them speak to her. I guess I all ready told you who they was, Charley. Mrs. Hamilton lives right next door to us & Mrs. Carpenter next to Hamiltons & there the peopl Grace called on last summer right after we moved out here & they dident never call on her back & Mr. Hamilton was 1 of the guys that wouldent leave us come in & dance that time we got the invatation by miss take & went down to the dance. So I says to Grace what did you speak to them for & she says she wanted to show she dident bare them no gruge because they was probly sore on them self for not calling on her & I says well you will know better next time & I pertend it like it was a joke but I would like to get a good chanct to get back at them peopl Charley & I guess you know Im the 1 that can do it when I get the chanct.

Kindest to Mary.

Fred A. Gross.

Allison, Ill. Jan. 25.

Dear Charley.  Well Charley I and Grace is going to get back at them swell head Hamiltons & Carpenters and when we get threw with them there chest wont be sticking out so far and it was Graces idear only she dident know how good it was when she sprung it and I guess when we put this over them Hamiltons & Carpenters will wisht they act it a little more frendily and hadent been so swelled on them self.

I will tell you how it come up and what wear going to pull off Charley & I bet youll laugh when you see what wear going to pull off on them. I layed off yest. and stayed home all day and wile we was eating our dinner Grace says some thing a bout giveing a party & I says we aint got no money to throw a way on no partys & she says well if I cant give a party I cant go to no more partys because I will be a shamed of my self going and I says Well I guess peopls been to our house as much is we been to there house & Grace says yes but they just come here uniformly & not no reglar invatation a fare and we havent gave no reglar card party with prizes and refreshmunts & I says I guess the peopl that have came here evnings have got more refreshments then we got to there house when they was giveing partys but she says Well I wont argue with you and if you wont give me no money to have a party we will just half to quit going to other peopls houses and she act it like she was going to blubber so I says Well supose you give a party who would you ast to it and she says why the Carrys and the Curtisis thats had us to there house and then a few other couple that we met at them 2 partys so I says havent you forgot the Hamiltons & Carpenters & she says forgot them of corse I aint forgot them but do you think I would ast them to a party at my house after the way they been acting so then I seen the pt. & I says theys some sense to the way your talking now and we will have a party and not ast nether the Hamiltons or Carpenters & they will feel like a dirty doose. Well Grace couldent see it but I guess you can see it Charley and how would you & Mary feel if the peopl liveing next door to you give a swell party & you wasent ast. You would feel like a rummy wouldent you Charley. So I says to Grace Well I dont care what you think but I will come threw with the money for your party if youll promus to not ast nether the Hamiltons or the Carpenters & Grace says you can bet your life I wont so that part of it was fixed up. So then Grace says we will give a cinch party & give them a dutch lunch & we will ast the Carrys and the Curtis and the Bishops & Farrells & Grimes & counting our self that will make a even doz. & 3 tables of cards & I says thats all right a bout who you ast but leave me tend to the refreshmunts a speshaly the drinks & Grace says Thats all right with me because I dont care nothing a bout the drinks.

So we talked it all over & planed it all out & its going to be some party Charley & when the Hamiltons & Carpenters hears a bout it they will want to go hide in a hole some wheres. Grace was going to go at it cheap but they wouldent be no good giveing no cheap party because if we dident give a good 1 them swell heads wouldent care whether they was ast or not. So when Grace seen I was willing to spend the money she says we should ought to have some invatations printed up & I says I would tend to that & we wrote out the invatations the way we wanted it fixed up and I left the order down town to day to have a doz. of them printed up & of corse we wont use the hole doz. because they wont only be 10 peopl ast besides our self & we dont want no invatation to our own party but we couldent get 10 print it no cheaper then 12 so we will keep the extra 2 for a suveneer or may be we will male them to you & Mary because of corse you cant come but may be you will like to take a look at the invatations but in case a couple of thems spoiled so as we cant send you none heres what there going to say on them.

F. A. Gross asst. Chief of Detectives Chicago Police dept. & lady will be please to entertain you Jan. 7 from 8 P.M. on. 3 tables proggresive cinch followed by refreshmunts. Gents prize 1 qt. whisky. Ladys prize hansome pare of corsets. Dress sutes.

You see Charley them prizes is worth playing for but bet. I & you it aint costing us nothing to give them because the whisky is part of what Gus Goetz sent out to the house for xmas and this is the 1st. time he ever give me a case but other yrs. he only give me a qt. but it dont hurt him none to loosun up onct in a while because Im in his place evry day 3 or 4 times & they dont never half to pick my pockets to get my money. And the corsets is what Mary sent to Grace 2 yrs. a go last xmas & Grace tride them on just onct & they wasent comftible but youd sware they was just out of the store. Grace made me stick in the part a bout dress sutes & I stuck it in because the peopl that comes to the party will half to past right by the Hamiltons & Carpenters house & supose they hapen to be going out that night & run in to the peopl comeing to our party they would see where the guests had on there dress sutes & that shows it aint no rummy party or no bunch of bums comeing & of corse I dont half to ware no dress sute my self because I wont half to go out because the partys right in my house.

Well Charley wear going to have frank forters & liver worst & slaw & potato sellid & ice cream & cake & coffee & of corse beer & you can bet I will give them enough so they wont go home dry & I will mix them up some high balls to & besides that the 1 that wins the prize will may be open it up before they go home & if he does I will fernish the excelsior water to make high balls out of that to. We will show them the time of there life Charley & I got it fixed up all ready with the man that runs the weakly paper out here to stick some thing in a bout the party so they wont be no chanct of the Hamiltons & Carpenters not finding out a bout it after words & I bet when they find out they will come over here on there hands and niece & make up for the way they treat it I & Grace.

I pretty near forgot to tell you a bout the peopl we got liveing next door to us not the Hamiltons but the peopl on the other side & they aint been liveing there long but moved in a little wile ago and there name is Martin. Well the night this hapened I guess they was giveing a new yrs. eve party or some thing & they was makeing more noise then a brass band & hollering like a bunch of indians till 2 a clock in the A.M. & Grace had a headache & couldent sleep but she wasent going to say nothing but pretty soon little Ed was woken up by them hollering next door and he was balling & they couldent none of us sleep so pretty soon I couldent stand it no longer & I slipt my over cote & sox & shoes on over my night gown & went over & rapped at the door & Mr. Martin come to the door and I says you better lay off on some of the rackit & he says what will you do if we dont & then I flashed my star on him & I says cut the noise out or youll get the worst of it & then I come a way & I guess what I said done the business because a bout a 1/2 hr. after words there guests went home & they wasent no more noise & next A.M. I and Mr. Martin went down on the same train to gather & I went up to him & says I was sorry to spoil his fun & he says Thats all right you dident spoil our fun you just add it to it. So you see he is a good fellow & we would ast him to the party only him and his wife would make 14 & I & Grace would half to set out of the game and not play if they was any more peopl ast & the peopl we ast we couldent leave none of them out & we cant ast 16 peopl & have 4 tables because we aint only got 3 tables in the house. I will write & let you know a bout our party & I bet you wisht you & Mary could be here for it.

Kindest to Mary.

Fred A. Gross.

Allison, Ill. Feb. 1.

Brother Charley.  Well Charley Im so sore I cant hardly write but I want to tell you what kind of bums we got liveing next door to us I mean the Hamiltons and the Carpenters that lives on the other side of the Hamiltons and before they get threw with me they will wisht they hadent of monkied with Fred Gross & I guess I dont half to tell you that they cant no body try there funny busness on me and get a way with it.

Well Charley I dident know they was peopl in the world like them bums & if Id of knew what kind of peopl we was buying a place next to them I would of lived in a tree before I would of came here to live but you know the old saying he that laughs the last gets the best of it. Im laying low & waiting for my chanct and when it comes I wont be taking no nap.

Well Charley I guess I better tell you what come off & the papers was all full of it this A.M. & I called up the chief & says I wouldent be down to day and he says all right & I aint sick or nothing but I know theys some bums down to head quarters that would shoot there mouth off a bout what was in the papers & I would probly get sore and shoot some body full of holes.

Well Charley last night was the night we give our party & of corse we knowed when we got the party up that the Hamiltons & Carpenters would get sore on acct. of not geting ast to the party but we dident in tend to leave them know nothing a bout the party a head of time but leave them read a bout it in the Allison paper when it comes out next Sat. But they found out a bout it some way & of corse they was sore but insted of takeing it like a man they act it like a baby or worse then that because they couldent no baby be mean enough to do what they done.

Well Charley the peopl all come that we ast & we set down & played cards a wile & evry body was haveing a pretty good time but I finely got dry & dident see no use of waiting till the card games was over before I give the boys some thing to moisun there throtes so I went out & mixed up a few high balls & I made them pretty stiff & the gents was tickled to death to get a hold of some thing to drink before it was time for the refreshmunts & Curtis says it taste it like more so I mixed them up some more & 1st. thing you know Curtis was throwing the cards all over the floor & he hadent only had 2 so Carry called me over to 1 side & says it wasent right to not finnish Curtis up when he had such a good start so of corse then the game busted up and Grace dident have the refreshmunts ready yet but my part of the refreshmunts was ready so I wasent going to leave the Co. with out nothing to do so I brot in the stuff & left the gents mix up there own & after while about 4 of them cleared the tables out of the way & begin danceing & of corse we dident have no music so Curtis pertend it like he was the orchuster & begin hollering & singing for the others to dance to & we was geting a long all O. K. but pretty noisey but no harm done till Curtis says our house wasent big enough to dance in it & 1st. thing you know him & Mrs. Carry went out on the walk & begin danceing there & him singing all the wile & hollering like a wild man & pretty soon the rest of them was all out doors & of corse I & Grace couldent stick in the house when they was all out side & we had to dance to keep warm because it couldent of been more then 10 or 11 above 0 & Grace kept after me all the wile to try & get Curtis to shut up his mouth but she might is well of told me to stop the europe war & he kept it up till finely he sliped & fell down on the ice & when I & Carry tride to pick him up we sliped to & fell down & I thot we wasent never going to get up it was so slipry & then Grace says we had woke the babys up & Curtis herd her & they wasent nothing to it but he must go up stares & put them back to sleep & he hit more of the stares with his jaw then he did with his ft. & him trying to get the babys back to sleep was a bout like as if I tride to do it by blowing the fire whistle in there ear & I & Grace had to go up & get him out of there room & wile we was up stares the door bell rung & I come down & every body was in the house again by this time so I opened up the door & there was a bum there that says he was the night watchman & says who owns this house & I says I own it come in & have a drink & he says nothing doing & the best thing you can do is get your hat & cote on & come a long with me. I says what for & he says disturbing the piece & I says who says so & he says thats none of your busness so I says you bet its my busness & you got to show me your warent & who sined it before I will go a long with you & that had him stoped & evry thing would of been O. K. only just then Curtis come down the stares & buted in bet. I and the oficer & told the oficer to beat it & the oficer told him to shut his mouth & then what does Curtis do but take a crack at the guy & the guy started to pull his club & then I horned in & took it a way from him & he says Well I dont need no warrent now but your arrested for resisting a oficer & I says whose going to arrest me & he says you will find out so then he went a way & I thot we was threw with him & we shut the door & Curtis was ready for a nap by this time so we layed him on the sofa & Grace brot in the stuff to eat & we was laughing and jokeing a bout the smart aleck constable when the door bell rung again & there was the same guy & 2 others with him & I hadent no sooner opened up the door then he pulled his gat on me.

Well Charley to make it short I had to go a long with them & they wouldent even leave me call up down town to head quarters & get Jack & some of the boys to come out and show them whose who & they wanted Curtis to but when they seen him layed out on the sofa they past him up & I was the goat & I couldent let on how sore I was because Grace & the rest of the women was haveing histeriks & evry thing else so I says good night to Grace & smiled at her & the rest of the women & told them not to worry & then I went a way with the 3 guys & they locked me up.

Well Charley I dident get no sleep because I was trying to figger out who put up the job but it come to me all of a sudden this A.M. that it was Hamilton & Carpenter & when I ast the oficer was it them he wouldent say nothing so you see it was them & I will make them swett for it.

Well Charley I was tooken up before the justice the 1st thing this A.M. & the justice was a good fellow & they wasent no body there to complane agin me only the oficer & when he found out who I realy was he wouldent say nothing & says he was sorry he pulled me in but it wasent his falt. So they left me go & I come home & Grace is pretty near sick because it was in the papers how we was giving a party & doing the foxey trot out in the middle of the st.

They wasent nothing in the papers a bout Curtis tho if it hadent of been for him they wouldent of never been no troubble & the next time I give a party I wont ast no sucker like him that wants to immitate the banda Roma the minut he gets 2 drinks under his belt only I wont give no more partys for no body & the next time any body says the word party to me I will bust a platter over there bean.

Of corse they aint no danger of the chief laying me off or doing nothing because I explained the hole thing to him over the phone this A.M. But you can bet Hamilton & Carpenter would of got my job if they could & it aint there falt they dident.

Well Ive wrote you a long letter Charley but I guess I had some news for you even if it was bad news but the next bad news will be a bout them stiffs that pulled it off.

Kindest to Mary.

Fred A. Gross.

Allison, Ill. Feb. 4.

Brother Charley.  Well Charley you know the old saying a bout the 1 that laughs the last gets the best of it & the day after tomorrow I will be the 1 thats laughing & Hamilton & Carpenter will wisht they was in a hole some wheres hideing & they will find out they aint no body cant put nothing over on Fred Gross & get any thing but the worst of it. I got evry thing fixed up & I aint said nothing to Grace or no body else a bout it accept Bob Barnes & I guess you know who he is Charley or if you dont you should ought to. Hes the sherrif of Cook Co. Charley & they aint nothing I could ast him to do for me that he wouldent do on acct of what I done for him wile he was runing for sherrif.

Well Charley I will half to tell you whats comeing off & how I got the tip to pull off what Im going to pull off on them. The little irish girl that stays with the babys evnings some times was here Sun. & her & Grace was talking & the girl knows the girl that works for the Hamiltons next door to us & the Hamiltons higher girl told this little girl a bout Mrs. Hamilton bellonging to a auction bridge whist club that meets evry Thurs. P.M. & insted of playing for a regular prize like a pare of silk stockings or some thing they all stick in a $1.00 a peace & theys a bout 12 of them in the club & the 1 that wins the prize takes the $12.00 dollars in cash money & Mrs. Carpenters 1 of the club. Well Charley there going to meet the day after tomorrow to Hamiltons house & may be you guest all ready whats comeing off.

Well Charley I got the idear Sun. night after I was in bed & when I come down town yest. A.M. I went up in the county bldg & seen Bob & ast him would he do me a faver & he says any thing but lone me some money but he was jokeing Charley & he would lone me money to if I ast him but I says No I dident want to borry no money & then I told him what I wanted. Well Charley I guess you know whats coming off. When them swell society dames is haveing there little auction bridge whist game 1 of the deputy sherrifs is going to walk in on them & make a pinch see Charley. Of corse Bob couldent come out & make the pinch him self because it would put him in bad but hes going to give the job to a deputy name Parker thats no good & Bobs trying to get rid of him any way & if theys any trubble comes up Parker will be the bird elect it to face the music.

Well Charley I guess thats a poor idear & I guess that will make some story for the Chi papers & they wont be no chanct of them not hearing a bout it eh Charley. I will see to that.

Well Charley I told you I would get back at these birds & make them wisht they had of layed off of me & before Im threw with them they will be cralling on there hands & niece but I guess you under stand Charley that I aint trying to do no more then just scare them & of corse the women wont be pulled in or nothing like that but just a pinch & a little story in the papers. Thats a plenty eh Charley.

Dont say nothing to Mary a bout it Charley because she might spill some thing a bout it to Grace in a letter & I aint sure yet that Im going to tell Grace.

Fred A. Gross.

Allison, Ill. Feb. 7.

Brother Charley.  Well Charley the deeds done & its all over & they was a story in the papers this A.M. that would knock you dead & Im going to buy up some extra coppys of the papers & send you some of them & you will see if I fixed them swell heads or not only it came near being a bad mix up on acct. of this bone head deputy Parker that Bob sent out to make the pinch. He pored a few glassis of currage down his throte before he went on the job & when he got ready to work he was all lit up like a church & went up & pound it on Hamiltons front door & when the higher girl opened up the door he pulled his gun and she shreeked & pretty near fainted & then Mrs. Hamilton come runing to the door & she must be a pretty game bird Charley because she looked the gat right in the face & ast Parker what he wanted & he showed her his star & says the place was pinched & she says what for & he told her for being a gambleing house & she ast him was it a joke or some thing & he says no & she ast to see his warent & he says he dident need no warent because he come under orders from the sherrif & then she told him to come & set down & he come in jugling the gun a round in his hand & 3 or 4 more of the women pretty near fell dead & it would of been just like him to take a shot at them but Mrs. Hamilton finely got the other women cammed down & told Parker to have a seat & then she called her husband up in town & he called the sherrifs ofice & got a hold of Bob on the wire & of corse Bob told him it must be some miss take so Hamilton got Bob to call up & talk to Parker & Bob told Parker to leave the women a lone & come back to head quarters & Parker dident know what to think but he beat it out of Hamiltons house & back to town & thats all they was to it. But of corse some body called up the diffrunt papers & give them the story a bout a deputy sherrif radeing a swell gambleing joint in Allison & I bet the Hamiltons & Carpenters would of gave there right eye to not have that stuff in the papers.

Well Charley dont say nothing to Mary because I aint going to tell Grace & I havent told no body only you & Bob Barnes of corse & no body else accept this here Martin that moved in next door to us on the left & may be I told you a bout him makeing so much noise new yrs. eve that I had to go over & tell them to shut up but he was all right a bout it & dident get sore but I & him was seting next to each other going in to town on the train this A.M. & he seen me reading the peace in the papers a bout the pinch at Hamiltons & I guess he seen me laughing & he ast me what the laugh was a bout & so I ast him if he could keep a secrit & he says sure so I told him all a bout it & when I got threw teling him he layed back in his seat & pretty near busted laughing & I says to him You know the old saying a bout the 1 that laughs the last gets the best of it & he says Thats me & he was laughing so loud that he drownded out the train.

Well Charley I bet it wont be long before I will be writeing to tell you a bout them swell heads comeing over to call on Grace & they will know better after this then to put on heirs in front of peopl thats just as good is them and a hole lot better.

Kindest to Mary.

Fred A. Gross.

— IV —

Uncivil War

Allison, Ill. Feb. 3.

Brother Charley.  Well Charley this is a funny World where a man has neighbors on 1 side of you that you couldent fine no better peopl no wheres and on the other side peopl that they aint nothing to mean and small for them to do and allways trying to make you missable.

A man name Martin and his wife is the peopl that we got liveing the next door on the left and I and Martins been going down town on the same train to gather and thats the way how we got aquanted so the other night I and him happen to get on the same train comeing home and set in the same seat and I ast him why dident him and his Mrs. come over some night and play cards and he says he dident need nothing to put him to sleep and I guess he ment I would probily fill him up with beer but beffore we got home he promused to bring the Mrs. and come over and last night was the night they come. Well Charley you ought to see this here Mrs. Martin. She aint nothing but a girl you might say and prety as a pitcher and dresses as good is a course girl and you could set down and read the evening paper with out no electrick light if she was in the rm. with her dimonds.

She took quiet a shine to Grace right a way and ast her did she sew her own close or where did she get them and Grace says no in deed she hadent had no time to sew her own close sence 3 yrs. a go when little Ed was born and Mrs. Martin says she thot may be the close was made beffore that and the reason she thot Grace must of made them was on acct. of she never seen nothing like them in the stores wile she was shopping. So of corse Grace was tickeled to deth like all the wommen when you swell them up a bout there close and her and Mrs. Martin got a long fine but Mrs. Martin dont play cinch so we set down and played rummy and Martin insist it we should play for $.01 a pt. to make it intrusting so we played a wile and I loose $1.50 and Grace loose $.80 but it was worth the money the fun we had.

So after we was threw plain cards and we was seting a round drinking a bottle of beer and all of a sudden they was a crash on the back porch and I and Martin run out there and a cat had knocked the garbidge pale over and I called Grace to see whos cat it was and she says it was Hamiltons cat the peopl that lives the next door to us on the other side then the Martins lives on. And Grace says the same cat had been doing it right a long because all most evry A.M. she found the pale laying on the porch so I says why dont they feed the cat at home and she wouldent half to go prolling a round the neighbors hood to get some thing to eat and then Martin says may be the Hamiltons was sore at us and starved there cat on the purpose so as she would come over and undisterb us evry night and he ast me if Id gave Hamilton any reason to get sore at me that would make him pull off a trick like that.

So I says well may be Hamilton was sore at me but he dident have no more reason to be sore at me then me to be sore at him because it was a horse a peace so Martin ast me to tell him a bout it so I told him that we had gave a party 1 night and hadent ast the Hamiltons on acct. of them not calling on Grace after she had payed them a call when we 1st movved out here so Hamilton and his wife got sore on acct. of us not asking them to our party and 1 of the boys that come to the party got to many drinks under his belt and done the foxy trot out on the side walk and Hamilton sent for the night watch man and had me arested for disterbing the piece and so a little wile latter to get back at him I fixed it up with the sherrifs ofice to send 1 of the deputys out to Hamiltons house 1 P.M. when Mrs. Hamilton was giveing a party and plain action bridge whist for money and the deputy told Mrs. Hamilton she was arested for runing a gambleing house and of corse nothing come out of it accept that they was a peace in the papers a bout it and I onily done it to get even.

So Martin says probily Hamilton suspect it me of bean the 1 that sent the deputy out there and was trying to make things missable for me by starveing there cat so she would yowel a round our house all night and Martin says if he was me he would lern Hamilton a lesson and I says how and he says for me to think up some trick to play on him so as he would quitt monking with me. So Im going to try and think up some thing and I would shoot his cat onily it aint the cats falt that there starveing her to deth and a cats got to eat the same as a human bean.

Well Charley I wisht you and Mary could get a look at Mrs. Martin when shes dolled up for the evening and she pretter then Edna Tangay or any of them stage beatys and last night she had on a dress that you kept thinking may be it would fall off because you couldent see what was keeping it on but it must of been attacked on some wheres with stables or some thing and her arms and neck and soldiers was bear and all spred over with this here tacklum powder and evry time she come clost to you you thot you was in a Green house or to a funeral or some wheres. Martin was all dood it up to and they was a swell looking pare but a man would half to spend a bout a wk. in a barber shop beffore he would look good enough to run a round with her.

Well Charley I wisht it would warm up a little and Im burning pretty near a ton of cole a wk. and still Grace comeplanes a bout how cold the house is but I guess she would comeplane of the cold if we was liveing down to the South Pole and if the house was relay cold last night like Grace says why dident Mrs. Martin make some remark a bout it because if any body was cold she ought to been with out no more than a batheing sute on you might say.

Rgds. to Mary and take care of your self.

Your Bro.

Fred A. Gross.

Allison, Ill. Feb. 12.

Brother Charley.  Well Charley I guess this here Hamilton will keep his cat to home and mine his own busness beffore I and him is threw with each other. I found out today from Grace that Mrs. Hamilton is going to give a party the day after tomorrow night the 14 and the way I found out a bout it was the little irish girl that comes and sets in the house with the babys wile wear out nights found it out from Hamiltons higher girl and thats how I come to find out a bout it.

Grace was telling me a bout it at breakfast this A.M. and wile she was telling me a bout it a idear come to me because she says it was going to be a valentine party because the 14 is valentine day so I thot all of a sudden a bout sending this here Hamilton a valentine not 1 of these pretty ones that folds up with the flowers on them but a comical 1 only it would be so comical it would make him sore and he wouldent get no laugh out of it. So I set down besides Martin on the train going down town and I told him a bout me going to send Hamilton a valentine and he says it was a grate idear only you should ought to go stronger then that and pull off some thing else on him a long with it and I says what could I pull and he brot up a bout the party the Hamiltons is going to have and ast me couldent I get a hold of 1 of these sines the helth bord hangs up on a house when the residence has got some decease and got to be quarnteed and he says if I could get a hold of 1 of them sines and hang it under the electrick light on Hamiltons porch the night of the party the guests would all of them see it and be scared to go in the house and turn around and go home and Hamilton and his wife would set there all evening wondring why dident there friends come to the party.

Well Charley I seen right a way that was better then sending him a valentine but Im going to send him a valentine to and I got 1 down town today and going to male it to him tomorrow and its some valentine Charley a pitcher of a big hog drawed on it and then theys some pottery under the pitcher that says.

They ought to keep you in a pen

Not let you be with other men

Your not a man but just a big

Dissgusting stupid greasy pig

I guess that will give him some thing to think a bout hey Charley but I was going to tell you a bout the sine I got a hold of and it says SMALL POX in big letters on it and Im going to sneek over there the night of the party as soon is it gets dark and hang it up right under where they allways got the electrick light on the porch and the guests cant help from seen it when they get ready to ring the door bell and then they will see the sine and beat it home and Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton can have there party all to them self and may be some peopl might think it was a dirty trick but it aint 1/2 as bad is starveing your cat so as she will come over evry night and knock over a mans garbidge pale over. And yowel a round the house.

Well Charley I will write and let you know all a bout the Hamiltons big valentine party hey Charley.

Your Bro.

F. A. Gross.

Allison, Ill. Feb. 15.

Dear Charley.  Well Charley Grace has went to bed and says she wouldent set up no longer with me because I was to mean and cross and I guess I got a right to feel sore but she dont know nothing a bout it because I dident tell her nothing a bout it.

Well Charley I told you a bout me sending Hamilton that valentine and I just ment it in fun and what do you think he done Charley but he must of did it beffore he ever got my valentine because I sent it to him Wed. A.M. and when I stoped in at the P. O. Wed. on the way to the train to go in to town they was a letter there for me only it wasent no letter but a valentine 1 of the dirtest you ever seen Charley a pitcher of a man that was suposed to be a detective only they was a bandige over his eyes so as he couldent see nothing and he was holding out his hand and a stick up guy or some thing was puting a role of bills in his hand and under the neath they was a pome sane all detectives was cheap grafters. Well Charley it made me so sore I couldent hardily talk and when I got on the train Martin seen they was some thing wrong so he ast me what was the matter so I showed him the valentine and he says he dident blame me for getting sore and who ever sent it was a dirty trick and if he was me he wouldent never rest till he found out who sent it and then he would get even with them. Well the address on the envellop was wrote with a tipe writer so I couldent tell whose hand writeing it was so I says to Martin how was I going to find out who sent it and he says I thot you was a detective and I says I am a detective but I dont know no body mean enough to pull off a stunt like that and he says I bet it was your friend Hamilton and as soon is he menshoned Hamiltons name of corse I knowed it must of been him.

Well Charley what do you think of a man that will pull off a dirty trick like that and he aint man enough to come out and say some thing to my face and I told Martin I says I would go to Hamiltons house on my way home that night and call him out on the porch and bust his jaw for him and Martin says if I done that it would get into all the papers and I would get in bad and besides that would spoil my idear a bout hanging the small pox sine on Hamiltons door because if I took a punch at Hamilton he would probily half to call in the Dr. and go to bed and they wouldent be no party. So I decide it to try and hold on to my temper and that night when I seen the Hamiltons was eating there supper I snuck over on there porch and hung the sine up and then I came home and ett supper and set where I could look over on there porch and what do you think Charley he was to cheap to light up the electrick light on the front porch and it was as dark is a pitch but he dident never light the light all evening but just left the porch dark and of corse the peopl that come to the party couldent see no sine or nothing else on the porch so they went in the house like they was nothing wrong and I could hear them singing and enjoin them self till after midnight. What do you think of a guy Charley thats so cheap he wont light up his lights but just as soon leave his frends stumble in the dark and brake there neck.

Well Charley I finely went to bed when I seen they wasent nothing comeing off and as soon is I got up yest. A.M. I looked over there and some body had tooken the sine down all ready. Well I guess Grace must think Im sick or some thing the way I been acting yest. and today because Im still so sore yet that I cant hardily talk to no body and if it wasent like picking on a baby I would go over to Hamiltons house right now and bust his big nose for him.

I dont half to tell you Charley that I dident never take a nickle that wasent comeing to me and the only thing I ever got from stick up men was abuse and thats because I been after them all my life and if it wasent for me theyd brake in to the mayors house wile he was eating his lunch and steal the cream off of his coffee but they aint been 1/2 tne stickups and burglerys sence I been over looking that end of it and now this swell head pup trys to call me a thief and a grafter but you can bet your last shirt that he will hear from me beffore Im threw with him the cheap bum.

Well Charley they should ought to be a law against sending these here valentines and it may be it might be all O. K. to send them pretty valentines with the flowers on them to the wommen but they should ought to bar these here comical ones and there a bout as comical is a hanging over to the county jail and it might be all right to send them for a joke but not try and inselt some body and call them a crook. Hes so crook it him self that you couldent pull corks with him hey Charley.

Your Bro.

Fred A. Gross.

Allison, Ill. March 1.

Bro. Charley.  Well Charley I wisht you could of been a long with us last night you and Mary the both of you but I dont know if Mary would of liked to went a long or not because we was over to the Martins and when your in the same house with a lady that dresses like Mrs. Martin a womman must feel pretty slopy a long the side of them close Mrs. Martin wares and of corse I aint sane that Mary cant look good when she wants to but this here Mrs. Martin has got them all beat when it comes to close but at that shes all ways talking a bout she wisht she could get a hold of some close like Grace wares and only last night she was after Grace to leave her borry 1 of her dresses and ware it to a mask raid.

Well Charley Martin give us some cock tales that he made them up him self and if a man drunk 3 of them you would start down the dranege cannel in a finger bold but he give us 2 of them and a few bottles of beer and beffore the evening was over Mrs. Martin was lerning Grace the ballad dance and you ought to see Mrs. Martin dance Charley and its better than any thing I ever seen down to the Columbia but if Grace had to make a liveing ballad danceing she would starv her self to deth for lack of nothing to eat and they wasent nothing in Martins house that she dident run in to it and I bet if the chairs and tables could talk they would of hollered murder.

Well we dident play no cards but we fooled a round and done this in that and they turned on the phonegraf and I and Mrs. Martin danced to gather and I thot I had a arm full of flowers and then we set down and talked and Martin ast me hadent I did nothing to Hamilton for sending me that valentine and I says no I hadent because I and Grace had talked it over to gather and Id told her all a bout it and I and her had made it up in our mind to not do nothing more a bout it but just leave the Hamiltons a lone and act like they wasent no such peopl and then Mr. and Mrs. Martin both says they thot we was suckers to leave Hamilton get off so easy when hed inselted I and Grace so I says well I cant think of nothing to do only go over there and bust him in the jaw and Martin says well may be he could think up some thing him self and if he could think up a good 1 he would tell me because he was my frend and dont like to see a man get the worst of it and thats the kind of a friend to have hey Charley. Martins entirely diffrent from a big stiff which is to cheap to light up the lights in his house when hes giveing a party. Well Charley I wisht you and Mary could see the Martins and I bet they aint no body liveing near you thats as good Co. as them and I and Grace is pretty lucky to have them liveing the next door to us only we dont no more then brake even on neighbors with the Hamiltons on the other side. Best rgds. to Mary.

Your Bro.

Fred A. Gross.

Allison, Ill. March 9.

Dear Charley.  Well Charley I put 1 over on Hamilton and of corse he wont never know who done it but still in all it made him good and sore and this time I seen him when he found out a bout it and I was laughing at him only he couldent see me because I was where he couldent see me.

Well Charley I will tell you what I done and it was Martins idear and I will give him creddit for it. Hamiltons got a automobile and they been running it all winter because they got 1 of these here tops on it thats just like a room you might say air tight and glass insted of just curtins so they can run it in the winter with out geting cold and then in the summer they take the top part off of it and have a reglar automobile. Well theys lots of evenings when Hamilton leaves the automobile out side there house on the st. in front of the house wile there in side the house enjoin them self in the evening so Martin says why dident I go after Hamiltons automobile and I ast him what did he mean and he says take a knife over there some night when the automobile was standing out the side by the curb and cut the tires and if I cut the tires the air would all come out of them and Hamilton would half to put on some new tires so I says no I wouldent do that because that would be destroying a mans property and I wouldent mix up in nothing like that and take a chanct of geting in bad down town so then Martin says Well if you dont want to cut the tires theys still an other way yet that you can let the air out of them and thats un screw the valves thats on the tires and the wind would come out but they wouldent be no property destroyed because the air be longs to me just as much is Hamilton only it would make him awfull sore if he was in a hurry to go some wheres.

So the night beffore last I pulled it off Charley and I had quiet a time doing it because theys some fancy kind of valve on the tires thats hard to get off and leave the air come out but I finely done it while Hamilton and his wife and who ever was there vissiting them was in the house and I was scarred all the wile some body would see me on acct. of the automobile bean lit up but no body seen me and when Id pulled it off I snuck back over to my house and watched out the window for Hamilton and his friends to come out and finely they come and I wisht you could of herd him Charley when he found out what had came off and he swore right in front of his wife and a lady that was with them and says it must be some of the kids in the neighbors hood that done it because they wouldenb no groan up man pull some thing like that and thats where Mr. Hamilton got fooled hey Charley because if I aint groan up yet I guess I will be a gient when I get my groth hey Charley.

Well it took them over 1/2 a hour to get there tires blowed up again and they sent the wommen folks in the house wile they done the work and its a good thing the wommen wasent where they could hear Hamilton talking all the wile or theyd of thot he was trying to see how many wds. could he make up and I will half to slip it to him Charley he can cuss as good is the chief when the news papers gets after the dept. I guess that will hold Mr. Hamilton a wile Charley and I bet he would of cust some more if he could of saw me seting behind the window lissining to him and I had the window part of the way open and pretty near froze to deth but it was worth freezeing to deth to lissen to the cheap stiff rave. Well Charley him and Mrs. Hamilton and there friends may be high socitey and so 4th but that dont stop the air from runing out of there tires onct in a wile hey Charley.

Well I guess I aint told you a bout I and Grace is going to give a party and I thot we was all threw with partys for a wile but Grace says that Mrs. Martin told her we ought to give a hole lot of partys on acct. of us bean new peopl in town and if we wanted to stand in good we should ought to entertane a good deel so wear going to give a party next Fri. night only it wont be none of these here stew partys or no ruff stuff but evry thing the best and up to the date and Mrs. Martin has gave Grace a lot of tips a bout how should a party be ran and I guess the peopl will think wear as good is the Hamiltons or any of them swell heads before wear threw but of corse we aint going to ast the Hamiltons because I wouldent have them in the house.

This here partys going to cost us some money but its like Mrs. Martin told Grace if you want to live right you got to pay for it and they cant no cheap skates get by with the right peopl in a place like this here. Grace is going to serve them with sand witchs and ice cream and coffee and cake only not no cheap home made ice cream but get it from the drug store and they will be 16 of us all to gather the Martins and the Curtis and Carrys and some other nice peopl we met a round here and you might say its the cream of Allison socitey and of corse we got to play auction bridge whist on acct. of that bean the swell game a round here tho it aint near the game like cinch is.

Well Charley I wisht you and Mary could be here for the party even if it would leave 1 couple out of the card game because with you here they would be 18 of us includeing I and Grace but any way take care of your self and regards to Mary.

Your Brother,

F. A. Gross.

Allison, Ill. March 14.

Brother Charley.  Well Charley I guess I would be better off if I was a cheap skate like some peopl and if I was a cheap skate they wouldent of never nothing came off like last night. Well Charley I been so sore sense it come off that I was a bout to pull my gun on some body with out naming no names but a man can be drove so far Charley and not no father and if it wasent for what would happen to Grace I would shoot this here Hamilton full of led and take my medison only I dont believe theys a jury in the world that would convict me when I told them what he pulled off.

Well Charley theys a big diffrunts between a joke and not a joke and if Hamilton thinks that what he done was funny I feel sorry for him but he dident do it because he thot it was funny Charley but because he dont know how to do nothing but play mean rotten tricks like sending me that valentine.

Grace wont never give no more partys Charley and I dont never want to here the word party so dont never tell me a bout no party Charley.

Well Charley we was seting in the parlor I and Grace and waiting for Mr. and Mrs. Martin and the rest of our guests to come and it was geting kind a late and Grace kept sane a bout how late it was geting and all of a sudden the telephone rung and I went and ansered the bell and ast who was it and it was Mrs. Martin and she says to excuse her for calling up but she couldent wait no longer to find out weather she couldent do some thing for us and find out who was it and I ast her what she ment who was it and she says she ment who was it the krape was hanging on the front door for and I says they wasent no krape on the front door and she says Id better go and look and I went out there and sure enough they was krape on the door like they was some body dead. Charley come to find out the Curtis and the Carrys and 2 or 3 other peopl was comeing to the party to gather and just beffore they start it to ring the door bell they noticed this here krape on the door and a couple of the wommen pretty near fainted a way and finely Curtis says lets ring the bell and find out whats happened but Carry says no he dident feel like comeing in to a house where they was krape on the door when he was all drest up gay for a party so finely they decide it to go over and ast the Martins if they knowed any thing a bout it on acct. of them liveing next door.

Mrs. Martin screamed when they told her a bout it and when her and Martin and the rest of them come back and seen the krape again and Mrs. Martin was pretty near haveing histericks so Martin took her home and Martin says to the other peopl that it looked like some thing awfull had happened and says evry body had better go home and after a wile when Mrs. Martin got back her nerve she would ring us up and find out what could of happened and then she would call the rest of them up and tell them a bout it. Well it wasent till pretty near 10 a clock that she got her nerve up and called up on the phone and then of corse we explained that it was 1 of Hamiltons dirty tricks and Grace wanted Mrs. Martin to come over and have the party and Grace would call up the rest of the peopl and tell them a bout it and we could have the party any way and better have it late then never but Mrs. Martin says her party close was all off and hung up and it would be 2 hrs. beffore she could get drest again so she was sorry that it had happened but they wasent nothing she could do accept tell me that if she was me and any body had put some thing like that over on her she would of shot them full of holes so Grace called up the Curtis and the Carrys and told them about the miss take but some of them was like Mrs. Martin with there party close off of them and hung up all ready and they all says they was so worried a bout seen the krape that they couldent come now even if they was drest and they says theyd been seting up to hear from Mrs. Martin a bout what had happened and they wouldent of never been able to sleep if some thing had of relay happened but now they was so releived that they thot they would try and go to sleep and for get it and so 4th.

Well Charley that was all right and nice of them to feel so sorry for us but what a bout the refreshmunts and the 3 qts. of ice cream from the drug store and it was there best stuff 40 cts. a qt. and how a bout the 2 new decks of cards we had boughten for the party and how a bout I and Grace going to all that trubble and dressing up swell and so 4th. Well Charley Mrs. Martin says we should ought to posepone the party and have it some other night but Grace says she was threw with partys and I says the next 1 that says some thing to me a bout a party would get a crack in the jaw.

Thats what a man gets for not bean no cheap skate Charley and if I had of been a cheap skate and left the light off on the front porch like Hamilton done the cheap stiff the 1st. peopl that got there wouldent of saw the krape and would of rang the door bell and then ether I or Grace would of went to the door and they wouldent of been no trubble.

Well Charley Im trying my best to hold on to my temper so as I wont go over to Hamiltons house and shoot him up but as Grace says it probly wasent Mrs. Hamiltons falt but just Hamilton him self and I wouldent have no right to make a widow out of her just because her husband aint no good and a speshuly when I dont know weather hes going to leave his wife enough to live on.

But I guess you know me well enough to know that he aint going to get by with out no come back and I will pull off some thing on him that will make him wisht he had treated I and Grace with respect and I feel like going right over to there house and hanging the krape on there own door and see how they like it only Grace says whats the use of giveing them back there krape because I and her cant live for ever and it dont do no harm keeping some a round the house.

Well Charley wait till I get back at him and regards to Mary.

Your Bro.

F. A. Gross.

Allison, Ill. March 18.

Dear Brother Charley.  Well Charley I got Hamilton on the run now and beffore Im threw with him he will be hollering for help. Martin give me the idear and its the best yet and its a grate thing to have Martin on my side and helping me a long and it looks like now Hamilton would come over pretty soon and ast me to let up on him because I been pulling this for over 2 days and he aint going to stand for it much longer with out hollering for help.

Well Charley Martin told me a bout the idear and heres what I been doing I been calling up Hamiltons house on the phone all hrs. of the day and night and when I get him on the phone I change my voice like and talk in a diffrunt voice and ast him who is he and when he says who he is I ast him some question like why dont you come and hall a way the garbidge or why dont you come and do this in that like he was the garbidge man or the plummer or some body. I had to fix it up with the girl down to the tellephone office and I told her to not let Hamilton know who was calling him up and tell him she for got who was it and she says at 1st she wouldent do it but finely she says she would do it for a couple of days because I told her I and Hamilton is the best kind of frends and I was just playing a little joke on him but it aint no joke with me Charley and if I and him is friends so is 2 bull dogs only he aint no bull dog but a hound that cant do nothing but wine. I can see out of the window when he sets down to breakfast and then I call him up and as soon is Ive said what I got to say I start for the train so he sees me coming down the st. and dont never suspect that its me calling him up and then when I get home again I call him up at supper time and 2 or 3 times in the evening and onct after I think hes went to bed at night. Well Charley I bet Ive got him crazy by this time and hes a bout ready to quit because the last 2 times I called him up he wouldent come to the phone but his higher girl says he wasent in and she says if who ever it was kept on calling him he was going to have them arrested. Fine chance hey Charley. But it aint no good idear only for a little wile because now he wont come to the phone and the tellephone girl says its went on long enough and she scarred she will get fired so it looks like Id half to cut it out but I guess hes reddy to holler enough and call evry thing quits but hes got it comeing to him Charley. Give the devvil his do as they say and best regards to Mary.

Your Brother,

Fred. A. Gross.

Allison, Ill., March 20.

Dear Brother Charley.  Well Charley this will be a supprise to you after what I been telling you right a long and it was a supprise to me onily I kind a suspect it all the wile that this here Martin was wrong. He dident never act right some way so finding out a bout him dident supprise me like it would of if I hadent of suspect it him all the wile.

Well Charley it wasent Hamilton that was pulling all the dirty work like sending me that valentine and hanging krape on my door and so 4th. but it was Martin all the time and I and Hamilton is good friends now and he says he dident never mean no harm to me and says both him and Mrs. Hamilton and there higher girl thot the cat was geting enough to eat. And he says he wouldent never think of mixxing up in no brall with his neighbors so I and him feels the same way to gather a bout it and they wont be no more trubble between us.

Well Charley you wont hardily beleive that a man could live as mean and nasty is this here Martin trying to make trubble between neighbors and I will tell you the reason why he done it Charley and you will see what kind of a bum he is and no wonder I never relay liked him. In the 1st. place he was sore at Hamiltons because Mrs. Hamilton hadent payed no call on Mrs. Martin and Hamilton says that him and his wife seen right a way that Martin wasent no good and thats why Mrs. Hamilton dident call on Mrs. Martin because she dident want to get mixxed up with them and the Hamiltons is high socitey here so Martin got sore because him and his wife couldent horn in to the 4 hundred club. So he used me for a Tool you might say and kept edgeing me on by sane it was Hamilton that was doing all them things to me and all the wile he was doing them him self so I would think it was Hamilton and keep pestering him like I done. Grace says at 1st. that may be Martin was onily doing it for a joke but Hamiltons higher girl and Martins higher girl is pals and Martins higher girl told Hamiltons higher girl that Martin was sore at Hamiltons and thats why he done it. Well Charley between I and you they was an other reason that Grace or Hamilton dont know nothing about it and I will tell you a bout it onily dont say nothing even to Mary. This here Martin was sore at me Charley on acct. of the way his wife looked at me and thot may be I was trying to steal his wife and you know Charley that I aint in that kind of busness but I cant help it if a womman looks at me onct in a wile and I noticed Mrs. Martin myself so of corse her husband could see it to and they couldent no body help from not noticeing it unlest they was blind. But what could I do a bout it nothing.

Well Charley it all come out last night and we had some big time and I dont never want an other time like it only Im glad that I and Hamilton under stands each other and Hamilton says he will see that the town pays for what ever dammige was did a round my house. Martin was to yellow to stay home wile he was pulling off his little trick and neither him or his wifes been home sence yest. beffore supper and the house is shut up but he needent be scarred Im going to do nothing to him not now any way because Hamilton says for me to lay lowe and pertend like I dident know the truth and if Martin tries some thing more Hamilton will go in with me and we will run him out of town and an other reason is acct. of Im sorry for Mrs. Martin and to bad shes got to be tide up to a man like he and you couldent hardily blame her for looking at an other man onct in a wile.

Well Charley I aint got much time so I will hurry up and tell you what come off. I and Grace went to bed early last night and we wasent hardily no more then in bed when we heard the fire whistle blown and of a sudden we herd the fire enjine and hose cart out in front of the house and then the front door bell rung like they was trying to wake up the town and I thot may be the house was on fire so I run down in my night gown and opened up the door and pretty near got drownded. Well Charley the hose was turned right on me and me with out nothing on only my night gown and they give it to me full forse all over. Well I tride to holler at them to quit but a man cant holler very good with the hose turned in to your mouth and I guess it would of been all off with me only for Hamilton comeing.

He grabed the 2 guys that was holding the nozzle and busted 1 of them and told them if they dident shut off the water insolently he would have them all in jail and they seen who he was and shut it off. Well Charley the hole lore flr. of the house was under water pretty near and I was a reck. But I had sence enough left to send Grace up stares beffore I done any thing else. When she was out of the way Hamilton come in and brung the fire men a long with him and then he ast them what did it mean and at 1st. they says it must of been a falts allarm but he says dont try any monky busness with me and the best thing you can do is tell the truth and then he told them right out what he suspect it and they owned up to it and told us how Martin had got them to do it and they thot it was just a joke between frends or they wouldent of had nothing to do with it.

Well Charley what do you think of that. Martin give them a peace of money and got a few drinks under there belt and then told them to pull this off and says it was just a joke and that I and him was frends. A fine frend hey Charley.

Well Hamilton give them a awfull balling and then told them to beet it and if they ever done any thing like that again he would get them and hes 1 of the bord that runs the town so you can bet they payed a tension to what he says.

Then Hamilton come in and told me to go up stares and get some dry close on because he wanted to talk to me so I went up and finnished my bath with a towl and put on a pare of pants and a shirt and come down and I and Hamilton had a good long talk.

Well Hamilton says that him and his wife had knew a bout what Martin was puting over on me for sevrul days but they thot it wasent there busness to but in unlest they was some real dammige done and when Hamilton seen the fire dept. out in the front of my house he thot it was a bout time to enterfear and I thanked him and we talked it all over and had a drink to gather and shook hands and he went home onily he told me beffore he went to not try and do nothing untill I could get Martin good and to wait for Martin to make the next move.

Well Charley it looks like I and Grace would be in right with the Hamiltons and the rest of the 4 hundred club and may be Martin will know enough to not try nothing more but if he does I and Hamilton will have him drove out of town onily a man cant help from feeling sorry for Mrs. Martin and I wont do nothing to injur her because a womman cant be blamed for looking at an other man onct in a wile.

Well Charley when Martin comes back I guess he will be supprised to find I and Grace hobbling a round with the Hamiltons and the other high monky monks hey Charley.

Your Bro.

Fred A. Gross.

The Young Immigrunts

Preface
1 … My Parents
2 … Starting Gaily
3 … Erie Lake
4 … Buffalo to Rochester 76.4
5 … My Father’s Idear
6 … Syracuse to Hudson 183.2
7 … Hudson
8 … Hudson to Yonkers 106.5
9 … The Bureau of Manhattan
10 … N. Y. to Grenitch 500.0
11 … How It Ended

Preface by the Father

The person whose name is signed to this novel was born on the nineteenth day of August, 1915, and was therefore four years and three months old when the manuscript was found, late in November, 1919. The narrative is substantially true, with the following exceptions:

1. “My Father,” the leading character in the work, is depicted as a man of short temper, whereas the person from whom the character was drawn is in reality as pleasant a fellow as one would care to meet and seldom has a cross word for any one, let alone women and children.

2. The witty speeches accredited to “My Father” have, possibly owing to the limitations of a child’s memory, been so garbled and twisted that they do not look half so good in print as they sounded in the open air.

3. More stops for gas were made than are mentioned in the story.

As the original manuscript was written on a typewriter with a rather frayed ribbon, and as certain words were marked out and others hand written in, I have taken the liberty of copying the entire work with a fresh ribbon and the inclusion of the changes which the author indicated in pencil in the first draft. Otherwise the story is presented to the reader exactly as it was first set down.

THE FATHER.

• 1 •

My Parents

My parents are both married and 1/2 of them are very good looking. The balance is tall and skiny and has a swarty complexion with moles but you hardily ever notice them on account of your gaze being rapped up in his feet which would be funny if brevvity wasnt the soul of wit. Everybody says I have his eyes and I am glad it didnt half to be something else tho Rollie Zeider the ball player calls him owl eyes for a nick name but if I was Rollie Zeider and his nose I wouldnt pick on somebodys else features.

He wears pretty shirts which he bought off of another old ball player Artie Hofman to attrack tension off of his feet and must of payed a big price for them I heard my ant tell my uncle when they thorght I was a sleep down to the lake tho I guess he pays even more for his shoes if they sell them by the frunt foot.

I was born in a hospittle in Chicago 4 years ago and liked it very much and had no idear we were going to move till 1 day last summer I heard my mother arsk our nurse did she think she could get along O. K with myself and 3 brothers John Jimmie and David for 10 days wilst she and my old man went east to look for a costly home.

Well yes said our nurse barshfully.

I may as well exclaim to the reader that John is 7 and Jimmie is 5 and I am 4 and David is almost nothing as yet you might say and tho I was named for my father they call me Bill thank God.

The conversation amungst my mother and our nurse took place right after my father came back from Toledo where Jack Dempsey knocked Jessie Willard for a gool tho my father liked the big fellow and bet on him.

David was in his bath at the time and my mother and our nurse and myself and 2 elder brothers was standing around admireing him tho I notice that when the rest of the family takes their bath they dont make open house of the occassion.

Well my parents went east and dureing their absents myself and brothers razed hell with David on the night shift but when they come back my mother said to the nurse were they good boys.

Fine replid our nurse lamely and where are you going to live.

Connecticut said my mother.

Our nurse forced a tired smile.

Here we will leave my parents to unpack and end this chapter.

• 2 •

Starting Gaily

We spent the rest of the summer on my granmother in Indiana and my father finley went to the worst series to write it up as he has followed sports of all sorts for years and is a expert so he bet on the wite sox and when he come home he acted rarther cross.

Well said my mother simperingly I suppose we can start east now.

We will start east when we get good and ready said my father with a lordly sneeze.

The next thing was how was we going to make the trip as my father had boughten a new car that the cheepest way to get it there was drive it besides carrying a grate deal of our costly bagage but if all of us went in it they would be no room left for our costly bagage and besides 2 of my brothers always acts like devils incarnite when they get in a car so my mother said to our nurse.

If you think you can manage the 2 older boys and David on the train myself and husband will take Bill in the car said my mother to our nurse.

Fine replid our nurse with a gastly look witch my mother did not see.

Myself and parents left Goshen Indiana on a fine Monday morning leaveing our nurse and brothers to come latter in the weak on the rail way. Our plans was to reach Detroit that night and stop with my uncle and ant and the next evening take the boat to Buffalo and thence to Connecticut by motor so the first town we past through was Middlebury.

Elmer Flick the old ball player use to live here said my father modestly.

My mother forced a smile and soon we were acrost the Michigan line and my mother made the remark that she was thirsty.

We will stop at Coldwater for lunch said my father with a strate face as he pulls most of his lines without changeing expressions.

Sure enough we puled up to 1 side of the road just after leaveing Coldwater and had our costly viands of frid chicken and doughnuts and milk fernished by my grate ant and of witch I partook freely.

We will stop at Ypsilanti for supper said my father in calm tones that is where they have the state normal school.

I was glad to hear this and hoped we would get there before dark as I had always wanted to come in contack with normal peaple and see what they are like and just at dusk we entered a large size town and drove past a large size football field.

Heavens said my mother this must be a abnormal school to have such a large football field.

My father wore a qeer look.

This is not Ypsilanti this is Ann Arbor he crid.

But I thorght you said we would go south of Ann Arbor and direct to Ypsilanti said my mother with a smirk.

I did say that but I thorght I would surprise you by comeing into Ann Arbor replid my father with a corse jesture.

Personly I think the suprise was unanimous.

Well now we are here said my mother we might as well look up Bill.

Bill is my uncle Bill so we stoped at the Alfa Delt house and got him and took him down to the hotel for supper and my old man called up Mr. Yost the football coach of the Michigan football team and he come down and visited with us.

What kind of a team have you got coach said my father lamely.

I have got a determined team replid Mr. Yost they are determined to not play football.

At this junction my unlucky mother changed the subjeck to the league of nations and it was 10 o’clock before Mr. Yost come to a semi colon so we could resume our jurney and by the time we past through Ypsilanti the peaple was not only subnormal but unconsius. It was nerly midnight when we puled up in frunt of my ants and uncles house in Detroit that had been seting up since 7 expecting us.

Were sorry to be so late said my mother bruskly.

Were awfully glad you could come at all replid my ant with a ill consealed yawn.

We will now leave my relitives to get some sleep and end this chapter.

• 3 •

Erie Lake

The boat leaves Detroit every afternoon at 5 oclock and reachs Buffalo the next morning at 9 tho I would better exclaim to my readers that when it is 9 oclock in Buffalo it is only 8 oclock in Goshen for instants as Buffalo peaple are qeer.

Well said my father the next morning at brekfus I wander what time we half to get the car on the board of the boat.

I will find out down town and call up and let you know replid my uncle who is a engineer and digs soors or something.

Sure enough he called up dureing the fornoon and said the car must be on the board of the boat at 3 oclock so my father left the house at 2 oclock and drove down to the worf tho he had never drove a car in Detroit before but has nerves of steal. Latter my uncle come out to his home and took myself and mother and ant down to the worf where my old man was waiting for us haveing put the car on the board.

What have you been doing ever since 3 oclock arsked my mother as it was now nerly 5.

Haveing a high ball my father replid.

I thorght Detroit was dry said my mother shyly.

Did you said my father with a rye smile and as it was now nerly time for the boat to leave we said good by to my uncle and ant and went on the boat. A messenger took our costly bagage and put it away wilst myself and parents went out on the porch and set looking at the peaple on the worf. Suddenly they was a grate hub bub on the worf and a young man and lady started up the gangs plank wilst a big crowd throwed rice and old shoes at them and made a up roar.

Bride and glum going to Niagara Falls said my father who is well travelled and seams to know everything.

Instantly the boat give a blarst on the wistle and I started with suprise.

Did that scare you Bill said my father and seamed to enjoy it and I supose he would of laughed out right had I fell overboard and been drowned in the narsty river water.

Soon we were steeming up the river on the city of Detroit 3.

That is Canada over there is it not said my mother.

What did you think it was the Austrian Tyrol replid my father explodeing a cough. Dureing our progress up the river I noticed sevral funny things flotting in the water with lanterns hanging on them and was wandering what they could be when my mother said they seam to have plenty of boys.

They have got nothing on us replid my father quick as a flarsh.

A little latter who should come out on the porch and set themselfs ner us but the bride and glum.

Oh I said to myself I hope they will talk so as I can hear them as I have always wandered what newlyweds talk about on their way to Niagara Falls and soon my wishs was realized.

Some night said the young glum are you warm enough.

I am perfectly comfertible replid the fare bride tho her looks belid her words what time do we arive in Buffalo.

9 oclock said the lordly glum are you warm enough.

I am perfectly comfertible replid the fare bride what time do we arive in Buffalo.

9 oclock said the lordly glum I am afrade it is too cold for you out here.

Well maybe it is replid the fare bride and without farther adieu they went in the spacius parlers.

I wander will he be arsking her 8 years from now is she warm enough said my mother with a faint grimace.

The weather may change before then replid my father.

Are you warm enough said my father after a slite pause.

No was my mothers catchy reply.

Well said my father we arive in Buffalo at 9 oclock and with that we all went inside as it was now pitch dark and had our supper and retired and when we rose the next morning and drest and had brekfus we puled up to the worf in Buffalo and it was 9 oclock so I will leave the city of Detroit 3 tide to the worf and end this chapter.

• 4 •

Buffalo to Rochester 76.4

As we was leaveing the boat who should I see right along side of us but the fare bride and the lordly glum.

We are right on the dot said the glum looking at his costly watch it is just 9 oclock and so they past out of my life.

We had to wait qite a wile wilst the old man dug up his bill of loading and got the costly moter.

We will half to get some gas he said I wonder where they is a garage.

No sooner had the words fell from his lips when a man with a flagrant Adams apple handed him a card with the name of a garage on it.

Go up Genesee st 5 blks and turn to the left or something said the man with the apple.

Soon we reached the garage and had the gas tank filled with gas it was 27 cents in Buffalo and soon we was on our way to Rochester. Well these are certainly grate roads said my father barshfully.

They have lots better roads in the east than out west replid my mother with a knowing wink.

The roads all through the east are better than out west remarked my father at lenth.

These are wonderfull replid my mother smuggleing me vs her arm.

The time past quickly with my parents in so jocular a mood and all most before I knew it we was on the outer skirts of Batavia.

What town is this quired my mother in a tolerant voice.

Batavia husked my father sloughing down to 15 miles per hour.

Well maybe we would better stop and have lunch here said my mother coyly.

We will have lunch in Rochester replid my father with a loud cough.

My mother forced a smile and it was about 1/2 past 12 when we arived in Rochester and soon we was on Genesee st and finley stoped in front of a elegant hotel and shared a costly lunch.

• 5 •

My Father’s Idear

Whilst participateing in the lordly viands my father halled out his map and give it the up and down.

Look at here he said at lenth they seams to be a choice of 2 main roads between here and Syracuse but 1 of them gos way up north to Oswego wilst the other gos way south to Geneva where as Syracuse is strate east from here you might say so it looks to me like we would save both millage and time if we was to drive strate east through Lyons the way the railway gos.

Well I dont want to ride on the ties said my mother with a loud cough.

Well you dont half to because they seams to be a little road that gos strate through replid my father removeing a flys cadaver from the costly farina.

Well you would better stick to the main roads said my mother tacklessly.

Well you would better stick to your own business replid my father with a pungent glance.

Soon my father had payed the check and gave the waiter a lordly bribe and once more we sprang into the machine and was on our way. The lease said about the results of my fathers grate idear the soonest mended in a word it turned out to be a holycost of the first water as after we had covered miles and miles of ribald roads we suddenly come to a abrupt conclusion vs the side of a stagnant freight train that was stone deef to honks. My father set there for nerly 1/2 a hour reciteing the 4 Horses of the Apoplex in a under tone but finley my mother mustard up her curage and said affectedly why dont we turn around and go back somewheres. I cant spell what my father replid.

At lenth my old man decided that Lyons wouldnt never come to Mahomet if we set it out on the same lines all winter so we backed up and turned around and retraced 4 miles of shell holes and finley reached our objective by way of Detour.

Puling up in front of a garage my father beckoned to a dirty mechanic.

How do we get to Syracuse from here arsked my father blushing furiously.

Go strate south to Geneva and then east to Syracuse replid the dirty mechanic with a loud cough.

Isnt there no short cut arsked my father.

Go strate south to Geneva and then east to Syracuse replid the dirty mechanic.

You see daddy we go to Geneva after all I said brokenly but luckly for my piece of mind my father dont beleive in corporeal punishment a specially in front of Lyons peaple.

Soon we was on a fine road and nothing more hapened till we puled into Syracuse at 7 that evening and as for the conversation that changed hands in the car between Lyons and Syracuse you could stick it in a day message and send it for 30 cents.

• 6 •

Syracuse to Hudson 183.2

Soon we was on Genesee st in Syracuse but soon turned off a blk or 2 and puled up in front of a hotel that I cant ether spell or pronounce besides witch they must of been a convention of cheese sculpters or something stoping there and any way it took the old man a hour to weedle a parler bed room and bath out of the clerk and put up a cot for me.

Wilst we was enjoying a late and futile supper in the hotel dinning room a man named Duffy reckonized my father and came to our table and arsked him to go to some boxing matchs in Syracuse that night.

Thanks very much said my father with a slite sneeze but you see what I have got on my hands besides witch I have been driveing all day and half to start out again erly in the morning so I guess not.

Between you and I dear reader my old man has been oposed to pugilisms since the 4 of July holycost.

Who is that man arsked my mother when that man had gone away.

Mr. Duffy replid my father shove the ketchup over this way.

Yes I know he is Mr. Duffy but where did you meet him insisted my mother quaintly.

In Boston my father replid where would a person meet a man named Duffy.

When we got up the next morning it was 6 o’clock and purring rain but we eat a costly brekfus and my father said we would save time if we would all walk down to the garage where he had horded the car witch he stated was only 2 short blks away from the hotel. Well if it was only 2 short blks why peaple that lives next door to each other in Syracuse are by no means neighbors and when we got there the entire party was soping wet and rarther rabid.

We will all catch our death of cold chuckled my mother.

What of it explained my old man with a dirty look at the sky.

Maybe we would better put up the curtains sugested my mother smirking.

Maybe we wouldnt too said my father cordialy.

Well maybe it will clear up said my mother convulsively.

Maybe it wont too replid my father as he capered into the drivers seat.

My father is charming company wilst driveing on strange roads through a purring rain and even when we past through Oneida and he pronounced it like it was a biscuit neither myself or my mother ventured to correct him but finley we reached Utica when we got to witch we puled up along side the kerb and got out and rang ourselfs out to a small extent when suddenly a closed car sored past us on the left.

Why that was Mrs. Heywood in that car explained my mother with a fierce jesture. By this time it was not raining and we got back into the car and presently over took the closed car witch stoped when they reckonized us.

And witch boy is this quired Mrs. Heywood when the usual compliments had been changed.

This is the third he is named for his father replid my mother forceing a smile.

He has his eyes was the comment.

Bill dont you remember Mrs. Heywood said my mother turning on me she use to live in Riverside and Dr. Heywood tended to you that time you had that slite atack of obesity.

Well yes I replid with a slite accent but did not add how rotten the medicine tasted that time and soon we was on Genesee st on our way out of Utica.

I wander why they dont name some of their sts Genesee in these eastren towns said my father for the sun was now shining but no sooner had we reached Herkimer when the clouds bersed with renude vigger and I think my old man was about to say we will stop here and have lunch when my mother sugested it herself.

No replid my father with a corse jesture we will go on to Little Falls.

It was raining cats and dogs when we arived at Little Falls and my father droped a quaint remark.

If Falls is a verb he said the man that baptized this town was a practicle joker.

We will half to change our close replid my mother steping into a mud peddle in front of the hotel with a informal look.

When we had done so we partook of a meger lunch and as it was now only drooling resumed our jurney.

They soked me 5 for that room said my father but what is a extra sokeing or 2 on a day like this.

I didnt mean for you to get a room said my mother violently.

Where did you want us to change our close on the register said my old man turning pail.

Wasnt it funny that we should happen to see Mrs. Heywood in Utica said my mother at lenth.

They live there dont they my father replid.

Why yes my mother replid.

Well then my father replid the real joke would of been if we had of happened to see her in Auburn.

A little wile latter we past a grate many signs reading dine at the Big Nose Mountain Inn.

Rollie Zeider never told me they had named a mountain after him crid my father and soon we past through Fonda.

Soon we past through Amsterdam and I guess I must of dosed off at lease I cant remember anything between there and Schenectady and I must apologize to my readers for my laps as I am unable to ether describe the scenery or report anything that may of been said between these 2 points but I recall that as we entered Albany a remark was adrest to me for the first time since lunch.

Bill said my mother with a 1/2 smirk this is Albany the capital of New York state.

So this is Albany I thorght to my self.

Who is governer of New York now arsked my mother to my father.

Smith replid my father who seams to know everything.

Queer name said my mother sulkily.

Soon we puled up along side a policeman who my father arsked how do we get acrost the river to the New York road and if Albany pays their policemans by the word Ill say we were in the presents of a rich man and by the time he got through it was dark and still drooling and my old man didnt know the road and under those conditions I will not repete the conversation that transpired between Albany and Hudson but will end my chapter at the city limits of the last named settlemunt.

• 7 •

Hudson

We were turing gaily down the main st of Hudson when a man of 12 years capered out from the side walk and hoped on the runing board

Do you want a good garage he arsked with a dirty look.

Why yes my good man replid my father tenderly but first where is the best hotel.

I will take you there said the man.

I must be a grate favorite in Hudson my father wispered at my mother.

Soon foiling the mans directions we puled up in front of a hotel but when my father went at the register the clerk said I am full tonight.

Where do you get it around here arsked my father tenderly.

We have no rooms replid the senile clerk paying no tension to my old mans remark but there is a woman acrost the st that takes loggers.

Not to excess I hope replid my father but soon we went acrost the st and the woman agrede to hord us for the night so myself and moth er went to our apartmunts wilst my father and the 12 year old besought the garage. When we finley got reunited and went back to the hotel for supper it was past 8 oclock as a person could of told from the viands. Latter in front of our loggings we again met the young man who had welcomed us to Hudson and called my father to 1 side.

There is a sailer going to spend the night here he said in a horse wisper witch has walked all the way from his home Schenectady and he has got to report on his ship in New York tomorrow afternoon and has got no money so if he dont get a free ride he will be up vs it.

He can ride with us replid my father with a hiccup if tomorrow is anything like today a sailer will not feel out of place in my costly moter.

I will tell him replid the man with a corse jesture.

Will you call us at 1/2 past 5 my mother reqested to our lanlady as we entered our Hudson barracks.

I will if I am awake she replid use-ing her handkerchief to some extent.

Latter we wandered how anybody could help from being awake in that hot bed of mones and grones and cat calls and caterwauls and gulish screaks of all kinds and tho we had rose erly at Syracuse and had a day of retchedness we was all more than ready to get up when she wraped on our door long ere day brake.

Where is that sailer that stoped here last night quired my father as we was about to make a lordly out burst.

He wouldnt pay his bill and razed hell so I kicked him out replid the lanlady in her bear feet.

Without farther adieu my father payed his bill and we walked into the dismul st so I will end this chapter by leaveing the fare lanlady flaping in the door way in her sredded night gown.

• 8 •

Hudson to Yonkers 106.5

It was raining a little so my father bad my mother and I stand in the st wilst he went to the garage and retained the costly moter. He returned 1/2 a hour latter with the story that the garage had been locked and he had to go to the props house and roust him out.

How did you know where he lived quired my mother barshfully.

I used the brains god gave me was my fathers posthumous reply.

Soon we rumpled into Rhinebeck and as it was now day light and the rain had siezed we puled up in front of the Beekman arms for brekfus.

It says this is the oldest hotel in America said my mother reading the programme.

The eggs tastes all right replid my father with a corse jesture.

What is the next town quired my mother when we again set sale.

Pokippsie was my fathers reply.

Thats where Vassar is said my mother as my old man stiffled a yawn I wonder if there is a store there that would have a koop for David.

I doubt it they ever heard of him said my father dryly how much do they cost.

Well I dont know.

We entered Pokippsie at lenth and turned to the left up the main st and puled up in front of a big store where myself and mother went in and purchased a koop for my little brother and a kap for me witch only took a 1/2 hour dureing witch my father lost his temper and when we finley immerged he was barking like a dog and giveing the Vassar yell. 2 men come out of the store with us and tost the koop with the rest of the junk in the back seat and away we went.

Doesnt this look cute on him said my mother in regards to my new kap.

What of it replid my father with a grimace and with that we puled into Garrison.

Isnt this right acrost the river from West Point said my mother with a gastly look.

What of it replid my father tenderly and soon we found ourselfs in Peekskill.

This is where that young girl cousin of mine gos to school said my father from Philadelphia.

What of it said my mother with a loud cough and presently we stoped and bought 15 gals of gas.

I have got a fund of usefull information about every town we come to said my father admireingly for instants this is Harmon where they take off the steem engines and put on the electric bullgines.

My mother looked at him with ill consealed admiration.

And what do you know about this town she arsked as we frisked into Ossining.

Why this is Ossining where they take off the hair and put on the stripes replid my father qick as a flarsh and the next place is Tarrytown where John D. Rockefeller has a estate.

What is the name of the estate quired my mother breathlessly.

Socony I supose was the sires reply.

With that we honked into Yonkers and up the funny looking main st

What a funny looking st said my mother and I always thorght it was the home of well to do peaple.

Well yes replid my father it is the home of the ruling class at lease Bill Klem the umpire and Bill Langford the referee lives here.

I will end my chapter on that one.

• 9 •

The Bureau of Manhattan

Isn’t it about time said my mother as we past Spuyten Duyvil and entered the Bureau of Manhattan that we made our plans.

What plans said my father all my plans is all ready made.

Well then you might make me your confident sugested my mother with a quaint smirk.

Well then heres the dope uttered my father in a vage tone I am going to drop you at the 125 st station where you will only half to wait 2 hours and a 1/2 for the rest of the family as the train from the west is do at 350 at 125 st in the meen wile I will drive out to Grenitch with Bill and see if the house is ready and etc and if the other peaples train is on time you can catch the 4 4 and I an Bill will meet you at the Grenitch station.

If you have time get a qt of milk for David said my mother with a pail look.

What kind of milk arsked my dad.

Oh sour milk my mother screened.

As she was now in a pretty bad temper we will leave her to cool off for 2 hours and a 1/2 in the 125 st station and end this chapter.

• 10 •

N. Y. to Grenitch 500.0

The lease said about my and my fathers trip from the Bureau of Manhattan to our new home the soonest mended. In some way ether I or he got balled up on the grand concorpse and next thing you know we was thretning to swoop down on Pittsfield.

Are you lost daddy I arsked tenderly.

Shut up he explained.

At lenth we doubled on our tracks and done much better as we finley hit New Rochelle and puled up along side a policeman with falling archs.

What road do I take for Grenitch Conn quired my father with poping eyes.

Take the Boston post replid the policeman.

I have all ready subscribed to one out of town paper said my father and steped on the gas so we will leave the flat foot gaping after us like a prune fed calf and end this chapter.

• 11 •

How It Ended

True to our promise we were at the station in Grenitch when the costly train puled in from 125 st. Myself and father hoped out of the lordly moter and helped the bulk of the famly off of the train and I aloud our nurse and my 3 brothers to kiss me tho Davids left me rarther moist.

Did you have a hard trip my father arsked to our nurse shyly.

Why no she replid with a slite stager.

She did too said my mother they all acted like little devils.

Did you get Davids milk she said turning on my father.

Why no does he like milk my father replid with a gastly smirk.

We got lost mudder I said brokenly.

We did not screened my father and accidently cracked me in the shins with a stray foot.

To change the subjeck I turned my tensions on my brother Jimmie who is nerest my age.

I’ve seen our house Jimmie I said brokenly I got here first.

Yes but I slept all night on a train and you didnt replid Jimmie with a dirty look.

Nether did you said my brother John to Jimmie you was awake all night.

Were awake said my mother.

Me and David was awake all night and crid said my brother John.

But I only crid once the whole time said my brother Jimmie.

But I didnt cry at all did I I arsked to my mother.

So she replid with a loud cough Bill was a very very good boy.

So now we will say fare well to the characters in this book.

The Big Town

1 … Quick Returns
2 … Beautiful Katie
3 … The Battle of Long Island
4 … Only One
5 … Comic

• 1 •

Quick Returns

This is just a clipping from one of the New York papers; a little kidding piece that they had in about me two years ago. It says:

Hoosier Cleans Up in Wall Street. Employees of the brokerage firm of H. L. Krause & Co. are authority for the statement that a wealthy Indiana speculator made one of the biggest killings of the year in the Street yesterday afternoon. No very definite information was obtainable, as the Westerner’s name was known to only one of the firm’s employees, Francis Griffin, and he was unable to recall it last night.

You’d think I was a millionaire and that I’d made a sucker out of Morgan or something, but it’s only a kid, see? If they’d of printed the true story they wouldn’t of had no room left for that day’s selections at Pimlico, and God knows that would of been fatal.

But if you want to hear about it, I’ll tell you.

Well, the War wound up in the fall of 1918. The only member of my family that was killed in it was my wife’s stepfather. He died of grief when it ended with him two hundred thousand dollars ahead. I immediately had a black bandage sewed round my left funny bone, but when they read us the will I felt all right again and tore it off. Our share was seventy-five thousand dollars. This was after we had paid for the inheritance tax and the amusement stamps on a horseless funeral.

My young sister-in-law, Katie, dragged down another seventy-five thousand dollars and the rest went to the old bird that had been foreman in Papa’s factory. This old geezer had been starving to death for twenty years on the wages my stepfather-in-law give him, and the rest of us didn’t make no holler when his name was read off for a small chunk, especially as he didn’t have no teeth to enjoy it with.

I could of had this old foreman’s share, maybe, if I’d of took advantage of the offer “Father” made me just before his daughter and I was married. I was over in Niles, Michigan, where they lived, and he insisted on me seeing his factory, which meant smelling it too. At that time I was knocking out about eighteen hundred dollars per annum selling cigars out of South Bend, and the old man said he would start me in with him at only about a fifty per cent cut, but we would also have the privilege of living with him and my wife’s kid sister.

“They’s a lot to be learnt about this business,” he says, “but if you would put your mind on it you might work up to manager. Who knows?”

“My nose knows,” I said, and that ended it.

The old man had lost some jack and went into debt a good many years ago, and for a long wile before the war begin about all as he was able to do was support himself and the two gals and pay off a part of what he owed. When the war broke loose and leather went up to hell and gone I and my wife thought he would get prosperous, but before this country went in his business went on about the same as usual.

“I don’t know how they do it,” he would say. “Other leather men is getting rich on contracts with the Allies, but I can’t land a one.”

I guess he was trying to sell razor strops to Russia.

Even after we got into it and he begin to clean up, with the factory running day and night, all as we knew was that he had contracts with the U. S. Government, but he never confided in us what special stuff he was turning out. For all as we knew, it may of been medals for the ground navy.

Anyway, he must of been hitting a fast clip when the armistice come and ended the war for everybody but Congress! It’s a cinch he wasn’t amongst those arrested for celebrating too loud on the night of November 11. On the contrary they tell me that when the big news hit Niles the old bird had a stroke that he didn’t never recover from, and though my wife and Katie hung round the bedside day after day in the hopes he would tell how much he was going to leave he was keeping his fiscal secrets for Oliver Lodge or somebody, and it wasn’t till we seen the will that we knew we wouldn’t have to work no more, which is pretty fair consolation even for the loss of a stepfather-in-law that ran a perfume mill.

“Just think,” said my wife, “after all his financial troubles, Papa died a rich man!”

“Yes,” I said to myself, “and a patriot. His only regret was that he just had one year to sell leather to his country.”

If the old codger had of only been half as fast a salesman as his two daughters this clipping would of been right when it called me a wealthy Hoosier. It wasn’t two weeks after we seen the will when the gals had disposed of the odor factory and the old home in Niles, Michigan. Katie, it seemed, had to come over to South Bend and live with us. That was agreeable to me, as I figured that if two could live on eighteen hundred dollars a year three could struggle along some way on the income off one hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

Only for me, though, Ella and Sister Kate would of shot the whole wad into a checking account so as the bank could enjoy it wile it lasted. I argued and fought and finally persuaded them to keep five thousand apiece for pin money and stick the rest into bonds.

The next thing they done was run over to Chi and buy all the party dresses that was vacant. Then they come back to South Bend and wished somebody would give a party. But between you and I the people we’d always ran round with was birds that was ready for bed as soon as they got home from the first show, and even though it had been printed in the News-Times that we had fell heir to a lot of jack we didn’t have to hire no extra clerical help to tend to invitations received from the demi-Monday.

Finally Ella said we would start something ourselves. So she got a lot of invitations printed and sent them to all our friends that could read and hired a cater and a three-piece orchestra and everything, and made me buy a dress suit.

Well, the big night arrived and everybody come that had somebody to leave their baby with. The hosts wore evening clothes and the rest of the merrymakers prepared for the occasion with a shine or a clean collar. At first the cat had everybody’s tongue, but when we sat down to eat some of the men folks begun to get comical. For instance, they would say to my wife or Katie, “Ain’t you afraid you’ll catch cold?” And they’d say to me, “I didn’t know you was a waiter at the Oliver.” Before the fish course everybody was in a fair way to get the giggles.

After supper the musicians come and hid behind a geranium and played a jazz. The entire party set out the first dance. The second was a solo between Katie and I, and I had the third with my wife. Then Kate and the Mrs. had one together, wile I tried holds with a lady named Mrs. Eckhart, who seemed to think that somebody had ast her to stand for a time exposure. The men folks had all drifted over behind the plant to watch the drummer, but after the stalemate between Mrs. Eckhart and I, I grabbed her husband and took him out in the kitchen and showed him a bottle of bourbon that I’d been saving for myself, in the hopes it would loosen him up. I told him it was my last bottle, but he must of thought I said it was the last bottle in the world. Anyway, when he got through they was international prohibition.

We went back in the ballroom and sure enough he ast Katie to dance. But he hadn’t no sooner than win one fall when his wife challenged him to take her home and that started the epidemic that emptied the house of everybody but the orchestra and us. The orchestra had been hired to stay till midnight, which was still two hours and a half distance, so I invited both of the gals to dance with me at once, but it seems like they was surfeited with that sport and wanted to cry a little. Well, the musicians had ran out of blues, so I chased them home.

“Some party!” I said, and the two girls give me a dirty look like it was my fault or something. So we all went to bed and the ladies beat me to it on account of being so near ready.

Well, they wasn’t no return engagements even hinted at and the only other times all winter when the gals had a chance to dress up was when some secondhand company would come to town with a show and I’d have to buy a box. We couldn’t ask nobody to go with us on account of not having no friends that you could depend on to not come in their stocking feet.

Finally it was summer and the Mrs. said she wanted to get out of town.

“We’ve got to be fair to Kate,” she said.

“We don’t know no young unmarried people in South Bend and it’s no fun for a girl to run round with her sister and brother-in-law. Maybe if we’d go to some resort somewheres we might get acquainted with people that could show her a good time.”

So I hired us rooms in a hotel down to Wawasee Lake and we stayed there from the last of June till the middle of September. During that time I caught a couple of bass and Kate caught a couple of carp from Fort Wayne. She was getting pretty friendly with one of them when along come a wife that he hadn’t thought was worth mentioning. The other bird was making a fight against the gambling fever, but one night it got the best of him and he dropped forty-five cents in the nickel machine and had to go home and make a new start.

About a week before we was due to leave I made the remark that it would seem good to be back in South Bend and get some home cooking.

“Listen!” says my wife. “I been wanting for a long wile to have a serious talk with you and now’s as good a time as any. Here are I and Sis and you with an income of over eight thousand dollars a year and having pretty near as good a time as a bird with habitual boils. What’s more, we can’t never have a good time in South Bend, but have got to move somewhere where we are unknown.”

“South Bend is certainly all of that,” I said.

“No, it isn’t,” said the Mrs. “We’re acquainted there with the kind of people that makes it impossible for us to get acquainted with the other kind. Kate could live there twenty years and never meet a decent man. She’s a mighty attractive girl, and if she had a chance they’s nobody she couldn’t marry. But she won’t never have a chance in South Bend. And they’s no use of you saying ‘Let her move,’ because I’m going to keep her under my eye till she’s married and settled down. So in other words, I want us to pack up and leave South Bend for good and all and move somewhere where we’ll get something for our money.”

“For instance, where?” I ast her.

“They’s only one place,” she said; “New York City.”

“I’ve heard of it,” said I, “but I never heard that people who couldn’t enjoy themselves on eight thousand a year in South Bend could go to New York and tear it wide open.”

“I’m not planning to make no big splurge,” she says. “I just want to be where they’s Life and fun; where we can meet real live people. And as for not living there on eight thousand, think of the families that’s already living there on half of that and less!”

“And think of the Life and fun they’re having!” I says.

“But when you talk about eight thousand a year,” said the Mrs., “why do we have to hold ourselves to that? We can sell some of those bonds and spend a little of our principal. It will just be taking money out of one investment and putting it in another.”

“What other?” I ast her.

“Kate,” said the wife. “You let me take her to New York and manage her and I’ll get her a husband that’ll think our eight thousand a year fell out of his vest.”

“Do you mean,” I said, “that you’d let a sister of yours marry for money?”

“Well,” she says, “I know a sister of hers that wouldn’t mind if she had.”

So I argued and tried to compromise on somewhere in America, but it was New York or nothing with her. You see, she hadn’t never been here, and all as she knew about it she’d read in books and magazines, and for some reason another when authors starts in on that subject it ain’t very long till they’ve got a weeping jag. Besides, what chance did I have when she kept reminding me that it was her stepfather, not mine, that had croaked and made us all rich?

When I had give up she called Kate in and told her, and Kate squealed and kissed us both, though God knows I didn’t deserve no remuneration or ask for none.

Ella had things all planned out. We was to sell our furniture and take a furnished apartment here, but we would stay in some hotel till we found a furnished apartment that was within reason.

“Our stay in some hotel will be life-long,” I said.

The furniture, when we come to sell it, wasn’t worth nothing, and that’s what we got. We didn’t have nothing to ship, as Ella found room for our books in my collar box. I got two lowers and an upper in spite of the Government, and with two taxi drivers and the baggageman thronging the station platform we pulled out of South Bend and set forth to see Life.

The first four miles of the journey was marked by considerable sniveling on the part of the heiresses.

“If it’s so painful to leave the Bend let’s go back,” I said.

“It isn’t leaving the Bend,” said the Mrs., “but it makes a person sad to leave any place.”

“Then we’re going to have a muggy trip,” said I. “This train stops pretty near everywhere to either discharge passengers or employees.”

They were still sobbing when we left Mishawaka and I had to pull some of my comical stuff to get their minds off. My wife’s mighty easy to look at when she hasn’t got those watery blues, but I never did see a gal that knocked you for a goal when her nose was in full bloom.

Katie had brought a flock of magazines and started in on one of them at Elkhart, but it’s pretty tough trying to read with the Northern Indiana mountains to look out at, to say nothing about the birds of prey that kept prowling up and down the aisle in search of a little encouragement or a game of rhum.

I noticed a couple of them that would of give a lady an answer if she’d approached them in a nice way, but I’ve done some traveling myself and I know what kind of men it is that allows themselves to be drawed into a flirtation on trains. Most of them has made the mistake of getting married some time, but they don’t tell you that. They tell you that you and a gal they use to be stuck on is as much alike as a pair of corsets, and if you ever come to Toledo to give them a ring, and they hand you a telephone number that’s even harder to get than the ones there are; and they ask you your name and address and write it down, and the next time they’re up at the Elks they show it to a couple of the brothers and tell what they’d of done if they’d only been going all the way through.

“Say, I hate to talk about myself! But say!”

Well, I didn’t see no sense in letting Katie waste her time on those kind of guys, so every time one of them looked our way I give him the fish eye and the non-stop signal. But this was my first long trip since the Government started to play train, and I didn’t know the new rules in regards to getting fed; otherwise I wouldn’t of never cleaned up in Wall Street.

In the old days we use to wait till the boy come through and announced that dinner was now being served in the dining car forward; then we’d saunter into the washroom and wash our hands if necessary, and ramble into the diner and set right down and enjoy as big a meal as we could afford. But the Government wants to be economical, so they’ve cut down the number of trains, to say nothing about the victuals; and they’s two or three times as many people traveling, because they can’t throw their money away fast enough at home. So the result is that the wise guys keeps an eye on their watch and when it’s about twenty minutes to dinner time they race to the diner and park against the door and get quick action; and after they’ve eat the first time they go out and stand in the vestibule and wait till it’s their turn again, as one Federal meal don’t do nothing to your appetite only whet it, you might say.

Well, anyway, I was playing the old rules and by the time I and the two gals started for the diner we run up against the outskirts of a crowd pretty near as big as the ones that waits outside restaurant windows to watch a pancake turn turtle. About eight o’clock we got to where we could see the wealthy dining car conductor in the distance, but it was only about once every quarter of an hour that he raised a hand, and then he seemed to of had all but one of his fingers shot off.

I have often heard it said that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, but every time I ever seen men and women keep waiting for their eats it was always the frail sex that give the first yelp, and personally I’ve often wondered what would of happened in the trenches Over There if ladies had of been occupying them when the rations failed to show up. I guess the bombs bursting round would of sounded like Sweet and Low sang by a quextette of deef mutes.

Anyway, my two charges was like wild animals, and when the con finally held up two fingers I didn’t have no more chance or desire to stop them than as if they was the Center College Football Club right after opening prayer.

The pair of them was ushered to a table for four where they already was a couple of guys making the best of it, and it wasn’t more than ten minutes later when one of these birds dipped his bill in the finger bowl and staggered out, but by the time I took his place the other gent and my two gals was talking like barbers.

The guy was Francis Griffin that’s in the clipping. But when Ella introduced us all as she said was, “This is my husband,” without mentioning his name, which she didn’t know at that time, or mine, which had probably slipped her memory.

Griffin looked at me like I was a side dish that he hadn’t ordered. Well, I don’t mind snubs except when I get them, so I ast him if he wasn’t from Sioux City – you could tell he was from New York by his blue collar.

“From Sioux City!” he says. “I should hope not!”

“I beg your pardon,” I said. “You look just like a photographer I used to know out there.”

“I’m a New Yorker,” he said, “and I can’t get home too soon.”

“Not on this train, you can’t,” I said.

“I missed the Century,” he says.

“Well,” I says with a polite smile, “the Century’s loss is our gain.”

“You wife’s been telling me,” he says, “that you’re moving to the Big Town. Have you ever been there?”

“Only for a few hours,” I says.

“Well,” he said, “when you’ve been there a few weeks you’ll wonder why you ever lived anywhere else. When I’m away from old Broadway I always feel like I’m only camping out.”

Both the gals smiled their appreciation, so I says: “That certainly expresses it. You’d ought to remember that line and give it to Georgie Cohan.”

“Old Georgie!” he says. “I’d give him anything I got and welcome. But listen! Your wife mentioned something about a good hotel to stop at wile you’re looking for a home. Take my advice and pick out one that’s near the center of things; you’ll more than make up the difference in taxi bills. I lived up in the Hundreds one winter and it averaged me ten dollars a day in cab fares.”

“You must of had a pleasant home life,” I says.

“Me!” he said. “I’m an old bachelor.”

“Old!” says Kate, and her and the Mrs. both giggled.

“But seriously,” he says, “if I was you I would go right to the Baldwin, where you can get a room for twelve dollars a day for the three of you; and you’re walking distance from the theaters or shops or cafs or anywheres you want to go.”

“That sounds grand!” said Ella.

“As far as I’m concerned,” I said, “I’d just as lief be overseas from any of the places you’ve mentioned. What I’m looking for is a home with a couple of beds and a cook-stove in the kitchen, and maybe a bath.”

“But we want to see New York first,” said Katie, “and we can do that better without no household cares.”

“That’s the idear!” says Griffin. “Eat, drink and be merry; tomorrow we may die.”

“I guess we won’t drink ourselves to death,” I said, “not if the Big Town’s like where we been living.”

“Oh, say!” says our new friend. “Do you think little old New York is going to stand for prohibition? Why, listen! I can take you to thirty places tomorrow night where you can get all you want in any one of them.”

“Let’s pass up the other twenty-nine,” I says.

“But that isn’t the idear,” he said. “What makes we New Yorkers sore is to think they should try and wish a law like that on Us. Isn’t this supposed to be a government of the people, for the people and by the people?”

“People!” I said. “Who and the hell voted for prohibition if it wasn’t the people?”

“The people of where?” he says. “A lot of small-time hicks that couldn’t buy a drink if they wanted it.”

“Including the hicks,” I says, “that’s in the New York State legislature.”

“But not the people of New York City,” he said. “And you can’t tell me it’s fair to spring a thing like this without warning on men that’s got their fortunes tied up in liquor that they can’t never get rid of now, only at a sacrifice.”

“You’re right,” I said. “They ought to give them some warning. Instead of that they was never even a hint of what was coming off till Maine went dry seventy years ago.”

“Maine?” he said. “What the hell is Maine?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Only they was a ship or a boat or something named after it once, and the Spaniards sunk it and we sued them for libel or something.”

“You’re a smart Aleck,” he said. “But speaking about war, where was you?”

“In the shipyards at South Bend painting a duck boat,” I says. “And where was you?”

“I’d of been in there in a few more weeks,” he says. “They wasn’t no slackers in the Big Town.”

“No,” said I, “and America will never forget New York for coming in on our side.”

By this time the gals was both giving me dirty looks, and we’d eat all we could get, so we paid our checks and went back in our car and I felt kind of apologetic, so I dug down in the old grip and got out a bottle of bourbon that a South Bend pal of mine, George Hull, had give me the day before; and Griffin and I went in the washroom with it and before the evening was over we was pretty near ready to forget national boundaries and kiss.

The old bourb’ helped me save money the next morning, as I didn’t care for no breakfast. Ella and Kate went in with Griffin and you could of knocked me over with a coupling pin when the Mrs. come back and reported that he’d insisted on paying the check. “He told us all about himself,” she said. “His name is Francis Griffin and he’s in Wall Street. Last year he cleared twenty thousand dollars in commissions and everything.”

“He’s a piker,” I says. “Most of them never even think under six figures.”

“There you go!” said the Mrs. “You never believe nothing. Why shouldn’t he be telling the truth? Didn’t he buy our breakfast?”

“I been buying your breakfast for five years,” I said, “but that don’t prove that I’m knocking out twenty thousand per annum in Wall Street.”

Francis and Katie was setting together four or five seats ahead of us.

“You ought to of seen the way he looked at her in the diner,” said the Mrs. “He looked like he wanted to eat her up.”

“Everybody gets desperate in a diner these days,” I said. “Did you and Kate go fifty-fifty with him? Did you tell him how much money we got?”

“I should say not!” says Ella. “But I guess we did say that you wasn’t doing nothing just now and that we was going to New York to see Life, after being cooped up in a small town all these years. And Sis told him you’d made us put pretty near everything in bonds, so all we can spend is eight thousand a year. He said that wouldn’t go very far in the Big Town.”

“I doubt if it ever gets as far as the Big Town,” I said. “It won’t if he makes up his mind to take it away from us.”

“Oh, shut up!” said the Mrs. “He’s all right and I’m for him, and I hope Sis is too. They’d make a stunning couple. I wished I knew what they’re talking about.”

“Well,” I said, “they’re both so reserved that I suppose they’re telling each other how they’re affected by cucumbers.”

When they come back and joined us Ella said: “We was just remarking how well you two young things seemed to be getting along. We was wondering what you found to say to one another all this time.”

“Well,” said Francis, “just now I think we were discussing you. Your sister said you’d been married five years and I pretty near felt like calling her a fibber. I told her you looked like you was just out of high school.”

“I’ve heard about you New Yorkers before,” said the Mrs. “You’re always trying to flatter somebody.”

“Not me,” said Francis. “I never say nothing without meaning it.”

“But sometimes,” says I, “you’d ought to go on and explain the meaning.”

Along about Schenectady my appetite begin to come back. I’d made it a point this time to find out when the diner was going to open, and then when it did our party fell in with the door.

“The wife tells me you’re on the stock exchange,” I says to Francis when we’d give our order.

“Just in a small way,” he said. “But they been pretty good to me down there. I knocked out twenty thousand last year.”

“That’s what he told us this morning,” said Ella.

“Well,” said I, “they’s no reason for a man to forget that kind of money between Rochester and Albany, even if this is a slow train.”

“Twenty thousand isn’t a whole lot in the Big Town,” said Francis, “but still and all, I manage to get along and enjoy myself a little on the side.”

“I suppose it’s enough to keep one person,” I said.

“Well,” says Francis, “they say two can live as cheap as one.”

Then him and Kate and Ella all giggled, and the waiter brought in a part of what he thought we’d ordered and we eat what we could and ast for the check. Francis said he wanted it and I was going to give in to him after a long hard struggle, but the gals reminded him that he’d paid for breakfast, so he said all right, but we’d all have to take dinner with him some night.

I and Francis set a wile in the washroom and smoked, and then he went to entertain the gals, but I figured the wife would go right to sleep like she always does when they’s any scenery to look out at, so I stuck where I was and listened to what a couple of toothpick salesmen from Omsk would of done with the League of Nations if Wilson had of had sense enough to leave it to them.

Pulling into the Grand Central Station, Francis apologized for not being able to steer us over to the Baldwin and see us settled, but said he had to rush right downtown and report on his Chicago trip before the office closed. To see him when he parted with the gals you’d of thought he was going clear to Siberia to compete in the Olympic Games, or whatever it is we’re in over there.

Well, I took the heiresses to the Baldwin and got a regular Big Town welcome. Ella and Kate set against a pillar wile I tried different tricks to make an oil-haired clerk look at me. New York hotel clerks always seem to of just dropped something and can’t take their eyes off the floor. Finally I started to pick up the register and the guy give me the fish eye and ast what he could do for me.

“Well,” I said, “when I come to a hotel I don’t usually want to buy a straw hat.”

He ast me if I had a reservation and I told him no.

“Can’t do nothing for you then,” he says. “Not till tomorrow morning anyway.”

So I went back to the ladies.

“We’ll have to go somewhere else,” I said. “This joint’s a joint. They won’t give us nothing till tomorrow.”

“But we can’t go nowhere else,” said the Mrs. “What would Mr. Griffin think, after recommending us to come here?”

“Well,” I said, “if you think I’m going to park myself in a four-post chair all night just because we got a tip on a hotel from Wall Street you’re Queen of the Cuckoos.”

“Are you sure they haven’t anything at all?” she says.

“Go ask them yourself!” I told her.

Well, she did, and in about ten minutes she come back and said everything was fixed.

“They’ll give us a single room with bath and a double room with bath for fifteen dollars a day,” she said.

“‘Give us’ is good!” said I.

“I told him we’d wired for reservations and it wasn’t our fault if the wire didn’t get here,” she said. “He was awfully nice.”

Our rooms was right close to each other on the twenty-first floor. On the way up we decided by two votes to one that we’d dress for dinner. I was still monkeying with my tie when Katie come in for Ella to look her over. She had on the riskiest dress she’d bought in Chi.

“It’s a pretty dress,” she said, “but I’m afraid maybe it’s too daring for just a hotel dining room.”

Say we hadn’t no sooner than set down in the hotel dining room when two other gals come in that made my team look like they was dressed for a sleigh ride with Doc Cook.

“I guess you don’t feel so daring now,” I said. “Compared to that baby in black you’re wearing Jess Willard’s ulster.”

“Do you know what that black gown cost?” said Ella. “Not a cent under seven hundred dollars.”

“That would make the material twenty-one hundred dollars a yard,” I says.

“I’d like to know where she got it,” said Katie.

“Maybe she cut up an old stocking,” said I.

“I wished now,” said the Mrs., “that we’d waited till we got here before we bought our clothes.”

“You can bet one thing,” says Katie. “Before we’re ast out anywhere on a real party we’ll have something to wear that isn’t a year old.”

“First thing tomorrow morning,” says the Mrs., “we’ll go over on Fifth Avenue and see what we can see.”

“They’ll only be two on that excursion,” I says.

“Oh, we don’t want you along,” said Ella. “But I do wished you’d go to some first-class men’s store and get some ties and shirts and things that don’t look like an embalmer.”

Well, after a wile one of the waiters got it in his head that maybe we hadn’t came in to take a bath, so he fetched over a couple of programs.

“Never mind them,” I says. “What’s ready? We’re in a hurry.”

“The Long Island Duckling’s very nice,” he said. “And how about some nice au gratin potatoes and some nice lettuce and tomato salad with Thousand Island dressing, and maybe some nice French pastry?”

“Everything seems to be nice here,” I said. “But wait a minute. How about something to drink?”

He give me a mysterious smile.

“Well,” he said, “they’re watching us pretty close here, but we serve something we call a cup. It comes from the bar and we’re not supposed to know what the bartender puts in it.”

“We’ll try and find out,” I said. “And rush this order through, as we’re starved.”

So he frisked out and was back again in less than an hour with another guy to help carry the stuff, though Lord knows he could of parked the three ducklings on one eyelid and the whole meal on the back of his hand. As for the cup, when you tasted it they wasn’t no big mystery about what the bartender had put in it – a bottle of seltzer and a prune and a cherry and an orange peel, and maybe his finger. The check come to eighteen dollars and Ella made me tip him the rest of a twenty.

Before dinner the gals had been all for staying up a wile and looking the crowd over, but when we was through they both owned up that they hadn’t slept much on the train and was ready for bed.

Ella and Kate was up early in the morning. They had their breakfast without me and went over to stun Fifth Avenue. About ten o’clock Francis phoned to say he’d call round for us that evening and take us to dinner. The gals didn’t get back till late in the afternoon, but from one o’clock on I was too busy signing for packages to get lonesome. Ella finally staggered in with some more and I told her about our invitation.

“Yes, I know,” she said.

“How do you know?” I ast her.

“He told us,” she said. “We had to call him up to get a check cashed.”

“You got plenty nerve!” I said. “How does he know your checks is good?”

“Well, he likes us,” she said. “You’ll like us too when you see us in some of the gowns we bought.”

“Some!” I said.

“Why, yes,” said the Mrs. “You don’t think a girl can go round in New York with one evening dress!”

“How much money did you spend today?” I ast her.

“Well,” she said, “things are terribly high – that is, nice things. And then, of course, there’s suits and hats and things besides the gowns. But remember, it’s our money. And as I told you, it’s an investment. When young Mister Wall Street sees Kate tonight it’ll be all off.”

“I didn’t call on you for no speech,” I says. “I ast you how much you spent.”

“Not quite sixteen hundred dollars.”

I was still out on my feet when the phone rung. Ella answered it and then told me it was all right about the tickets.

“What tickets?” I said.

“Why, you see,” she says, “after young Griffin fixing us up with that check and inviting us to dinner and everything we thought it would be nice to take him to a show tonight. Kate wanted to see Ups and Downs, but the girl said she couldn’t get us seats for it. So I ast that nice clerk that took care of us yesterday and he’s fixed it.”

“All right,” I said, “but when young Griffin starts a party, why and the hell not let him finish it?”

“I suppose he would of took us somewhere after dinner,” says the Mrs., “but I couldn’t be sure. And between you and I, I’m positive that if he and Kate is throwed together a whole evening, and her looking like she’ll look tonight, we’ll get mighty quick returns on our investment.”

Well, to make a short story out of it, the gals finally got what they called dressed, and I wished Niles, Michigan, or South Bend could of seen them. If boxers wore bathing skirts I’d of thought I was in the ring with a couple of bantams.

“Listen!” I said. “What did them two girdles cost?”

“Mine was three hundred and Kate’s three hundred and fifty,” said the Mrs.

“Well,” I says, “don’t you know that you could of went to any cut-rate drugstore and wrapped yourself up just as warm in thirty-two cents’ worth of adhesive tape? Listen!” I said. “What’s the use of me paying a burglar for tickets to a show like Ups and Downs when I could set round here and look at you for nothing?”

Then Griffin rung up to say that he was waiting and we went downstairs. Francis took us in the same dining room we’d been in the night before, but this time the waiters all fought each other to get to us first.

I don’t know what we eat, as Francis had something on the hip that kind of dazed me for a wile, but afterwards I know we got a taxi and went to the theater. The tickets was there in my name and only cost me thirteen dollars and twenty cents.

Maybe you seen this show wile it was here. Some show! I didn’t read the program to see who wrote it, but I guess the words was by Noah and the music took the highest awards at the St. Louis Fair. They had a good system on the gags. They didn’t spring none but what you’d heard all your life and knew what was coming, so instead of just laughing at the point you laughed all the way through it.

I said to Ella, I said, “I bet the birds that run this don’t want prohibition. If people paid $3.30 apiece and come in here sober they’d come back the next night with a machine gun.”

“I think it’s dandy,” she says, “and you’ll notice every seat is full. But listen! Will you do something for me? When this is over suggest that we go up to the Castle Roof for a wile.”

“What for?” I said. “I’m sleepy.”

“Just this once,” she says. “You know what I told you about quick returns!”

Well, I give in and made the suggestion, and I never seen people so easy coaxed. I managed to get a ringside table for twenty-two bucks. Then I ast the boy how about getting a drink and he ast me if I knew any of the head waiters.

“I do,” says Francis. “Tell Hector it’s for Frank Griffin’s party.”

So we ordered four Scotch highballs and some chicken la King, and then the dinge orchestra tore loose some jazz and I was expecting a dance with Ella, but before she could ask me Francis had ast her, and I had one with Kate.

“Your Wall Street friend’s a fox,” I says, “asking an old married lady to dance so’s to stand in with the family.”

“Old married lady!” said Kate. “Sis don’t look a day over sixteen tonight.”

“How are you and Francis coming?” I ast her.

“I don’t know,” she says. “He acts kind of shy. He hasn’t hardly said a word to me all evening.”

Well, they was another jazz and I danced it with Ella; then her and Francis had another one and I danced again with Kate. By this time our food and refreshments was served and the show was getting ready to start.

I could write a book on what I don’t remember about that show. The first sip of their idear of a Scotch highball put me down for the count of eight and I was practic’lly unconscious till the waiter woke me up with a check for forty bucks.

Francis seen us home and said he would call up again soon, and when Ella and I was alone I made the remark that I didn’t think he’d ever strain his larnix talking to Kate.

“He acts gun-shy when he’s round her,” I says. “You seem to be the one that draws him out.”

“It’s a good sign,” she says. “A man’s always embarrassed when he’s with a girl he’s stuck on. I’ll bet you anything you want to bet that within a week something’ll happen.”

Well, she win. She’d of win if she’d of said three days instead of a week. It was a Wednesday night when we had that party, and on the Friday Francis called up and said he had tickets for the Palace. I’d been laid up mean wile with the Scotch influenza, so I told the gals to cut me out. I was still awake yet when Ella come in a little after midnight.

“Well,” I asked, “are we going to have a brother-in-law?”

“Mighty soon,” she says.

So I ast her what had come off.

“Nothing-tonight,” she says, “except this: He wrote me a note. He wants me to go with him tomorrow afternoon and look at a little furnished apartment. And he ast me if I could come without Sis, as he wants to pull a surprise on her. So I wondered if you couldn’t think of some way to fix it so’s I can sneak off for a couple of hours.”

“Sure!” I said. “Just tell her you didn’t sleep all night and you’re wore out and want to take a nap.”

So she pulled this gag at lunch Saturday and Katie said she was tired too. She went up to her room and Ella snuck out to keep her date with Francis. In less than an hour she romped into our room again and throwed herself on the bed.

“Well,” I says, “it must of been a little apartment if it didn’t only take you this long to see it.”

“Oh, shut up!” she said. “I didn’t see no apartment. And don’t say a word to me or I’ll scream.”

Well, I finally got her calmed down and she give me the details. It seems that she’d met Francis, and he’d got a taxi and they’d got in the taxi and they hadn’t no sooner than got in the taxi when Francis give her a kiss.

“Quick returns,” I says.

“I’ll kill you if you say another word!” she says.

So I managed to keep still.

Well, I didn’t know Francis’ home address, and Wall Street don’t run Sundays, so I spent the Sabbath training on a quart of rye that a bell hop picked up at a bargain sale somewhere for fifteen dollars. Mean wile Katie had been let in on the secret and staid in our room all day, moaning like a prune-fed calf.

“I’m afraid to leave her alone,” says Ella. “I’m afraid she’ll jump out the window.”

“You’re easily worried,” I said. “What I’m afraid of is that she won’t.”

Monday morning finally come, as it generally always does, and I told the gals I was going to some first-class men’s store and buy myself some ties and shirts that didn’t look like a South Bend embalmer.

So the only store I knew about was H. L. Krause & Co. in Wall Street, but it turned out to be an office. I ast for Mr. Griffin and they ast me my name and I made one up, Sam Hall or something, and out he come.

If I told you the rest of it you’d think I was bragging. But I did bust a few records. Charley Brickley and Walter Eckersall both kicked five goals from field in one football game, and they was a bird named Robertson or something out at Purdue that kicked seven. Then they was one of the old-time ball players, Bobby Lowe or Ed Delehanty, that hit four or five home runs in one afternoon. And out to Toledo that time Dempsey made big Jess set down seven times in one round.

Well, listen! In a little less than three minutes I floored this bird nine times and I kicked him for eight goals from the field and I hit him over the fence for ten home runs. Don’t talk records to me!

So that’s what they meant in the clipping about a Hoosier cleaning up in Wall Street. But it’s only a kid, see?

• 2 •

Beautiful Katie

Oh, yes, we been here since last fall, but not in this hotel all the wile. They was a few weeks when we had an apartment up on Riverside Drive; just a cheap joint – four thousand a year. But it didn’t seem to suit us someway. But I guess I didn’t tell you how we come to move east. Last time I seen you, we was living in South Bend and I was selling cigars. Not doing very good, either. Well, maybe you heard about my wife’s stepfather dying. He left her and my sister-in-law, Kate, enough jack so’s our income was eight thousand dollars per annum. I haven’t found out yet why he didn’t do it long ago when that amount of money meant something. Only, of course,he made his pile out of the war and he couldn’t start that till Belgium was ready.

Anyway, when the estate was settled, the Mrs. told me that Katie would have to come and live with us; so she did, and the two gals blowed themself to a lot of clothes, but we didn’t seem to take South Bend by storm. So Ella, the Mrs., said now that we was independent, why didn’t we move to New York and not only see Life, but give Katie a chance to meet guys that was in her own class.

So we come to the Big Town and right to this hotel and I was just beginning to feel at home here when we got in a kind of a jam and Katie said she wouldn’t live here no longer.

So one day wile Katie was down to the chiropodist’s Ella brought up the subject of finding an apartment somewheres.

“We could get along with six rooms,” she said. “All as I ask is for it to be a new building and on some good street, some street where the real people lives.”

“You mean Fifth Avenue,” said I.

“Oh, no,” she says. “That’s way over our head. But we’d ought to be able to find something, say, on Riverside Drive.”

“A six room apartment,” I says, “in a new building on Riverside Drive? What was you expecting to pay?”

“Well,” she said, “you remember that time I and Kate visited the Kitchells in Chi? They had a dandy apartment on Sheridan Road, six rooms and brand new. It cost them seventy-five dollars a month. And Sheridan Road is Chicago’s Riverside Drive.”

“Oh, no,” I says. “Chicago’s Riverside Drive is Canal Street. But listen: Didn’t the Kitchells have their own furniture?”

“Sure they did,” said Ella.

“And are you intending to furnish us all over complete?” I asked her.

“Of course not,” she says. “I expect to get a furnished apartment. But that don’t only make about twenty-five dollars a month difference.”

“Listen,” I said: “It was six years ago that you visited the Kitchells; beside which, that was Chi and this is the Big Town. If you find a six room furnished apartment for a hundred dollars in New York City today, we’ll be on Pell Street in Chinatown, and maybe Katie can marry into a laundry or a joss house.”

“Well,” said the wife, “even if we have to go to $150 a month for a place on the Drive, remember half of it’s my money and half of it’s Kate’s, and none of it’s yours.”

“You’re certainly letter perfect in that speech,” I says.

“And further and more,” said Ella, “you remember what I told you the other day. Wile one reason we moved to New York was to see Life, the main idear was to give Kate a chance to meet real men. So every nickel we spend making ourself look good is just an investment.”

“I’d rather feel good than look good,” I says, “and I hate to see us spending so much money on a place to live that they won’t be nothing left to live on. For three or four hundred a month you might get a joint on the Drive with a bed and two chairs, but I can’t drink furniture.”

“This trip wasn’t planned as no spree for you,” says Ella. “On the other hand, I believe Sis would stand a whole lot better show of landing the right kind of a man if the rumor was to get out that her brother-in-law stayed sober once in a wile.”

“Well,” I said, “I don’t think my liberal attitude on the drink question affected the results of our deal in Wall Street. That investment would of turned out just as good whether I was a teetotaler or a lush.”

Well, then I reminded her about the first “investment” we’d made when we moved here to the Big Town and maybe I better tell you about it. Well, we met a bird on the train that admitted he was cleaning up in Wall Street and I guess he was – with a broom. But Ella and Kate fell for him and wanted him for a brother-in-law of mine. Instead of that, he wanted to be a second husband, or a husband’s second. In other words, where the gals had been expecting him to make a play for Katie, he’d made love to the girl I’d happened to marry, and nobody can do that and remain standing.

So anyway I called her attention to the jack we’d spent on this Wall Street bird and the returns we’d got from the investment, and for some reason another she got sore.

“Listen,” she says: “The next time you mention ancient history like that, I’ll make a little investment in a lawyer. But what’s the use of arguing? I and Kate has made up our mind to do things our own way with our own money, and today we’re going up on the Drive with a real estate man. We won’t pay no more than we can afford. All as we want is a place that’s good enough and big enough for Sis to entertain her gentleman callers in it, and she certainly can’t do that in this hotel.”

“Well,” I says, “all her gentleman callers that’s been around here in the last month, she could entertain them in one bunch in a telephone booth.”

“The reason she’s been let alone so far,” says the Mrs., “is because I won’t allow her to meet the kind of men that stays at hotels. You never know who they are.”

“Why not?” I said. “They’ve all got to register their name when they come in, which is more than you can say for people that lives in $100 apartments on Riverside Drive.”

Well, my arguments went so good that for the next three days the two gals was on a home-seekers’ excursion and I had to spend my time learning the eastern intercollegiate kelly pool rules up to Doyle’s. I win about seventy-five dollars.

When the ladies come home the first two nights they was all wore out and singing the landlord blues, but on the third afternoon they busted in all smiles.

“We’ve found one,” says Ella. “Six rooms; too.”

“Where at?” I asked her.

“Just where we wanted it,” she says. “On the Drive. And it fronts right on the Hudson.”

“No!” I said. “I thought they built them all facing the other way.”

“It almost seems,” said Katie, “like you could reach out and touch New Jersey.”

“It’s what you might call a near beer apartment,” I says.

“And it’s almost across the street from Grant’s Tomb,” says Ella.

“How many rooms has he got?” I says.

“We was pretty lucky,” said Ella. “The people that had it was forced to go south for the man’s health. He’s a kind of a cripple. And they decided to sublet it furnished. So we got a bargain.”

“Come on,” I says. “What price?”

“Well,” she says, “they don’t talk prices by the month in New York. They give you the price by the year. So it sounds a lot more than it really is. We got it for $4,000.”

“Sweet patootie!” I said. “That’s only half your income.”

“Well, what of it?” says Ella. “It won’t only be for about a year and it’s in the nicest kind of a neighborhood and we can’t meet nothing only the best kind of people. You know what I told you.”

And she give me a sly wink.

Well, it seems like they had signed up a year’s lease and paid a month’s rent in advance, so what was they left for me to say? All I done was make the remark that I didn’t see how we was going to come even close to a trial balance.

“Why not?” said Katie. “With our rent paid we can get along easy on $4,000 a year if we economize.”

“Yes,” I said. “You’ll economize just like the rest of the Riverside Drivers, with a couple of servants and a car and four or five new evening dresses a month. By the end of six months the bank’ll be figuring our account in marks.”

“What do you mean ‘our’ account?” says Ella.

“But speaking about a car,” said Katie, “do you suppose we could get a good one cheap?”

“Certainly,” I said. “They’re giving away the good ones for four double coupons.”

“But I mean an inexpensive one,” says Kate.

“You can’t live on the River and ride in a flivver,” I said. “Besides, the buses limp right by the door.”

“Oh, I love the buses!” said Ella.

“Wait. till you see the place,” says Katie to me. “You’ll go simply wild! They’s a colored boy in uniform to open the door and they’s two elevators.”

“How high do we go?” I said.

“We’re on the sixth floor,” says Katie.

“I should think we could get that far in one elevator,” I says.

“What was it the real estate man told us?” said Ella. “Oh, yes, he said the sixth floor was the floor everybody tried to get on.”

“It’s a wonder he didn’t knock it,” I said.

Well, we was to have immediate possession, so the next morning we checked out of this joint and swooped up on the Drive. The colored boy, who I nicknamed George, helped us up with the wardrobe. Ella had the key and inside of fifteen minutes she’d found it.

We hadn’t no sooner than made our entree into our new home when I knew what ailed the previous tenant. He’d crippled himself stumbling over the furniture. The living room was big enough to stage the high hurdles, and that’s what was in it, only they’d planted them every two feet apart. If a stew with the blind staggers had of walked in there in the dark, the folks on the floor below would of thought he’d knocked the head pin for a goal.

“Come across the room,” said Ella, “and look at the view.”

“I guess I can get there in four downs,” I said, “but you better have a substitute warming up.”

“Well,” she says, when I’d finally fell acrost the last white chalk mark, “what do you think of it?”

“It’s a damn pretty view,” I says, “but I’ve often seen the same view from the top of a bus for a thin dime.”

Well, they showed me over the whole joint and it did look O.K., but not $4,000 worth. The best thing in the place was a half full bottle of rye in the kitchen that the cripple hadn’t gone south with. I did.

We got there at eleven o’clock in the morning, but at three p.m. the gals was still hanging up their Follies costumes, so I beat it out and over to Broadway and got myself a plate of pea soup. When I come back, Ella and Katie was laying down exhausted. Finally I told Ella that I was going to move back to the hotel unless they served meals in this dump, so her and Kate got up and went marketing. Well, when you move from Indiana to the Big Town, of course you can’t be expected to do your own cooking, so what we had that night was from the delicatessen, and for the next four days we lived on dill pickles with dill pickles.

“Listen,” I finally says: “The only reason I consented to leave the hotel was in the hopes I could get a real home cook meal once in a wile and if I don’t get a real home cook meal once in a while, I leave this dive.”

“Have a little bit of patience,” says Ella. “I advertised in the paper for a cook the day before we come here, the day we rented this apartment. And I offered eight dollars a week.”

“How many replies did you get?” I asked her.

“Well,” she said, “I haven’t got none so far, but it’s probably too soon to expect any.”

“What did you advertise in, the world almanac?” I says.

“No, sir,” she says. “I advertised in the two biggest New York papers, the ones the real estate man recommended.”

“Listen,” I said: “Where do you think you’re at, in Niles, Michigan? If you get a cook here for eight dollars a week, it’ll be a one-armed leper that hasn’t yet reached her teens.”

“What would you do, then?” she asked me.

“I’d write to an employment agency,” I says, “and I’d tell them we’ll pay good wages.”

So she done that and in three days the phone rung and the agency said they had one prospect on hand and did we want her to come out and see us. So Ella said we did and out come a colleen for an interview. She asked how much we was willing to pay.

“Well,” said Ella, “I’d go as high as twelve dollars. Or I’d make it fifteen if you done the washing.”

Kathleen Mavourneen turned her native color.

“Well,” I said, “how much do you want?”

“I’ll work for ninety dollars a month,” she said, only I can’t get the brogue. “That’s for the cookin’ only. No washin’. And I would have to have a room with a bath and all day Thursdays and Sunday evenin’s off.”

“Nothing doing,” said Ella, and the colleen started for the door.

“Wait a minute,” I says. “Listen: Is that what you gals is getting in New York?”

“We’re a spalpeen if we ain’t,” says the colleen bawn.

Well, I was desperate, so I called the wife to one side and says: “For heaven’s sakes, take her on a month’s trial. I’ll pay the most of it with a little piece of money I picked up last week down to Doyle’s. I’d rather do that than get dill pickled for a goal.”

“Could you come right away?” Ella asked her.

“Not for a couple days,” says Kathleen.

“It’s off, then,” I said. “You cook our supper tonight or go back to Greece.”

“Well,” she says, “I guess I could make it if I hurried.”

So she went away and come back with her suitcase, and she cooked our supper that night. And Oh darlint!

—

Well, Beautiful Katie still had the automobile bug and it wasn’t none of my business to steer her off of it and pretty near every day she would go down to the “row” and look them over. But every night she’d come home whistling a dirge.

“I guess I’ve seen them all,” she’d say, “but they’re too expensive or else they look like they wasn’t.”

But one time we was all coming home in a taxi from a show and come up Broadway and all of a sudden she yelled for the driver to stop.

“That’s a new one in that window,” she says, “and one I never see before.”

Well, the dive was closed at the time and we couldn’t get in, but she insisted on going down there the first thing in the morning and I and Ella must go along. The car was a brand new model Bam Eight.

“How much?” I asked him.

“Four thousand,” he says.

“When could I get one?” says Katie.

“I don’t know,” said the salesman.

“What do you mean?” I asked him. “Haven’t they made none of them?”

“I don’t know,” says the salesman. “This is the only one we got.”

“Has anybody ever rode in one?” I says.

“I don’t know,” said the guy.

So I asked him what made it worth four thousand.

“Well,” he says, “what made this lady want one?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Could I have this one that’s on the floor?” says Katie.

“I don’t know,” said the salesman.

“Well, when do you think I could get one?” says Katie.

“We can’t promise no deliveries,” says the salesman.

Well, that kind of fretted me, so I asked him if they wasn’t a salesman we could talk to.

“You’re talking to one,” he said.

“Yes, I know,” said I. “But I used to be a kind of a salesman myself, and when I was trying to sell things, I didn’t try and not sell them.”

“Yes,” he says, “but you wasn’t selling automobiles in New York in 1920. Listen,” he says: “I’ll be frank with you. We got the New York agency for this car and was glad to get it because it sells for four thousand and anything that sells that high, why the people will eat up, even if it’s a pearl-handle ketchup bottle. If we ever do happen to get a consignment of these cars, they’ll sell like oil stock. The last word we got from the factory was that they’d send us three cars next September. So that means we’ll get two cars a year from next October and if we can spare either of them, you can have one.”

So then he begin to yawn and I said, “Come on, girls,” and we got a taxi and beat it home. And I wouldn’t of said nothing about it, only if Katie had of been able to buy her Bam, what come off might of never came off.

—

It wasn’t only two nights later when Ella come in from shopping all excited. “Well,” she said, “talk about experiences! I just had a ride home and it wasn’t in a street car and it wasn’t in a taxi and it wasn’t on the subway and it wasn’t on a bus.”

“Let’s play charades,” said I.

“Tell us, Sis,” says Katie.

“Well,” said the wife, “I was down on Fifth Avenue, waiting for a bus, and all of a sudden a big limousine drew up to the curb with a livery chauffeur, and a man got out of the back seat and took off his hat and asked if he couldn’t see me home. And of course I didn’t pay no attention to him.”

“Of course not,” I said.

“But,” says Ella, “he says, ‘Don’t take no offense. I think we’re next door neighbors. Don’t you live acrost the hall on the sixth floor of the Lucius?’ So of course I had to tell him I did.”

“Of course,” I said.

“And then he said,” says Ella, “‘Is that your sister living with you?’ ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘she lives with my husband and I.’ ‘Well,’ he says, ‘if you’ll get in and let me take you home, I’ll tell you what a beautiful girl I think she is.’ So I seen then that he was all right, so I got in and come home with him. And honestly, Sis, he’s just wild about you!”

“What is he like?” says Katie.

“He’s stunning,” says the wife. “Tall and wears dandy clothes and got a cute mustache that turns up.”

“How old?” says Kate, and the Mrs. kind of stalled.

“Well,” she said, “he’s the kind of a man that you can’t tell how old they are, but he’s not old. I’d say he was, well, maybe he’s not even that old.”

“What’s his name?” asked Kate.

“Trumbull,” said the Mrs. “He said he was keeping bachelor quarters, but I don’t know if he’s really a bachelor or a widower. Anyway, he’s a dandy fella and must have lots of money. Just imagine living alone in one of these apartments!”

“Imagine living in one of them whether you’re a bachelor or a Mormon,” I says.

“Who said he lived alone?” asked Katie.

“He did,” says the Mrs. “He told me that him and his servants had the whole apartment to themselves. And that’s what makes it so nice, because he’s asked the three of us over there to dinner tomorrow night.”

“What makes it so nice?” I asked her.

“Because it does,” said Ella, and you can’t ever beat an argument like that.

So the next night the two girls donned their undress uniforms and made me put on the oysters and horse radish and we went acrost the hall to meet our hero. The door was opened by a rug peddler and he showed us into a twin brother to our own living room, only you could get around it without being Houdini.

“Mr. Trumbull will be right out,” said Omar.

The ladies was shaking like an aspirin leaf, but in a few minutes, in come mine host. However old Ella had thought he wasn’t, she was wrong. He’d seen baseball when the second bounce was out. If he’d of started his career as a barber in Washington, he’d of tried to wish a face massage on Zachary Taylor. The only thing young about him was his teeth and his clothes. His dinner suit made me feel like I was walking along the station platform at Toledo, looking for hot boxes.

“Ah, here you are!” he says. “It’s mighty nice of you to be neighborly. And so this is the young sister. Well,” he says to me, “you had your choice, and as far as I can see, it was heads you win and tails you win. You’re lucky.”

So when he’d spread all the salve, he rung the bell and in come Allah with cocktails. I don’t know what was in them, but when Ella and Katie had had two apiece, they both begin to trill.

Finally we was called in to dinner and every other course was hootch. After the solid and liquid diet, he turned on the steam piano and we all danced. I had one with Beautiful Katie and the rest of them was with my wife, or, as I have nicknamed them, quarrels. Well, the steam run out of three of us at the same time, the piano inclusive, and Ella sat down in a chair that was made for Eddie Foy’s family and said how comfortable it was.

“Yes,” says Methuselah, “that’s my favorite chair. And I bet you wouldn’t believe me if I told you how much it cost.”

“Oh, I’d like to know,” says Ella.

“Two hundred dollars,” says mine host.

“Do you still feel comfortable?” I asked her.

“Speaking about furniture,” said the old bird, “I’ve got a few bits that I’m proud of. Would you like to take a look at them?”

So the gals said they would and we had to go through the entire apartment, looking at bits. The best bits I seen was tastefully wrapped up in kegs and cases. It seemed like every time he opened a drawer, a cork popped up. He was a hundred per cent proofer than the governor of New Jersey. But he was giving us a lecture on the furniture itself, not the polish.

“I picked up this dining room suit for eighteen hundred,” he says.

“Do you mean the one you’ve got on?” I asked him, and the gals give me a dirty look.

“And this rug,” he says, stomping on an old rag carpet. “How much do you suppose that cost?”

It was my first guess, so I said fifty dollars.

“That’s a laugh,” he said. “I paid two thousand for that rug.”

“The guy that sold it had the laugh,” I says.

Finally he steered us into his bedroom.

“Do you see that bed?” he says. “That’s Marie Antoinette’s bed. Just a cool thousand.”

“What time does she usually get in?” I asked him.

“Here’s my hobby,” he said, opening up a closet, “dressing gowns and bathrobes.”

Well, they was at least a dozen of them hanging on hangers. They was all colors of the rainbow including the Scandinavian. He dragged one down that was redder than Ella’s and Katie’s cheeks.

“This is my favorite bathrobe,” he said. “It’s Rose D. Barry.”

So I asked him if he had all his household goods and garments named after some dame.

“This bathrobe cost me an even two hundred,” he says.

“I always take baths bare,” I said. “It’s a whole lot cheaper.”

“Let’s go back in the living room,” says Katie.

“Come on,” said Ella, tugging me by the sleeve.

“Wait a minute,” I says to her. “I don’t know how much he paid for his toothbrush.”

Well, when we got back in the living room, the two gals acted kind of drowsy and snuggled up together on the davenport and I and the old bird was left to ourself.

“Here’s another thing I didn’t show you,” he says, and pulls a pair of African golf balls out of a drawer in his desk. “These dice is real ivory and they cost me twelve and a half berries.”

“You mean up to now,” I said.

“All right,” he said. “We’ll make it a twenty-five dollar limit.”

Well, I didn’t have no business in a game with him, but you know how a guy gets sometimes. So he took them first and rolled a four.

“Listen,” I says: “Do you know how many times Willard set down in the first round?”

And sure enough he sevened.

“Now solid ivory dice,” I said, “how many days in the week?”

So out come a natural. And as sure as I’m setting here, I made four straight passes with the whole roll riding each time and with all that wad parked on the two thousand dollar rug, I shot a five and a three. “Ivory,” I said, “we was invited here tonight, so don’t make me pay for the entertainment. Show me eighter from Decatur.”

And the lady from Decatur showed.

Just then they was a stir on the davenport, and Ella woke up long enough to make the remark that we ought to go home. It was the first time she ever said it in the right place.

“Oh,” I says, “I’ve got to give Mr. Trumbull a chance to get even.”

But I wasn’t in earnest.

“Don’t bother about that,” said Old Noah. “You can accommodate me some other time.”

“You’re certainly a sport,” I says.

“And thanks for a wonderful time,” said Ella. “I hope we’ll see you again soon.”

“Soon is tomorrow night,” said mine host. “I’m going to take you all up the river to a place I know.”

“Well,” I says to Katie, when we was acrost the hall and the door shut, “how do you like him?”

“Oh, shut up!” says Katie.

—

So the next night he come over and rung our bell and said Ritchey was waiting with the car and would we come down when we was ready. Well, the gals had only had all day to prepare for the trip, so in another half hour they had their wraps on and we went downstairs. They wasn’t nothing in front but a Rools-Royce with a livery chauffeur that looked like he’d been put there by a rubber stamp.

“What a stunning driver!” said Katie when we’d parked ourself in the back seat.

“Ritchey?” says mine host. “He is a nice looking boy, but better than that, he’s a boy I can trust.”

Well, anyway, the boy he could trust took us out to a joint called the Indian Inn where you wouldn’t of never knew they was an eighteenth amendment only that the proprietor was asking twenty berries a quart for stuff that used to cost four. But that didn’t seem to bother Methuselah and he ordered two of them. Not only that but he got us a table so close to the orchestra that the cornet player thought we was his mute.

“Now, what’ll we eat?” he says.

So I looked at the program and the first item I seen was “Guinea Hen, $4.50.”

“That’s what Katie’ll want,” I says to myself, and sure enough that’s what she got.

Well, we eat and then we danced and we danced and we danced, and finally along about eleven I and Ella was out on the floor pretending like we was enjoying ourself, and we happened to look over to the table and there was Katie and Trumbull setting one out and to look at either you could tell that something was wrong.

“Dance the next one with her,” says Ella, “and find out what’s the matter.”

So I danced the next one with Katie and asked her.

“He squeezed my hand,” she says. “I don’t like him.”

“Well,” said I, “if you’d of ordered guinea hen on me I wouldn’t of stopped at your hand. I’d of went at your throat.”

“I’ve got a headache,” she says. “Take me out to the car.”

So they was nothing to it but I had to take her out to the car and come back and tell Ella and Trumbull that she wasn’t feeling any too good and wanted to go home.

“She don’t like me,” says the old guy. “That’s the whole trouble.”

“Give her time,” says Ella. “Remember she’s just a kid.”

“Yes, but what a kid!” he says.

So then he paid the check without no competition and we went out and clumb in the big limmie. Katie was pretending like she was asleep and neither Ella or Trumbull acted like they wanted to talk, so the conversation on the way home was mostly one-sided, with me in the title role. Katie went in the apartment without even thanking mine host for the guinea hen, but he kept Ella and I outside long enough to say that Ritchey and the car was at our service any time we wanted them.

So Ella told her that the next noon at breakfast. “And you’d ought to be ashamed of yourself,” says Ella, “for treating a man like that like that.”

“He’s too fresh,” says Katie.

“Well,” said Ella, “if he was a little younger, you wouldn’t mind him being fresh.”

“No,” said Katie, “if he was fresh, I wouldn’t care if he was fresh. But what’s the number of the garage?”

And she didn’t lose no time taking advantage of the old bird. That same afternoon it seemed she had to go shopping and the bus wasn’t good enough no more. She was out in Trumbull’s limmie from two o’clock till pretty near seven. The old guy himself come to our place long about five and wanted to know if we knew where she was at. “I haven’t no idear,” said Ella. “I expected her home long ago. Did you want to use the car?”

“What’s the difference,” I said, “if he wanted to use the car or not? He’s only the owner.”

“Well,” says Trumbull, “when I make an offer I mean it, and that little girl is welcome to use my machine whenever she feels like it.”

So Ella asked him to stay to dinner and he said he would if we’d allow him to bring in some of his hootch, and of course I kicked on that proposition, but he insisted. And when Katie finally did get home, we was all feeling good and so was she and you’d never of thought they’d been any bad feelings the night before.

Trumbull asked her what she’d been buying.

“Nothing,” she says. “I was looking at dresses, but they want too much money.”

“You don’t need no dresses,” he says.

“No, of course not,” said Katie. “But lots of girls is wearing them.”

“Where did you go?” said Ella.

“I forget,” says Katie. “What do you say if we play cards?”

So we played rummy till we was all blear-eyed and the old guy left, saying we’d all go somewhere next day. After he’d gone Ella begin to talk serious.

“Sis,” she says, “here’s the chance of a lifetime. Mr. Trumbull’s head over heels in love with you and all as you have to do is encourage him a little. Can’t you try and like him?”

“They’s nobody I have more respect for,” said Katie, “unless it’s George Washington.”

And then she give a funny laugh and run off to bed.

“I can’t understand Sis no more,” said Ella, when we was alone.

“Why not?” I asked her.

“Why, look at this opportunity staring her in the face,” says the Mrs.

“Listen,” I said: “The first time I stared you in the face, was you thinking about opportunity?”

—

Well, to make a short story out of it, I was the only one up in the house the next morning when Kathleen said we had a caller. It was the old boy.

“I’m sorry to be so early,” he says, “but I just got a telegram and it means I got to run down to Washington for a few days. And I wanted to tell you that wile I’m gone Ritchey and the car is at your service.”

So I thanked him and he said good-by and give his regards to the Mrs. and especially Katie, so when they got up I told them about it and I never seen a piece of bad news received so calm as Katie took it.

“But now he’s gone,” I said at the breakfast table, “why not the three of us run out to Bridgeport and call on the Wilmots?”

They’re cousins of mine.

“Oh, fine!” said Ella.

“Wait a minute,” says Katie. “I made a kind of an engagement with a dressmaker for today.”

Well, as I say, to make a short story out of it, it seems like she’d made engagements with the dressmaker every day, but they wasn’t no dresses ever come home.

In about a week Trumbull come back from Washington and the first thing he done was look us up and we had him in to dinner and I don’t remember how the conversation started, but all of a sudden we was on the subject of his driver, Ritchey.

“A great boy,” says Trumbull, “and a boy you can trust. If I didn’t like him for nothing else, I’d like him for how he treats his family.”

“What family?” says Kate.

“Why,” says Trumbull, “his own family: his wife and two kids.”

“My heavens!” says Katie, and kind of fell in a swoon.

So it seems like we didn’t want to live there no more and we moved back to the Baldwin, having sublet the place on the Drive for three thousand a year.

So from then on, we was paying a thousand per annum for an apartment we didn’t live in two weeks. But as I told the gals, we was getting pretty near as much for our money as the people that rented New York apartments and lived in them, too.

• 3 •

The Battle of Long Island

Along the first week in May they was a couple hot days, and Katie – that’s my little sister-in-law – can’t stand the heat. Or the cold, or the medium. Anyway, when it’s hot she always says: “I’m simply stifling.” And when it’s cold: “I’m simply frozen.” And when it ain’t neither one: “I wished the weather would do one thing another.” I don’t s’pose she knows what she’s saying when she says any one of them things, but she’s one of these here gals that can’t bear to see a conversation die out and thinks it’s her place to come through with a wise crack whenever they’s a vacuum.

So during this hot spell her and my wife and I was still stopping at the Baldwin, where we’d been at most of the time since we come to the Big Town, and we was having dinner with a bird named Gene Buck that knowed New York like a book, only he hadn’t never read a book, and Katie made the remark that she was simply stifling.

“If you think this is hot,” says our friend, “just wait till the summer comes. The Old Town certainly steams up in the Old Summer Time.”

So Kate asked him how people could stand it.

“They don’t,” he says. “All the ones that’s got a piece of change ducks out somewhere where they can get the air.”

“Where do they go?” Katie asked him.

“Well,” he says, “the most of my pals goes to Newport or Maine or up in the Adirondacks. But of course them places is out of most people’s reach. If I was you folks I’d go over on Long Island somewhere and either take a cottage or live in one of them good hotels.”

“Where, for instance?” says my Mrs.

“Well,” he said, “some people takes cottages, but the rents is something fierce, and besides, the desirable ones is probably all eat up by this time. But they’s plenty good hotels where you get good service and swell meals and meet good people; they won’t take in no riffraff. And they give you a pretty fair rate if they know you’re going to make a stay.”

So Ella asked him if they was any special one he could recommend.

“Let’s think a minute,” he says.

“Let’s not strain ourself,” I said.

“Don’t get cute!” said the Mrs. “We want to get some real information and Mr. Buck can give it to us.”

“How much would you be willing to pay?” said Buck.

It was Ella’s turn to make a wise crack.

“Not no more than we have to,” she says.

“I and my sister has got about eight thousand dollars per annum between us,” said Katie, “though a thousand of it has got to go this year to a man that cheated us up on Riverside Drive.

“It was about a lease. But Papa left us pretty well off; over a hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

“Don’t be so secret with Mr. Buck,” I says. “We’ve knew him pretty near a week now. Tell him about them four-dollar stockings you bought over on Fifth Avenue and the first time you put them on they got as many runs as George Sisler.”

“Well,” said Buck, “I don’t think you’d have no trouble getting comfortable rooms in a good hotel on seven thousand dollars. If I was you I’d try the Hotel Decker. It’s owned by a man named Decker.”

“Why don’t they call it the Griffith?” I says.

“It’s located at Tracy Estates,” says Buck. “That’s one of the garden spots of Long Island. It’s a great big place, right up to the minute, and they give you everything the best. And they’s three good golf courses within a mile of the hotel.”

The gals told him they didn’t play no golf.

“You don’t know what you’ve missed,” he says.

“Well,” I said, “I played a game once myself and missed a whole lot.”

“Do they have dances?” asked Kate.

“Plenty of them,” says Buck, “and the guests is the nicest people you’d want to meet. Besides all that, the meals is included in the rates, and they certainly set a nasty table.”

“I think it sounds grand,” said the Mrs. “How do you get there?”

“Go over to the Pennsylvania Station,” says Buck, “and take the Long Island Railroad to Jamaica. Then you change to the Haverton branch. It don’t only take a half hour altogether.”

“Let’s go over tomorrow morning and see can we get rooms,” said Katie.

So Ella asked how that suited me.

“Go just as early as you want to,” I says. “I got a date to run down to the Aquarium and see the rest of the fish.”

“You won’t make no mistake stopping at the Decker,” says Buck.

So the gals thanked him and I paid the check so as he would have more to spend when he joined his pals up to Newport.

—

Well, when Ella and Kate come back the next afternoon, I could see without them telling me that it was all settled. They was both grinning like they always do when they’ve pulled something nutty.

“It’s a good thing we met Mr. Buck,” said the Mrs., “or we mightn’t never of heard of this place. It’s simply wonderful. A double room with a bath for you and I and a room with a bath for Katie. The meals is throwed in, and we can have it all summer.”

“How much?” I asked her.

“Two hundred a week,” she said. “But you must remember that’s for all three of us and we get our meals free.”

“And I s’pose they also furnish knobs for the bedroom doors,” says I.

“We was awful lucky,” said the wife. “These was the last two rooms they had, and they wouldn’t of had those only the lady that had engaged them canceled her reservation.”

“I wished I’d met her when I was single,” I says.

“So do I,” says Ella.

“But listen,” I said. “Do you know what two hundred a week amounts to? It amounts to over ten thousand a year, and our income is seven thousand.”

“Yes,” says Katie, “but we aren’t only going to be there twenty weeks, and that’s only four thousand.”

“Yes,” I said, “and that leaves us three thousand for the other thirty-two weeks, to pay for board and room and clothes and show tickets and a permanent wave every other day.”

“You forget,” said Kate, “that we still got our principal, which we can spend some of it and not miss it.”

“And you also forget,” said the Mrs., “that the money belongs to Sis and I, not you.”

“I’ve got a sweet chance of forgetting that,” I said. “It’s hammered into me three times a day. I hear about it pretty near as often as I hear that one of you’s lost their new silk bag.”

“Well, anyway,” says Ella, “it’s all fixed up and we move out there early tomorrow morning, so you’ll have to do your packing tonight.”

—

I’m not liable to celebrate the anniversary of the next day’s trip. Besides the trunks, the gals had a suitcase and a grip apiece and I had a suitcase. So that give me five pieces of baggage to wrestle, because of course the gals had to carry their parasol in one hand and their wrist watch in the other. A redcap helped load us on over to the station, but oh you change at Jamaica! And when we got to Tracy Estates we seen that the hotel wasn’t only a couple of blocks away, so the ladies said we might as well walk and save taxi fare.

I don’t know how I covered them two blocks, but I do know that when I reeled into the Decker my hands and arms was paralyzed and Ella had to do the registering.

Was you ever out there? Well, I s’pose it’s what you might call a family hotel, and a good many of the guests belongs to the cay-nine family. A few of the couples that can’t afford dogs has got children, and you’re always tripping over one or the other. They’s a dining room for the grown-ups and another for the kids, wile the dogs and their nurses eats in the grillroom la carte. One part of the joint is bachelor quarters. It’s located right next to the dogs’ dormitories, and they’s a good deal of rivalry between the dogs and the souses to see who can make the most noise nights. They’s also a ballroom and a couple card rooms and a kind of a summer parlor where the folks sets round in the evening and listen to a three-piece orchestra that don’t know they’s been any music wrote since Poets and Peasants. The men get up about eight o’clock and go down to New York to Business. They don’t never go to work. About nine the women begins limping downstairs and either goes to call on their dogs or take them for a walk in the front yard. This is a great big yard with a whole lot of benches strewed round it, but you can’t set on them in the daytime because the women or the nurses uses them for a place to read to the dogs or kids, and in the evenings you would have to share them with the waitresses, which you have already had enough of them during the day.

When the women has prepared themselves for the long day’s grind with a four-course breakfast, they set round on the front porch and discuss the big questions of the hour, like for instance the last trunk murder or whether an Airedale is more loving than a Golden Bantam. Once in a wile one of them cracks that it looks like they was bound to be a panic pretty soon and a big drop in prices, and so forth. This shows they’re broad-minded and are giving a good deal of thought to up-to-date topics. Every so often one of them’ll say: “The present situation can’t keep up.” The hell it can’t!

By one o’clock their appetites is whetted so keen from brain exercise that they make a bum out of a plate of soup and an order of Long Island duckling, which they figure is caught fresh every day, and they wind up with salad and apple pie la mode and a stein of coffee. Then they totter up to their rooms to sleep it off before Dear gets home from Business.

Saturday nights everybody puts on their evening clothes like something was going to happen. But it don’t. Sunday mornings the husbands and bachelors gets up earlier than usual to go to their real business, which is golf. The womenfolks are in full possession of the hotel till Sunday night supper and wives and husbands don’t see one another all day long, but it don’t seem as long as if they did. Most of them’s approaching their golden-wedding jubilee and haven’t nothing more to say to each other that you could call a novelty. The husband may make the remark, Sunday night, that he would of broke one hundred and twenty in the afternoon round if the caddy hadn’t of handed him a spoon when he asked for a nut pick, and the wife’ll probably reply that she’s got to go in Town some day soon and see a chiropodist. The rest of the Sabbath evening is spent in bridge or listening to the latest song hit from The Bohemian Girl.

The hotel’s got all the modern conveniences like artificial light and a stopper in the bathtubs. They even got a barber and a valet, but you can’t get a shave wile he’s pressing your clothes, so it’s pretty near impossible for a man to look their best at the same time.

Well, the second day we was there I bought me a deck of cards and got so good at solitary that pretty soon I could play fifty games between breakfast and lunch and a hundred from then till suppertime. During the first week Ella and Kate got on friendly terms with over a half dozen people – the head waiter, our waitress, some of the clerks and the manager and the two telephone gals. It wasn’t from lack of trying that they didn’t meet even more people. Every day one or the other of them would try and swap a little small talk with one of the other squatters, but it generally always wound up as a short monologue.

Ella said to me one day, she says: “I don’t know if we can stick it out here or not. Every hotel I was ever at before, it was easy enough to make a lot of friends, but you could stick a bottle of cream alongside one of these people and it’d stay sweet a week. Unless they looked at it. I’m sick of talking to you and Sis and the hired help, and Kate’s so lonesome that she cries herself to sleep nights.”

Well, if I’d of only had sense enough to insist on staying we’d of probably packed up and took the next train to Town. But instead of that I said: “What’s to prevent us from going back to New York?”

“Don’t be silly!” says the Mrs. “We come out here to spend the summer and here is where we’re going to spend the summer.”

“All right,” I says, “and by September I’ll be all set to write a book on one-handed card games.”

“You’d think,” says Ella, “that some of these women was titled royalties the way they snap at you when you try and be friends with them. But they’s only one in the bunch that’s got any handle to her name; that’s Lady Perkins.”

I asked her which one was that.

“You know,” says Ella. “I pointed her out to you in the dining room. She’s a nice-looking woman, about thirty-five, that sets near our table and walks with a cane.”

“If she eats like some of the rest of them,” I says, “she’s lucky they don’t have to w’eel her.”

“She’s English,” says Ella. “They just come over and her husband’s in Texas on some business and left her here. She’s the one that’s got that dog.”

“That dog!” I said. “You might just as well tell me she’s the one that don’t play the mouth organ. They’ve all got a dog.”

“She’s got two,” said the wife. “But the one I meant is that big German police dog that I’m scared to death of him. Haven’t you saw her out walking with him and the little chow?”

“Yes,” I said, “if that’s what it is. I always wondered what the boys in the Army was talking about when they said they eat chow.”

“They probably meant chowchow,” says the Mrs. “They wouldn’t of had these kind of chows, because in the first place, who would eat a dog, and besides these kind costs too much.”

“Well,” I says, “I’m not interested in the price of chows, but if you want to get acquainted with Lady Perkins, why I can probably fix it for you.”

“Yes, you’ll fix it!” said Ella. “I’m beginning to think that if we’d of put you in storage for the summer the folks round here wouldn’t shy away from us like we was leopards that had broke out of a pesthouse. I wished you would try and dress up once in a wile and not always look like you was just going to do the chores. Then maybe I and Sis might get somewheres.”

—

Well, of course when I told her I could probably fix it up with Lady Perkins, I didn’t mean nothing. But it wasn’t only the next morning when I started making good. I was up and dressed and downstairs about half past eight, and as the gals wasn’t ready for their breakfast yet I went out on the porch and set down. They wasn’t nobody else there, but pretty soon I seen Lady Perkins come up the path with her two whelps. When she got to the porch steps their nurse popped out of the servants’ quarters and took them round to the grillroom for their breakfast. I s’pose the big one ordered sauerkraut and kalter Aufschnitt, wile the chow had tea and eggs fo yung. Anyway, the Perkins dame come up on the porch and flopped into the chair next to mine.

In a few minutes Ed Wurz, the manager of the hotel, showed, with a bag of golf instruments and a trick suit. He spotted me and asked me if I didn’t want to go along with him and play.

“No,” I said. “I only played once in my life.”

“That don’t make no difference,” he says. “I’m a bum myself. I just play shinny, you might say.”

“Well,” I says, “I can’t anyway, on account of my dogs. They been giving me a lot of trouble.”

Of course I was referring to my feet, but he hadn’t no sooner than went on his way when Lady Perkins swung round on me and says: “I didn’t know you had dogs. Where do you keep them?”

At first I was going to tell her “In my shoes,” but I thought I might as well enjoy myself, so I said: “They’re in the dog hospital over to Haverton.”

“What ails them?” she asked me.

Well, I didn’t know nothing about cay-nine diseases outside of hydrophobia, which don’t come till August, so I had to make one up.

“They got blanny,” I told her.

“Blanny!” she says. “I never heard of it before.”

“No,” I said. “It hasn’t only been discovered in this country just this year. It got carried up here from Peru some way another.”

“Oh, it’s contagious, then!” says Lady Perkins.

“Worse than measles or lockjaw,” says I. “You take a dog that’s been in the same house with a dog that’s got blanny, and it’s a miracle if they don’t all get it.”

She asked me if I’d had my dogs in the hotel.

“Only one day,” I says, “the first day we come, about a week ago. As soon as I seen what was the matter with them, I took them over to Haverton in a sanitary truck.”

“Was they mingling with the other dogs here?” she says.

“Just that one day,” I said.

“Heavens!” said Lady Perkins. “And what’s the symptoms?”

“Well,” I said, “first you’ll notice that they keep their tongue stuck out a lot and they’re hungry a good deal of the time, and finally they show up with a rash.”

“Then what happens?” she says.

“Well,” said I, “unless they get the best of treatment, they kind of dismember.”

Then she asked me how long it took for the symptoms to show after a dog had been exposed. I told her any time between a week and four months.

“My dogs has been awful hungry lately,” she says, “and they most always keeps their tongue stuck out. But they haven’t no rash.”

“You’re all right, then,” I says. “If you give them treatments before the rash shows up, they’s no danger.”

“What’s the treatment?” she asked me.

“You rub the back of their neck with some kind of dope,” I told her. “I forget what it is, but if you say the word, I can get you a bottle of it when I go over to the hospital this afternoon.”

“I’d be ever so much obliged,” she says, “and I hope you’ll find your dear ones a whole lot better.”

“Dear ones is right,” I said. “They cost a pile of jack, and the bird I bought them off of told me I should ought to get them insured, but I didn’t. So if anything happens to them now, I’m just that much out.”

Next she asked me what kind of dogs they was.

“Well,” I said, “you might maybe never of heard of them, as they don’t breed them nowheres only way down in Dakota. They call them yaphounds – I don’t know why; maybe on account of the noise they make. But they’re certainly a grand-looking dog and they bring a big price.”

She set there a wile longer and then got up and went inside, probably to the nursery to look for signs of rash.

Of course I didn’t tell the Mrs. and Kate nothing about this incidence. They wouldn’t of believed it if I had of, and besides, it would be a knock-out if things broke right and Lady Perkins come up and spoke to me wile they was present, which is just what happened.

During the afternoon I strolled over to the drugstore and got me an empty pint bottle. I took it up in the room and filled it with water and shaving soap. Then I laid low till evening, so as Perk would think I had went to Haverton.

I and Ella and Kate breezed in the dining room kind of late and we hadn’t no more than ordered when I seen the Lady get up and start out. She had to pass right past us, and when I looked at her and smiled she stopped.

“Well,” she said, “how’s your dogs?”

I got up from the table.

“A whole lot better, thank you,” says I, and then I done the honors. “Lady Perkins,” I said, “meet the wife and sister-in-law.”

The two gals staggered from their chairs, both popeyed. Lady Perkins bowed to them and told them to set down. If she hadn’t the floor would of bounced up and hit them in the chin.

“I got a bottle for you,” I said. “I left it upstairs and I’ll fetch it down after supper.”

“I’ll be in the red card room,” says Perk, and away she went.

I wished you could of see the two gals. They couldn’t talk for a minute, for the first time in their life. They just set there with their mouth open like a baby blackbird. Then they both broke out with a rash of questions that come so fast I couldn’t understand none of them, but the general idear was, What the hell!

“They’s no mystery about it,” I said. “Lady Perkins was setting out on the porch this morning and you two was late getting down to breakfast, so I took a walk, and when I come back she noticed that I kind of limped and asked me what ailed my feet. I told her they always swoll up in warm weather and she said she was troubled the same way and did I know any medicine that shrank them. So I told her I had a preparation and would bring her a bottle of it.”

“But,” says Kate, “I can’t understand a woman like she speaking to a man she don’t know.”

“She’s been eying me all week,” I said. “I guess she didn’t have the nerve to break the ice up to this morning; then she got desperate.”

“She must of,” said Ella.

“I wished,” said Kate, “that when you introduce me to people you’d give them my name.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, “but I couldn’t recall it for a minute, though your face is familiar.”

“But listen,” says the wife. “What ails your dogs is a corn. You haven’t got no swelled feet and you haven’t got no medicine for them.”

“Well,” I says, “what I give her won’t hurt her. It’s just a bottle of soap and water that I mixed up, and pretty near everybody uses that once in a wile without no bad after effects.”

Now, the whole three of us had been eating pretty good ever since we’d came to the Decker. After living la carte at Big Town prices for six months, the American plan was sweet patootie. But this night the gals not only skrimped themselves but they was in such a hurry for me to get through that my molars didn’t hardly have time to identify what all was scampering past them. Ella finally got so nervous that I had to take off the feed bag without dipping my bill into the stewed rhubarb.

“Lady Perkins will get tired waiting for you,” she says. “And besides, she won’t want us horning in there and interrupting them after their game’s started.”

“Us!” said I. “How many do you think it’s going to take to carry this bottle?”

“You don’t mean to say we can’t go with you!” said Kate.

“You certainly can’t,” I says. “I and the nobility won’t have our little romance knocked for a gool by a couple of country gals that can’t get on speaking terms with nobody but the chambermaid.”

“But they’ll be other people there,” says Kate. “She can’t play cards alone.”

“Who told you she was going to play cards?” I says. “She picked the red card room because we ain’t liable to be interrupted there. As for playing cards alone, what else have I done all week? But when I get there she won’t have to play solitary. It’ll be two-handed hearts; where if you was to crowd in, it couldn’t be nothing but rummy.”

Well, they finally dragged me from the table, and the gals took a seat in the lobby wile I went upstairs after the medicine. But I hadn’t no sooner than got a hold of the bottle when Ella come in the room.

“Listen,” she says. “They’s a catch in this somewhere. You needn’t to try and tell me that a woman like Lady Perkins is trying to start a flirtation with a yahoo. Let’s hear what really come off.”

“I already told you,” I said. “The woman’s nuts over me and you should ought to be the last one to find fault with her judgment.”

Ella didn’t speak for a wile. Then she says: “Well, if you’re going to forget your marriage vows and flirt with an old hag like she, I guess two can play at that little game. They’s several men round this hotel that I like their looks and all as they need is a little encouragement.”

“More than a little, I guess,” says I, “or else they’d of already been satisfied with what you and Kate has give them. They can’t neither one of you pretend that you been fighting on the defense all week, and the reason you haven’t copped nobody is because this place is a hotel, not a home for the blind.”

I wrapped a piece of newspaper round the bottle and started for the door. But all of a sudden I heard snuffles and stopped.

“Look here,” I said. “I been kidding you. They’s no need for you to get sore and turn on the tear ducks. I’ll tell you how this thing happened if you think you can see a joke.”

So I give her the truth, and afterwards I says: “They’ll be plenty of time for you and Kate to get acquainted with the dame, but I don’t want you tagging in there with me tonight. She’d think we was too cordial. Tomorrow morning, if you can manage to get up, we’ll all three of us go out on the porch and lay for her when she brings the whelps back from their hike. She’s sure to stop and inquire about my kennel. And don’t forget, wile she’s talking, that we got a couple of yaphounds that’s suffering from blanny, and if she asks any questions let me do the answering, as I can think a lot quicker. You better tell Kate the secret, too, before she messes everything up, according to custom.”

Then I and the Mrs. come downstairs and her and Katie went out to listen to the music wile I beat it to the red card room. I give Perkie the bottle of rash poison and she thanked me and said she would have the dogs’ governess slap some of it onto them in the morning. She was playing bridge w’ist with another gal and two dudes. To look at their faces they wasn’t playing for just pins. I had sense enough to not talk, but I stood there watching them a few minutes. Between hands Perk introduced me to the rest of the party. She had to ask my name first. The other skirt at the table was a Mrs. Snell and one of the dudes was a Doctor Platt. I didn’t get the name of Lady Perkins’ partner.

“Mr. Finch,” says Perk, “is also a dog fancier. But his dogs is sick with a disease called blanny and he’s got them over to the dog hospital at Haverton.”

“What kind of dogs?” asked Platt.

“I never heard of the breed before,” says Perk. “They’re yaphounds.”

“They raise them in South Dakota,” I says.

Platt gives me a funny look and said: “I been in South Dakota several times and I never heard of a yaphound neither; or I never heard of a disease named blanny.”

“I s’pose not,” says I. “You ain’t the only old-fashioned doctor that left themself go to seed when they got out of school. I bet you won’t admit they’s such a thing as appendicitis.”

Well, this got a laugh from Lady Perkins and the other dude, but it didn’t go very big with Doc or Mrs. Snell. Wile Doc was trying to figure out a come-back I said I must go and look after my womenfolks. So I told the party I was glad to of met them and walked out.

I found Ella and Katie in the summer parlor, and they wasn’t alone. A nice-looking young fella named Codd was setting alongside of them, and after we was introduced Ella leaned over and w’ispered to me that he was Bob Codd, the famous aviator. It come out that he had invented some new kind of an aeroplane and had came to demonstrate it to the Williams Company. The company – Palmer Williams and his brother, you know – they’ve got their flying field a couple miles from the hotel. Well, a guy with nerve enough to go up in one of them things certainly ain’t going to hesitate about speaking to a strange gal when he likes their looks. So this Codd baby had give himself an introduction to my Mrs. and Kate, and I guess they hadn’t sprained an ankle running away from him.

Of course Ella wanted to know how I’d came out with Lady Perkins. I told her that we hadn’t had much chance to talk because she was in a bridge game with three other people, but I’d met them and they’d all seemed to fall for me strong. Ella wanted to know who they was and I told her their names, all but the one I didn’t get. She squealed when I mentioned Mrs. Snell.

“Did you hear that, Sis?” she says to Kate. “Tom’s met Mrs. Snell. That’s the woman, you know, that wears them funny clothes and has the two dogs.”

“You’re describing every woman in the hotel,” I said.

“But this is the Mrs. Snell,” said the wife. “Her husband’s the sugar man and she’s the daughter of George Henkel, the banker. They say she’s a wonderful bridge player and don’t never play only for great big stakes. I’m wild to meet her.”

“Yes,” I said, “if they’s one person you should ought to meet, it’s a wonderful bridge player that plays for great big stakes, especially when our expenses is making a bum out of our income and you don’t know a grand slam from no dice.”

“I don’t expect to gamble with her,” says Ella. “But she’s just the kind of people we want to know.”

Well, the four of us set there and talked about this and that, and Codd said he hadn’t had time to get his machine put together yet, but when he had her fixed and tested her a few times he would take me up for a ride.

“You got the wrong number,” I says. “I don’t feel flighty.”

“Oh, I’d just love it!” said Kate.

“Well,” says Codd, “you ain’t barred. But I don’t want to have no passengers along till I’m sure she’s working O.K.”

When I and Ella was upstairs she said that Codd had told them he expected to sell his invention to the Williamses for a cold million. And he had took a big fancy to Kate.

“Well,” I said, “they say that the reckless aviators makes the best ones, so if him and Kate gets married he’ll be better than ever. He won’t give a damn after that.”

“You’re always saying something nasty about Sis,” said the Mrs.; “but I know you just talk to hear yourself talk. If I thought you meant it I’d walk out on you.”

“I’d hate to lose you,” I says, “but if you took her along I wouldn’t write it down as a total loss.”

—

The following morning I and the two gals was down on the porch bright and early and in a few minutes, sure enough, along came Lady Perkins, bringing the menagerie back from the parade. She turned them over to the nurse and joined us. She said that Martha, the nurse, had used the rash poison and it had made a kind of a lather on the dogs’ necks and she didn’t know whether to wash it off or not, but it had dried up in the sun. She asked me how many times a day the dope should ought to be put on, and I told her before every meal and at bedtime.

“But,” I says, “it’s best to not take the dogs right out in the sun where the lather’ll dry. The blanny germ can’t live in that kind of lather, so the longer it stays moist, why, so much the better.”

Then she asked me was I going to Haverton to see my pets that day and I said yes, and she said she hoped I’d find them much improved. Then Ella cut in and said she understood that Lady Perkins was very fond of bridge.

“Yes, I am,” says Perk. “Do you people play?”

“No, we don’t,” says Ella, “but we’d like to learn.”

“It takes a long wile to learn to play good,” said Perk. “But I do wished they was another real player in the hotel so as we wouldn’t have to take Doctor Platt in. He knows the game, but he don’t know enough to keep still. I don’t mind people talking wile the cards is being dealt, but once the hands is picked up they ought to be absolute silence. Last night I lost about three hundred and seventy dollars just because he talked at the wrong time.”

“Three hundred and seventy dollars!” said Kate. “My, you must play for big stakes!”

“Yes, we do,” says Lady Perkins; “and when a person is playing for sums like that it ain’t no time to trifle, especially when you’re playing against an expert like Mrs. Snell.”

“The game must be awfully exciting,” said Ella. “I wished we could watch it sometimes.”

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt nothing,” says Perkie; “not if you kept still. Maybe you’d bring me luck.”

“Was you going to play tonight?” asked Kate.

“No,” says the Lady. “They’s going to be a little dance here tonight and Mr. Snell’s dance mad, so he insists on borrowing his wife for the occasion. Doctor Platt likes to dance too.”

“We’re all wild about it,” says Kate. “Is this an invitation affair?”

“Oh, no,” says Perk. “It’s for the guests of the hotel.”

Then she said good-by to us and went in the dining room. The rest of our conversation all day was about the dance and what should we wear, and how nice and democratic Lady Perkins was, and to hear her talk you wouldn’t never know she had a title. I s’pose the gals thought she ought to stop every three or four steps and declare herself.

I made the announcement about noon that I wasn’t going to partake in the grand ball. My corn was the alibi. But they wasn’t no way to escape from dressing up and escorting the two gals into the grand ballroom and then setting there with them.

The dance was a knock-out. Outside of Ella and Kate and the aviator and myself, they was three couple. The Snells was there and so was Doctor Platt. He had a gal with him that looked like she might be his mother with his kid sister’s clothes on. Then they was a pair of young shimmy shakers that ought to of been give their bottle and tucked in the hay at six p.m. A corn wouldn’t of bothered them the way they danced; their feet wasn’t involved in the transaction.

I and the Mrs. and Kate was the only ones there in evening clothes. The others had attended these functions before and knew that they wouldn’t be enough suckers on hand to make any difference whether you wore a monkey suit or rompers. Besides, it wasn’t Saturday night.

The music was furnished by the three-piece orchestra that usually done their murder in the summer parlor.

Ella was expecting me to introduce her and Kate to the Snell gal, but her and her husband was so keen for dancing that they called it off in the middle of the second innings and beat it upstairs. Then Ella said she wouldn’t mind meeting Platt, but when he come past us and I spoke to him he give me a look like you would expect from a flounder that’s been wronged.

So poor Codd danced one with Kate and one with Ella, and so on, and so on, till finally it got pretty late, a quarter to ten, and our party was the only merry-makers left in the joint. The orchestra looked over at us to see if we could stand some more punishment. The Mrs. told me to go and ask them to play a couple more dances before they quit. They done what I asked them, but maybe I got my orders mixed up.

The next morning I asked Wurz, the manager, how often the hotel give them dances.

“Oh,” he says, “once or twice a month.”

I told him I didn’t see how they could afford it.

—

Kate went out after supper this next evening to take an automobile ride with Codd. So when I and Ella had set in the summer parlor a little wile, she proposed that we should go in and watch the bridge game. Well, I wasn’t keen for it, but when you tell wife you don’t want to do something she always says, “Why not?” and even if you’ve got a reason she’ll make a monkey out of it. So we rapped at the door of the red card room and Lady Perkins said, “Come in,” and in we went.

The two dudes and Mrs. Snell was playing with her again, but Perk was the only one that spoke.

“Set down,” she said, “and let’s see if you can bring me some luck.”

So we drawed up a couple of chairs and set a little ways behind her. Her and the anonymous dude was partners against Doc and Mrs. Snell, and they didn’t change all evening. I haven’t played only a few games of bridge, but I know a little about it, and I never see such hands as Perkie held. It was a misdeal when she didn’t have the ace, king and four or five others of one suit and a few picture cards and aces on the side. When she couldn’t get the bid herself she doubled the other pair and made a sucker out of them. I don’t know what they was playing a point, but when they broke up Lady Perkins and her dude was something like seven hundred berries to the good.

I and Ella went to bed wile they was settling up, but we seen her on the porch in the morning. She smiled at us and says: “You two are certainly grand mascots! I hope you can come in and set behind me again tonight. I ain’t even yet, but one more run of luck like last night’s and I’ll be a winner. Then,” she says, “I s’pose I’ll have to give my mascots some kind of a treat.”

Ella was tickled to death and couldn’t hardly wait to slip Sis the good news. Kate had been out late and overslept herself and we was half through breakfast when she showed up. The Mrs. told her about the big game and how it looked like we was in strong with the nobility, and Kate said she had some good news of her own; that Codd had as good as told her he was stuck on her.

“And he’s going to sell his invention for a million,” says Ella. “So I guess we wasn’t as crazy coming out to this place as some people thought we was.”

“Wait till the machine’s made good,” I said.

“It has already,” says Kate. “He was up in it yesterday and everything worked perfect and he says the Williamses was wild over it. And what do you think’s going to come off tomorrow morning? He’s going to take me up with him.”

“Oh, no, Sis!” said Ella. “S’pose something should happen!”

“No hope,” says I.

“But even if something should happen,” said Katie, “what would I care as long as it happened to Bob and I together!”

I told the waitress to bring me another order of fried mush.

“Tonight,” said Kate, “Bob’s going in Town to a theater party with some boys he went to college with. So I can help you bring Lady Perkins good luck.”

Something told me to crab this proposition and I tried, but it was passed over my veto. So the best I could do was to remind Sis, just before we went in the gambling den, to keep her mouth shut while the play was going on.

Perk give us a smile of welcome and her partner smiled too.

For an hour the game went along about even. Kate acted like she was bored, and she didn’t have nothing to say after she’d told them, wile somebody was dealing, that she was going to have an aeroplane ride in the morning. Finally our side began to lose, and lose by big scores. They was one time when they was about sixteen hundred points to the bad. Lady Perkins didn’t seem to be enjoying herself and when Ella addressed a couple of remarks to her the cat had her tongue.

But the luck switched round again and Lady Perk had all but caught up when the blow-off come.

It was the rubber game, with the score nothing and nothing. The Doc dealt the cards. I was setting where I could see his hand and Perk’s both. Platt had the king, jack and ten and five other hearts. Lady Perkins held the ace and queen of hearts, the other three aces and everything else in the deck.

The Doc bid two hearts. The other dude and Mrs. Snell passed.

“Two without,” says Lady Perkins.

“Three hearts,” says Platt.

The other two passed again and Perk says: “Three without.”

Katie had come strolling up and was pretty near behind Perk’s chair.

“Well,” says Platt, “it looks like – ”

But we didn’t find out what it looked like, as just then Katie says: “Heavens! Four aces! Don’t you wished you was playing penny ante?”

It didn’t take Lady Perkins no time at all to forget her title.

“You fool!” she screams, w’eeling round on Kate. “Get out of here, and get out of here quick, and don’t never come near me again! I hope your aeroplane falls a million feet. You little fool!”

I don’t know how the hand come out. We wasn’t there to see it played.

—

Lady Perkins got part of her hope. The aeroplane fell all right, but only a couple of miles instead of a million feet. They say that they was a defect or something in poor Codd’s engine. Anyway, he done an involuntary nose dive. Him and his invention was spilled all over Long Island. But Katie had been awake all night with the hysterics and Ella hadn’t managed to get her to sleep till nine a.m. So when Codd had called for her Ella’d told him that Sis would go some other day. Can you beat it?

Wile I and Ella was getting ready for supper I made the remark that I s’posed we’d live in a vale of tears for the next few days.

“No,” said Ella. “Sis is taking it pretty calm. She’s sensible. She says if that could of happened, why the invention couldn’t of been no good after all. And the Williamses probably wouldn’t of give him a plugged dime for it.”

Lady Perkins didn’t only speak to me once afterwards. I seen her setting on the porch one day, reading a book. I went up to her and said: “Hello.” They wasn’t no answer, so I thought I’d appeal to her sympathies.

“Maybe you’re still interested in my dogs,” I said. “They was too far gone and the veter’nary had to order them shot.”

“That’s good,” said Perk, and went on reading.

• 4 •

Only One

I guess I already told you about my sister-in-law, Kate, getting in bad with Lady Perkins out to the Decker Hotel on Long Island. Kate was standing behind Perk’s chair in a bridge whist game and spilled what her ladyship had in her hand, right in the middle of the bidding. The game was for real sugar and Katie’s gab must of kicked Perk’s profits for a gool from field. Anyway, to hear what the Lady told her, you wouldn’t of never thought that us and England was supposed to be Brother Moose.

Even before this come we hadn’t went very big amongst the high mucky mucks that lived in the hotel, and when the other guests seen Perk take us off, it certainly didn’t start no stampede down our alley. We was all ready to call it a day and move back to Town. My Mrs. said the joint wasn’t big enough to hold both she and Perkins.

“She treats us like garbage,” says the Mrs., “and if I stay here much longer I’ll forget myself and do her nose in a braid.”

But Perk left first and saved us the trouble. Her husband was down in Texas looking after some oil gag and he wired her a telegram one day to come and join him as it looked like he would have to stay there all summer. If I’d of been him I’d of figured that Texas was a sweet enough summer resort without adding your wife to it.

We was out on the porch when her ladyship and two dogs shoved off.

“Three of a kind,” said the Mrs.

And she stuck her tongue out at Perk and felt like that made it all even. A woman won’t stop at nothing to revenge insults. I’ve saw them stagger home in a new pair of 3 double A shoes because some fresh clerk told them the 7 Ds they tried on was too small. So anyway we decided to stay on at the Decker and the two gals prettied themselves up every night for dinner in the hopes that somebody besides the head waiter would look at them twice, but we attracted about as much attention as a dirty finger nail in the third grade.

That is, up till Herbert Daley come on the scene.

—

Him and Katie spotted each other at the same time. It was the night he come to the Decker. We was pretty near through dinner when the head waiter showed him to a table a little ways from us. The majority of the guests out there belongs to the silly sex and a new man is always a riot, even with the married ones. But Daley would of knocked them dead anywheres. He looked like he was born and raised in Shubert’s chorus and the minute he danced in all the womenfolks forgot the feed bag and feasted their eyes on him. As for Daley, after he’d glanced at the bill of fare, he let his peepers roll over towards our table and then they quit rolling. A cold stare from Kate might have scared him off, but if they was ever a gal with “Welcome” embroidered on her pan, she’s it.

It was all I could do to tear Ella and Sis from the dining room, though they was usually in a hurry to romp out to the summer parlor and enjoy a few snubs. I’d just as soon of set one place as another, only for the waitress, who couldn’t quit till we did and she generally always had a date with the big ski jumper the hotel hires to destroy trunks.

Well, we went out and listened a wile to the orchestra, which had brought a lot of new jazz from the Prince of Pilsen, and we waited for the new dude to show up, but he didn’t, and finally I went in to the desk to buy a couple of cigars and there he was, talking to Wurz, the manager. Wurz introduced us and after we’d shook hands Daley excused himself and said he was going upstairs to write a letter. Then Wurz told me he was Daley the horseman.

“He just came up from the South,” says Wurz. “He’s going to be with us till the meetings is over at Jamaica and Belmont. He’s got a whale of a stable and he expects to clean up round New York with Only One, which he claims can beat any horse in the world outside of Man o’ War. They’s some other good ones in the bunch, too, and he says he’ll tell me when he’s going to bet on them. I don’t only bet once in a long wile and then never more than $25 at a crack, but I’ll take this baby’s tips as often as he comes through with them. I guess a man won’t make no mistake following a bird that bets five and ten thousand at a clip, though of course it don’t mean much to him if he win or lose. He’s dirty with it.”

I asked Wurz if Daley was married and he said no.

“And listen,” he says: “It looks like your little sister-in-law had hit him for a couple of bases. He described where she was setting in the dining room and asked who she was.”

“Yes,” I said, “I noticed he was admiring somebody at our table, but I thought maybe it was me.”

“He didn’t mention you,” says Wurz, “only to make sure you wasn’t Miss Kate’s husband.”

“If he was smart he’d know that without asking,” I said. “If she was my wife I’d be wearing weeds.”

I went back to the gals and told them I’d met the guy. They was all steamed up.

“Who is he?” says Kate.

“His name is Herbert Daley,” I told her. “He’s got a stable over to Jamaica.”

“A stable!” says Ella, dropping her jaw. “A man couldn’t dress like he and run a livery.”

So I had to explain that he didn’t run no livery, but owned a string of race horses.

“How thrilling!” says Katie. “I love races! I went to the Grand Circuit once, the time I was in Columbus.”

“These is different,” I says. “These is thurlbreds.”

“So was they thurlbreds!” she says. “You always think a thing can’t be no good if you wasn’t there.”

I let her win that one.

“We must find out when the race is and go,” said the Mrs.

“They’s six of them every day,” I said, “but it costs about five smackers apiece to get in, to say nothing about what you lose betting.”

“Betting!” says Katie. “I just love to bet and I never lose. Don’t you remember the bet I made with Sammy Pass on the baseball that time? I took him for a five-pound box of candy. I just felt that Cincinnati was going to win.”

“So did the White Sox,” I says. “But if you bet with the boys over to Jamaica, the only candy they’ll take you for is an all-day sucker.”

“What did Mr. Daley have to say?” asked Ella.

“He had to say he was pleased to meet me,” I told her. “He proved it by chasing upstairs to write a letter.”

“Probably to his wife,” said Kate.

“No,” I said. “Wurz tells me he ain’t got no wife. But he’s got plenty of jack, so Wurz says.”

“Well, Sis,” says the Mrs., “that’s no objection to him, is it?”

“Don’t be silly!” said Katie. “He wouldn’t look at me.”

“I guess not!” I says. “He was so busy doing it in the dining room, that half his soup never got past his chin. And listen: I don’t like to get you excited, but Wurz told me he asked who you was.”

“O Sis!” said the Mrs. “It looks like a Romance.”

“Wurz didn’t say nothing about a Romance,” said I. “He may be interested like the rubes who stare with their mouth open at Ringling’s ‘Strange People.’”

“Oh, you can’t tease Sis like that,” said Ella. “She’s as pretty as a picture tonight and nobody could blame a man from admiring her.”

“Especially when we don’t know nothing about him,” I says. “He may be a snow-eater or his upstairs rooms is unfurnished or something.”

“Well,” says Ella, “if he shows up again tonight, don’t you forget to introduce us.”

“Better not be in no hurry,” I said.

“Why not?” said Ella. “If him and Sis likes each other’s looks, why, the sooner they get acquainted, it won’t hurt nothing.”

“I don’t know,” I says. “I’ve noticed that most of the birds you chose for a brother-in-law only stayed in the family as long as they was strangers.”

“Nobody said nothing about Mr. Daley as a brother-in-law,” says Ella.

“Oh!” I said. “Then I suppose you want Katie to meet him so as she can land a hostler’s job.”

Well, in about a half hour, the gals got their wish and Daley showed up. I didn’t have to pull no strategy to land him. He headed right to where we was setting like him and I was old pals. I made the introductions and he drawed up a chair and parked. The rest of the guests stared at us goggle-eyed.

“Some hotel!” says Daley.

“We like it,” says the Mrs. “They’s so many nice people lives here.”

“We know by hearsay,” I said, but she stepped on my foot.

“It’s handy for me,” said Daley. “I have a few horses over to the Jamaica race track and it’s a whole lot easier to come here than go in Town every night.”

“Do you attend the races every day?” says Katie.

“Sure,” he says. “It’s my business. And they’s very few afternoons when one of my nags ain’t entered.”

“My! You must have a lot of them!” said Kate.

“Not many,” says Daley. “About a hundred. And I only shipped thirty.”

“Imagine!” said Kate.

“The army’s got that many,” I said.

“The army ain’t got none like mine,” says Daley. “I guess they wished they had of had. I’d of been glad to of helped them out, too, if they’d asked me.”

“That’s why I didn’t enlist,” I said. “Pershing never even suggested it.”

“Oh, I done my bit all right,” says Daley. “Two hundred thousand in Liberty Bonds is all.”

“Just like throwing it away!” I says.

“Two hundred thousand!” says Ella. “And you’ve still got money left?”

She said this in a joking way, but she kept the receiver to her ear.

“I ain’t broke yet,” says Daley, “and I don’t expect to be.”

“You don’t half know this hotel,” I says.

“The Decker does charge good prices,” said Daley, “but still and all, a person is willing to pay big for the opportunity of meeting young ladies like the present company.”

“O Mr. Daley!” said Kate. “I’m afraid you’re a flatterer.”

“I bet he makes them pretty speeches to every woman he meets,” says Ella.

“I haven’t met none before who I felt like making them,” says Daley.

Wile they was still talking along these lines, the orchestra begin to drool a Perfect Day, so I ducked out on the porch for air. The gals worked fast wile I was gone and when I come back it was arranged that Daley was to take us to the track next afternoon in his small car.

—

His small car was a toy that only had enough room for the people that finds fault with Wilson. I suppose he had to leave his big car in New York on account of the Fifty-ninth Street bridge being so frail. Before we started I asked our host if they was a chance to get anything to drink over to the track and he says no, but pretty near everybody brought something along on the hip, so I said for them to wait a minute wile I went up to the room and filled a flask. When we was all in the car, the Mrs. wanted to know if it wasn’t risky, me taking the hootch along.

“It’s against the prohibition law,” she says.

“So am I,” I said.

“They’s no danger,” says Daley. “They ain’t began to force prohibition yet. I only wished they had. It would save me a little worry about my boy.”

“Your boy!” said Katie, dropping her jaw a foot.

“Well, I call him my boy,” says Daley. “I mean little Sid Mercer, that rides for me. He’s the duke of them all when he lays off the liquor. He’s gave me his word that he won’t touch nothing as long as he’s under contract to me, and he’s kept straight so far, but I can’t help from worr’ing about him. He ought to be good, though, when I pay him $20,000 for first call, and leave him make all he can on the side. But he ain’t got much stren’th of character, you might say, and if something upsets him, he’s liable to bust things wide open.

“I remember once he was stuck on a gal down in Louisville and he was supposed to ride Great Scott for Bradley in the Derby. He was the only one that could handle Scott right, and with him up Scott would of win as far as from here to Dallas. But him and the gal had a brawl the day before the race and that night the kid got stiff. When it come time for the race he couldn’t of kept a seat on a saw horse. Bradley had to hustle round and dig up another boy and Carney was the only one left that could ride at all and him and Great Scott was strangers. So Bradley lose the race and canned Mercer.”

“Whisky’s a terrible thing,” says Ella. A woman’ll sometimes pretend for a long wile like she’s stupid and all of a sudden pull a wise crack that proves she’s a thinker.

“Well,” says Daley, “when Bradley give him the air, I took him, and he’s been all right. I guess maybe I know how to handle men.”

“Men only?” says Katie, smiling.

“Men and horses,” said Daley. “I ain’t never tried to handle the fair sex and I don’t know if I could or not. But I’ve just met one that I think could handle me.” And he give her a look that you could pour on a waffle.

Daley had a table saved for him in the clubhouse and we eat our lunch. The gals had clubhouse sandwiches, probably figuring they was caught fresh there. They was just one of Daley’s horses entered that day and he told us he wasn’t going to bet on it, as it hadn’t never showed nothing and this was just a try-out. He said, though, that they was other horses on the card that looked good and maybe he would play them after he’d been round and talked to the boys.

“Yes,” says Kate, “but the men you’ll talk to knows all about the different horses and they’ll tell you what horses to bet on and how can I win?”

“Why,” says Daley, “if I decide to make a little bet on So-and-So I’ll tell you about it and you can bet on the same horse.”

“But if I’m betting with you,” says Kate, “how can we bet on the same horse?”

“You’re betting with me, but you ain’t betting against me,” said Daley. “This ain’t a bet like you was betting with your sister on a football game or something. We place our bets with the bookmakers, that makes their living taking bets. Whatever horses we want to bet on, they take the bet.”

“They must be crazy!” says Katie. “Your friends tell you what horse is going to win and you bet on them and the bookbinders is stung.”

“My friends makes mistakes,” says Daley, “and besides, I ain’t the only guy out here that bets. Pretty near everybody at the track bets and the most of them don’t know a race horse from a corn plaster. A bookmaker that don’t finish ahead on the season’s a cuckoo. Now,” he says, “if you’ll excuse me for a few minutes, I’ll go down to the paddock and see what’s new.”

So wile he was gone we had a chance to look round and they was plenty to see. It was a Saturday and a big crowd out. Lots of them was gals that you’d have to have a pick to break through to their regular face. Since they had their last divorce, about the only excitement they could enjoy was playing a long shot. Which reminds me that they’s an old saying that nobody loves a fat man, but you go out to a race track or down to Atlantic City or any place where the former wifes hangs out and if you’ll notice the birds with them, the gents that broke up their home, you’ll find out that the most of them is guys with chins that runs into five and six figures and once round their waist is a sleeper jump.

Besides the janes and the fat rascals with them, you seen a flock of ham actors that looked like they’d spent the night in a Chinese snowstorm, and maybe a half a dozen losers’ end boxers that’d used the bridge of their nose to block with and always got up in the morning just after the clock had struck ten, thinking they’d been counted out.

Pretty near everybody wore a pair of field glasses on a strap and when the race was going on they’d look through them and tell the world that the horse they’d bet on was three len’ths in front and just as good as in, but I never heard of a bookie paying off on that dope, and personally when someone would insist on lending me a pair to look through I couldn’t tell if the things out there racing was horses or gnats.

Daley was back with us in a few minutes and says to Kate: “I guess you’ll have to bet on yourself in the first race.”

So she asked him what did he mean and he said: “I had a tip on a filly named Sweet and Pretty.”

“O Mr. Daley!” says Kate.

“They don’t expect her to win,” says Daley, “but she’s six, two and even, and I’m going to play her place and show.”

Then he explained what that was and he said he was going to bet a thousand each way and finally the gals decided to go in for $10 apiece to show. It tickled them to death to find out that they didn’t have to put up nothing. We found seats down in front wile Daley went to place the bets. Pretty soon the horses come out and Kate and Ella both screamed when they seen how cute the jockeys was dressed. Sweet and Pretty was No. 10 and had a combination of colors that would knock your eye out. Daley come back and explained that every owner had their own colors and of course the gals wanted to know what his was and he told them Navy blue and orange sleeves with black whoops on them and a blue cap.

“How beautiful!” says Ella. “I can’t hardly wait to see them!”

“You must have wonderful taste in colors!” says Kate.

“Not only in colors,” he says.

“O Mr. Daley!” she says again.

Well, the race was ran and No. 10 was a Sweet and Pretty last.

“Now,” I says, “you O Mr. Daley.”

The gals had yelped themself hoarse and didn’t have nothing to say, but I could tell from their face that it would take something more than a few pretty speeches to make up for that twenty men.

“Never mind that!” said Daley. “She got a rotten ride. We’ll get that back on the next one.”

His hunch in the next one was Sena Day and he was betting a thousand on her to place at 4 to 1. He made the gals go in for $20 apiece, though they didn’t do it with no pep. I went along with him to place the bets and he introduced me to a bookie so as I could bet a few smackers of my own when I felt like it. You know they’s a law against betting unless it’s a little bet between friends and in order to be a bookie’s friend he’s got to know your name. A quick friendship sprung up between I and a guy named Joe Meyer, and he not only give me his card but a whole deck of them. You see the law also says that when you make one of these bets with your pals he can’t give you no writing to show for it, but he’s generally always a man that makes a lot of friends and it seems like they all want to make friendly bets with him, and he can’t remember where all his buddies lives, so he makes them write their names and address on the cards and how much the friendly wager is for and who on, and so forth, and the next day he mails them the bad news and they mail him back a check for same. Once in a wile, of course, you get the bad news and forget to mail him the check and he feels blue over it as they’s nothing as sad as breaking up an old friendship.

I laid off Sena Day and she win. Daley smiled at the gals.

“There!” he says. “I’m sorry we didn’t play her on the nose, but I was advised to play safe.”

“Fine advice!” said Kate. “It’s cost Sis and I $60 so far.”

“What do you mean?” says Daley.

“We lose $20 on the first race,” she says, “and you tell us we’ll get it back on the next one and we bet the horse’ll come second and it don’t.”

So we had to explain that if a horse win, why it placed, too, and her and Ella had grabbed $160 on that race and was $140 ahead. He was $2,000 winners himself.

“We’ll have a drink on Sena,” he says. “I don’t believe they was six people out here that bet a nickel on her.”

So Katie told him he was wonderful and him and the gals had a sarsaparilla or something and I poured my own. He’d been touting Cleopatra in the third race, but her and everybody else was scratched out of it except Captain Alcock and On Watch. On Watch was 9 to 10 and Alcock even money and Daley wouldn’t let us bet.

“On Watch is best,” he says, “but he’s giving away twenty pounds and you can’t tell. Anyway, it ain’t worth it at that price.”

“Only two horses in the race?” asked Ella.

“That’s all,” he says.

“Well, then, listen,” she says, all excited: “Why not bet on one of them for place?”

Daley laughed and said it was a grand idear only he didn’t think the bookbinders would stand for it.

“But maybe they don’t know,” she says.

“I guess they do,” said Daley. “It’s almost impossible to keep a secret like that round a race track.”

“Besides,” I said, “the bookworms owes you and Kate $70 apiece and if you put something like that over on them and they find it out, they’ll probably get even by making you a check on the West Bank of the Hudson River.”

So we decided to play fair and lay off the race entirely. On Watch come through and the gals felt pretty bad about it till we showed them that they’d of only grabbed off nine smackers apiece if they’d of plunged on him for $20 straight.

Along toward time for the next race, Daley steered us down by the paddock and we seen some of the nags close up. Daley and the gals raved over this one and that one, and wasn’t this one a beauty, and so forth. Personally they was all just a horse to me and I never seen one yet that wasn’t homelier than the City Hall. If they left it up to me to name the world’s champion eyesore, I’d award the elegant barb’ wire wash rag to a horse rode by a woman in a derby hat. People goes to the Horse Show to see the Count de Fault; they don’t know a case of withers from an off hind hock. And if the Sport of Kings was patronized by just birds that admires equine charms, you could park the Derby Day crowd in a phone booth.

A filly named Tamarisk was the favorite in the fourth race and Daley played her for eight hundred smackers at 4 to 5. The gals trailed along with $8 apiece and she win from here to Worcester. The fifth was the one that Daley had an entry in – a dog named Fly-by-Night. It was different in the daytime. Mercer had the mount and done the best he could, which was finish before supper. Nobody bet, so nobody was hurt.

“He’s just a green colt,” Daley told us. “I wanted to see how he’d behave.”

“Well,” I said, “I thought he behaved like a born caboose.”

Daley liked the Waterbury entry in the last and him and the gals played it and win. All told, Daley was $4,000 ahead on the day and Ella and Kate had picked up $160 between them. They wanted to kiss everybody on the way out. Daley sent us to the car to wait for him. He wanted to see Mercer a minute. After a wile he come out and brought Mercer along and introduced him. He’s a good-looking kid only for a couple of blotches on his pan and got an under lip and chin that kind of lags behind. He was about Kate’s height, and take away his Adams apple and you could mail him to Duluth for six cents. Him and Kate got personal right away and she told him how different he looked now than in his riding make-up. He said he had a new outfit that he’d of wore if he’d knew she was looking on. So I said I hoped he didn’t expect to ride Fly-by-Night round the track and keep a suit new, and he laughed, and Daley didn’t seem to enjoy the conversation and said we’d have to be going, but when we started off, Kate and Mercer give each other a smile with a future in it. She’s one of these gals that can’t help from looking open house, even if the guy takes after a pelican.

Daley moved to our table that night and after that we eat breakfast and supper with him pretty near every day. After breakfast the gals would go down to New York to spend what they had win the day before, and I’ll admit that Daley give us many a winner. I begin betting a little of my own jack, but I stuck the proceeds in the old sock. I ain’t superstitious about living off a woman’s money as long as you’re legally married, but at the clip the two gals was going, it looked like their old man’s war profits was on the way to join their maker, and the more jack I laid by, the less sooner I would have to go to work.

We’d meet every afternoon at the track and after the races Daley’d bring us back to the hotel. After supper we’d set round and chin or play rummy or once in a wile we’d go in Town to a show or visit one of the road houses near the Decker. The mail service on Long Island’s kind of rotten and they’s a bunch of road houses that hasn’t heard of prohibition.

During the time we’d lived in Town Katie had got acquainted with three or four birds that liked her well enough to take her places where they wasn’t no cover charge, but since we’d moved to the Decker we hadn’t heard from none of them. That is, till a few days after we’d met Daley, when she told us that one of the New York boys, a guy named Goldberg, had called up and wanted her to come in and see a show with him. He’s a golf champion or something. Well, Daley offered to drive her in, but she said no, she’d rather go on the train and Goldberg was going to meet her. So she went, and Daley tried to play cards with Ella and I, but he was too restless and finally snuck up to his room.

They wasn’t no question about his feelings toward Kate. He was always trying to fix it to be alone with her, but I guess it was the first time in her life when she didn’t have to do most of the leading and she kept him at arm’s len’th. Her and Ella had many a battle. Ella told her that the first thing she knowed he’d get discouraged and walk out on her; that she’d ought to quit monking and give him to understand that she was ready to yes him when he spoke up. But Katie said she guessed she could run her own love affairs as she’d had a few more of them than Ella.

So Ella says: “Maybe you have, but which one of us has got the husband?”

“You, thank the Lord!” says Katie.

“Thank him twice,” I said.

Kate didn’t come home from her New York party till two o’clock and she overslept herself till it was too late to go down again and shop. So we all drove over to the track with Daley and most of the way over he acted like a child. Katie kept talking about what a good show she seen and had a grand time, and so forth, and he pretended he wasn’t listening. Finally she cut it out and give him the old oil and by the time we got to the clubhouse he’d tossed in the sponge.

That was the last day at Jamaica and a couple of his horses was in. We was all down on them and they both copped, though Mercer had to give one of them a dude ride to pull us through. Daley got maudlin about what a grand rider the kid was and a grand little fella besides, and he had half a notion to bring him along with us back to the hotel and show him a good time. But Kate said what was the use of an extra man, as it would kind of spoil things and she was satisfied with just Daley. So of course that tickled him and everybody was feeling good and after supper him and Kate snuck out alone for the first time. Ella made me set up till they come back, so as she could get the news. Well, Daley had asked her all right, but she told him she wanted a little wile to think.

“Think!” says Ella. “What does she want to think for?”

“The novelty, I suppose,” said I.

—

Only One was in the big stake race the next day, when we shifted over to Belmont. They was five or six others in with him, all of them pretty good, and the price on him was 3 to 1. He hadn’t started yet since Daley’d brought him here, but they’d been nursing him along and Mercer and the trainer said he was right.

I suppose of course you’ve been out to Belmont. At that time they run the wrong way of the track, like you deal cards. Daley’s table was in a corner of the clubhouse porch and when you looked up the track, the horses was coming right at you. Even the boys with the trick glasses didn’t dast pretend they could tell who’s ahead.

The Belmont national hymn is Whispering. The joint’s so big and scattered round that a German could sing without disturbing the party at the next table. But they seems to be a rule that when they’s anything to be said, you got to murmur it with the lips stuck to the opponent’s earlobe. They shush you if you ask out loud for a toothpick. Everywheres you’ll see two or three guys with their heads together in a whispering scene. One of them has generally always just been down to the horses’ dining room and had lunch with Man o’ War or somebody and they told him to play Sea Mint in the next race as Cleopatra had walked the stall all night with her foal. A little ways off they’ll be another pair of shushers and one of them’s had a phone call from Cleopatra’s old dam to put a bet on Cleo as Captain Alcock had got a hold of some wild oats and they couldn’t make him do nothing but shimmy.

If they’s ten horses in a race you can walk from one end of the clubhouse to the other and get a whisper on all ten of them. I remember the second time Man o’ War run there. They was only one horse that wanted to watch him from the track and the War horse was 1 to 100. So just before the race, if you want to call it that, I seen a wise cracker that I’d got acquainted with, that had always been out last night with Madden or Waterbury, so just kidding I walked up to him and asked him who he liked. So he motioned me to come over against the wall where they wasn’t nobody near us and whispered, “Man o’ War’s unbeatable.” You see if that remark had of been overheard and the news allowed to spread round, it might of forced the price to, say, 1 to a lump of coal, and spoiled the killing.

Well, wile the Jamaica meeting was on, the gals had spent some of their spare time figuring out how much they’d of been ahead if Daley had of let them bet more than ten to twenty smackers a race. So this day at Belmont, they said that if he liked Only One so much, he should ought to leave them raise the ante just once and play fifty apiece.

But he says: “No, not this time. I’m pretty sure he’ll win, but he’s in against a sweet field and he ain’t raced for a month. I’ll bet forty on the nose for the two of you, and if he looks good you can gamble some real money the next time he runs.”

So Ella and Kate had to be satisfied with $20 apiece. Daley himself bet $2,000 and I piked along with $200 that I didn’t tell the gals nothing about. We all got 3 to 1. A horse named Streak of Lightning was favorite at 6 to 5. It was a battle. Only One caught the Streak in the last step and win by a flea’s jaw. Everybody was in hysterics and the gals got all messed up clawing each other.

“Nobody but Mercer could of did it!” says Daley, as soon as he could talk.

“He’s some jockey!” yelled Kate. “O you Sid!”

Pretty soon, the time was give out and Only One had broke the track record for the distance, whatever it was.

“He’s a race horse!” said Daley. “But it’s too bad he had to extend himself. We won’t get no price the next time out.”

Well, altogether the race meant $14,000 to Daley, and he said we’d all go to Town that night and celebrate. But when we got back to the Decker, they was a telegram for him and he had to pack up and beat it for Kentucky.

—

Daley being away didn’t stop us from going to the track. He’d left orders with Ernest, his driver, to take us wherever we wanted to go and the gals had it so bad now that they couldn’t hardly wait till afternoon. They kept on trimming the books, too. Kate got a phone call every morning that she said was from this Goldberg and he was giving her tips. Her and Ella played them and I wished I had. I would of if I’d knew who they was from. They was from Mercer, Daley’s boy. That’s who they was from.

I and Ella didn’t wise up till about the third night after Daley’d went. That night, Kate took the train to Town right after supper, saying she had a date with Goldberg. It was a swell night and along about eight, I and Ella decided we might as well have a ride. So we got a hold of Ernest and it wound up by us going to New York too. We seen a picture and batted round till midnight and then Ella says why not go down to the Pennsylvania Station and pick Kate up when she come to take the train, and bring her home. So we done it. But when Katie showed up for the train, it was Mercer that was with her, not Goldberg.

Well, Mercer was pretty near out to the car with us when he happened to think that Daley’s driver mustn’t see him. So he said good night and left us. But he didn’t do it quick enough. Daley’s driver had saw him and I seen that he’d saw him and I knowed that he wasn’t liable to be stuck on another of Daley’s employs that was getting ten times as much money as him and all the cheers, and never had to dirty himself up changing a tire. And I bet it was all Ernest could do was wait till Daley come back so as he could explode the boom.

Kate and Ella didn’t know Ernest was hep and I didn’t tell them for fear of spoiling the show, so the women done their brawling on the way home in a regular race track whisper. The Mrs. told Kate she was a hick to be monking round with a jockey when Daley was ready and willing to give her a modern home with a platinum stopper in the washbowl. Kate told Ella that she wasn’t going to marry nobody for their money, and besides, Mercer was making more than enough to support a wife, and how that boy can dance!

“But listen,” she says: “I ain’t married to neither one of them yet and don’t know if I want to be.”

“Well,” says Ella, “you won’t have no chance to marry Daley if he finds out about you and Mercer.”

“He won’t find out unless you tell him,” said Kate.

“Well, I’ll tell him,” says Ella, “unless you cut this monkey business out.”

“I’ll cut it out when I get good and ready,” says Kate. “You can tell Daley anything you please.”

She knew they wasn’t no chance of Ella making good.

“Daley’ll be back in a couple of days,” says the Mrs. “When he comes he’ll want his answer and what are you going to say?”

“Yes or no, according to which way I make up my mind,” said Kate. “I don’t know yet which one I like best.”

“That’s ridic’lous!” Ella says. “When a girl says she can’t make up her mind, it shows they’s nothing to make up. Did you ever see me when I couldn’t make up my mind?”

“No,” said Katie, “but you never had even one whole man to choose between.”

The last half of the ride neither of them were talking. That’s a world’s record in itself. They kind of made up the next morning after I’d told Ella that the surest way to knock Daley’s chances for a gool was to paste Mercer.

“Just lay off of it,” I told her. “The best man’ll win in fair competition, which it won’t be if you keep plugging for Daley.”

We had two more pretty fair days at the track on Kate’s tips that Mercer give her. We also went on a party with him down Town, but we used the train, not Daley’s car.

Daley showed up on a Wednesday morning and had Ernest take him right over to the track. I suppose it was on this trip that Ernest squealed. Daley didn’t act no different when we joined him on the clubhouse porch, but that night him and Kate took a ride alone and come back engaged.

—

They’d been pointing Only One for the Merrick Handicap, the fourth race on Saturday. It was worth about $7,000 to the winner. The distance was seven furlongs and Only One had top weight, 126 pounds. But Thursday he done a trial over the distance in 1.22, carrying 130 pounds, so it looked like a set-up.

Thursday morning I and Ella happened to be in Katie’s room when the telephone rung. It was Mercer on the other end. He asked her something and she says: “I told you why in my note.”

So he said something else and she says: “Not with no jailbird.”

And she hung up.

Well, Ella wanted to know what all the pleasantries was about, but Kate told her to mind her own business.

“You got your wish and I’m engaged to Daley,” she says, “and that’s all you need to know.”

For a gal that was going to marry a dude that was supposed to have all the money in the world, she didn’t act just right, but she wouldn’t been Kate if she had of, so I didn’t think much about it.

Friday morning I got a wire from one of the South Bend boys, Goat Anderson, sent from Buffalo, saying he’d be in New York that night and would I meet him at the Belmont at seven o’clock. So I went in Town from the track and waited round till pretty near nine, but he didn’t show up. I started to walk across to the Pennsylvania Station and on the way I dropped in at a place where they was still taking a chance. I had one up at the bar and was throwing it into me when a guy in the back part yelled “Hey! Come here!” It was Mercer yelling and it was me he wanted.

He was setting at a table all alone with a highball. It didn’t take no Craig Kennedy to figure out that it wasn’t his first one.

“Set down before I bat you down!” he says.

“Listen,” I says: “I wished you was champion of the world. You’d hold onto the title just long enough for me to reach over and sock you where most guys has a chin.”

“Set down!” he says. “It’s your wife I’m going to beat up, not you.”

“You ain’t going to beat up nobody’s wife or nobody’s husband,” I says, “and if you don’t cut out that line of gab you’ll soon be asking the nurse how you got there.”

“Set down and come clean with me,” he says. “Was your wife the one that told Daley about your sister-in-law and I?”

“If she did, what of it?” I says.

“I’m asking you, did she?” he says.

“No, she didn’t,” I said. “If somebody told him his driver told him. He seen you the other night.”

“Ernest!” he says. “Frank and Ernest! I’ll Ernest him right in the jaw!”

“You’re a fine matchmaker!” I says. “He could knock you for a row of flat tires. Why don’t you try and get mad at Dempsey?”

“Set down and have a drink,” says Mercer.

“I didn’t mean that about your wife. You and her has treated me all right. And your sister-in-law, too, even if she did give me the air. And called me a jailbird. But that’s all right. It’s Daley I’m after and it’s Daley I’m going to get.”

“Sweet chance!” I says. “What could you do to him?”

“Wait and see!” said Mercer, and smiled kind of silly.

“Listen,” I says. “Have you forgot that you’re supposed to ride Only One tomorrow?”

“Supposed to ride is right,” he says, and smiled again.

“Ain’t you going to ride him?” I said.

“You bet I am!” he says.

“Well, then,” I said, “you better call it a day and go home.”

“I’m over twenty-one,” he says, “and I’m going to set here and enjoy myself. But remember, I ain’t keeping you up.”

Well, they wasn’t nothing I could do only set there and wait for him to get stiff and then see him to his hotel. We had a drink and we had another and a couple more. Finally he opened up. I wished you could of heard him. It took him two hours to tell his story, and everything he said, he said it over and over and repeated it four and five times. And part of the time he talked so thick that I couldn’t hardly get him.

“Listen,” he says. “Can you keep a secret? Listen,” he says. “I’m going to take a chance with you on account of your sister-in-law. I loved that little gal. She’s give me the air, but that don’t make no difference; I loved that little gal and I don’t want her to lose no money. So I’m going to tell you a secret and if you don’t keep your clam shut I’ll roll you for a natural. In the first place,” he says, “how do you and Daley stack up?”

“That ain’t no secret,” I said. “I think he’s all right. He’s been a good friend of mine.”

“Oh,” says Mercer, “so he’s been a good friend of yours, has he? All right, then. I’m going to tell you a secret. Do you remember the day I met you and the gals in the car? Well, a couple of days later, Daley was feeling pretty good about something and he asked me how I liked his gal? So I told him she looked good. So he says, ‘I’m going to marry that gal,’ he says. He says, ‘She likes me and her sister and brother-in-law is encouraging it along,’ he says. ‘They know I’ve got a little money and they’re making a play for me. They’re a couple of rats and I’m the cheese. They’re going to make a meal off of me. They think they are,’ he says. ‘But the brother-in-law’s a smart Aleck that thinks he’s a wise cracker. He’d be a clown in a circus, only that’s work. And his wife’s fishing for a sucker with her sister for bait. Well, the gal’s a pip and I’m going to marry her,’ he says, ‘but as soon as we’re married, it’s good-by, family-in-law! Me and them is going to be perfect strangers. They think they’ll have free board and lodging at my house,’ he says, ‘but they won’t get no meal unless they come to the back door for it, and when they feel sleepy they can make up a lower for themself on my cement porch.’ That’s the kind of a friend of yours this baby is,” says Mercer.

I didn’t say nothing and he went on.

“He’s your friend as long as he can use you,” he says. “He’s been my friend since I signed to ride for him, that is, up till he found out I was stealing his gal. Then he shot my chances for a bull’s-eye by telling her about a little trouble I had, five or six years ago. I and a girl went to a party down in Louisville and I seen another guy wink at her and I asked him what he meant by it and he said he had St. Vitus’ dance. So I pulled the iron and knocked off a couple of his toes, to cure him. I was in eleven months and that’s what Daley told Kate about. And of course he made her promise to not tell, but she wrote me a good-by note and spilled it. That’s the kind of a pal he is.

“After I got out I worked for Bradley, and when Bradley turned me loose, he give me a $10,000 contract.”

“He told us twenty,” I said.

“Sure he did,” says Mercer. “He always talks double. When he gets up after a tough night, both his heads aches. And if he ever has a baby he’ll invite you over to see the twins. But anyway, what he pays me ain’t enough and after tomorrow I’m through riding. What’s ten or fifteen thousand a year when you can’t drink nothing and you starve to death for the fear you’ll pick up an ounce! Listen,” he says. “I got a brother down in Oklahoma that’s in the oil lease game. He cleaned up $25,000 last year and he wants me to go in with him. And with what I’ve saved up and what I’m going to win tomorrow, I should worry if we don’t make nothing in the next two years.”

“How are you going to win tomorrow?” I said. “The price’ll be a joke.”

“The price on who?” says Mercer.

“Only One,” I said.

He give a silly laugh and didn’t say nothing for a minute. Then he asked if Daley done the betting for I and the two gals. I told him he had did it at first, but now I was doing it.

“Well,” he says, “you do it tomorrow, see? That little lady called me a jailbird, but I don’t want her to lose her money.”

So I asked him what he meant and he asked me for the tenth or eleventh time if I could keep a secret. He made me hold up my hand and swear I wouldn’t crack what he was going to tell me.

“Now,” he says, “what’s the name of the horse I’m riding tomorrow?”

“Only One,” I said.

“That ain’t all of it,” said Mercer. “His name tomorrow is Only One Left. See? Only One Left.”

“Do you mean he’s going to get left at the post?” I says.

“You’re a Ouija board!” says Mercer. “Your name is Ouija and the horse’s name is Only One Left. And listen,” he says. “Everything but three horses is going to be scratched out of this race and we’ll open at about 1 to 3 and back up to 1 to 5. And Daley’s going to bet his right eye. But they’s a horse in the race named Sap and that’s the horse my two%p090%%thousand smackers is going down on. And you’re a sap, too, if you don’t string along with me:”

“Suppose you can’t hold Only One?”

“Get the name right,” said Mercer. “Only One Left. And don’t worry about me not handling him. He thinks I’m Billy Sunday and everything I say he believes. Do you remember the other day when I beat Streak of Lightning? Well, the way I done that was whispering in One’s ear, coming down the stretch. I says to him, ‘One,’ I says, ‘this Lightning hoss has been spilling it round that your father’s grandmother was a zebra. Make a bum out of him!’ That’s what I whispered to him and he got sore and went past Lightning like he was standing still. And tomorrow, just before we’re supposed to go, I’ll say to him, ‘One, we’re back at Jamaica. You’re facing the wrong way.’ And when Sap and the other dog starts, we’ll be headed towards Rhode Island and in no hurry to get there.”

“Mercer,” I said, “I don’t suppose they’s any use talking to you, but after all, you’re under contract to give Daley the best you’ve got and it don’t look to me just like you was treating him square.”

“Listen!” he says. “Him and square don’t rhyme. And besides, I won’t be under contract to nobody by this time tomorrow. So you save your sermon for your own parish.”

—

I don’t know if you’ll think I done right or not. Or I don’t care. But what was the sense of me tipping off a guy that had said them sweet things about I and Ella? And even if I don’t want a sister-in-law of mine running round with a guy that’s got a jail record, still Daley squealing on him was rotten dope. And besides, I don’t never like to break a promise, especially to a guy that shoots a man’s toes off just for having St. Vitus’ dance.

Well, anyway, the third race was over and the Merrick Handicap was next, and just like Mercer had said, they all quit but our horse and Sap and a ten-ton truck named Honor Bright. He was 20 to 1 and Sap was 6. Only One was 1 to 3 and Daley hopped on him with fifteen thousand men. Before post time the price was 1 to 5 and 1 to 6.

Daley was off his nut all afternoon and didn’t object when I said I’d place the gals’ money and save him the trouble. Kate and Ella had figured out what they had win up to date. It was about $1,200 and Daley told them to bet it all.

“You’ll only make $400 between you,” he says, “but it’s a cinch.”

“And four hundred’s pretty good interest on $1,200,” says Kate. “About ten per cent, ain’t it?”

I left them and went downstairs. I wrote out a card for a hundred smackers on Sap. Then my feet caught cold and I didn’t turn it in. I walked down towards the paddock and got there just as the boys was getting ready to parade. I seen Mercer and you wouldn’t of never knew he’d fell off the wagon.

Daley was down there, too, and I heard him say: “Well, Sid, how about you?”

“Never better,” says Mercer. “If I don’t win this one I’ll quit riding.”

Then he seen me and smiled.

I chased back to the clubhouse, making up my mind on the way. I decided to not bet a nickel for the gals on anything. If Mercer was crossing me, I’d give Ella and Kate their $400 like they had win it, and say nothing. Personally, I was going to turn in the card I’d wrote on Sap. That was my idear when I got to Joe Meyer. But all of a sudden I had the hunch that Mercer was going through; they wasn’t a chance in the world for him to weaken. I left Meyer’s stand and went to a bookie named Haynes, who I’d bet with before.

Sap had went up to 8 to 1, and instead of a hundred smackers I bet a thousand.

He finished ahead by three len’ths, probably the most surprised horse in history. Honor Bright got the place, but only by a hair. Only One, after being detained for some reason another, come faster at the end than any horse ever run before. And Mercer give him an unmerciful walloping, pretending to himself, probably, that the hoss was its master.

We come back to our table. The gals sunk down in their chairs. Ella was blubbering and Kate was as white as a ghost. Daley finally joined us, looking like he’d had a stroke. He asked for a drink and I give him my flask.

“I can’t understand it!” he says. “I don’t know what happened!”

“You don’t!” hollered Kate. “I’ll tell you what happened. You stole our money! Twelve hundred dollars! You cheat!”

“Oh, shut your fool mouth!” says Daley.

And another Romance was knocked for a row of sour apple trees.

Kate brought the mail in the dining room Monday morning. They was a letter for her and one for me. She read hers and they was a couple of tears in her eyes.

“Mercer’s quit riding,” she says. “This is a farewell note. He’s going to Oklahoma.”

Ella picked up my envelope.

“Who’s this from?” she says.

“Give it here,” I said, and took it away from her. “It’s just the statement from Haynes, the bookie.”

“Well, open it up,” she said.

“What for?” said I. “You know how much you lose, don’t you?”

“He might of made a mistake, mightn’t he?” she says.

So I opened up the envelope and there was the check for $8,000.

“Gosh!” I said. “It looks like it was me that made the mistake!” And I laid the check down where her and Kate could see it. They screamed and I caught Ella just as she was falling off the chair.

“What does this mean?” says Kate.

“Well,” I said, “I guess I was kind of rattled Saturday, and when I come to make my bet I got balled up and wrote down Sap. And I must of went crazy and played him for a thousand men.”

“But where’s our statement, mine and Sis’?” says Ella.

“That’s my mistake again,” I said. “I wrote out your ticket, but I must of forgot to turn it in.”

They jumped up and come at me, and before I could duck I was kissed from both sides at once.

“O Sis!” yelps the Mrs. “Just think! We didn’t lose our twelve hundred! We didn’t lose nothing at all. We win eight thousand dollars!”

“Try and get it!” I says.

• 5 •

Comic

Oh yes, we been back here quite a wile. And we’re liable to be here quite a wile. This town’s good enough for me and it suits the Mrs. too, though they didn’t neither one of us appreciate it till we’d give New York a try. If I was running the South Bend Boosters’ club, I’d make everybody spend a year on the Gay White Way. They’d be so tickled when they got to South Bend that you’d never hear them razz the old burg again. Just yesterday we had a letter from Katie, asking us would we come and pay her a visit. She’s a regular New Yorker now. Well, I didn’t have to put up no fight with my Mrs. Before I could open my pan she says, “I’ll write and tell her we can’t come; that you’re looking for a job and don’t want to go nowhere just now.”

Well, they’s some truth in that. I don’t want to go nowheres and I’ll take a job if it’s the right kind. We could get along on the interest from Ella’s money, but I’m tired of laying round. I didn’t do a tap of work all the time I was east and I’m out of the habit, but the days certainly do drag when a man ain’t got nothing to do and if I can find something where I don’t have to travel, I’ll try it out.

Yes, the Mrs. has still got most of what the old man left her and all and all, I’m glad we made the trip. I more than broke even by winning pretty close to $10,000 on the ponies down there. And we got Katie off our hands, which was one of the objects of us going in the first place – that and because the two gals wanted to see Life. So I don’t grudge the time we spent, and we had some funny experiences when you look back at them. Anybody does that goes on a tour like that with a cuckoo like Katie. You hear a lot of songs and gags about mother-in-laws. But I could write a book of them about sister-in-laws that’s twenty years old and pretty and full of peace and good will towards Men.

—

THE last time I seen you in New York, we was living in a hotel out on Long Island. Well, it finally got too slow for the gals out there, besides costing us more than we could afford. So they suggested moving back to some hotel in New York City, where they could be near things. I said all right, if it wasn’t some place like the Ritz or the Biltmore. So we inquired round and somebody recommended the Graham, on Sixty-seventh Street.

They called it a family hotel, but as far as I could see, Ella and I was the only ones there that had ever forced two dollars on the clergy. Outside of the transients, they was two song writers and a couple of gals that had their hair pruned and wrote for the papers, and the rest of the lodgers was boys that had got penned into a sixteen-foot ring with Benny Leonard by mistake. They looked like they’d spent many an evening hanging onto the ropes during the rush hour.

When we’d staid there two days, Ella and Katie was ready to pack up again.

“This is just a joint,” said Ella. “The gals may be all right, but they’re never in, only to sleep. And the men’s impossible; a bunch of low prize-fighters.”

I was for sticking, on account of the place being cheap, so I said:

“Second prize ain’t so low. And you’re overlooking the two handsome tune thiefs. Besides, what’s the difference who else lives here as long as the rooms is clean and they got a good restaurant? What did our dude cellmates out on Long Island get us? Just trouble!”

But I’d of lose the argument as usual only for Kate oversleeping herself. It was our third morning at the Graham and her and Ella had it planned to go and look for a better place. But Katie didn’t get up till pretty near noon and Ella went without her. So it broke so’s Sis had just came downstairs and turned in her key when the two bellhops reeled in the front door bulging with baggage and escorting Mr. Jimmy Ralston. Yes, Jimmy Ralston the comedian. Or comic, as he calls it.

Well, he ain’t F. X. Bushman, as you know. But no one that seen him could make the mistake of thinking he wasn’t somebody. And he looked good enough to Kate so as she waited till the clerk had him fixed up, and then ast who he was. The clerk told her and she told us when the Mrs. come back from her hunt. Ella begin to name a few joints where we might move, but it seemed like Sis had changed her mind.

“Oh,” she says, “let’s stay here a wile longer, a week anyway.”

“What’s came over you!” ast Ella. “You just said last night that you was bored to death here.”

“Maybe we won’t be so bored now,” said Kate, smiling. “The Graham’s looking up. We’re entertaining a celebrity – Jimmy Ralston of the Follies.

Well, they hadn’t none of us ever seen him on the stage, but of course we’d heard of him. He’d only just started with the Follies, but he’d made a name for himself at the Winter Garden, where he broke in two or three years ago. And Kate said that a chorus gal she’d met – Jane Abbott – had told her about Ralston and what a scream he was on a party.

“He’s terribly funny when he gets just the right number of drinks,” says Kate.

“Well, let’s stay then,” says Ella. “It’ll be exciting to know a real actor.”

“I would like to know him,” says Katie, “not just because he’s on the stage, but I think it’d be fun to set and listen to him talk. He must say the screamingest things! If we had him round we wouldn’t have to play cards or nothing for entertainment. Only they say it makes people fat to laugh.”

“If I was you, I’d want to get fat,” I said. “Looking like an E string hasn’t started no landslide your way.”

“Is he attractive?” ast the Mrs.

“Well,” said Kate, “he isn’t handsome, but he’s striking looking. You wouldn’t never think he was a comedian. But then, ain’t it generally always true that the driest people have sad faces?”

“That’s a joke!” I said. “Did you ever see Bryan when he didn’t look like somebody was tickling his feet?”

“We’ll have to think up some scheme to get introduced to him,” says Ella.

“It’ll be tough,” I says. “I don’t suppose they’s anybody in the world harder to meet than a member of the Follies, unless it’s an Elk in a Pullman washroom.”

“But listen,” says Kate: “We don’t want to meet him till we’ve saw the show. It’d be awfully embarrassing to have him ask us how we liked the Follies and we’d have to say we hadn’t been to it.”

“Yes,” said the Mrs., “but still if we tell him we haven’t been to it, he may give us free passes.”

“Easy!” I said. “And it’d take a big load off his mind. They say it worries the Follies people half sick wondering what to do with all their free passes.”

“Suppose we go tonight!” says Kate. “We can drop in a hotel somewhere and get seats. The longer we don’t go, the longer we won’t meet him.”

“And the longer we don’t meet him,” I says, “the longer till he gives you the air.”

“I’m not thinking of Mr. Ralston as a possible suitor,” says Katie, swelling up. “But I do want to get acquainted with a man that don’t bore a person to death.”

“Well,” I says, “if this baby’s anything like the rest of your gentlemen friends, he won’t hardly be round long enough for that.”

I didn’t make no kick about going to the show. We hadn’t spent no money since we’d moved back to Town and I was as tired as the gals of setting up in the room, playing rummy. They said we’d have to dress, and I kicked just from habit, but I’d got past minding that end of it. They was one advantage in dolling up every time you went anywhere. It meant an hour when they was no chance to do something even sillier.

We couldn’t stop to put on the nose bag at the Graham because the women was scared we’d be too late to get tickets. Besides, when you’re dressed for dinner, you at least want the waiter to be the same. So we took a taxi down to the Spencer, bought Follies seats in the ninth row, and went in to eat. It’s been in all the papers that the price of food has came down, but the hotel man can’t read. They fined us eleven smackers for a two-course banquet that if the Woman’s Guild, here, would dast soak you four bits a plate for it, somebody’d write a nasty letter to the News-Times.

We got in the theater a half hour before the show begin. I put in the time finding out what the men will wear, and the gals looked up what scenes Ralston’d be in. He was only on once in each act. They don’t waste much time on a comedian in the Follies. It don’t take long to spring the two gags they can think up for him in a year, and besides, he just interferes with the big gal numbers, where Bunny Granville or somebody dreams of the different flappers he danced with at the prom, and the souvenirs they give him; and one by one the different gals writhes in, dressed like the stage director thinks they dress at the female colleges – a Wesley gal in pink tights, a Vassar dame in hula-hula, and a Smith gal with a sombrero and a sailor suit. He does a couple of steps with them and they each hand him a flower or a vegetable to remember them by. The song winds up:

But my most exclusive token

Is a little hangnail broken

Off the gal from Gussie’s School for Manicures.

And his real sweet patootie comes on made up as a scissors.

You’ve saw Ralston? He’s a good comedian; no getting away from that. The way he fixes up his face, you laugh just to look at him. I yelled when I first seen him. He was supposed to be an office boy and he got back late from lunch and the boss ast him what made him late and he said he stopped to buy the extra. So the boss ast him what extra and he says the extra about the New York society couple getting married. So the boss said, “Why, they wouldn’t print an extra about that. They’s a New York society couple married most every day.” So Ralston said, “Yes, but this couple is both doing it for the first time.”

I don’t remember what other gags he had, and they’re old anyway by now. But he was a hit, especially with Ella and Kate. They screamed so loud I thought we’d get the air. If he didn’t say a word, he’d be funny with that fool make-up and that voice.

I guess if it wasn’t for me the gals would of insisted on going back to the stage door after the show and waiting for him to come out. I’ve saw Katie bad a lot of times, but never as cuckoo as this. It wasn’t no case of love at first or second sight. You couldn’t be stuck on this guy from seeing him. But she’d always been kind of stage-struck and was crazy over the idear of getting acquainted with a celebrity, maybe going round to places with him, and having people see her with Jimmy Ralston, the comedian. And then, of course, most anybody wants to meet a person that can make you laugh.

I managed to persuade them that the best dope would be to go back to the Graham and wait for him to come home; maybe we could fix it up with the night clerk to introduce us. I told them that irregardless of what you read in books, they’s some members of the theatrical profession that occasionally visits the place where they sleep. So we went to the hotel and set in the lobby for an hour and a half, me trying to keep awake wile the gals played Ralston’s part of the show over again a couple thousand times. They’s nothing goes so big with me as listening to people repeat gags out of a show that I just seen.

The clerk had been tipped off and when Ralston finally come in and went to get his key, I strolled up to the desk like I was after mine. The clerk introduced us.

“I want you to meet my wife and sister-in-law,” I said.

“Some other time,” says Ralston. “They’s a matinee tomorrow and I got to run off to bed.”

So off he went and I got bawled out for Ziegfeld having matinees. But I squared myself two days afterwards when we went in the restaurant for lunch. He was just having breakfast and the three of us stopped by his table. I don’t think he remembered ever seeing me before, but anyway he got up and shook hands with the women. Well, you couldn’t never accuse Ella of having a faint heart, and she says:

“Can’t we set down with you, Mr. Ralston? We want to tell you how much we enjoyed the Follies.”

So he says, sure, set down, but I guess we would of anyway.

“We thought it was a dandy show,” says Katie.

“It ain’t a bad troupe,” says Ralston.

“If you’ll pardon me getting personal,” said Ella, “we thought you was the best thing in it.”

He looked like he’d strain a point and forgive her.

“We all just yelled!” says Katie. “I was afraid they’d put us out, you made us laugh so hard.”

“Well,” says Ralston, “I guess if they begin putting people out for that, I’d have to leave the troupe.”

“It wouldn’t be much of a show without you,” says Ella.

“Well, all that keeps me in it is friendship for Ziggy,” says Ralston. “I said to him last night, I says, ‘Ziggy, I’m going to quit the troupe. I’m tired and I want to rest a wile.’ So he says, ‘Jim, don’t quit or I’ll have to close the troupe. I’ll give you fifteen hundred a week to stay.’ I’m getting a thousand now. But I says to him, I said, ‘Ziggy, it ain’t a question of money. What I want is a troupe of my own, where I get a chance to do serious work. I’m sick of making a monkey of myself in front of a bunch of saps from Nyack that don’t appreciate no art but what’s wrapped up in a stocking.’ So he’s promised that if I’ll stick it out this year, he’ll star me next season in a serious piece.”

“Is he giving you the five hundred raise?” I ast him.

“I wouldn’t take it,” said Ralston. “I don’t need money.”

“At that, a person can live pretty cheap at this hotel,” I says.

“I didn’t move here because it was cheap,” he said. “I moved here to get away from the pests – women that wants my autograph or my picture. And all they could say was how much they enjoyed my work and how did I think up all them gags, and so forth. No real artist likes to talk about himself, especially to people that don’t understand. So that’s the reason why I left the Ritz, so’s I’d be left alone, not to save money. And I don’t save no money, neither. I’ve got the best suite in the house – bedroom, bath, and study.”

“What do you study?” ast Kate.

“The parts I want to play,” he says; “Hamlet and Macbeth and Richard.”

“But you’re a comedian,” says Kate.

“It’s just a stepping stone,” said Ralston.

He’d finished his breakfast and got up.

“I must go to my study and work,” he says. “We’ll meet again.”

“Yes, indeed,” says Ella. “Do you always come right back here nights after the show?”

“When I can get away from the pests,” he says.

“Well,” says Ella, “suppose you come up to our rooms tonight and we’ll have a bite to eat. And I think the husband can give you a little liquid refreshments if you ever indulge.”

“Very little,” he says. “What is your room number?”

So the Mrs. told him and he said he’d see us after the show that night, and walked out.

“Well,” said Ella, “how do you like him?”

“I think he’s wonderful!” says Katie. “I didn’t have no idear he was so deep, wanting to play Hamlet.”

“Pretty near all comedians has got that bug,” I says.

“Maybe he’s different when you know him better,” said Ella.

“I don’t want him to be different,” says Kate.

“But he was so serious,” said the Mrs. “He didn’t say nothing funny.”

“Sure he did,” I says. “Didn’t he say artists hate to talk about themselfs?”

Pretty soon the waiter come in with our lunch. He ast us if the other gentleman was coming back.

“No,” said Ella. “He’s through.”

“He forgot his check,” says the dish smasher.

“Oh, never mind!” says Ella. “We’ll take care of that.”

“Well,” I says, “I guess the bird was telling the truth when he said he didn’t need no money.”

—

I and the gals spent the evening at a picture show and stopped at a delicatessen on the way home to stock up for the banquet. I had a quart and a pint of yearling rye, and a couple of bottles of McAllister that they’d fined me fifteen smackers apiece for and I wanted to save them, so I told Kate that I hoped her friend would get comical enough on the rye.

“He said he drunk very little,” she reminded me.

“Remember, don’t make him talk about himself,” said the Mrs. “What we want is to have him feel at home, like he was with old friends, and then maybe he’ll warm up. I hope we don’t wake the whole hotel, laughing.”

Well, Ralston showed up about midnight. He’d remembered his date and apologized for not getting there before.

“I like to walk home from the theater,” he says. “I get some of my funniest idears wile I walk.”

I come to the conclusion later that he spent practically his whole life riding.

Ella’s and my room wasn’t no gymnasium for size and after the third drink, Ralston tried to get to the dresser to look at himself in the glass, and knocked a $30 vase for a corpse. This didn’t go very big with the Mrs., but she forced a smile and would of accepted his apology if he’d made any. All he done was mumble something about cramped quarters. They was even more cramped when we set the table for the big feed, and it was my tough luck to have our guest park himself in the chair nearest the clothes closet, where my two bottles of Scotch had been put to bed. The fourth snifter finished the pint of rye and I said I’d get the other quart, but before I could stop her, Ella says:

“Let Mr. Ralston get it. It’s right there by him.”

So the next thing you know, James has found the good stuff and he comes out with both bottles of it.

“McAllister!” he says. “That’s my favorite. If I’d knew you had that, I wouldn’t of drank up all your rye.”

“You haven’t drank it all up,” I says. “They’s another bottle of it in there.”

“It can stay there as long as we got this,” he says, and helped himself to the corkscrew.

Well, amongst the knickknacks the gals had picked up at the delicatessen was a roast chicken and a bottle of olives, and at the time I thought Ralston was swallowing bones, stones, and all. It wasn’t till the next day that we found all these keepsakes on the floor, along with a couple dozen assorted cigarette butts.

Katie’s chorus gal friend had told her how funny the guy was when he’d had just the right number of shots, but I’d counted eight and begin to get discouraged before he started talking.

“My mother could certainly cook a chicken,” he says.

“Is your mother living?” Kate ast him.

“No,” he says. “She was killed in a railroad wreck. I’ll never forget when I had to go and identify her. You wouldn’t believe a person could get that mangled! No,” he says, “my family’s all gone. I never seen my father. He was in the pesthouse with smallpox when I was born and he died there. And my only sister died of jaundice. I can still – ”

But Kate was scared we’d wake up the hotel, laughing, so she says: “Do you ever give imitations?”

“You mustn’t make Mr. Ralston talk about himself,” says Ella.

“Imitations of who?” said Ralston.

“Oh, other actors,” said Katie.

“No,” he says. “I leave it to the other actors to give imitations of me.”

“I never seen none of them do it,” says Kate.

“They all do it, but they don’t advertise it,” he says. “Every comic in New York is using my stuff.”

“Oh!” said Ella. “You mean they steal your idears.”

“Can’t you go after them for it?” ast Katie.

“You could charge them with petit larceny,” I said.

“I wouldn’t be mean,” said Ralston. “But they ain’t a comic on the stage today that I didn’t give him every laugh he’s got.”

“You ain’t only been on the stage three or four years,” I says. “How did Hitchcock and Ed Wynn and them fellas get by before they seen you?”

“They wasn’t getting by,” he says. “I’m the baby that put them on their feet. Take Hitchy. Hitchy come to me last spring and says, ‘Jim, I’ve ran out of stuff. Have you got any notions I could use?’ So I says, ‘Hitchy, you’re welcome to anything I got.’ So I give him a couple of idears and they’re the only laughs in his troupe. And you take Wynn. He opened up with a troupe that looked like a flop and one day I seen him on Broadway, wearing a long pan, and I says, ‘What’s the matter, Eddie?’ And he brightened up and says, ‘Hello, there, Jim! You’re just the boy I want to see.’ So I says, ‘Well, Eddie, I’m only too glad to do anything I can.’ So he says, ‘I got a flop on my hands unlest I can get a couple of idears, and you’re the baby that can give them to me.’ So I said, ‘All right, Eddie,’ And I give him a couple of notions to work on and they made his show. And look at Stone! And Errol! And Jolson and Tinney! Every one of them come to me at one time another, hollering for help. ‘Jim, give me a couple of notions!’ ‘Jim, give me a couple of gags!’ And not a one of them went away empty-handed.”

“Did they pay you?” ast Ella.

Ralston smiled.

“I wouldn’t take no actor’s money,” he says. “They’re all brothers to me. They can have anything I got, and I can have anything they got, only they haven’t got nothing.”

Well, I can’t tell you all he said, as I was asleep part of the time. But I do remember that he was the one that had give Bert Williams the notion of playing coon parts, and learnt Sarah Bernhardt to talk French.

Along about four o’clock, whey they was less than a pint left in the second McAllister bottle, he defied all the theater managers in New York.

“I ain’t going to monkey with them much longer!” he says. “I’ll let you folks in on something that’ll cause a sensation on Broadway. I’m going to quit the Follies!”

We was all speechless.

“That’s the big secret!” he says. “I’m coming out as a star under my own management and in a troupe wrote and produced by myself!”

“When?” ast Kate.

“Just as soon as I decide who I’m going to let in as part owner,” said Ralston. “I’ve worked for other guys long enough! Why should I be satisfied with $800 a week when Ziegfeld’s getting rich off me!”

“When did he cut you $200?” I says. “You was getting $1,000 last time I seen you.”

He didn’t pay no attention.

“And why should I let some manager produce my play,” he says, “and pay me maybe $1,200 a week when I ought to be making six or seven thousand!”

“Are you working on your play now?” Kate ast him.

“It’s done,” he says. “I’m just trying to make up my mind who’s the right party to let in on it. Whoever it is, I’ll make him rich.”

“I’ve got some money to invest,” says Katie. “Suppose you tell us about the play.”

“I’ll give you the notion, if you’ll keep it to yourself,” says Ralston. “It’s a serious play with a novelty idear that’ll be a sensation. Suppose I go down to my suite and get the script and read it to you.”

“Oh, if you would!” says Kate.

“It’ll knock you dead!” he says.

And just the thought of it was fatal to the author. He got up from his chair, done a nose dive acrost the table and laid there with his head in the chili sauce.

I called up the clerk and had him send up the night bellhop with our guest’s key. I and the boy acted as pall bearers and got him to his “suite,” where we performed the last sad rites. Before I come away I noticed that the “suite” was a ringer for Ella’s and mine – a dinky little room with a bath. The “study” was prettily furnished with coat hangers.

When I got back to my room Katie’d ducked and the Mrs. was asleep, so I didn’t get a chance to talk to them till we was in the restaurant at noon. Then I ast Kate if she’d figured out just what number drink it was that had started him being comical.

“Now listen,” she says: “I don’t think that Abbott girl ever met him in her life. Anyway, she had him all wrong. We expected he’d do stunts, like she said, but he ain’t that kind that shows off or acts smart. He’s too much of a man for that. He’s a bigger man than I thought.”

“I and the bellhop remarked that same thing,” I says.

“And you needn’t make fun of him for getting faint,” says Katie. “I called him up a wile ago to find out how he was and he apologized and said they must of been something in that second bottle of Scotch.”

So I says:

“You tell him they was, but they ain’t.”

—

Well, it couldn’t of been the Scotch or no other brew that ruined me. Or if it was, it worked mighty slow. I didn’t even look at a drink for three days after the party in our room. But the third day I felt rotten, and that night I come down with a fever. Ella got scared and called a doctor and he said it was flu, and if I didn’t watch my step it’d be something worse. He advised taking me to a hospital and I didn’t have pep enough to say no.

So they took me and I was pretty sick for a couple of weeks – too sick for the Mrs. to give me the news. And it’s a wonder I didn’t have a relapse when she finally did.

“You’ll probably yelp when you hear this,” she says. “I ain’t crazy about it myself, but it didn’t do me no good to argue at first and it’s too late for argument now. Well, to begin with, Sis is in love with Ralston.”

“What of it!” I said. “She’s going through the city directory and she’s just got to the R’s.”

“No, it’s the real thing this time,” said the Mrs. “Wait till you hear the rest of it. She’s going on the stage!”

“I’ve got nothing against that,” I says. “She’s pretty enough to get by in the Follies chorus, and if she can earn money that way, I’m for it.”

“She ain’t going into no chorus,” said Ella. “Ralston’s quit the Follies and she’s going in his show.”

“The one he wrote?” I ast.

“Yes,” said the Mrs.

“And who’s going to put it on?” I ast her.

“That’s it,” she says. “They’re going to put it on themself, Ralston and Sis. With Sis’s money. She sold her bonds, fifty thousand dollars’ worth.”

“But listen,” I says. “Fifty thousand dollars! What’s the name of the play, Ringling Circus?”

“It won’t cost all that,” said Ella. “They figure it’ll take less than ten thousand to get started. But she insisted on having the whole thing in a checking account, where she can get at it. If the show’s a big success in New York they’re going to have a company in Chicago and another on the road. And Ralston says her half of the profits in New York ought to run round $5,000 a week. But anyway, she’s sure of $200 a week salary for acting in it.”

“Where did she get the idear she can act?” I says.

“She’s always had it,” said the Mrs., “and I think she made him promise to put her in the show before she agreed to back it. Though she says it’s a wonderful investment! She won’t be the leading woman, of course. But they’s only two woman’s parts and she’s got one of them.”

“Well,” I said, “if she’s going to play a sap and just acts normal, she’ll be a sensation.”

“I don’t know what she’ll be,” says Ella. “All I know is that she’s mad over Ralston and believes everything he says. And even if you hadn’t of been sick we couldn’t of stopped her.”

So I ast what the play was like, but Ella couldn’t tell me.

Ralston had read it out loud to she and Kate, but she couldn’t judge from just hearing it that way. But Kate was tickled to death with it. And they’d already been rehearsing a week, but Sis hadn’t let Ella see the rehearsals. She said it made her nervous.

“Ralston thinks the main trouble will be finding a theater,” said the Mrs. “He says they’s a shortage of them and the men that owns them won’t want to let him have one on account of jealousy.”

“Has the Follies flopped?” I ast her.

“No,” she says. “but they’ve left town.”

“They always do, this time of year,” I said.

“That’s what I thought,” says the Mrs., “but Ralston says they’d intended to stay here all the year round, but when the news come out that he’d left, they didn’t dast. He’s certainly got faith in himself. He must have, to give up a $600 a week salary. That’s what he says he was really getting.”

“You say Katie’s in love,” I says. “How about him?”

“I don’t know and she don’t know,” says Ella. “He calls her dearie and everything and holds her hands, but when they’re alone together, he won’t talk nothing but business. Still, as I say, he calls her dearie.”

“Actors calls every gal that,” I says. “It’s because they can’t remember names.”

Well, to make a short story out of it, they had another couple weeks’ rehearsals that we wasn’t allowed to see, and they finally got a theater – the Olney. They had to guarantee a $10,000 business to get it. They didn’t go to Atlantic City or nowheres for a tryout. They opened cold. And Ralston didn’t tell nobody what kind of a show it was.

—

Of course he done what they generally always do on a first night. He sent out free passes to everybody that’s got a dress suit, and they’s enough of them in New York to pretty near fill up a theater. These invited guests is supposed to be for the performance wile it’s going on. After it’s through, they can go out and ride it all over the island.

Well, the rules wasn’t exactly lived up to at “Bridget Sees a Ghost.” On account of Ralston writing the play and starring in it, the gang thought it would be comical and they come prepared to laugh. It was comical all right, and they laughed. They didn’t only laugh; they yelled. But they yelled in the wrong place.

The programme said it was “a Daring Drama in Three Acts.” The three acts was what made it daring. It took nerve to even have one. In the first place, this was two years after the armistice and the play was about the war, and I don’t know which the public was most interested in by this time – the war or Judge Parker.

Act 1 was in July, 1917. Ralston played the part of Francis Shaw, a captain in the American army. He’s been married a year, and when the curtain goes up, his wife’s in their New York home, waiting for him to come in from camp on his weekly leave. She sets reading the war news in the evening paper, and she reads it out loud, like people always do when they’re alone, waiting for somebody. Pretty soon in comes Bridget, the Irish maid – our own dear Katie. And I wished you could of heard her brogue. And seen her gestures. What she reminded me most like was a gal in a home talent minstrels giving an imitation of Lew Fields playing the part of the block system on the New York Central. Her first line was, “Ain’t der Captain home yed?” But I won’t try and give you her dialect.

“No,” says Mrs. Shaw. “He’s late.” So Katie says better late than never, and the wife says, yes, but she’s got a feeling that some day it’ll be never; something tells her that if he ever goes to France, he won’t come back. So Bridget says, “You been reading the war news again and it always makes you sad.” “I hate wars!” says Mrs. Shaw, and that line got one of the biggest laughs.

After this they was a couple of minutes when neither of them could think of nothing to add, and then the phone rung and Bridget answered it. It was Capt. Shaw, saying he’d be there pretty soon; so Bridget goes right back to the kitchen to finish getting dinner, but she ain’t no sooner than left the stage when Capt. Shaw struts in. He must of called up from the public booth on his front porch.

The audience had a tough time recognizing him without his comic make-up, but when they did they give him a good hand. Mrs. Shaw got up to greet him, but he brushed by her and come down to the footlights to bow. Then he turned and went back to his Mrs., saying “Maizie!” like this was the last place he expected to run acrost her. They kissed and then he ast her “Where is Bobbie, our dear little one?” – for fear she wouldn’t know whose little one he meant. So she rung the bell and back come Bridget, and he says “Well, Bridget!” and Bridget says, “Well, it’s the master!” This line was another riot. “Bring the little one, Bridget,” says Mrs. Shaw, and the audience hollered again.

Wile Bridget was after the little one, the Captain celebrated the reunion by walking round the room, looking at the pictures. Bridget brings the baby in and the Captain uncovers its face and says, “Well, Bobbie!” Then he turns to his wife and says. “Let’s see, Maizie. How old is he?” “Two weeks,” says Maizie. “Two weeks!” says Captain Shaw, surprised. “Well,” he says. “I hope by the time he’s old enough to fight for the Stars and Stripes, they won’t be no such a thing as war.” So Mrs. Shaw says, “And I hope his father won’t be called on to make the supreme sacrifice for him and we others that must stay home and wait. I sometimes think that in wartime, it’s the women and children that suffers most. Take him back to his cozy cradle, Bridget. We mothers must be careful of our little ones. Who knows when the kiddies will be our only comfort!” So Bridget beat it out with the little one and I bet he hated to leave all the gaiety.

“Well,” says Shaw to his wife, “and what’s the little woman been doing?”

“Just reading,” she says, “reading the news of this horrible war. I don’t never pick up the paper but what I think that some day I’ll see your name amongst the dead.”

“Well,” says the Captain bravely, “they’s no danger wile I stay on U. S. soil. But only for you and the little one, I would welcome the call to go Over There and take my place in the battle line. The call will come soon, I believe, for they say France needs men.” This rumor pretty near caused a riot in the audience and Ralston turned and give us all a dirty look.

Then Bridget come in again and said dinner was ready, and Shaw says, “It’ll seem funny to set down wile I eat.” Which was the first time I ever knew that army captains took their meals off the mantelpiece.

Wile the Shaws was out eating, their maid stayed in the living room, where she’d be out of their way. It seems that Ralston had wrote a swell speech for her to make in this spot, about what a tough thing war is, to come along and separate a happy young couple like the Shaws that hadn’t only been married a year. But the speech started “This is terrible!” and when Bridget got that much of it out, some egg in the gallery hollered “You said a mouthful, kid!” and stopped the show.

The house finally quieted down, but Katie was dumb for the first time in her life. She couldn’t say the line that was the cue for the phone to ring, and she had to go over and answer a silent call. It was for the Captain, and him and his wife both come back on the stage.

“Maizie,” he says, after he’d hung up, “it’s came! That was my general! We sail for France in half an hour!”

“O husband!” says Maizie. “This is the end!”

“Nonsense!” says Shaw with a brave smile. “This war means death for only a small per cent of our men.”

“And almost no captains,” yells the guy in the gallery.

Shaw gets ready to go, but she tells him to wait till she puts on her wraps; she’ll go down to the dock and see him off.

“No, darling,” he says. “Our orders is secret. I can’t give you the name of our ship or where we’re sailing from.”

So he goes and she flops on the couch w’ining because he wouldn’t tell her whether his ship left from Times Square or Grand Central.

They rung the curtain down here to make you think six days has passed. When it goes up again, Maizie’s setting on the couch, holding the little one. Pretty soon Bridget comes in with the evening paper.

“They’s a big headline, mum,” she says. “A troopship has been torpedoed.”

Well, when she handed her the paper, I could see the big headline. It said, “Phillies Hit Grimes Hard.” But Maizie may of had a bet on Brooklyn. Anyway, she begin trembling and finally fell over stiff. So Bridget picked up the paper and read it out loud:

“Amongst the men lost was Capt. F. Shaw of New York.”

Down went the curtain again and the first act was over, and some jokesmith in the audience yelled “Author! Author!”

“He’s sunk!” said the egg in the gallery.

Well, Maizie was the only one in the whole theater that thought Shaw was dead. The rest of us just wished it. Still you couldn’t blame her much for getting a wrong idear, as it was Nov. 11, 1918 – over a year later – when the second act begins, and she hadn’t heard from him in all that time. It wasn’t never brought out why. Maybe he’d forgot her name or maybe it was Burleson’s fault, like everything else.

The scene was the same old living room and Maizie was setting on the same old couch, but she was all dressed up like Elsie Ferguson. It comes out that she’s expecting a gentleman friend, a Mr. Thornton, to dinner. She asks Bridget if she thinks it would be wrong of her to accept the guy the next time he proposed. He’s ast her every evening for the last six months and she can’t stall him much longer. So Bridget says it’s all right if she loves him, but Maizie don’t know if she loves him or not, but he looks so much like her late relic that she can’t hardly tell the difference and besides, she has got to either marry or go to work, or her and the little one will starve. They’s a knock at the door and Thornton comes in. Him and the absent Captain looks as much alike as two brothers, yours and mine. Bridget ducks and Thornton proposes. Maizie says, “Before I answer, I must tell you a secret. Captain Shaw didn’t leave me all alone. I have a little one, a boy.” “Oh, I love kiddies,” says Thornton. “Can I see him?” So she says it’s seven o’clock and the little one’s supposed to of been put to bed, but she has Bridget go get him.

The little one’s entrance was the sensation of this act. In act 1 he was just three or four towels, but now Bridget can’t even carry him acrost the stage, and when she put him on his feet, he comes up pretty near to her shoulder. And when Thorton ast him would he like to have a new papa, he says, “Yes, because my other papa’s never coming back.”

Well, they say a woman can’t keep a secret, but if Thornton had been nosing round for six months and didn’t know till now that they was a spanker like Bobbie in the family circle, I wouldn’t hardly call Maizie the town gossip.

After the baby’d went back to read himself to sleep and Mrs. Shaw had yessed her new admirer, Bridget dashed in yelling that the armistice was signed and held up the evening paper for Maizie and Thornton to see. The great news was announced in code. It said: “Phillies Hit Grimes Hard.” And it seemed kind of silly to not come right out and say “Armistice Signed!” Because as I recall, even we saps out here in South Bend had knew it since three o’clock that morning.

The last act was in the same place, on Christmas Eve, 1918.

Maizie and her second husband had just finished doing up presents for the little one. We couldn’t see the presents, but I suppose they was giving him a cocktail shaker and a shaving set. Though when he come on the stage you could see he hadn’t aged much since Act 2. He hadn’t even begin to get bald.

Thornton and the Mrs. went off somewheres and left the kid alone, but all of a sudden the front door opened and in come old Cap Shaw, on crutches. He seen the kid and called to him. “Who are you?” says the little one. “I’m Santa Claus,” says the Cap, “and I’ve broughten you a papa for Christmas.” “I don’t want no papa,” says Bobbie. “I’ve just got a new one.” Then Bridget popped in and seen “the master” and hollered, “A ghost!” So he got her calmed down and she tells him what’s came off. “It was in the paper that Capt. F. Shaw of New York was lost,” she says. “It must of been another Capt. F. Shaw!” he says.

“It’s an odd name,” hollered the guy in the gallery.

The Captain thinks it all over and decides it’s his move. He makes Bridget promise to never tell that she seen him and he says good-by to she and the kid and goes out into the night.

Maizie comes in, saying she heard a noise and what was it? Was somebody here? “Just the boy with the evening paper,” says Bridget. And the cat’s got Bobbie’s tongue. And Maizie don’t even ask for the paper. She probably figured to herself it was the old story; that Grimes was still getting his bumps.

—

Well, I wished you could of read what the papers wrote up about the show. One of them said that Bridget seen a ghost at the Olney theater last night and if anybody else wanted to see it, they better go quick because it wouldn’t be walking after this week. Not even on crutches. The mildest thing they said about Ralston was that he was even funnier than when he was in the Follies and tried to be. And they said the part of Bridget was played by a young actress that they hoped would make a name for herself, because Ralston had probably called her all he could think of.

We waited at the stage door that night and when Kate come out, she was crying. Ralston had canned her from the show.

“That’s nothing to cry about,” I says. “You’re lucky! It’s just like as if a conductor had put you off a train a couple of minutes before a big smash-up.”

The programme had been to all go somewheres for supper and celebrate the play’s success. But all Katie wanted now was to get in a taxi and go home and hide.

On the way, I ast her how much she was in so far.

“Just ten thousand,” she says.

“Ten thousand!” I said. “Why, they was only one piece of scenery and that looked like they’d bought it secondhand from the choir boys’ minstrels. They couldn’t of spent one thousand, let alone ten.”

“We had to pay the theater a week’s rent in advance,” she says. “And Jimmy give five thousand to a man for the idear.”

“The idear for what?” I ast.

“The idear for the play,” she said.

“That stops me!” I says. “This baby furnishes idears for all the good actors in the world, but when he wants one for himself, he goes out and pays $5,000 for it. And if he got a bargain, you’re Mrs. Fiske.”

“Who sold him the idear?” ast Ella.

“He wouldn’t tell me,” says Kate.

“Ponzi,” I said.

Ralston called Kate up the next noon and made a date with her at the theater. He said that he was sorry he’d been rough. Before she went I ast her to give me a check for the forty thousand she had left so’s I could buy back some of her bonds.

“I haven’t got only $25,000,” she says. “I advanced Jimmy fifteen thousand for his own account, so’s he wouldn’t have to bother me every time they was bills to meet.”

So I said: “Listen: I’ll go see him with you and if he don’t come clean with that money, I’ll knock him deader’n his play.”

“Thank you!” she says. “I’ll tend to my own affairs alone.”

She come back late in the afternoon, all smiles.

“Everything’s all right,” she said. “I give him his choice of letting me be in the play or giving me my money.”

“And which did he choose?” I ast her.

“Neither one,” she says. “We’re going to get married.”

—

“Bridget” went into the ashcan Saturday night and the wedding come off Monday. Monday night they left for Boston, where the Follies was playing. Kate told us they’d took Ralston back at the same salary he was getting before.

“How much is that?” I ast her.

“Four hundred a week,” she says.

Well, two or three days after they’d left, I got up my nerve and says to the Mrs.:

“Do you remember what we moved to the Big Town for? We done it to see Life and get Katie a husband. Well, we got her a kind of a husband and I’ll tell the world we seen Life. How about moseying back to South Bend?”

“But we haven’t no home there now.”

“Nor we ain’t had none since we left there,” I says. “I’m going down and see what’s the first day we can get a couple of lowers.”

“Get uppers if it’s quicker,” says the Mrs.

So here we are, really enjoying ourselfs for the first time in pretty near two years. And Katie’s in New York, enjoying herself, too, I suppose. She ought to be, married to a comedian. It must be such fun to just set and listen to him talk.

A La Carte

1 … Carmen
2 … Three Kings and a Pair
3 … Gullible’s Travels
4 … The Water Cure
5 … The Facts
6 … Some Like Them Cold
7 … The Golden Honeymoon
8 … Haircut
9 … Mr. and Mrs. Fix-It
10 … Zone of Quiet
11 … The Love Nest
12 … A Day with Conrad Green
13 … Reunion
14 … Who Dealt?
15 … Rhythm
16 … Travelogue
17 … I Can’t Breathe
18 … Sun Cured
19 … Now and Then
20 … Man Not Overboard
21 … Anniversary
22 … Nora
23 … Liberty Hall
24 … There Are Smiles
25 … Dinner
26 … The Maysville Minstrel
27 … Ex Parte
28 … Old Folks’ Christmas
29 … Poodle

• 1 •

Carmen

We was playin’ rummy over to Hatch’s, and Hatch must of fell in a bed of four-leaf clovers on his way home the night before, because he plays rummy like he does everything else; but this night I refer to you couldn’t beat him, and besides him havin’ all the luck my Missus played like she’d been bought off, so when we come to settle up we was plain seven and a half out. You know who paid it. So Hatch says:

“They must be some game you can play.”

“No,” I says, “not and beat you. I can run two blocks w’ile you’re stoopin’ over to start, but if we was runnin’ a foot race between each other, and suppose I was leadin’ by eighty yards, a flivver’d prob’ly come up and hit you in the back and bump you over the finishin’ line ahead o’ me.”

So Mrs. Hatch thinks I’m sore on account o’ the seven-fifty, so she says:

“It don’t seem fair for us to have all the luck.”

“Sure it’s fair!” I says. “If you didn’t have the luck, what would you have?”

“I know,” she says; “but I don’t never feel right winnin’ money at cards.”

“I don’t blame you,” I says.

“I know,” she says; “but it seems like we should ought to give it back or else stand treat, either one.”

“Jim’s too old to change all his habits,” I says.

“Oh, well,” says Mrs. Hatch, “I guess if I told him to loosen up he’d loosen up. I ain’t lived with him all these years for nothin’.”

“You’d be a sucker if you did,” I says.

So they all laughed, and when they’d quieted down Mrs. Hatch says:

“I don’t suppose you’d feel like takin’ the money back?”

“Not without a gun,” I says. “Jim’s pretty husky.”

So that give them another good laugh; but finally she says:

“What do you say, Jim, to us takin’ the money they lose to us and gettin’ four tickets to some show?”

Jim managed to stay conscious, but he couldn’t answer nothin’; so my Missus says:

“That’d be grand of you to do it, but don’t think you got to.”

Well, of course, Mrs. Hatch knowed all the w’ile she didn’t have to, but from what my Missus says she could tell that if they really give us the invitation we wouldn’t start no fight. So they talked it over between themself w’ile I and Hatch went out in the kitchen and split a pint o’ beer, and Hatch done the pourin’ and his best friend couldn’t say he give himself the worst of it. So when we come back my Missus and Mrs. Hatch had it all framed that the Hatches was goin’ to take us to a show, and the next thing was what show would it be. So Hatch found the afternoon paper, that somebody’d left on the street-car, and read us off a list o’ the shows that was in town. I spoke for the Columbia, but the Missus give me the sign to stay out; so they argued back and forth and finally Mrs. Hatch says:

“Let’s see that paper a minute.”

“What for?” says Hatch. “I didn’t hold nothin’ out on you.”

But he give her the paper and she run through the list herself, and then she says:

“You did, too, hold out on us. You didn’t say nothin’ about the Auditorium.”

“What could I say about it?” says Hatch. “I never was inside.”

“It’s time you was then,” says Mrs. Hatch.

“What’s playin’ there?” I says.

“Grand op’ra,” says Mrs. Hatch.

“Oh!” says my Missus. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

“What do you say?” says Mrs. Hatch to me.

“I think it’d be grand for you girls,” I says. “I and Jim could leave you there and go down on Madison and see Charley Chaplin, and then come back after you.”

“Nothin’ doin’!” says Mrs. Hatch. “We’ll pick a show that everybody wants to see.”

Well, if I hadn’t of looked at my Missus then we’d of been O.K. But my eyes happened to light on where she was settin’ and she was chewin’ her lips so’s she wouldn’t cry. That finished me. “I was just kiddin’,” I says to Mrs. Hatch. “They ain’t nothin’ I’d like better than grand op’ra.”

“Nothin’ except gettin’ trimmed in a rummy game,” says Hatch, but he didn’t get no rise.

Well, the Missus let loose of her lips so’s she could smile and her and Mrs. Hatch got all excited, and I and Hatch pretended like we was excited too. So Hatch ast what night could we go, and Mrs. Hatch says that depended on what did we want to hear, because they changed the bill every day. So her and the Missus looked at the paper again and found out where Friday night was goin’ to be a big special night and the bill was a musical show called Carmen, and all the stars was goin’ to sing, includin’ Mooratory and Alda and Genevieve Farr’r, that was in the movies a w’ile till they found out she could sing, and some fella they called Daddy, but I don’t know his real name. So the girls both says Friday night was the best, but Hatch says he would have to go to lodge that evenin’.

“Lodge!” says Mrs. Hatch. “What do you care about lodge when you got a chance to see Genevieve Farr’r in Carmen?”

“Chance!” says Hatch. “If that’s what you call a chance, I got a chance to buy a thousand shares o’ Bethlehem Steel. Who’s goin’ to pay for my chance?”

“All right,” says Mrs. Hatch, “go to your old lodge and spoil everything!”

So this time it was her that choked up and made like she was goin’ to blubber. So Hatch changed his mind all of a sudden and decided to disappoint the brother Owls. So all of us was satisfied except fifty per cent., and I and the Missus beat it home, and on the way she says how nice Mrs. Hatch was to give us this treat.

“Yes,” I says, “but if you hadn’t of had a regular epidemic o’ discardin’ deuces and treys Hatch would of treated us to groceries for a week.” I says: “I always thought they was only twelve pitcher cards in the deck till I seen them hands you saved up tonight.”

“You lose as much as I did,” she says.

“Yes,” I says, “and I always will as long as you forget to fetch your purse along.”

So they wasn’t no come-back to that, so we went on home without no more dialogue.

Well, Mrs. Hatch called up the next night and says Jim had the tickets boughten and we was to be sure and be ready at seven o’clock Friday night because the show started at eight. So when I was down-town Friday the Missus sent my evenin’ dress suit over to Katzes’ and had it pressed up and when I come home it was laid out on the bed like a corpse.

“What’s that for?” I says.

“For the op’ra,” she says. “Everybody wears them to the op’ra.”

“Did you ask the Hatches what was they goin’ to wear?” I says.

“No,” says she. “They know what to wear without me tellin’ them. They ain’t goin’ to the Auditorium in their nightgown.”

So I clumb into the soup and fish, and the Missus spent about a hour puttin’ on a dress that she could have left off without nobody knowin’ the difference, and she didn’t have time for no supper at all, and I just managed to surround a piece o’ steak as big as your eye and spill some gravy on my clo’es when the bell rung and there was the Hatches.

Well, Hatch didn’t have no more evenin’ dress suit on than a kewpie. I could see his pants under his overcoat and they was the same old bay pants he’d wore the day he got mad at his kid and christened him Kenneth. And his shoes was a last year’s edition o’ the kind that’s supposed to give your feet a chance, and if his feet had of been the kind that takes chances they was two or three places where they could of got away without much trouble.

I could tell from the expression on Mrs. Hatch’s face when she seen our make-up that we’d crossed her. She looked about as comf’table as a Belgium.

“Oh!” she says. “I didn’t think you’d dress up.”

“We thought you would,” says my Frau.

“We!” I says. “Where do you get that ‘we’?”

“If it ain’t too late we’ll run in and change,” says my Missus.

“Not me,” I says. “I didn’t go to all this trouble and expense for a splash o’ gravy. When this here uniform retires it’ll be to make room for pajamas.”

“Come on!” says Hatch. “What’s the difference? You can pretend like you ain’t with us.”

“It don’t really make no difference,” says Mrs. Hatch.

And maybe it didn’t. But we all stood within whisperin’ distance of each other on the car goin’ in, and if you had a dollar for every word that was talked among us you couldn’t mail a postcard from Hammond to Gary. When we got off at Congress my Missus tried to thaw out the party.

“The prices is awful high, aren’t they?” she says.

“Outrageous,” says Mrs. Hatch.

Well, even if the prices was awful high, they didn’t have nothin’ on our seats. If I was in trainin’ to be a steeple jack I’d go to grand op’ra every night and leave Hatch buy my ticket. And where he took us I’d of been more at home in overalls and a sport shirt.

“How do you like Denver?” says I to the Missus, but she’d sank for the third time.

“We’re safe here,” I says to Hatch. “Them French guns can’t never reach us. We’d ought to brought more bombs.”

“What did the seats cost?” I says to Hatch.

“One-fifty,” he says.

“Very reasonable,” says I. “One o’ them aviators wouldn’t take you more than half this height for a five-spot.”

The Hatches had their overcoats off by this time and I got a look at their full costume. Hatch had went without his vest durin’ the hot months and when it was alongside his coat and pants it looked like two different families. He had a pink shirt with prune-colored horizontal bars, and a tie to match his neck, and a collar that would of took care of him and I both, and them shoes I told you about, and burlap hosiery. They wasn’t nothin’ the matter with Mrs. Hatch except she must of thought that, instead o’ dressin’ for the op’ra, she was gettin’ ready for Kenneth’s bath.

And there was my Missus, just within the law, and me all spicked and spanned with my soup and fish and gravy!

Well, we all set there and tried to get the focus till about a half-hour after the show was billed to commence, and finally a Lilliputhian with a match in his hand come out and started up the orchestry and they played a few o’ the hits and then the lights was turned out and up went the curtain.

Well, sir, you’d be surprised at how good we could hear and see after we got used to it. But the hearin’ didn’t do us no good – that is, the words part of it. All the actors had been smuggled in from Europe and they wasn’t none o’ them that could talk English. So all their songs was gave in different languages and I wouldn’t of never knew what was goin’ on only for Hatch havin’ all the nerve in the world.

After the first act a lady that was settin’ in front of us dropped somethin’ and Hatch stooped over and picked it up, and it was one o’ these here books they call a liberetto, and it’s got all the words they’re singin’ on the stage wrote out in English.

So the lady begin lookin’ all over for it and Hatch was goin’ to give it back because he thought it was a shoe catalogue, but he happened to see at the top of it where it says “Price 25 Cents,” so he tossed it in his lap and stuck his hat over it. And the lady kept lookin’ and lookin’ and finally she turned round and looked Hatch right in the eye, but he dropped down inside his collar and left her wear herself out. So when she’d gave up I says somethin’ about I’d like to have a drink.

“Let’s go,” says Hatch.

“No,” I says. “I don’t want it bad enough to go back to town after it. I thought maybe we could get it sent up to the room.”

“I’m goin’ alone then,” says Hatch.

“You’re liable to miss the second act,” I says.

“I’d never miss it,” says Hatch.

“All right,” says I. “I hope you have good weather.”

So he slipped me the book to keep for him and beat it. So I seen the lady had forgot us, and I opened up the book and that’s how I come to find out what the show was about. I read her all through, the part that was in English, before the curtain went up again, so when the second act begin I knowed what had came off and what was comin’ off, and Hatch and Mrs. Hatch hadn’t no idear if the show was comical or dry. My Missus hadn’t, neither, till we got home and I told her the plot.

—

Carmen ain’t no regular musical show where a couple o’ Yids comes out and pulls a few lines o’ dialogue and then a girl and a he-flirt sings a song that ain’t got nothin’ to do with it. Carmen’s a regular play, only instead o’ them sayin’ the lines, they sing them, and in for’n languages so’s the actors can pick up some loose change offen the sale o’ the liberettos. The music was wrote by George S. Busy, and it must of kept him that way about two mont’s. The words was either throwed together by the stage carpenter or else took down by a stenographer outdoors durin’ a drizzle. Anyway, they ain’t nobody claims them. Every oncet in three or four pages they forget themself and rhyme. You got to read each verse over two or three times before you learn what they’re hintin’ at, but the management gives you plenty o’ time to do it between acts and still sneak a couple o’ hours’ sleep.

The first act opens up somewheres in Spain, about the corner o’ Chicago Avenue and Wells. On one side o’ the stage they’s a pill mill where the employees is all girls, or was girls a few years ago. On the other side they’s a soldiers’ garage where they keep the militia in case of a strike. In the back o’ the stage they’s a bridge, but it ain’t over no water or no railroad tracks or nothin’. It’s prob’ly somethin’ the cat dragged in.

Well, the soldiers stands out in front o’ the garage hittin’ up some barber shops, and pretty soon a girl blows in from the hero’s home town, Janesville or somewheres. She runs a few steps every little w’ile and then stops, like the rails was slippery. The soldiers sings at her and she tells them she’s came to look for Don Joss that run the chop-suey dump up to Janesville, but when they shet down on him servin’ beer he quit and joined the army. So the soldiers never heard o’ the bird, but they all ask her if they won’t do just as good, but she says nothin’ doin’ and skids off the stage. She ain’t no sooner gone when the Chinaman from Janesville and some more soldiers and some alley rats comes in to help out the singin’. The book says that this new gang o’ soldiers was sent on to relieve the others, but if anything happened to wear out the first ones it must of took place at rehearsal. Well, one o’ the boys tells Joss about the girl askin’ for him and he says: “Oh, yes; that must be the little Michaels girl from up in Wisconsin.”

So pretty soon the whistle blows for noon and the girls comes out o’ the pill mill smokin’ up the mornin’ receipts and a crowd o’ the unemployed comes in to shoot the snipes. So the soldiers notices that Genevieve Farr’r ain’t on yet, so they ask where she’s at, and that’s her cue. She puts on a song number and a Spanish dance, and then she slips her bouquet to the Chink, though he ain’t sang a note since the whistle blowed. But now it’s one o’clock and Genevieve and the rest o’ the girls beats it back to the coffin factory and the vags chases down to the Loop to get the last home edition and look at the want ads to see if they’s any jobs open with fair pay and nothin’ to do. And the soldiers mosey into the garage for a well-earned rest and that leaves Don all alone on the stage.

But he ain’t no more than started on his next song when back comes the Michaels girl. It oozes out here that she’s in love with the Joss party, but she stalls and pretends like his mother’d sent her to get the receipt for makin’ eggs fo yung. And she says his mother ast her to kiss him and she slips him a dime, so he leaves her kiss him on the scalp and he asks her if she can stay in town that evenin’ and see a nickel show, but they’s a important meetin’ o’ the Maccabees at Janesville that night, so away she goes to catch the two-ten and Don starts in on another song number, but the rest o’ the company don’t like his stuff and he ain’t hardly past the vamp when they’s a riot.

It seems like Genevieve and one o’ the chorus girls has quarreled over a second-hand stick o’ gum and the chorus girl got the gum, but Genevieve relieved her of part of a earlobe, so they pinch Genevieve and leave Joss to watch her till the wagon comes, but the wagon’s went out to the night desk sergeant’s house with a case o’ quarts and before it gets round to pick up Genevieve she’s bunked the Chink into settin’ her free. So she makes a getaway, tellin’ Don to meet her later on at Lily and Pat’s place acrost the Indiana line. So that winds up the first act.

Well, the next act’s out to Lily and Pat’s, and it ain’t no Y.M.C.A. headquarters, but it’s a hang-out for dips and policemans. They’s a cabaret and Genevieve’s one o’ the performers, but she forgets the words to her first song and winds up with tra-la-la, and she could of forgot the whole song as far as I’m concerned, because it wasn’t nothin’ you’d want to buy and take along home.

Finally Pat comes in and says it’s one o’clock and he’s got to close up, but they won’t none o’ them make a move, and pretty soon they’s a live one blows into the joint and he’s Eskimo Bill, one o’ the butchers out to the Yards. He’s got paid that day and he ain’t never goin’ home. He sings a song and it’s the hit o’ the show. Then he buys a drink and starts flirtin’ with Genevieve, but Pat chases everybody but the performers and a couple o’ dips that ain’t got nowheres else to sleep. The dips or stick-up guys, or whatever they are, tries to get Genevieve to go along with them in the car w’ile they pull off somethin’, but she’s still expectin’ the Chinaman. So they pass her up and blow, and along comes Don and she lets him in, and it seems like he’d been in jail for two mont’s, or ever since the end o’ the first act. So he asks her how everything has been goin’ down to the pill mill and she tells him that she’s quit and became a entertainer. So he says, “What can you do?” And she beats time with a pair o’ chopsticks and dances the Chinese Blues.

After a w’ile they’s a bugle call somewhere outdoors and Don says that means he’s got to go back to the garage. So she gets sore and tries to bean him with a Spanish onion. Then he reaches inside his coat and pulls out the bouquet she give him in Atto First to show her he ain’t changed his clo’es, and then the sheriff comes in and tries to coax him with a razor to go back to his job. They fight like it was the first time either o’ them ever tried it and the sheriff’s leadin’ on points when Genevieve hollers for the dips, who dashes in with their gats pulled and it’s good night, Mister Sheriff! They put him in moth balls and they ask Joss to join their tong. He says all right and they’re all pretty well lit by this time and they’ve reached the singin’ stage, and Pat can’t get them to go home and he’s scared some o’ the Hammond people’ll put in a complaint, so he has the curtain rang down.

Then they’s a relapse of it don’t say how long, and Don and Genevieve and the yeggs and their lady friends is all out in the country somewheres attendin’ a Bohunk Sokol Verein picnic and Don starts whinin’ about his old lady that he’d left up to Janesville.

“I wisht I was back there,” he says.

“You got nothin’ on me,” says Genevieve. “Only Janesville ain’t far enough. I wisht you was back in Hongkong.”

So w’ile they’re flatterin’ each other back and forth, a couple o’ the girls is monkeyin’ with the pasteboards and tellin’ their fortunes, and one o’ them turns up a two-spot and that’s a sign they’re goin’ to sing a duet. So it comes true and then Genevieve horns into the game and they play three-handed rummy, singin’ all the w’ile to bother each other, but finally the fellas that’s runnin’ the picnic says it’s time for the fat man’s one-legged race and everybody goes offen the stage. So the Michaels girl comes on and is gettin’ by pretty good with a song when she’s scared by the noise o’ the gun that’s fired to start the race for the bay-window championship. So she trips back to her dressin’-room and then Don and Eskimo Bill put on a little slap-stick stuff.

When they first meet they’re pals, but as soon as they get wise that the both o’ them’s bugs over the same girl their relations to’rds each other becomes strange. Here’s the talk they spill:

“Where do you tend bar?” says Don.

“You got me guessed wrong,” says Bill. “I work out to the Yards.”

“Got anything on the hip?” says Don.

“You took the words out o’ my mouth,” says Bill. “I’m drier than St. Petersgrad.”

“Stick round a w’ile and maybe we can scare up somethin’,” says Don.

“I’ll stick all right,” says Bill. “They’s a Jane in your party that’s knocked me dead.”

“What’s her name?” says Don.

“Carmen,” says Bill, Carmen bein’ the girl’s name in the show that Genevieve was takin’ that part.

“Carmen!” says Joss. “Get offen that stuff! I and Carmen’s just like two pavin’ bricks.”

“I should worry!” says Bill. “I ain’t goin’ to run away from no rat-eater.”

“You’re a rat-eater yourself, you rat-eater!” says Don.

“I’ll rat-eat you!” says Bill.

And they go to it with a carvin’ set, but they couldn’t neither one o’ them handle their utensils.

Don may of been all right slicin’ toadstools for the suey and Bill prob’ly could of massacreed a flock o’ sheep with one stab, but they was all up in the air when it come to stickin’ each other. They’d of did it better with dice.

Pretty soon the other actors can’t stand it no longer and they come on yellin’ “Fake!” So Don and Bill fold up their razors and Bill invites the whole bunch to come out and go through the Yards some mornin’ and then he beats it, and the Michaels girl ain’t did nothin’ for fifteen minutes, so the management shoots her out for another song and she sings to Don about how he should ought to go home on account of his old lady bein’ sick, so he asks Genevieve if she cares if he goes back to Janesville.

“Sure, I care,” says Genevieve. “Go ahead!”

So the act winds up with everybody satisfied.

The last act’s outside the Yards on the Halsted Street end. Bill’s ast the entire company to come in and watch him croak a steer. The scene opens up with the crowd buyin’ perfume and smellin’ salts from the guys that’s got the concessions. Pretty soon Eskimo Bill and Carmen drive in, all dressed up like a horse. Don’s came in from Wisconsin and is hidin’ in the bunch. He’s sore at Carmen for not meetin’ him on the Elevated platform.

He lays low till everybody’s went inside, only Carmen. Then he braces her. He tells her his old lady’s died and left him the laundry, and he wants her to go in with him and do the ironin’.

“Not me!” she says.

“What do you mean – ‘Not me’?” says Don.

“I and Bill’s goin’ to run a kosher market,” she says.

Just about now you can hear noises behind the scenes like the cattle’s gettin’ theirs, so Carmen don’t want to miss none of it, so she makes a break for the gate.

“Where you goin’?” says Joss.

“I want to see the butcherin’,” she says.

“Stick round and I’ll show you how it’s done,” says Joss.

So he pulls his knife and makes a pass at her, just foolin’. He misses her as far as from here to Des Moines. But she don’t know he’s kiddin’ and she’s scared to death. Yes, sir, she topples over as dead as the Federal League.

It was prob’ly her heart.

So now the whole crowd comes dashin’ out because they’s been a report that the place is infested with the hoof and mouth disease. They tell Don about it, but he’s all excited over Carmen dyin’. He’s delirious and gets himself mixed up with a Irish policeman.

“I yield me prisoner,” he says.

Then the house doctor says the curtain’s got to come down to prevent the epidemic from spreadin’ to the audience. So the show’s over and the company’s quarantined.

—

Well, Hatch was out all durin’ the second act and part o’ the third, and when he finally come back he didn’t have to tell nobody where he’d been. And he dozed off the minute he hit his seat. I was for lettin’ him sleep so’s the rest o’ the audience’d think we had one o’ the op’ra bass singers in our party. But Mrs. Hatch wasn’t lookin’ for no publicity, on account of her costume, so she reached over and prodded him with a hatpin every time he begin a new aria.

Goin’ out, I says to him:

“How’d you like it?”

“Pretty good,” he says, “only they was too much gin in the last one.”

“I mean the op’ra,” I says.

“Don’t ask him!” says Mrs. Hatch. “He didn’t hear half of it and he didn’t understand none of it.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” says I. “Jim here ain’t no boob, and they wasn’t nothin’ hard about it to understand.”

“Not if you know the plot,” says Mrs. Hatch.

“And somethin’ about music,” says my Missus.

“And got a little knowledge o’ French,” says Mrs. Hatch.

“Was that French they was singin’?” says Hatch. “I thought it was Wop or ostrich.”

“That shows you up,” says his Frau.

Well, when we got on the car for home they wasn’t only one vacant seat and, o’ course, Hatch had to have that. So I and my Missus and Mrs. Hatch clubbed together on the straps and I got a earful o’ the real dope.

“What do you think o’ Farr’r’s costumes?” says Mrs. Hatch.

“Heavenly!” says my Missus. “Specially the one in the second act. It was all colors o’ the rainbow.”

“Hatch is right in style then,” I says.

“And her actin’ is perfect,” says Mrs. Hatch.

“Her voice too,” says the Wife.

“I liked her actin’ better,” says Mrs. H. “I thought her voice yodeled in the up-stairs registers.”

“What do you suppose killed her?” I says.

“She was stabbed by her lover,” says the Missus.

“You wasn’t lookin’,” I says. “He never touched her. It was prob’ly tobacco heart.”

“He stabs her in the book,” says Mrs. Hatch.

“It never went through the bindin’,” I says.

“And wasn’t Mooratory grand?” says the Wife.

“Splendid!” says Mrs. Hatch. “His actin’ and singin’ was both grand.”

“I preferred his actin’,” I says. “I thought his voice hissed in the down-stairs radiators.”

This give them a good laugh, but they was soon at it again.

“And how sweet Alda was!” my Missus remarks.

“Which was her?” I ast them.

“The good girl,” says Mrs. Hatch. “The girl that sung that beautiful aria in Atto Three.”

“Atto girl!” I says. “I liked her too; the little Michaels girl. She came from Janesville.”

“She did!” says Mrs. Hatch. “How do you know?”

So I thought I’d kid them along.

“My uncle told me,” I says. “He used to be postmaster up there.”

“What uncle was that?” says my wife.

“He ain’t really my uncle,” I says. “We all used to call him our uncle just like all these here singers calls the one o’ them Daddy.”

“They was a lady in back o’ me,” says Mrs. Hatch, “that says Daddy didn’t appear tonight.”

“Prob’ly the Missus’ night out,” I says.

“How’d you like the Tor’ador?” says Mrs. Hatch.

“I thought she moaned in the chimney,” says I.

“It wasn’t no ‘she’,” says the Missus. “We’re talkin’ about the bull-fighter.”

“I didn’t see no bull-fight,” I says.

“It come off behind the scenes,” says the Missus.

“When was you behind the scenes?” I says.

“I wasn’t never,” says my Missus. “But that’s where it’s supposed to come off.”

“Well,” I says, “you can take it from me that it wasn’t pulled. Do you think the mayor’d stand for that stuff when he won’t even leave them stage a box fight? You two girls has got a fine idear o’ this here op’ra!”

“You know all about it, I guess,” says the Missus. “You talk French so good!”

“I talk as much French as you do,” I says. “But not nowheres near as much English, if you could call it that.”

That kept her quiet, but Mrs. Hatch buzzed all the way home, and she was scared to death that the motorman wouldn’t know where she’d been spendin’ the evenin’. And if there was anybody in the car besides me that knowed Carmen it must of been a joke to them hearin’ her chatter. It wasn’t no joke to me though. Hatch’s berth was way off from us and they didn’t nobody suspect him o’ bein’ in our party. I was standin’ right up there with her where people couldn’t help seein’ that we was together.

I didn’t want them to think she was my wife. So I kept smilin’ at her. And when it finally come time to get off I hollered out loud at Hatch and says:

“All right, Hatch! Here’s our street. Your Missus’ll keep you awake the rest o’ the way with her liberetto.”

“It can’t hurt no more than them hatpins,” he says.

Well, when the paper come the next mornin’ my Missus had to grab it up and turn right away to the place where the op’ras is wrote up. Under the article they was a list o’ the ladies and gents in the boxes and what they wore, but it didn’t say nothin’ about what the gents wore, only the ladies. Prob’ly the ladies happened to have the most comical costumes that night, but I bet if the reporters could of saw Hatch they would of gave him a page to himself.

“Is your name there?” I says to the Missus.

“O’ course not,” she says. “They wasn’t none o’ them reporters tall enough to see us. You got to set in a box to be mentioned.”

“Well,” I says, “you don’t care nothin’ about bein’ mentioned, do you?”

“O’ course not,” she says; but I could tell from how she said it that she wouldn’t run down-town and horsewhip the editor if he made a mistake and printed about she and her costume; her costume wouldn’t of et up all the space he had neither.

“How much does box seats cost?” I ast her.

“About six or seven dollars,” she says.

“Well,” I says, “let’s I and you show Hatch up.”

“What do you mean?” she says.

“I mean we should ought to return the compliment,” says I. “We should ought to give them a party right back.”

“We’d be broke for six weeks,” she says.

“Oh, we’d do it with their money like they done it with ours,” I says.

“Yes,” she says; “but if you can ever win enough from the Hatches to buy four box seats to the op’ra I’d rather spend the money on a dress.”

“Who said anything about four box seats?” I ast her.

“You did,” she says.

“You’re delirious!” I says. “Two box seats will be a plenty.”

“Who’s to set in them?” ast the Missus.

“Who do you think?” I says. “I and you is to set in them.”

“But what about the Hatches?” she says.

“They’ll set up where they was,” says I. “Hatch picked out the seats before, and if he hadn’t of wanted that altitude he’d of bought somewheres else.”

“Yes,” says the Missus, “but Mrs. Hatch won’t think we’re very polite to plant our guests in the Alps and we set down in a box.”

“But they won’t know where we’re settin’,” I says. “We’ll tell them we couldn’t get four seats together, so for them to set where they was the last time and we’re goin’ elsewheres.”

“It don’t seem fair,” says my wife.

“I should worry about bein’ fair with Hatch,” I says. “If he’s ever left with more than a dime’s worth o’ cards you got to look under the table for his hand.”

“It don’t seem fair,” says the Missus.

“You should worry!” I says.

So we ast them over the followin’ night and it looked for a minute like we was goin’ to clean up. But after that one minute my Missus began collectin’ pitcher cards again and every card Hatch drawed seemed like it was made to his measure. Well, sir, when we was through the lucky stiff was eight dollars to the good and Mrs. Hatch had about broke even.

“Do you suppose you can get them same seats?” I says.

“What seats?” says Hatch.

“For the op’ra,” I says.

“You won’t get me to no more op’ra,” says Hatch. “I don’t never go to the same show twicet.”

“It ain’t the same show, you goof!” I says. “They change the bill every day.”

“They ain’t goin’ to change this eight-dollar bill o’ mine,” he says.

“You’re a fine stiff!” I says.

“Call me anything you want to,” says Hatch, “as long as you don’t go over eight bucks’ worth.”

“Jim don’t enjoy op’ra,” says Mrs. Hatch.

“He don’t enjoy nothin’ that’s more than a nickel,” I says. “But as long as he’s goin’ to welsh on us I hope he lavishes the eight-spot where it’ll do him some good.”

“I’ll do what I want to with it,” says Hatch.

“Sure you will!” I says. “You’ll bury it. But what you should ought to do is buy two suits o’ clo’es.”

So I went out in the kitchen and split a pint one way.

But don’t think for a minute that I and the Missus ain’t goin’ to hear no more op’ra just because of a cheap stiff like him welshin’. I don’t have to win in no rummy game before I spend.

We’re goin’ next Tuesday night, I and the Missus, and we’re goin’ to set somewheres near Congress Street. The show’s Armour’s Do Re Me, a new one that’s bein’ gave for the first time. It’s prob’ly named after some soap.

• 2 •

Three Kings and a Pair

Accordin’ to some authorities, a person, before they get married, should ought to look up your opponent’s family tree and find out what all her relatives died of. But the way I got it figured out, if you’re sure they did die, the rest of it don’t make no difference. In exceptionable cases it may be all right to take a girl that part of her family is still livin’, but not under no circumstances if the part happens to be a unmarried sister named Bessie.

We was expectin’ her in about two weeks, but we got a card Saturday mornin’ which she says on it that she’d come right away if it was all the same to us, because it was the dull season in Wabash society and she could tear loose better at the present time than later on. Well, I guess they ain’t no time in the year when society in Wabash would collapse for she not bein’ there, but if she had to come at all, the sooner it was over the better. And besides, it wouldn’t of did us no good to say aye, yes or no, because the postcard only beat her here by a few hours.

Not havin’ no idear she was comin’ so soon I didn’t meet the train, but it seems like she brought her escort right along with her. It was a guy named Bishop and she’d met him on the trip up. The news butcher introduced them, I guess. He seen her safe to the house and she was there when I got home. Her and my Missus was full of him.

“Just think!” the Missus says. “He writes motion-pitcher plays.”

“And gets ten thousand a year,” says Bess.

“Did you find out from the firm?” I ast her.

“He told me himself,” says Bessie.

“That’s the right kind o’ fella,” says I, “open and above the board.”

“Oh, you’ll like Mr. Bishop,” says Bess. “He says such funny things.”

“Yes,” I says, “that’s a pretty good one about the ten thousand a year. But I suppose it’s funnier when he tells it himself. I wisht I could meet him.”

“They won’t be no trouble about that,” says the Missus. “He’s comin’ to dinner tomorrow and he’s comin’ to play cards some evenin’ next week.”

“What evenin’?” I says.

“Any evenin’ that’s convenient for you,” says Bessie.

“Well,” I says, “I’m sorry, but I got engagements every night except Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday.”

“What about Tuesday?” ast Bessie.

“We’re goin’ to the op’ra,” I says.

“Oh, won’t that be grand!” says Bessie. “I wonder what I can wear.”

“A kimono’ll be all right,” I says. “If the door-bell rings, you don’t have to answer it.”

“What do you mean?” says the Missus. “I guess if we go, Bess’ll go with us.”

“You’d starve to death if you guessed for a livin’,” I says.

“Never mind that kind o’ talk,” says the Missus. “When we got a visitor we’re not goin’ out places nights and leave her here alone.”

“What’s the matter with Bishop?” I says. “They’s lots o’ two-handed card games.”

“I ain’t goin’ to force myself on to you,” says Bessie. “You don’t have to take me nowheres if you don’t want to.”

“I wisht you’d put that in writin’ in case of a lawsuit,” I says.

“Listen here,” says the Frau. “Get this straight: Either Bess goes or I don’t go.”

“You can both stay home,” says I. “I don’t anticipate no trouble findin’ a partner.”

“All right, that’s settled,” says the Missus. “We’ll have a party of our own.”

And it must of been goin’ to be a dandy, because just speakin’ about it made her cry. So I says:

“You win! But I’ll prob’ly have to change the tickets.”

“What kind o’ tickets have you got?” ast the Missus.

“Cheap ones,” I says. “Down-stairs, five per.”

“How grand!” says Bessie.

“Yes,” I says, “but I’m afraid I got the last two they had. I’ll prob’ly have to give them back and take three balcony seats.”

“That’s all right, just so’s Bess goes,” says the Wife.

“Mr. Bishop’s wild about music,” says Bessie.

“Well,” I says, “he prob’ly gets passes to the pitcher houses.”

“He don’t hear no real music there,” says Bessie.

“Well,” says I, “suppose when he comes tomorrow, I mention somethin’ about I and the Missus havin’ tickets to the op’ra Tuesday night. Then, if he’s so wild about music, he’ll maybe try to horn into the party and split the expenses fifty-fifty.”

“That’d be a fine thing!” says the Frau. “He’d think we was a bunch o’ cheap skates. Come right out and ask him to go at your expense, or else don’t ask him at all.”

“I won’t ask him at all,” I says. “It was a mistake for me to ever suggest it.”

“Yes,” says Bessie, “but after makin’ the suggestion it would be a mean trick to not go through with it.”

“Why?” I ast her. “He won’t never know the difference.”

“But I will,” says Bessie.

“Course you would, dear,” says the Missus. “After thinkin’ you was goin’ to have a man of your own, the party wouldn’t seem like no party if you just went along with us.”

“All right, all right,” I says. “Let’s not argue no more. Every time I open my head it costs three dollars.”

“No such a thing,” says the Missus. “The whole business won’t only be two dollars more than you figured on. The tickets you had for the two of us would come to ten dollars, and with Bess and Mr. Bishop goin’ it’s only twelve, if you get balcony seats.”

“I wonder,” says Bessie, “if Mr. Bishop wouldn’t object to settin’ in the balcony.”

“Maybe he would,” says the Missus.

“Well,” I says, “if he gets dizzy and falls over the railin’ they’s plenty of ushers to point out where he come from.”

“They ain’t no danger of him gettin’ dizzy,” says Bessie. “The only thing is that he’s prob’ly used to settin’ in the high-priced seats and would be embarrassed amongst the riff and raff.”

“He can wear a false mustache for a disguise.”

“He’s got a real one,” says Bessie.

“He can shave it off, then,” says I.

“I wouldn’t have him do that for the world,” says Bessie. “It’s too nice a one.”

“You can’t judge a mustache by seein’ it oncet,” I says. “It may be a crook at heart.”

“This ain’t gettin’ us nowheres,” says the Missus. “They’s still a question before the house.”

“It’s up to Bess to give the answer,” I says. “Bishop and his lip shield are invited if they’ll set in a three-dollar seat.”

“It’s off, then,” says Bessie, and beats it in the guest room and slams the door.

“What’s the matter with you?” says the Missus.

“Nothin’ at all,” I says, “except that I ain’t no millionaire scenario writer. Twenty dollars is twenty dollars.”

“Yes,” the Missus says, “but how many times have you lost more than that playin’ cards and not thought nothin’ of it?”

“That’s different,” I says. “When I spend money in a card game it’s more like a investment. I got a chance to make somethin’ by it.”

“And this would be a investment, too,” says the Wife, “and a whole lot better chance o’ winnin’ than in one o’ them crooked card games.”

“What are you gettin’ at?” I ast her.

“This is what I’m gettin’ at,” she says, “though you’d ought to see it without me tellin’ you. This here Bishop’s made a big hit with Bess.”

“It’s been done before,” says I.

“Listen to me,” says the Frau. “It’s high time she was gettin’ married, and I don’t want her marryin’ none o’ them Hoosier hicks.”

“They’ll see to that,” I says. “They ain’t such hicks.”

“She could do a lot worse than take this here Bishop,” the Missus says. “Ten thousand a year ain’t no small change. And she’d be here in Chi; maybe they could find a flat right in this buildin’.”

“That’s all right,” I says. “We could move.”

“Don’t be so smart,” says the Missus. “It would be mighty nice for me to have her so near and it would be nice for you and I both to have a rich brother-in-law.”

“I don’t know about that,” says I. “Somebody might do us a mischief in a fit o’ jealous rage.”

“He’d show us enough good times to make up for whatever they done,” says the Wife. “We’re foolish if we don’t make no play for him and it’d be startin’ off right to take him along to this here op’ra and set him in the best seats. He likes good music and you can see he’s used to doin’ things in style. And besides, sis looks her best when she’s dressed up.”

Well, I finally give in and the Missus called Bessie out o’ the despondents’ ward and they was all smiles and pep, but they acted like I wasn’t in the house; so, to make it realistical, I blowed down to Andy’s and looked after some o’ my other investments.

—

We always have dinner Sundays at one o’clock, but o’ course Bishop didn’t know that and showed up prompt at ten bells, before I was half-way through the comical section. I had to go to the door because the Missus don’t never put on her shoes till she’s positive the family on the first floor is all awake, and Bessie was baskin’ in the kind o’ water that don’t come in your lease at Wabash.

“Mr. Bishop, ain’t it?” I says, lookin’ him straight in the upper lip.

“How’d you know?” he says, smilin’.

“The girls told me to be expectin’ a handsome man o’ that name,” I says. “And they told me about the mustache.”

“Wouldn’t be much to tell,” says Bishop.

“It’s young yet,” I says. “Come in and take a weight off your feet.”

So he picked out the only chair we got that ain’t upholstered with flatirons and we set down and was tryin’ to think o’ somethin’ more to say when Bessie hollered to us from mid-channel.

“Is that Mr. Bishop?” she yelped.

“It’s me, Miss Gorton,” says Bishop.

“I’ll be right out,” says Bess.

“Take it easy,” I says. “You mightn’t catch cold, but they’s no use riskin’ it.”

So then I and Bishop knocked the street-car service and President Wilson and give each other the double O. He wasn’t what you could call ugly lookin’, but if you’d come out in print and say he was handsome, a good lawyer’d have you at his mercy. His dimensions, what they was of them, all run perpendicular. He didn’t have no latitude. If his collar slipped over his shoulders he could step out of it. If they hadn’t been payin’ him all them millions for pitcher plays, he could of got a job in a wire wheel. They wouldn’t of been no difference in his photograph if you took it with a X-ray or a camera. But he had hair and two eyes and a mouth and all the rest of it, and his clo’es was certainly class. Why wouldn’t they be? He could pick out cloth that was thirty bucks a yard and get a suit and overcoat for fifteen bucks. A umbrella cover would of made him a year’s pajamas.

Well, I seen the Missus sneak from the kitchen to her room to don the shoe leather, so I got right down to business.

“The girls tells me you’re fond o’ good music,” I says.

“I love it,” says Bishop.

“Do you ever take in the op’ra?” I ast him.

“I eat it up,” he says.

“Have you been this year?” I says.

“Pretty near every night,” says Bishop.

“I should think you’d be sick of it,” says I.

“Oh, no,” he says, “no more’n I get tired o’ food.”

“A man could easy get tired o’ the same kind o’ food,” I says.

“But the op’ras is all different,” says Bishop.

“Different languages, maybe,” I says. “But they’re all music and singin’.”

“Yes,” says Bishop, “but the music and singin’ in the different op’ras is no more alike than lumbago and hives. They couldn’t be nothin’ differenter, for instance, than Faust and Madame Buttermilk.”

“Unlest it was Scotch and chocolate soda,” I says.

“They’s good op’ras and bad op’ras,” says Bishop.

“Which is the good ones?” I ast him.

“Oh,” he says, “Carmen and La Bohemian Girl and Ill Toreador.”

“Carmen’s a bear cat,” I says. “If they was all as good as Carmen, I’d go every night. But lots o’ them is flivvers. They say they couldn’t nothin’ be worse than this Armour’s Dee Tree Ree.”

“It is pretty bad,” says Bishop. “I seen it a year ago.”

Well, I’d just been readin’ in the paper where it was bran’-new and hadn’t never been gave prev’ous to this season. So I thought I’d have a little sport with Mr. Smartenstein.

“What’s it about?” I says.

He stalled a w’ile.

“It ain’t about much of anything,” he says.

“It must be about somethin’,” says I.

“They got it all balled up the night I seen it,” says Bishop. “The actors forgot their lines and a man couldn’t make heads or tails of it.”

“Did they sing in English?” I ast him.

“No; Latin,” says Bishop.

“Can you understand Latin?” I says.

“Sure,” says he. “I’d ought to. I studied it two years.”

“What’s the name of it mean in English?” I ast.

“You pronounce the Latin wrong,” he says. “I can’t parse it from how you say it. If I seen it wrote out I could tell.”

So I handed him the paper where they give the op’ra schedule.

“That’s her,” I says, pointin’ to the one that was billed for Tuesday night.

“Oh, yes,” says Bishop. “Yes, that’s the one.”

“No question about that,” says I. “But what does it mean?”

“I knowed you said it wrong,” says Bishop. “The right pronouncement would be: L. Armour’s Day Trey Ray. No wonder I was puzzled.”

“Now the puzzle’s solved,” I says. “What do them last three words mean? Louie Armour’s what?”

“It ain’t nothin’ to do with Armour,” says Bishop. “The first word is the Latin for love. And Day means of God, and Trey means three, and Ray means Kings.”

“Oh,” I says, “it’s a poker game. The fella’s just called and the other fella shows down his hand and the first fella had a straight and thought it wasn’t no good. So he’s su’prised to see what the other fella’s got. So he says: ‘Well, for the love o’ Mike, three kings!’ Only he makes it stronger. Is that the dope?”

“I don’t think it’s anything about poker,” says Bishop.

“You’d ought to know,” I says. “You seen it.”

“But it was all jumbled up,” says Bishop. “I couldn’t get the plot.”

“Do you suppose you could get it if you seen it again?” I says.

“I wouldn’t set through it,” he says. “It’s no good.”

Well, sir, I thought at the time that that little speech meant a savin’ of eight dollars, because if he didn’t go along, us three could set amongst the riff and raff. I dropped the subject right there and was goin’ to tell the girls about it when he’d went home. But the Missus crabbed it a few minutes after her and Bess come in the room.

“Did you get your invitation?” says she to Bishop.

“What invitation?” he says.

“My husban’ was goin’ to ask you to go with us Tuesday night,” she says. “Grand op’ra.”

“Bishop won’t go,” I says. “He’s already saw the play and says it ain’t no good and he wouldn’t feel like settin’ through it again.”

“Why, Mr. Bishop! That’s a terrible disappointment,” says the Missus.

“We was countin’ on you,” says Bessie, chokin’ up.

“It’s tough luck,” I says, “but you can’t expect things to break right all the w’ile.”

“Wouldn’t you change your mind?” says the Missus.

“That’s up to your husban’,” says Bishop. “I didn’t understand that I was invited. I should certainly hate to break up a party, and if I’d knew I was goin’ to be ast I would of spoke different about the op’ra. It’s prob’ly a whole lot better than when I seen it. And, besides, I surely would enjoy your company.”

“You can enjoy our’n most any night for nothin’,” I says. “But if you don’t enjoy the one down to the Auditorium, they’s no use o’ me payin’ five iron men to have you bored to death.”

“You got me wrong,” says Bishop. “The piece was gave by a bunch o’ supers the time I went. I’d like to see it with a real cast. They say it’s a whiz when it’s acted right.”

“There!” says the Missus. “That settles it. You can change the tickets tomorrow.”

So I was stopped and they wasn’t no more to say, and after a w’ile we had dinner and then I seen why Bishop was so skinny. ’Parently he hadn’t tasted fodder before for a couple o’ mont’s.

“It must keep you busy writin’ them scenarios,” I says. “No time to eat or nothin’.”

“Oh, I eat oncet in a w’ile even if I don’t look it,” he says. “I don’t often get a chance at food that’s cooked like this. Your wife’s some dandy little cook!”

“It runs in the family, I guess,” says Bessie. “You’d ought to taste my cookin’.”

“Maybe he will some day,” says the Missus, and then her and Bessie pretended like they’d made a break and was embarrassed.

So when he was through I says:

“Leave Bess take Bishop out in the kitchen and show him how she can wash dishes.”

“Nothin’ doin’,” says the Wife. “I’m goin’ to stack them and then I and you’s got to hurry and keep our date.”

“What date?” I says.

“Over to Hatch’s,” says the Missus. “You hadn’t forgotten, had you?”

“I hadn’t forgot that the Hatches was in Benton Harbor,” I says.

“Yes,” says the Frau, winkin’ at me, “but I promised Mrs. Hatch I’d run over there and see that everything was O.K.”

So I wasn’t even allowed to set down and smoke, but had to help unload the table and then go out in the cold. And it was rotten weather and Sunday and nothin’ but water, water everywhere.

“What’s the idear?” I ast the Missus when we was out.

“Can’t you see nothin’?” she says. “I want to give Bess a chance.”

“Chance to what?” I says.

“A chance to talk to him,” says the Wife.

“Oh!” says I. “I thought you wanted him to get stuck on her.”

“What do you think of him?” says she. “Wouldn’t he fit fine in the family?”

“He’d fit in a flute,” I says. “He’s the skinniest thing I ever seen. It seems like a shame to pay five dollars for a seat for him when him and Bessie could sit in the same seat without contact.”

“He is slender,” says the Missus. “Prob’ly they been starvin’ him where he boards at.”

“I bet they wouldn’t starve me on ten thousand a year,” I says. “But maybe they don’t know he’s at the table or think he’s just one o’ the macaroni.”

“It’s all right for you to make jokes about him,” says she, “but if you had his brains we’d be better off.”

“If I had his brains,” I says, “he’d go up like a balloon. If he lost an ounce, gravity wouldn’t have no effect on him.”

“You don’t have to bulge out to be a man,” says the Missus. “He’s smart and he’s rich and he’s a swell dresser and I don’t think we could find a better match for Bess.”

“Match just describes him,” says I.

“You’re too cute to live,” says the Wife. “But no matter what you say, him and Bess is goin’ to hit it off. They’re just suited to each other. They’re a ideal pair.”

“You win that argument,” I says. “They’re a pair all right, and they’d make a great hand if you was playin’ deuces wild.”

Well, we walked round till our feet was froze and then we went home, and Bishop says he would have to go, but the Missus ast him to stay to supper, and when he made the remark about havin’ to go, he was referrin’ to one o’clock the next mornin’. And right after supper I was gave the choice o’ takin’ another walk or hittin’ the hay.

“Why don’t we play cards?” I says.

“It’s Sunday,” says the Missus.

“Has the mayor stopped that, too?” I says.

But she winked at me again, the old flirt, so I stuck round the kitchen till it was pretty near time to wipe the dishes, and then I went to bed.

Monday noon I chased over to the Auditorium and they was only about eighty in line ahead o’ me, and I was hopin’ the house would be sold out for a week before I got up to the window. While I was markin’ time I looked at the pitchers o’ the different actors, hung up on the posts to advertise some kind o’ hair tonic. I wisht I had Bishop along to tell me what the different names meant in English. I suppose most o’ them meant Goatee or Spinach or Brush or Hedge or Thicket or somethin’. Then they was the girls’ pitchers, too; Genevieve Farr’r that died in the Stockyards scene in Carmen, and Fanny Alda that took the part o’ the Michaels girl from Janesville, and Mary Gardner, and Louise Edviney that was goin’ to warble for us, and a lot more of all ages and one size.

Finally I got up to the ticket agent’s cage and then I didn’t only have to wait till the three women behind me done their shoppin’, and then I hauled out my two tickets and ast the agent what would he give me for them.

“Do you want to exchange them?” he says.

“I did,” says I, “but I heard you was sold out for tomorrow night.”

“Oh, no,” he says “we got plenty o’ seats.”

“But nothin’ down-stairs, is they?” I says.

“Yes,” he says “anywheres you want.”

“Well,” I says, “if you’re sure you can spare them I want four in the place o’ these two.”

“Here’s four nice ones in the seventh row,” says he. “It’ll be ten dollars more.”

“I ain’t partic’lar to have them nice,” I says.

“It don’t make no difference,” says he. “The whole down-stairs is five a wallop.”

“Yes,” I says, “but one o’ the four that’s goin’ is a little skinny fella and another’s a refuge from Wabash.”

“I don’t care if they’re all escapades from Milford Junction,” he says. “We ain’t runnin’ no Hoosier Welfare League.”

“You’re smart, ain’t you?” I says.

“I got to be,” says the agent.

“But if you was a little smarter you’d be this side o’ the cage instead o’ that side,” says I.

“Do you want these tickets or don’t you?” he says.

So I seen he didn’t care for no more verbal collisions with me, so I give him the two tickets and a bonus o’ ten bucks and he give me back four pasteboards and throwed in a envelope free for nothin’.

I passed up lunch Tuesday because I wanted to get home early and have plenty o’ time to dress. That was the idear and it worked out every bit as successful as the Peace Ship. In the first place, I couldn’t get in my room because that’s where the Missus and Bess was makin’ up. In the second place, I didn’t need to of allowed any time for supper because there wasn’t none. The Wife said her and Bessie’d been so busy with their clo’es that they’d forgot a little thing like supper.

“But I didn’t have no lunch,” I says.

“That ain’t my fault,” says the Missus. “Besides, we can all go somewheres and eat after the show.”

“On who?” I says.

“You’re givin’ the party,” says she.

“The invitations didn’t contain no clause about the inner man,” says I. “Furthermore, if I had the ten dollars back that I spent today for tickets, I’d have eleven dollars altogether.”

“Well,” says the Missus, “maybe Mr. Bishop will have the hunch.”

“He will if his hearin’ ‘s good,” says I.

Bishop showed up at six-thirty, lookin’ mighty cute in his waiter uniform. After he’d came, it didn’t take Bess long to finish her toilet. I’d like to fell over when I seen her. Some doll she was, too, in a fifty-meg evenin’ dress marked down to thirty-seven. I know, because I had helped pick it out for the Missus.

“My, you look sweet!” says Bishop. “That’s a beautiful gown.”

“It’s my favoright,” says Bessie.

“It don’t take a person long to get attached to a pretty dress,” I says.

The Missus hollered for me to come in and help her.

“I don’t need no help,” she says, “but I didn’t want you givin’ no secrets away.”

“What are you goin’ to wear?” says I.

“Bess had one that just fits me,” she says. “She’s loanin’ it to me.”

“Her middle name’s Generous,” I says.

“Don’t be sarcastical,” says the Missus. “I want sis to look her best this oncet.”

“And I suppose it don’t make no difference how you look,” says I, “as long as you only got me to please. If Bishop’s friends sees him with Bessie they’ll say: ‘My! he’s copped out a big-leaguer.’ But if I run into any o’ my pals they’ll think I married the hired girl.”

“You should worry,” says the Missus.

“And besides that,” I says, “if you succeed in tyin’ Bishop up to a long-term lease he’s bound to see that there dress on you some time and then what’ll he think?”

“Bess can keep the gown,” says the Missus. “I’ll make her give me one of her’n for it.”

“With your tradin’ ability,” I says, “you’d ought to be the Cincinnati Reds’ manager. But if you do give the dress to her,” I says, “warn her not to wear it in Wabash – except when the marshal’s over on the other street.”

Well, we was ready in a few minutes, because I’m gettin’ used to the soup and fish, and everything went on easy owin’ to my vacuum, and I was too weak to shave; and the Missus didn’t have no trouble with Bessie’s creation, which was built like the Cottage Grove cars, enter at front.

“I don’t think I’m so bad,” says the Missus, lookin’ in the glass.

“You’d be just right,” I says, “if we was goin’ to the annual meetin’ o’ the Woman’s Guild.”

I and Bishop had a race gettin’ on the street-car. I was first and he won.

“I just got paid today,” he says, “and I didn’t have time to get change.”

They wasn’t only one seat. Bess took it first and then offered it to the Missus.

“I’ll be mad at you if you don’t take it,” says Bess.

But the wife remained standin’ and Bessie by a great effort kept her temper.

Goin’ into the theayter we passed a fella that was sellin’ liberettos.

“I bet this guy’s got lots o’ change,” I says.

“Them things is for people that ain’t never saw no op’ra,” says Bishop.

“I’m goin’ to have one,” I says.

“Don’t buy none for me,” says Bishop.

“You just spoke in time,” I says.

I laid down a quarter and grabbed one o’ the books.

“It’s thirty-five cents,” says the guy.

“Carmen wasn’t only a quarter,” I says. “Is this show better’n Carmen?”

“This is a new one,” the guy says.

“This fella,” I says, pointin’ to Bishop, “seen it a year ago.”

“He must have a good imagination,” says the guy.

“No,” I says, “he writes movin’-pitcher plays.”

I give up a extra dime, because they didn’t seem to be nothin’ else to do. Then I handed over my tickets to the fella at the door and we was took right down amongst the high polloi. Say, I thought the dress Bess was wearin’ was low; ought to been, seein’ it was cut down from fifty bucks to thirty-seven. But the rest o’ the gowns round us must of been sixty per cent. off.

I says to the Missus:

“I bet you wisht now you hadn’t swapped costumes.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says. “It’s chilly in here.”

Well, it may of been chilly then, but not after the op’ra got goin’ good. Carmen was a human refrigerator compared to the leadin’ lady in this show. Set through two acts and you couldn’t hardly believe it was December.

But the curtain was supposed to go up at eight-ten, and it wasn’t only about that time when we got there, so they was over half a hour to kill before the show begin. I looked in my program and seen the real translation o’ the title. The Love o’ Three Kings, it says, and no “of God” to it. I’d of knew anyway, when I’d read the plot, that He didn’t have nothin’ to do with it.

I listened a w’ile to Bishop and Bess.

“And you’ve saw all the op’ras?” she ast him.

“Most o’ them,” he says.

“How grand!” says Bessie. “I wisht I could see a lot o’ them.”

“Well,” he says, “you’re goin’ to be here for some time.”

“Oh, Mr. Bishop, I don’t want you throwin’ all your money away on me,” she says.

“I don’t call it throwin’ money away,” says Bishop.

“I wouldn’t neither,” I says. “I’d say Bishop was muscle-bound.”

They didn’t pay no attention to me.

“What ones would you like to see?” he ast her.

“What are your favorights?” says Bess.

“Oh,” says Bishop, “I’ve saw them all so many times that it don’t really make no difference to me. Sometimes they give two the same night, two short ones, and then you ain’t so liable to get bored.”

Saturday nights is when they usually give the two, and Saturday nights they cut the prices. This here Bishop wasn’t no boob.

“One good combination,” he says, “is Polly Archer and Cavalier Rusticana. They’re both awful pretty.”

“Oh, I’d love to see them,” says Bessie. “What are they like?”

So he says Polly Archer was a leadin’ lady in a stock company and the leadin’ man and another fella was both stuck on her and she loved one o’ them – I forget which one; whichever wasn’t her husbun’ – and they was a place in one o’ their shows where the one that was her husbun’ was supposed to get jealous and stab she and her lover, just actin’, but, instead o’ just pretendin’, this one night he played a joke on them and done the stabbin’ in earnest, and they was both killed. Well, that’d be a good one to see if you happened to be there the night he really kills them; otherwise, it sounds pretty tame. And Bishop also told her about Cavalier Rusticana that means Rural Free Delivery in English, and I didn’t get the plot only that the mail carrier flirts with one o’ the farmers’ wives and o’ course the rube spears him with a pitchfork. The state’s attorneys must of been on the jump all the w’ile in them days.

Finally the orchestra was all in their places and an old guy with a beard come out in front o’ them.

“That’s the conductor,” says Bishop.

“He looks like he’d been a long time with the road,” I says.

Then up went the curtain and the thermometer.

—

The scene’s laid in Little Italy, but you can’t see nothin’ when it starts off because it’s supposed to be just before mornin’. Pretty soon one o’ the three kings comes in with a grouch. He’s old and blind as a bat and he ain’t slept good and he’s sore at the conductor on account o’ the train bein’ a half-hour late, and the conductor’s jealous of him because his beard’s longer, and Archibald, that’s the old king’s name, won’t sing what the orchestra’s playin’, but just snarls and growls, and the orchestra can’t locate what key he’s snarlin’ in, so they don’t get along at all, and finally Flamingo, that’s the old king’s chauffeur, steers him off’n the stage.

Acrost on the other side o’ the stage from where they go off they’s a bungalow, and out of it comes Flora and another o’ the kings, a young fella with a tenor voice named Veto. They sing about what a fine mornin’ it is in Wop and she tells him he’d better fly his kite before Archibald catches him.

It seems like she’s married to Archibald’s son, Fred, but o’ course she likes Veto better or it wouldn’t be no op’ra. Her and Veto was raised in the same ward and they was oncet engaged to be married, but Archibald’s gang trimmed Veto’s in a big roughhouse one night and Flora was part o’ the spoils. When Archibald seen how good she could fix spaghett’ he was bound she’d stick in the family, so he give her the choice o’ bein’ killed or marryin’ his boy, so she took Fred but didn’t really mean it in earnest. So Veto hangs round the house a lot, because old Archibald’s blind and Fred’s generally always on the road with the Erie section gang.

But old Archibald’s eyes bein’ no good, his ears is so much the better, even if he don’t sometimes keep with the orchestra, so he comes back on the stage just after Veto’s went and he hears Flora tryin’ to snoop back in her bungalow.

“Who was you talkin’ to?” he says.

“Myself,” says Flora.

“Great stuff!” says Archibald. “Up and outdoors at five A.M. to talk to yourself! Feed that to the goldfish!”

So she ain’t got him fooled for a minute, but w’ile they’re arguin’ Fred blows in. So Archibald don’t say nothin’ about his superstition because he ain’t sure, so Fred and his Missus goes in the bungalow to have breakfast and Archibald stays on the stage quarrelin’ with the conductor.

If Fred was eatin’ all through the intermission, he must of been as hungry as me, because it was plain forty minutes before the second act begin. Him and Flora comes out o’ their house and Fred says he’s got to go right away again because they’s a bad wash-out this side o’ Huntington. He ain’t no sooner gone than Veto’s back on the job, but Flora’s kind o’ sorry for her husbun’, and Veto don’t get the reception that a star ought to expect.

“Why don’t you smile at me?” he says.

So she says:

“It don’t seem proper, dearie, with a husbun’ on the Erie.”

But before long she can’t resist his high notes and the next five or ten minutes is a love scene between the two, and they was a couple o’ times when I thought the management would ring down the asbestos curtain. Finally old Archibald snoops back on the stage with Flamingo, and Veto runs, but Archie hears him and it’s good night. The old boy gives Flora the third degree and she owns up, and then Flamingo says that Fred’s comin’ back to get his dinner pail. So Archibald insists on knowin’ the fella’s name that he heard him runnin’ away, but Flora’s either forgot it or else she’s stubborn, so Archie looses his temper and wrings her neck. So when Fred arrives he gets the su’prise of his life and finds out he’s a widow.

“I slayed her,” says Archibald. “She wasn’t no good.”

“She was the best cook we ever had,” says Fred. “What was the matter with her?”

“She had a gentleman friend,” says his old man.

Well, so far, they’s only one dead and nothin’ original about how it was pulled. You can go over to the Victoria and see any number o’ throttlin’s at fifty cents for the best seats. So it was up to the management to get a wallop into the last act. It took them pretty near forty minutes to think of it, but it was good when it come.

The scene is Colosimo’s undertakin’ rooms and Flora’s ruins is laid out on the counter. All the Wops from her ward stand round singin’ gospel hymns.

When they’ve beat it Veto approaches the bier bar and wastes some pretty fair singin’ on the late Flora. Then all of a sudden he leans over and gives her a kiss. That’s all for Veto. You see, Old Fox Archibald had figured that the bird that loved her would pull somethin’ like this and he’d doped out a way to learn who he was and make him regret it at the same time, besides springin’ some bran’-new stuff in the killin’ line. So he’s mixed up some rat poison and garlic and spread it on the lips of his fair daughter-in-law.

W’ile Veto’s dyin’ Fred comes in and finds him.

“So it was you, was it?” he says.

“I’m the guy,” says Veto.

“Well,” says Fred, “this’ll learn you a lesson, you old masher, you!”

“I’ll mash you in a minute,” says Veto, but the way he was now, he couldn’t of mashed turnips.

“I kissed her last, anyway,” says Veto.

“You think you did!” says Fred, and helps himself to the garlic.

So Veto’s dead and Fred’s leanin’ over the counter, dyin’, when Archibald wabbles in. He finds his way up to Fred and grabs a hold of him, thinkin’ it’s the stranger.

“Lay off’n me, pa,” says Fred. “This ain’t the other bird. He’s dead and it’s got me, too.”

“Well,” says the old man, “that’d ought to satisfy them. But it’s pretty tough on the Erie.”

—

“How grand!” says Bess when it was over.

“But it leaves you with a bad taste,” says Bishop.

“And a big appetite,” I says.

“Did that old man kill them all?” ast the Missus.

“All but hisself and Flamingo,” says I.

“What was he mad at?” says she.

“He was drove crazy by hunger,” I says. “His wife and his sister-in-law and her fella was starvin’ him to death.”

“Bein’ blind, he prob’ly spilled things at table,” says the Missus. “Blind men sometimes has trouble gettin’ their food.”

“The trouble ain’t confined to the blind,” says I.

When we got outside I left Bess and Bishop lead the way, hopin’ they’d head to’rds a steak garage.

“No hurry about gettin’ home,” I hollered to them. “The night’s still young yet.”

Bishop turned round.

“Is they any good eatin’ places out by your place?” he says.

I thought I had him.

“Not as good as down-town,” says I, and I named the Loop restaurants.

“How’s the car service after midnight?” he says.

“Grand!” says I. “All night long.”

I wondered where he would take us. Him and Bess crossed the avenue and stopped where the crowd was waitin’ for south-bound cars.

“He’s got some favorite place a ways south,” says the Missus.

A car come and I and her clumb aboard. We looked back just in time to see Bessie and Bishop wavin’ us farewell.

“They missed the car,” says the Missus.

“Yes,” I says, “and they was just as anxious to catch it as if it’d been the leprosy.”

“Never mind,” says the Missus. “If he wants to be alone with her it’s a good sign.”

“I can’t eat a sign,” says I.

“We’ll stop at The Ideal and have a little supper of our own,” she says.

“We won’t,” says I.

“Why not?” says the Missus.

“Because,” I says, “they’s exactly thirty-five cents in my pocket. And offerin’ my stomach seventeen and a half cents’ worth o’ food now would be just about like sendin’ one blank cartridge to the Russian army.”

“I think they’s some crackers in the house,” she says.

“Prob’ly,” says I. “We’re usually that way – overstocked. You don’t seem to realize that our household goods is only insured for a thousand.”

—

About one o’clock I went to sleep from sheer weakness. About one-thirty the Missus shook me and woke me up.

“We win, Joe!” she says, all excited. “I think Bishop and Bess is engaged!”

“Win!” says I. “Say, if you was a Frenchman you’d have a big celebration every anniversary o’ the Battle o’ Waterloo.”

“I was goin’ out in the kitchen to get a drink,” she says. “Bess was home, but I didn’t know it. And when I was comin’ back from the kitchen I happened to glance in the livin’-room. And I seen Bishop kiss her! Isn’t it great!”

“Yes,” I says. “But I wisht she’d of had Archibald fix up her lips.”

• 3 •

Gullible’s Travels

I

I promised the Wife that if anybody ast me what kind of a time did I have at Palm Beach I’d say I had a swell time. And if they ast me who did we meet I’d tell ’em everybody that was worth meetin’. And if they ast me didn’t the trip cost a lot I’d say Yes; but it was worth the money. I promised her I wouldn’t spill none o’ the real details. But if you can’t break a promise you made to your own wife what kind of a promise can you break? Answer me that, Edgar.

I’m not one o’ these kind o’ people that’d keep a joke to themself just because the joke was on them. But they’s plenty of our friends that I wouldn’t have ’em hear about it for the world. I wouldn’t tell you, only I know you’re not the village gossip and won’t crack it to anybody. Not even to your own Missus, see? I don’t trust no women.

It was along last January when I and the Wife was both hit by the society bacillus. I think it was at the opera. You remember me tellin’ you about us and the Hatches goin’ to Carmen and then me takin’ my Missus and her sister, Bess, and four of one suit named Bishop to see The Three Kings? Well, I’ll own up that I enjoyed wearin’ the soup and fish and minglin’ amongst the high polloi and pretendin’ we really was somebody. And I know my wife enjoyed it, too, though they was nothin’ said between us at the time.

The next stage was where our friends wasn’t good enough for us no more. We used to be tickled to death to spend an evenin’ playin’ rummy with the Hatches. But all of a sudden they didn’t seem to be no fun in it and when Hatch’d call up we’d stall out of it. From the number o’ times I told him that I or the Missus was tired out and goin’ right to bed, he must of thought we’d got jobs as telephone linemen.

We quit attendin’ pitcher shows because the rest o’ the audience wasn’t the kind o’ people you’d care to mix with. We didn’t go over to Ben’s and dance because they wasn’t no class to the crowd there. About once a week we’d beat it to one o’ the good hotels down-town, all dressed up like a horse, and have our dinner with the rest o’ the E-light. They wasn’t nobody talked to us only the waiters, but we could look as much as we liked and it was sport tryin’ to guess the names o’ the gang at the next table.

Then we took to readin’ the society news at breakfast. It used to be that I didn’t waste time on nothin’ but the market and sportin’ pages, but now I pass ’em up and listen w’ile the Missus rattled off what was doin’ on the Lake Shore Drive.

Every little w’ile we’d see where So-and-So was at Palm Beach or just goin’ there or just comin’ back’. We got to kiddin’ about it.

“Well,” I’d say, “we’d better be startin’ pretty soon or we’ll miss the best part o’ the season.”

“Yes,” the Wife’d say back, “we’d go right now if it wasn’t for all them engagements next week.”

We kidded and kidded till finally, one night, she forgot we was just kiddin’.

“You didn’t take no vacation last summer,” she says.

“No,” says I. “They wasn’t no chance to get away.”

“But you promised me,” she says, “that you’d take one this winter to make up for it.”

“I know I did,” I says; “but it’d be a sucker play to take a vacation in weather like this.”

“The weather ain’t like this everywheres,” she says.

“You must of been goin’ to night school,” I says.

“Another thing you promised me,” says she, “was that when you could afford it you’d take me on a real honeymoon trip to make up for the dinky one we had.”

“That still goes,” I says, “when I can afford it.”

“You can afford it now,” says she. “We don’t owe nothin’ and we got money in the bank.”

“Yes,” I says. “Pretty close to three hundred bucks.”

“You forgot somethin’,” she says. “You forgot them war babies.”

Did I tell you about that? Last fall I done a little dabblin’ in Crucial Steel and at this time I’m tellin’ you about I still had a hold of it, but stood to pull down six hundred. Not bad, eh?

“It’d be a mistake to let loose now,” I says.

“All right,” she says. “Hold on, and I hope you lose every cent. You never did care nothin’ for me.”

Then we done a little spoonin’ and then I ast her what was the big idear.

“We ain’t swelled on ourself,” she says; “but I know and you know that the friends we been associatin’ with ain’t in our class. They don’t know how to dress and they can’t talk about nothin’ but their goldfish and their meat bills. They don’t try to get nowheres, but all they do is play rummy and take in the Majestic. I and you like nice people and good music and things that’s worth w’ile. It’s a crime for us to be wastin’ our time with riff and raff that’d run round barefooted if it wasn’t for the police.”

“I wouldn’t say we’d wasted much time on ’em lately,” I says.

“No,” says she, “and I’ve had a better time these last three weeks than I ever had in my life.”

“And you can keep right on havin’ it,” I says.

“I could have a whole lot better time, and you could, too,” she says, “if we could get acquainted with some congenial people to go round with; people that’s tastes is the same as our’n.”

“If any o’ them people calls up on the phone,” I says, “I’ll be as pleasant to ’em as I can.”

“You’re always too smart,” says the Wife. “You don’t never pay attention to no schemes o’ mine.”

“What’s the scheme now?”

“You’ll find fault with it because I thought it up,” she says. “If it was your scheme you’d think it was grand.”

“If it really was good you wouldn’t be scared to spring it,” I says.

“Will you promise to go through with it?” says she.

“If it ain’t too ridic’lous,” I told her.

“See! I knowed that’d be the way,” she says.

“Don’t talk crazy,” I says. “Where’d we be if we’d went through with every plan you ever sprang?”

“Will you promise to listen to my side of it without actin’ cute?” she says.

So I didn’t see no harm in goin’ that far.

“I want you to take me to Palm Beach,” says she. “I want you to take a vacation, and that’s where we’ll spend it.”

“And that ain’t all we’d spend,” I says.

“Remember your promise,” says she.

So I shut up and listened.

The dope she give me was along these lines: We could get special round-trip rates on any o’ the railroads and that part of it wouldn’t cost nowheres near as much as a man’d naturally think. The hotel rates was pretty steep, but the meals was throwed in, and just imagine what them meals would be! And we’d be stayin’ under the same roof with the Vanderbilts and Goulds, and eatin’ at the same table, and probably, before we was there a week, callin’ ’em Steve and Gus. They was dancin’ every night and all the guests danced with each other, and how would it feel fox-trottin’ with the president o’ the B. & O., or the Delmonico girls from New York! And all Chicago society was down there, and when we met ’em we’d know ’em for life and have some real friends amongst ’em when we got back home.

That’s how she had it figured and she must of been practisin’ her speech, because it certainly did sound good to me. To make it short, I fell, and dated her up to meet me down-town the next day and call on the railroad bandits. The first one we seen admitted that his was the best route and that he wouldn’t only soak us one hundred and forty-seven dollars and seventy cents to and from Palm Beach and back, includin’ an apartment from here to Jacksonville and as many stop-overs as we wanted to make. He told us we wouldn’t have to write for no hotel accommodations because the hotels had an agent right over on Madison Street that’d be glad to do everything to us.

So we says we’d be back later and then we beat it over to the Florida East Coast’s local studio.

“How much for a double room by the week?” I ast the man.

“They ain’t no weekly rates,” he says. “By the day it’d be twelve dollars and up for two at the Breakers, and fourteen dollars and up at the Poinciana.”

“I like the Breakers better,” says I.

“You can’t get in there,” he says. “They’re full for the season.”

“That’s a long spree,” I says.

“Can we get in the other hotel?” ast the Wife.

“I can find out,” says the man.

“We want a room with bath,” says she.

“That’d be more,” says he. “That’d be fifteen dollars or sixteen dollars and up.”

“What do we want of a bath,” I says, “with the whole Atlantic Ocean in the front yard?”

“I’m afraid you’d have trouble gettin’ a bath,” says the man. “The hotels is both o’ them pretty well filled up on account o’ the war in Europe.”

“What’s that got to do with it?” I ast him.

“A whole lot,” he says. “The people that usually goes abroad is all down to Palm Beach this winter.”

“I don’t see why,” I says. “If one o’ them U-boats hit ’em they’d at least be gettin’ their bath for nothin’.”

We left him with the understandin’ that he was to wire down there and find out what was the best they could give us. We called him up in a couple o’ days and he told us we could have a double room, without no bath, at the Poinciana, beginnin’ the fifteenth o’ February. He didn’t know just what the price would be.

Well, I fixed it up to take my vacation startin’ the tenth, and sold out my Crucial Steel, and divided the spoils with the railroad company. We decided we’d stop off in St. Augustine two days, because the Missus found out somewheres that they might be two or three o’ the Four Hundred lingerin’ there, and we didn’t want to miss nobody.

“Now,” I says, “all we got to do is set round and wait for the tenth o’ the month.”

“Is that so!” says the Wife. “I suppose you’re perfectly satisfied with your clo’es.”

“I’ve got to be,” I says, “unless the Salvation Army has somethin’ that’ll fit me.”

“What’s the matter with our charge account?” she says.

“I don’t like to charge nothin’,” I says, “when I know they ain’t no chance of ever payin’ for it.”

“All right,” she says, “then we’re not goin’ to Palm Beach. I’d rather stay home than go down there lookin’ like general housework.”

“Do you need clo’es yourself?” I ast her.

“I certainly do,” she says. “About two hundred dollars’ worth. But I got one hundred and fifty dollars o’ my own.”

“All right,” I says. “I’ll stand for the other fifty and then we’re all set.”

“No, we’re not,” she says. “That just fixes me. But I want you to look as good as I do.”

“Nature’ll see to that,” I says.

But they was no arguin’ with her. Our trip, she says, was an investment; it was goin’ to get us in right with people worth w’ile. And we wouldn’t have a chance in the world unless we looked the part.

So before the tenth come round, we was long two new evenin’ gowns, two female sport suits, four or five pairs o’ shoes, all colors, one Tuxedo dinner coat, three dress shirts, half a dozen other kinds o’ shirts, two pairs o’ transparent white trousers, one new business suit and Lord knows how much underwear and how many hats and stockin’s. And I had till the fifteenth o’ March to pay off the mortgage on the old homestead.

Just as we was gettin’ ready to leave for the train the phone rung. It was Mrs. Hatch and she wanted us to come over for a little rummy. I was shavin’ and the Missus done the talkin’.

“What did you tell her?” I ast.

“I told her we was goin’ away,” says the Wife.

“I bet you forgot to mention where we was goin’,” I says.

“Pay me,” says she.

II

I thought we was in Venice when we woke up next mornin’, but the porter says it was just Cairo, Illinois. The river’d went crazy and I bet they wasn’t a room without a bath in that old burg.

As we set down in the diner for breakfast the train was goin’ acrost the longest bridge I ever seen, and it looked like we was so near the water that you could reach right out and grab a handful. The Wife was a little wabbly.

“I wonder if it’s really safe,” she says.

“If the bridge stays up we’re all right,” says I.

“But the question is, Will it stay up?” she says.

“I wouldn’t bet a nickel either way on a bridge,” I says. “They’re treacherous little devils. They’d cross you as quick as they’d cross this river.”

“The trainmen must be nervous,” she says. “Just see how we’re draggin’ along.”

“They’re givin’ the fish a chance to get offen the track,” I says. “It’s against the law to spear fish with a cowcatcher this time o’ year.”

Well, the Wife was so nervous she couldn’t eat nothin’ but toast and coffee, so I figured I was justified in goin’ to the prunes and steak and eggs.

After breakfast we went out in what they call the sun parlor. It was a glassed-in room on the tail-end o’ the rear coach and it must of been a pleasant place to set and watch the scenery. But they was a gang o’ missionaries or somethin’ had all the seats and they never budged out o’ them all day. Every time they’d come to a crossroads they’d toss a stack o’ Bible studies out o’ the back window for the southern heathen to pick up and read. I suppose they thought they was doin’ a lot o’ good for their fellow men, but their fellow passengers meanw’ile was gettin’ the worst of it.

Speakin’ o’ the scenery, it certainly was somethin’ grand. First we’d pass a few pine trees with fuzz on ’em and then a couple o’ acres o’ yellow mud. Then they’d be more pine trees and more fuzz and then more yellow mud. And after a w’ile we’d come to some pine trees with fuzz on ’em and then, if we watched close, we’d see some yellow mud.

Every few minutes the train’d stop and then start up again on low. That meant the engineer suspected he was comin’ to a station and was scared that if he run too fast he wouldn’t see it, and if he run past it without stoppin’ the inhabitants wouldn’t never forgive him. You see, they’s a regular schedule o’ duties that’s followed out by the more prominent citizens down those parts. After their wife’s attended to the chores and got the breakfast they roll out o’ bed and put on their overalls and eat. Then they get on their horse or mule or cow or dog and ride down to the station and wait for the next train. When it comes they have a contest to see which can count the passengers first. The losers has to promise to work one day the followin’ month. If one fella loses three times in the same month he generally always kills himself.

All the towns has got five or six private residences and seven or eight two-apartment buildin’s and a grocery and a post-office. They told me that somebody in one o’ them burgs, I forget which one, got a letter the day before we come through. It was misdirected, I guess.

The two-apartment buildin’s is constructed on the ground floor, with a porch to divide one flat from the other. One’s the housekeepin’ side and the other’s just a place for the husband and father to lay round in so’s they won’t be disturbed by watchin’ the women work.

It was a blessin’ to them boys when their states went dry. Just think what a strain it must of been to keep liftin’ glasses and huntin’ in their overalls for a dime!

In the afternoon the Missus went into our apartment and took a nap and I moseyed into the readin’-room and looked over some o’ the comical magazines. They was a fat guy come in and set next to me. I’d heard him, in at lunch, tellin’ the dinin’-car conductor what Wilson should of done, so I wasn’t su’prised when he opened up on me.

“Tiresome trip,” he says.

I didn’t think it was worth w’ile arguin’ with him.

“Must of been a lot o’ rain through here,” he says.

“Either that,” says I, “or else the sprinklin’ wagon run shy o’ streets.”

He laughed as much as it was worth.

“Where do you come from?” he ast me.

“Dear old Chicago,” I says.

“I’m from St. Louis,” he says.

“You’re frank,” says I.

“I’m really as much at home one place as another,” he says. “The Wife likes to travel and why shouldn’t I humor her?”

“I don’t know,” I says. “I haven’t the pleasure.”

“Seems like we’re goin’ all the w’ile,” says he. “It’s Hot Springs or New Orleans or Florida or Atlantic City or California or somewheres.”

“Do you get passes?” I ast him.

“I guess I could if I wanted to,” he says. “Some o’ my best friends is way up in the railroad business.”

“I got one like that,” I says. “He generally stands on the fourth or fifth car behind the engine.”

“Do you travel much?” he ast me.

“I don’t live in St. Louis,” says I.

“Is this your first trip south?” he ast.

“Oh, no,” I says. “I live on Sixty-fifth Street.”

“I meant, have you ever been down this way before?”

“Oh, yes,” says I. “I come down every winter.”

“Where do you go?” he ast.

That’s what I was layin’ for.

“Palm Beach,” says I.

“I used to go there,” he says. “But I’ve cut it out. It ain’t like it used to be. They leave everybody in now.”

“Yes,” I says; “but a man don’t have to mix up with ’em.”

“You can’t just ignore people that comes up and talks to you,” he says.

“Are you bothered that way much?” I ast.

“It’s what drove me away from Palm Beach,” he says.

“How long since you been there?” I ast him.

“How long you been goin’ there?” he says.

“Me?” says I. “Five years.”

“We just missed each other,” says he. “I quit six years ago this winter.”

“Then it couldn’t of been there I seen you,” says I. “But I know I seen you somewheres before.”

“It might of been most anywheres,” he says. “They’s few places I haven’t been at.”

“Maybe it was acrost the pond,” says I.

“Very likely,” he says. “But not since the war started. I been steerin’ clear of Europe for two years.”

“So have I, for longer’n that,” I says.

“It’s certainly an awful thing, this war,” says he.

“I believe you’re right,” says I; “but I haven’t heard nobody express it just that way before.”

“I only hope,” he says, “that we succeed in keepin’ out of it.”

“If we got in, would you go?” I ast him.

“Yes, sir,” he says.

“You wouldn’t beat me,” says I. “I bet I’d reach Brazil as quick as you.”

“Oh, I don’t think they’d be any action in South America,” he says. “We’d fight defensive at first and most of it would be along the Atlantic Coast.”

“Then maybe we could get accommodations in Yellowstone Park,” says I.

“They’s no sense in this country gettin’ involved,” he says. “Wilson hasn’t handled it right. He either ought to of went stronger or not so strong. He’s wrote too many notes.”

“You certainly get right to the root of a thing,” says I. “You must of thought a good deal about it.”

“I know the conditions pretty well,” he says. “I know how far you can go with them people over there. I been amongst ’em a good part o’ the time.”

“I suppose,” says I, “that a fella just naturally don’t like to butt in. But if I was you I’d consider it my duty to romp down to Washington and give ’em all the information I had.”

“Wilson picked his own advisers,” says he. “Let him learn his lesson.”

“That ain’t hardly fair,” I says. “Maybe you was out o’ town, or your phone was busy or somethin’.”

“I don’t know Wilson nor he don’t know me,” he says.

“That oughtn’t to stop you from helpin’ him out,” says I. “If you seen a man drownin’ would you wait for some friend o’ the both o’ you to come along and make the introduction?”

“They ain’t no comparison in them two cases,” he says. “Wilson ain’t never called on me for help.”

“You don’t know if he has or not,” I says. “You don’t stick in one place long enough for a man to reach you.”

“My office in St. Louis always knows where I’m at,” says he. “My stenographer can reach me any time within ten to twelve hours.”

“I don’t think it’s right to have this country’s whole future dependin’ on a St. Louis stenographer,” I says.

“That’s nonsense!” says he. “I ain’t makin’ no claim that I could save or not save this country. But if I and Wilson was acquainted I might tell him some facts that’d help him out in his foreign policy.”

“Well, then,” I says, “it’s up to you to get acquainted. I’d introduce you myself only I don’t know your name.”

“My name’s Gould,” says he; “but you’re not acquainted with Wilson.”

“I could be, easy,” says I. “I could get on a train he was goin’ somewheres on and then go and set beside him and begin to talk. Lots o’ people make friends that way.”

It was gettin’ along to’rd supper-time, so I excused myself and went back to the apartment. The Missus had woke up and wasn’t feelin’ good.

“What’s the matter?” I ast her.

“This old train,” she says. “I’ll die if it don’t stop goin’ round them curves.”

“As long as the track curves, the best thing the train can do is curve with it,” I says. “You may die if it keeps curvin’, but you’d die a whole lot sooner if it left the rails and went straight ahead.”

“What you been doin’?” she ast me.

“Just talkin’ to one o’ the Goulds,” I says.

“Gould!” she says. “What Gould?”

“Well,” I says, “I didn’t ask him his first name, but he’s from St. Louis, so I suppose it’s Ludwig or Heinie.”

“Oh,” she says, disgusted. “I thought you meant one o’ the real ones.”

“He’s a real one, all right,” says I. “He’s so classy that he’s passed up Palm Beach. He says it’s gettin’ too common.”

“I don’t believe it,” says the Wife. “And besides, we don’t have to mix up with everybody.”

“He says they butt right in on you,” I told her.

“They’ll get a cold reception from me,” she says.

But between the curves and the fear o’ Palm Beach not bein’ so exclusive as it used to be, she couldn’t eat no supper, and I had another big meal.

The next mornin’ we landed in Jacksonville three hours behind time and narrowly missed connections for St. Augustine by over an hour and a half. They wasn’t another train till one-thirty in the afternoon, so we had some time to kill. I went shoppin’ and bought a shave and five or six rickeys. The Wife helped herself to a chair in the writin’-room of one o’ the hotels and told pretty near everybody in Chicago that she wished they was along with us, accompanied by a pitcher o’ the Elks’ Home or the Germania Club, or Trout Fishin’ at Atlantic Beach.

W’ile I was gettin’ my dime’s worth in the tonsorial parlors, I happened to look up at a calendar on the wall, and noticed it was the twelfth o’ February.

“How does it come that everything’s open here today?” I says to the barber. “Don’t you-all know it’s Lincoln’s birthday?”

“Is that so?” he says. “How old is he?”

III

We’d wired ahead for rooms at the Alcazar, and when we landed in St. Augustine they was a motor-bus from the hotel to meet us at the station.

“Southern hospitality,” I says to the Wife, and we was both pleased till they relieved us o’ four bits apiece for the ride.

Well, they hadn’t neither one of us slept good the night before, w’ile we was joltin’ through Georgia; so when I suggested a nap they wasn’t no argument.

“But our clo’es ought to be pressed,” says the Missus. “Call up the valet and have it done w’ile we sleep.”

So I called up the valet, and sure enough, he come.

“Hello, George!” I says. “You see, we’re goin’ to lay down and take a nap, and we was wonderin’ if you could crease up these two suits and have ’em back here by the time we want ’em.”

“Certainly, sir,” says he.

“And how much will it cost?” I ast him.

“One dollar a suit,” he says.

“Are you on parole or haven’t you never been caught?” says I.

“Yes, sir,” he says, and smiled like it was a joke.

“Let’s talk business, George,” I says. “The tailor we go to on Sixty-third walks two blocks to get our clo’es, and two blocks to take ’em to his joint, and two blocks to bring ’em back, and he only soaks us thirty-five cents a suit.”

“He gets poor pay and he does poor work,” says the burglar. “When I press clo’es I press ’em right.”

“Well,” I says, “the tailor on Sixty-third satisfies us. Suppose you don’t do your best this time, but just give us seventy cents’ worth.”

But they wasn’t no chance for a bargain. He’d been in the business so long he’d become hardened and lost all regard for his fellow men.

The Missus slept, but I didn’t. Instead, I done a few problems in arithmetic. Outside o’ what she’d gave up for postcards and stamps in Jacksonville, I’d spent two bucks for our lunch, about two more for my shave and my refreshments, one for a rough ride in a bus, one more for gettin’ our trunk and grips carried round, two for havin’ the clo’es pressed, and about half a buck in tips to people that I wouldn’t never see again. Somewheres near nine dollars a day, not countin’ no hotel bill, and over two weeks of it yet to come!

Oh, you rummy game at home, at half a cent a point!

When our clo’es come back I woke her up and give her the figures.

“But today’s an exception,” she says. “After this our meals will be included in the hotel bill and we won’t need to get our suits pressed only once a week and you’ll be shavin’ yourself and they won’t be no bus fare when we’re stayin’ in one place. Besides, we can practise economy all spring and all summer.”

“I guess we need the practise,” I says.

“And if you’re goin’ to crab all the time about expenses,” says she, “I’ll wish we had of stayed home.”

“That’ll make it unanimous,” says I.

Then she begin sobbin’ about how I’d spoiled the trip and I had to promise I wouldn’t think no more o’ what we were spendin’. I might just as well of promised to not worry when the White Sox lost or when I’d forgot to come home to supper.

We went in the dinin’-room about six-thirty and was showed to a table where they was another couple settin’. They was husband and wife, I guess, but I don’t know which was which. She was wieldin’ the pencil and writin’ down their order.

“I guess I’ll have clams,” he says.

“They disagreed with you last night,” says she.

“All right,” he says. “I won’t try ’em. Give me cream-o’-tomato soup.”

“You don’t like tomatoes,” she says.

“Well, I won’t have no soup,” says he. “A little o’ the blue-fish.”

“The blue-fish wasn’t no good at noon,” she says. “You better try the bass.”

“All right, make it bass,” he says. “And them sweet-breads and a little roast beef and sweet potatoes and peas and vanilla ice-cream and coffee.”

“You wouldn’t touch sweet-breads at home,” says she, “and you can’t tell what they’ll be in a hotel.”

“All right, cut out the sweet-breads,” he says.

“I should think you’d have the stewed chicken,” she says, “and leave out the roast beef.”

“Stewed chicken it is,” says he.

“Stewed chicken and mashed potatoes and string beans and buttered toast and coffee. Will that suit you?”

“Sure!” he says, and she give the slip to the waiter.

George looked at it long enough to of read it three times if he could of read it once and then went out in the kitchen and got a trayful o’ whatever was handy.

But the poor guy didn’t get more’n a taste of anything. She was watchin’ him like a hawk, and no sooner would he delve into one victual than she’d yank the dish away from him and tell him to remember that health was more important than temporary happiness. I felt so sorry for him that I couldn’t enjoy my own repast and I told the Wife that we’d have our breakfast apart from that stricken soul if I had to carry the case to old Al Cazar himself.

In the evenin’ we strolled acrost the street to the Ponce – that’s supposed to be even sweller yet than where we were stoppin’ at. We walked all over the place without recognizin’ nobody from our set. I finally warned the Missus that if we didn’t duck back to our room I’d probably have a heart attack from excitement; but she’d read in her Florida guide that the decorations and pitchers was worth goin’ miles to see, so we had to stand in front o’ them for a couple hours and try to keep awake. Four or five o’ them was thrillers, at that. Their names was Adventure, Discovery, Contest, and so on, but what they all should of been called was Lady Who Had Mislaid Her Clo’es.

The hotel’s named after the fella that built it. He come from Spain and they say he was huntin’ for some water that if he’d drunk it he’d feel young. I don’t see myself how you could expect to feel young on water. But, anyway, he’d heard that this here kind o’ water could be found in St. Augustine, and when he couldn’t find it he went into the hotel business and got even with the United States by chargin’ five dollars a day and up for a room.

Sunday mornin’ we went in to breakfast early and I ast the head waiter if we could set at another table where they wasn’t no convalescent and his mate. At the same time I give the said head waiter somethin’ that spoke louder than words. We was showed to a place way acrost the room from where we’d been the night before. It was a table for six, but the other four didn’t come into our life till that night at supper.

Meanw’ile we went sight-seein’. We visited Fort Marion, that’d be a great protection against the Germans, provided they fought with paper wads. We seen the city gate and the cathedral and the slave market, and then we took the boat over to Anastasia Island, that the ocean’s on the other side of it. This trip made me homesick, because the people that was along with us on the boat looked just like the ones we’d often went with to Michigan City on the Fourth o’ July. The boat landed on the bay side o’ the island and from there we was drug over to the ocean side on a horse car, the horse walkin’ to one side o’ the car instead of in front, so’s he wouldn’t get ran over.

We stuck on the beach till dinner-time and then took the chariot back to the pavilion on the bay side, where a whole family served the meal and their pigs put on a cabaret. It was the best meal I had in dear old Dixie – fresh oysters and chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy and fish and pie. And they charged two bits a plate.

“Goodness gracious!” says the Missus, when I told her the price. “This is certainly reasonable. I wonder how it happens.”

“Well,” I says, “the family was probably washed up here by the tide and don’t know they’re in Florida.”

When we got back to the hotel they was only just time to clean up and go down to supper. We hadn’t no sooner got seated when our table companions breezed in. It was a man about forty-five, that looked like he’d made his money in express and general haulin’, and he had his wife along and both their mother-in-laws. The shirt he had on was the one he’d started from home with, if he lived in Yokohama. His womenfolks wore mournin’ with a touch o’ gravy here and there.

“You order for us, Jake,” says one o’ the ladies.

So Jake grabbed the bill o’ fare and his wife took the slip and pencil and waited for the dictation.

“Let’s see,” he says. “How about oyster cocktail?”

“Yes,” says the three Mrs. Black.

“Four oyster cocktails, then,” says Jake, “and four orders o’ blue-points.”

“The oysters is nice, too,” says I.

They all give me a cordial smile and the ice was broke.

“Everything’s good here,” says Jake.

“I bet you know,” I says.

He seemed pleased at the compliment and went on dictatin’.

“Four chicken soups with rice,” he says, “and four o’ the blue-fish and four veal chops breaded and four roast chicken and four boiled potatoes – ”

But it seemed his wife would rather have sweet potatoes.

“All right,” says Jake; “four boiled potatoes and four sweets. And chicken salad and some o’ that tapioca puddin’ and ice-cream and tea. Is that satisfactory?”

“Fine!” says one o’ the mother-in-laws.

“Are you goin’ to stay long?” says Mrs. Jake to my Missus.

The party addressed didn’t look very clubby, but she was too polite to pull the cut direct.

“We leave tomorrow night,” she says.

Nobody ast her where we was goin’.

“We leave for Palm Beach,” she says.

“That’s a nice place, I guess,” says one o’ the old ones. “More people goes there than comes here. It ain’t so expensive there, I guess.”

“You’re some guesser,” says the Missus and freezes up.

I ast Jake if he’d been to Florida before.

“No,” he says; “this is our first trip, but we’re makin’ up for lost time. We’re seein’ all they is to see and havin’ everything the best.”

“You’re havin’ everything, all right,” I says, “but I don’t know if it’s the best or not. How long have you been here?”

“A week tomorrow,” says he. “And we stay another week and then go to Ormond.”

“Are you standin’ the trip O.K.?” I ast him.

“Well,” he says, “I don’t feel quite as good as when we first come.”

“Kind o’ logy?” I says.

“Yes; kind o’ heavy,” says Jake.

“I know what you ought to do,” says I. “You ought to go to a European plan hotel.”

“Not w’ile this war’s on,” he says, “and besides, my mother’s a poor sailor.”

“Yes,” says his mother; “I’m a very poor sailor.”

“Jake’s mother can’t stand the water,” says Mrs. Jake.

So I begun to believe that Jake’s wife’s mother-in-law was a total failure as a jolly tar.

Social intercourse was put an end to when the waiter staggered in with their order and our’n. The Missus seemed to of lost her appetite and just set there lookin’ grouchy and tappin’ her fingers on the table-cloth and actin’ like she was in a hurry to get away. I didn’t eat much, neither. It was more fun watchin’.

“Well,” I says, when we was out in the lobby, “we finally got acquainted with some real people.”

“Real people!” says the Missus, curlin’ her lip. “What did you talk to ’em for?”

“I couldn’t resist,” I says. “Anybody that’d order four oyster cocktails and four rounds o’ blue-points is worth knowin’.”

“Well,” she says, “if they’re there when we go in tomorrow mornin’ we’ll get our table changed again or you can eat with ’em alone.”

But they was absent from the breakfast board.

“They’re probably stayin’ in bed today to get their clo’es washed,” says the Missus.

“Or maybe they’re sick,” I says. “A change of oysters affects some people.”

I was for goin’ over to the island again and gettin’ another o’ them quarter banquets, but the program was for us to walk round town all mornin’ and take a ride in the afternoon.

First, we went to St. George Street and visited the oldest house in the United States. Then we went to Hospital Street and seen the oldest house in the United States. Then we turned the corner and went down St. Francis Street and inspected the oldest house in the United States. Then we dropped into a soda fountain and I had an egg phosphate, made from the oldest egg in the Western Hemisphere. We passed up lunch and got into a carriage drawn by the oldest horse in Florida, and we rode through the country all afternoon and the driver told us some o’ the oldest jokes in the book. He felt it was only fair to give his customers a good time when he was chargin’ a dollar an hour, and he had his gags rehearsed so’s he could tell the same one a thousand times and never change a word. And the horse knowed where the point come in every one and stopped to laugh.

We done our packin’ before supper, and by the time we got to our table Jake and the mourners was through and gone. We didn’t have to ask the waiter if they’d been there. He was perspirin’ like an evangelist.

After supper we said good-by to the night clerk and twenty-two bucks. Then we bought ourself another ride in the motor-bus and landed at the station ten minutes before train-time; so we only had an hour to wait for the train.

Say, I don’t know how many stations they is between New York and San Francisco, but they’s twice as many between St. Augustine and Palm Beach. And our train stopped twice and started twice at every one. I give up tryin’ to sleep and looked out the window, amusin’ myself by readin’ the names o’ the different stops. The only one that expressed my sentiments was Eau Gallie. We was an hour and a half late pullin’ out o’ that joint and I figured we’d be two hours to the bad gettin’ into our destination. But the guy that made out the time-table must of had the engineer down pat, because when we went acrost the bridge over Lake Worth and landed at the Poinciana depot, we was ten minutes ahead o’ time.

They was about two dozen uniformed Ephs on the job to meet us. And when I seen ’em all grab for our baggage with one hand and hold the other out, face up, I knowed why they called it Palm Beach.

IV

The Poinciana station’s a couple hundred yards from one end o’ the hotel, and that means it’s close to five miles from the clerk’s desk. By the time we’d registered and been gave our key and marathoned another five miles or so to where our room was located at, I was about ready for the inquest. But the Missus was full o’ pep and wild to get down to breakfast and look over our stable mates. She says we would eat without changin’ our clo’es; people’d forgive us for not dressin’ up on account o’ just gettin’ there. W’ile she was lookin’ out the window at the royal palms and buzzards, I moseyed round the room inspectin’ where the different doors led to. Pretty near the first one I opened went into a private bath.

“Here,” I says; “they’ve give us the wrong room.”

Then my wife seen it and begin to squeal.

“Goody!” she says. “We’ve got a bath! We’ve got a bath!”

“But,” says I, “they promised we wouldn’t have none. It must be a mistake.”

“Never you mind about a mistake,” she says. “This is our room and they can’t chase us out of it.”

“We’ll chase ourself out,” says I. “Rooms with a bath is fifteen and sixteen dollars and up. Rooms without no bath is bad enough.”

“We’ll keep this room or I won’t stay here,” she says.

“All right, you win,” I says; but I didn’t mean it.

I made her set in the lobby down-stairs w’ile I went to the clerk pretendin’ that I had to see about our trunk.

“Say,” I says to him, “you’ve made a bad mistake. You told your man in Chicago that we couldn’t have no room with a bath, and now you’ve give us one.”

“You’re lucky,” he says. “A party who had a bath ordered for these two weeks canceled their reservation and now you’ve got it.”

“Lucky, am I?” I says. “And how much is the luck goin’ to cost me?”

“It’ll be seventeen dollars per day for that room,” he says, and turned away to hide a blush.

I went back to the Wife.

“Do you know what we’re payin’ for that room?” I says. “We’re payin’ seventeen dollars.”

“Well,” she says, “our meals is throwed in.”

“Yes,” says I, “and the hotel furnishes a key.”

“You promised in St. Augustine,” she says, “that you wouldn’t worry no more about expenses.”

Well, rather than make a scene in front o’ the bellhops and the few millionaires that was able to be about at that hour o’ the mornin’, I just says “All right!” and led her into the dinin’-room.

The head waiter met us at the door and turned us over to his assistant. Then some more assistants took hold of us one at a time and we was relayed to a beautiful spot next door to the kitchen and bounded on all sides by posts and pillars. It was all right for me, but a whole lot too private for the Missus; so I had to call the fella that had been our pacemaker on the last lap.

“We don’t like this table,” I says.

“It’s the only one I can give you,” he says.

I slipped him half a buck.

“Come to think of it,” he says, “I believe they’s one I forgot all about.”

And he moved us way up near the middle o’ the place.

Say, you ought to seen that dinin’-room! From one end of it to the other is a toll call, and if a man that was settin’ at the table farthest from the kitchen ordered roast lamb he’d get mutton. At that, they was crowded for fair and it kept the head waiters hustlin’ to find trough space for one and all.

It was round nine o’clock when we put in our modest order for orange juice, oatmeal, liver and bacon, and cakes and coffee, and a quarter to ten or so when our waiter returned from the nearest orange grove with Exhibit A. We amused ourself meanw’ile by givin’ our neighbors the once over and wonderin’ which o’ them was goin’ to pal with us. As far as I could tell from the glances we received, they wasn’t no immediate danger of us bein’ annoyed by attentions.

They was only a few womenfolks on deck and they was dressed pretty quiet; so quiet that the Missus was scared she’d shock ’em with the sport skirt she’d bought in Chi. Later on in the day, when the girls come out for their dress parade, the Missus’ costume made about as much noise as eatin’ marshmallows in a foundry.

After breakfast we went to the room for a change o’ raiment. I put on my white trousers and wished to heaven that the sun’d go under a cloud till I got used to tellin’ people without words just where my linen began and I left off. The rest o’ my outfit was white shoes that hurt, and white sox, and a two-dollar silk shirt that showed up a zebra, and a red tie and a soft collar and a blue coat. The Missus wore a sport suit that I won’t try and describe – you’ll probably see it on her sometime in the next five years.

We went down-stairs again and out on the porch, where some o’ the old birds was takin’ a sun bath.

“Where now?” I says.

“The beach, o’ course,” says the Missus.

“Where is it at?” I ast her.

“I suppose,” she says, “that we’ll find it somewheres near the ocean.”

“I don’t believe you can stand this climate,” says I.

“The ocean,” she says, “must be down at the end o’ that avenue, where most everybody seems to be headed.”

“Havin’ went to our room and back twice, I don’t feel like another five-mile hike,” I says.

“It ain’t no five miles,” she says; “but let’s ride, anyway.”

“Come on,” says I, pointin’ to a street-car that was standin’ in the middle o’ the avenue.

“Oh, no,” she says. “I’ve watched and found out that the real people takes them funny-lookin’ wheel chairs.”

I was wonderin’ what she meant when one o’ them pretty near run over us. It was part bicycle, part go-cart and part African. In the one we dodged they was room for one passenger, but some o’ them carried two.

“I wonder what they’d soak us for the trip,” I says.

“Not more’n a dime, I don’t believe,” says the Missus.

But when we’d hired one and been w’isked down under the palms and past the golf field to the bath-house, we was obliged to part with fifty cents legal and tender.

“I feel much refreshed,” I says. “I believe when it comes time to go back I’ll be able to walk.”

The bath-house is acrost the street from the other hotel, the Breakers, that the man had told us was full for the season. Both buildin’s fronts on the ocean; and, boy, it’s some ocean! I bet they’s fish in there that never seen each other!

“Oh, let’s go bathin’ right away!” says the Missus.

“Our suits is up to the other beanery,” says I, and I was glad of it. They wasn’t nothin’ temptin’ to me about them man-eatin’ waves.

But the Wife’s a persistent cuss.

“We won’t go today,” she says, “but we’ll go in the bath-house and get some rooms for tomorrow.”

The bath-house porch was a ringer for the Follies. Here and down on the beach was where you seen the costumes at this time o’ day. I was so busy rubberin’ that I passed the entrance door three times without noticin’ it. From the top o’ their heads to the bottom o’ their feet the girls was a mess o’ colors. They wasn’t no two dressed alike and if any one o’ them had of walked down State Street we’d of had an epidemic o’ stiff neck to contend with in Chi. Finally the Missus grabbed me and hauled me into the office.

“Two private rooms,” she says to the clerk. “One lady and one gent.”

“Five dollars a week apiece,” he says. “But we’re all filled up.”

“You ought to be all locked up!” I says.

“Will you have anything open tomorrow?” ast the Missus.

“I think I can fix you then,” he says.

“What do we get for the five?” I ast him.

“Private room and we take care o’ your bathin’ suit,” says he.

“How much if you don’t take care o’ the suit?” I ast him. “My suit’s been gettin’ along fine with very little care.”

“Five dollars a week apiece,” he says, “and if you want the rooms you better take ’em, because they’re in big demand.”

By the time we’d closed this grand bargain, everybody’d moved offen the porch and down to the water, where a couple dozen o’ them went in for a swim and the rest set and watched. They was a long row o’ chairs on the beach for spectators and we was just goin’ to flop into two o’ them when another bandit come up and told us it’d cost a dime apiece per hour.

“We’re goin’ to be here two weeks,” I says. “Will you sell us two chairs?”

He wasn’t in no comical mood, so we sunk down on the sand and seen the show from there. We had plenty o’ company that preferred these kind o’ seats free to the chairs at ten cents a whack.

Besides the people that was in the water gettin’ knocked down by the waves and pretendin’ like they enjoyed it, about half o’ the gang on the sand was wearin’ bathin’ suits just to be clubby. You could tell by lookin’ at the suits that they hadn’t never been wet and wasn’t intended for no such ridic’lous purpose. I wisht I could describe ’em to you, but it’d take a female to do it right.

One little girl, either fourteen or twenty-four, had white silk slippers and sox that come pretty near up to her ankles, and from there to her knees it was just plain Nature. Northbound from her knees was a pair o’ bicycle trousers that disappeared when they come to the bottom of her Mother Hubbard. This here garment was a thing without no neck or sleeves that begin bulgin’ at the top and spread out gradual all the way down, like a croquette. To top her off, she had a jockey cap; and – believe me – I’d of played her mount acrost the board. They was plenty o’ class in the field with her, but nothin’ that approached her speed. Later on I seen her several times round the hotel, wearin’ somethin’ near the same outfit, without the jockey cap and with longer croquettes.

We set there in the sand till people begun to get up and leave. Then we trailed along back o’ them to the Breakers’ porch, where they was music to dance and stuff to inhale.

“We’ll grab a table,” I says to the Missus. “I’m dyin’ o’ thirst.”

But I was allowed to keep on dyin’.

“I can serve you somethin’ soft,” says the waiter.

“I’ll bet you can’t!” I says.

“You ain’t got no locker here?” he says.

“What do you mean – locker?” I ast him.

“It’s the locker liquor law,” he says. “We can serve you a drink if you own your own bottles.”

“I’d just as soon own a bottle,” I says. “I’ll become the proprietor of a bottle o’ beer.”

“It’ll take three or four hours to get it for you,” he says, “and you’d have to order it through the order desk. If you’re stoppin’ at one o’ the hotels and want a drink once in a w’ile, you better get busy and put in an order.”

So I had to watch the Missus put away a glass of orange juice that cost forty cents and was just the same size as they give us for breakfast free for nothin’. And, not havin’ had nothin’ to make me forget that my feet hurt, I was obliged to pay another four bits for an Afromobile to cart us back to our own boardin’ house.

“Well,” says the Missus when we got there, “it’s time to wash up and go to lunch.”

“Wash up and go to lunch, then,” I says; “but I’m goin’ to investigate this here locker liquor or liquor locker law.”

So she got her key and beat it, and I limped to the bar.

“I want a highball,” I says to the boy.

“What’s your number?” says he.

“It varies,” I says. “Sometimes I can hold twenty and sometimes four or five makes me sing.”

“I mean, have you got a locker here?” he says.

“No; but I want to get one,” says I.

“The gent over there to the desk will fix you,” says he.

So over to the desk I went and ast for a locker.

“What do you drink?” ast the gent.

“I’m from Chicago,” I says. “I drink bourbon.”

“What’s your name and room number?” he says, and I told him.

Then he ast me how often did I shave and what did I think o’ the Kaiser and what my name was before I got married, and if I had any intentions of ever running an elevator. Finally he says I was all right.

“I’ll order you some bourbon,” he says. “Anything else?”

I was goin’ to say no, but I happened to remember that the Wife generally always wants a bronix before dinner. So I had to also put in a bid for a bottle o’ gin and bottles o’ the Vermouth brothers, Tony and Pierre. It wasn’t till later that I appreciated what a grand law this here law was. When I got my drinks I paid ten cents apiece for ’em for service, besides payin’ for the bottles o’ stuff to drink. And, besides that, about every third highball or bronix I ordered, the waiter’d bring back word that I was just out of ingredients and then they’d be another delay w’ile they sent to the garage for more. If they had that law all over the country they’d soon be an end o’ drinkin’, because everybody’d get so mad they’d kill each other.

My cross-examination had took quite a long time, but when I got to my room the Wife wasn’t back from lunch yet and I had to cover the Marathon route all over again and look her up. We only had the one key to the room, and o’ course couldn’t expect no more’n that at the price.

The Missus had bought one o’ the daily programs they get out and she knowed just what we had to do the rest o’ the day.

“For the next couple hours,” she says, “we can suit ourself.”

“All right,” says I. “It suits me to take off my shoes and lay down.”

“I’ll rest, too,” she says; “but at half past four we have to be in the Cocoanut Grove for tea and dancin’. And then we come back to the room and dress for dinner. Then we eat and then we set around till the evenin’ dance starts. Then we dance till we’re ready for bed.”

“Who do we dance all these dances with?” I ast her.

“With whoever we get acquainted with,” she says.

“All right,” says I; “but let’s be careful.”

Well, we took our nap and then we followed schedule and had our tea in the Cocoanut Grove. You know how I love tea! My feet was still achin’ and the Missus couldn’t talk me into no dance.

When we’d set there an hour and was saturated with tea, the Wife says it was time to go up and change into our Tuxedos. I was all in when we reached the room and willin’ to even pass up supper and nestle in the hay, but I was informed that the biggest part o’ the day’s doin’s was yet to come. So from six o’clock till after seven I wrestled with studs, and hooks and eyes that didn’t act like they’d ever met before and wasn’t anxious to get acquainted, and then down we went again to the dinin’-room.

“How about a little bronix before the feed?” I says.

“It would taste good,” says the Missus.

So I called Eph and give him the order. In somethin’ less than half an hour he come back empty-handed.

“You ain’t got no cocktail stuff,” he says.

“I certainly have,” says I. “I ordered it early this afternoon.”

“Where at?” he ast me.

“Over in the bar,” I says.

“Oh, the regular bar!” he says. “That don’t count. You got to have stuff at the service bar to get it served in here.”

“I ain’t as thirsty as I thought I was,” says I.

“Me, neither,” says the Missus.

So we went ahead and ordered our meal, and w’ile we was waitin’ for it a young couple come and took the other two chairs at our table. They didn’t have to announce through a megaphone that they was honeymooners. It was wrote all over ’em. They was reachin’ under the table for each other’s hand every other minute, and when they wasn’t doin’ that they was smilin’ at each other or gigglin’ at nothin’. You couldn’t feel that good and be payin’ seventeen dollars a day for room and board unless you was just married or somethin’.

I thought at first their company’d be fun, but after a few meals it got like the southern cookin’ and begun to undermine the health.

The conversation between they and us was what you could call limited. It took place the next day at lunch. The young husband thought he was about to take a bite o’ the entry, which happened to be roast mutton with sirup; but he couldn’t help from lookin’ at her at the same time and his empty fork started for his face prongs up.

“Look out for your eye,” I says.

He dropped the fork and they both blushed till you could see it right through the sunburn. Then they give me a Mexican look and our acquaintance was at an end.

This first night, when we was through eatin’, we wandered out in the lobby and took seats where we could watch the passin’ show. The men was all dressed like me, except I was up to date and had on a mushroom shirt, w’ile they was sportin’ the old-fashioned concrete bosom. The women’s dresses begun at the top with a belt, and some o’ them stopped at the mezzanine floor, w’ile others went clear down to the basement and helped keep the rugs clean. They was one that must of thought it was the Fourth o’ July. From the top of her head to where the top of her bathin’ suit had left off, she was a red, red rose. From there to the top of her gown was white, and her gown, what they was of it – was blue.

“My!” says the Missus. “What stunnin’ gowns!”

“Yes,” I says; “and you could have one just like ’em if you’d take the shade offen the piano lamp at home and cut it down to the right size.”

Round ten o’clock we wandered in the Palm Garden, where the dancin’ had been renewed. The Wife wanted to plunge right in the mazes o’ the foxy trot.

“I’ll take some courage first,” says I. And then was when I found out that it cost you ten cents extra besides the tip to pay for a drink that you already owned in fee simple.

Well, I guess we must of danced about six dances together and had that many quarrels before she was ready to go to bed. And oh, how grand that old hay-pile felt when I finally bounced into it!

The next day we went to the ocean at the legal hour – half past eleven. I never had so much fun in my life. The surf was runnin’ high, I heard ’em say; and I don’t know which I’d rather do, go bathin’ in the ocean at Palm Beach when the surf is runnin’ high, or have a dentist get one o’ my molars ready for a big inlay at a big outlay. Once in a w’ile I managed to not get throwed on my head when a wave hit me. As for swimmin’, you had just as much chance as if you was at State and Madison at the noon hour. And before I’d been in a minute they was enough salt in my different features to keep the Blackstone hotel runnin’ all through the onion season.

The Missus enjoyed it just as much as me. She tried to pretend at first, and when she got floored she’d give a squeal that was supposed to mean heavenly bliss. But after she’d been bruised from head to feet and her hair looked and felt like spinach with French dressin’, and she’d drank all she could hold o’ the Gulf Stream, she didn’t resist none when I drug her in to shore and staggered with her up to our private rooms at five a week per each.

Without consultin’ her, I went to the desk at the Casino and told ’em they could have them rooms back.

“All right,” says the clerk, and turned our keys over to the next in line.

“How about a refund?” I ast him; but he was waitin’ on somebody else.

After that we done our bathin’ in the tub. But we was down to the beach every morning at eleven-thirty to watch the rest o’ them get batted round.

And at half past twelve every day we’d follow the crowd to the Breakers’ porch and dance together, the Missus and I. Then it’d be back to the other hostelry, sometimes limpin’ and sometimes in an Afromobile, and a drink or two in the Palm Garden before lunch. And after lunch we’d lay down; or we’d pay some Eph two or three dollars to pedal us through the windin’ jungle trail, that was every bit as wild as the Art Institute; or we’d ferry acrost Lake Worth to West Palm Beach and take in a movie, or we’d stand in front o’ the portable Fifth Avenue stores w’ile the Missus wished she could have this dress or that hat, or somethin’ else that she wouldn’t of looked at if she’d been home and in her right mind. But always at half past four we had to live up to the rules and be in the Cocoanut Grove for tea and some more foxy trottin’. And then it was dress for dinner, eat dinner, watch the parade and wind up the glorious day with more dancin’.

I bet you any amount you name that the Castles in their whole life haven’t danced together as much as I and the Missus did at Palm Beach. I’d of gave five dollars if even one o’ the waiters had took her offen my hands for one dance. But I knowed that if I made the offer public they’d of been a really serious quarrel between us instead o’ just the minor brawls occasioned by steppin’ on each other’s feet.

She made a discovery one night. She found out that they was a place called the Beach Club where most o’ the real people disappeared to every evenin’ after dinner. She says we would have to go there too.

“But I ain’t a member,” I says.

“Then find out how you get to be one,” she says.

So to the Beach Club I went and made inquiries.

“You’ll have to be introduced by a guy that already belongs,” says the man at the door.

“Who belongs?” I ast him.

“Hundreds o’ people,” he says. “Who do you know?”

“Two waiters, two barkeepers and one elevator boy,” I says.

He laughed, but his laugh didn’t get me no membership card and I had to dance three or four extra times the next day to square myself with the Missus.

She made another discovery and it cost me six bucks. She found out that, though the meals in the regular dinin’-room was included in the triflin’ rates per day, the real people had at least two o’ their meals in the garden grill and paid extra for ’em. We tried it for one meal and I must say I enjoyed it – all but the check.

“We can’t keep up that clip,” I says to her.

“We could,” says she, “if you wasn’t spendin’ so much on your locker.”

“The locker’s a matter o’ life and death,” I says. “They ain’t no man in the world that could dance as much with their own wife as I do and live without liquid stimulus.”

When we’d been there four days she got to be on speakin’ terms with the ladies’ maid that hung round the lobby and helped put the costumes back on when they slipped off. From this here maid the Missus learned who was who, and the information was relayed to me as soon as they was a chance. We’d be settin’ on the porch when I’d feel an elbow in my ribs all of a sudden. I’d look up at who was passin’ and then try and pretend I was excited.

“Who is it?” I’d whisper.

“That’s Mrs. Vandeventer,” the Wife’d say. “Her husband’s the biggest street-car conductor in Philadelphia.”

Or somebody’d set beside us at the beach or in the Palm Garden and my ribs would be all battered up before the Missus was calm enough to tip me off.

“The Vincents,” she’d say; “the canned prune people.”

It was a little bit thrillin’ at first to be rubbin’ elbows with all them celeb’s; but it got so finally that I could walk out o’ the dinin’-room right behind Scotti, the opera singer, without forgettin’ that my feet hurt.

The Washington’s Birthday Ball brought ’em all together at once, and the Missus pointed out eight and nine at a time and got me so mixed up that I didn’t know Pat Vanderbilt from Maggie Rockefeller. The only one you couldn’t make no mistake about was a Russian count that you couldn’t pronounce. He was buyin’ bay mules or somethin’ for the Russian government, and he was in ambush.

“They say he can’t hardly speak a word of English,” says the Missus.

“If I knowed the word for barber shop in Russia,” says I, “I’d tell him they was one in this hotel.”

V

In our mail box the next mornin’ they was a notice that our first week was up and all we owed was one hundred and forty-six dollars and fifty cents. The bill for room and meals was one hundred and nineteen dollars. The rest was for gettin’ clo’es pressed and keepin’ the locker damp.

I didn’t have no appetite for breakfast. I told the Wife I’d wait up in the room and for her to come when she got through. When she blew in I had my speech prepared.

“Look here,” I says; “this is our eighth day in Palm Beach society. You’re on speakin’ terms with a maid and I’ve got acquainted with half a dozen o’ the male hired help. It’s cost us about a hundred and sixty-five dollars, includin’ them private rooms down to the Casino and our Afromobile trips, and this and that. You know a whole lot o’ swell people by sight, but you can’t talk to ’em. It’d be just as much satisfaction and hundreds o’ dollars cheaper to look up their names in the telephone directory at home; then phone to ’em and, when you got ’em, tell ’em it was the wrong number. That way, you’d get ’em to speak to you at least.

“As for sport,” I says, “we don’t play golf and we don’t play tennis and we don’t swim. We go through the same program o’ doin’ nothin’ every day. We dance, but we don’t never change partners. For twelve dollars I could buy a phonograph up home and I and you could trot round the livin’-room all evenin’ without no danger o’ havin’ some o’ them fancy birds cave our shins in. And we could have twice as much liquid refreshments up there at about a twentieth the cost.

“That Gould I met on the train comin’ down,” I says, “was a even bigger liar than I give him credit for. He says that when he was here people pestered him to death by comin’ up and speakin’ to him. We ain’t had to dodge nobody or hide behind a cocoanut tree to remain exclusive. He says Palm Beach was too common for him. What he should of said was that it was too lonesome. If they was just one white man here that’d listen to my stuff I wouldn’t have no kick. But it ain’t no pleasure tellin’ stories to the Ephs. They laugh whether it’s good or not, and then want a dime for laughin’.

“As for our clo’es,” I says, “they would be all right for a couple o’ days’ stay. But the dames round here, and the men, too, has somethin’ different to put on for every mornin’, afternoon and night. You’ve wore your two evenin’ gowns so much that I just have to snap my finger at the hooks and they go and grab the right eyes.

“The meals would be grand,” I says, “if the cook didn’t keep gettin’ mixed up and puttin’ puddin’ sauce on the meat and gravy on the pie.

“I’m glad we’ve been to Palm Beach,” I says. “I wouldn’t of missed it for nothin’. But the ocean won’t be no different tomorrow than it was yesterday, and the same for the daily program. It don’t even rain here, to give us a little variety.

“Now what do you say,” I says, “to us just settlin’ this bill, and whatever we owe since then, and beatin’ it out o’ here just as fast as we can go?”

The Missus didn’t say nothin’ for a w’ile. She was too busy cryin’. She knowed that what I’d said was the truth, but she wouldn’t give up without a struggle.

“Just three more days,” she says finally. “If we don’t meet somebody worth meetin’ in the next three days I’ll go wherever you want to take me.”

“All right,” I says; “three more days it is. What’s a little matter o’ sixty dollars?”

Well, in them next two days and a half she done some desperate flirtin’, but as it was all with women I didn’t get jealous. She picked out some o’ the E-light o’ Chicago and tried every trick she could think up. She told ’em their noses was shiny and offered ’em her powder. She stepped on their white shoes just so’s to get a chance to beg their pardon. She told ’em their clo’es was unhooked, and then unhooked ’em so’s she could hook ’em up again. She tried to loan ’em her finger-nail tools. When she seen one fannin’ herself she’d say: “Excuse me, Mrs. So-and-So; but we got the coolest room in the hotel, and I’d be glad to have you go up there and quit perspirin’.” But not a rise did she get.

Not till the afternoon o’ the third day o’ grace. And I don’t know if I ought to tell you this or not – only I’m sure you won’t spill it nowheres.

We’d went up in our room after lunch. I was tired out and she was discouraged. We’d set round for over an hour, not sayin’ or doin’ nothin’.

I wanted to talk about the chance of us gettin’ away the next mornin’, but I didn’t dast bring up the subject.

The Missus complained of it bein’ hot and opened the door to leave the breeze go through. She was settin’ in a chair near the doorway, pretendin’ to read the Palm Beach News. All of a sudden she jumped up and kind o’ hissed at me.

“What’s the matter?” I says, springin’ from the lounge.

“Come here!” she says, and went out the door into the hall.

I got there as fast as I could, thinkin’ it was a rat or a fire. But the Missus just pointed to a lady walkin’ away from us, six or seven doors down.

“It’s Mrs. Potter,” she says; “the Mrs. Potter from Chicago!”

“Oh!” I says, puttin’ all the excitement I could into my voice.

And I was just startin’ back into the room when I seen Mrs. Potter stop and turn round and come to’rd us. She stopped again maybe twenty feet from where the Missus was standin’.

“Are you on this floor?” she says.

The Missus shook like a leaf.

“Yes,” says she, so low you couldn’t hardly hear her.

“Please see that they’s some towels put in 559,” says the Mrs. Potter from Chicago.

VI

About five o’clock the Wife quieted down and I thought it was safe to talk to her. “I’ve been readin’ in the guide about a pretty river trip,” I says. “We can start from here on the boat tomorrow mornin’. They run to Fort Pierce tomorrow and stay there tomorrow night. The next day they go from Fort Pierce to Rockledge, and the day after that from Rockledge to Daytona. The fare’s only five dollars apiece. And we can catch a north-bound train at Daytona.”

“All right, I don’t care,” says the Missus.

So I left her and went down-stairs and acrost the street to ask Mr. Foster. Ask Mr. Foster happened to be a girl. She sold me the boat tickets and promised she would reserve a room with bath for us at Fort Pierce, where we was to spend the followin’ night. I bet she knowed all the w’ile that rooms with a bath in Fort Pierce is scarcer than toes on a sturgeon.

I went back to the room and helped with the packin’ in an advisory capacity. Neither one of us had the heart to dress for dinner. We ordered somethin’ sent up and got soaked an extra dollar for service. But we was past carin’ for a little thing like that.

At nine o’clock next mornin’ the good ship Constitution stopped at the Poinciana dock w’ile we piled aboard. One bellhop was down to see us off and it cost me a quarter to get that much attention. Mrs. Potter must of over-slept herself.

The boat was loaded to the guards and I ain’t braggin’ when I say that we was the best-lookin’ people aboard. And as for manners, why, say, old Bill Sykes could of passed off for Henry Chesterfield in that gang! Each one o’ them occupied three o’ the deck chairs and sprayed orange juice all over their neighbors. We could of talked to plenty o’ people here, all right; they were as clubby a gang as I ever seen. But I was afraid if I said somethin’ they’d have to answer; and, with their mouths as full o’ citrus fruit as they was, the results might of been fatal to my light suit.

We went up the lake to a canal and then through it to Indian River. The boat run aground every few minutes and had to be pried loose. About twelve o’clock a cullud gemman come up on deck and told us lunch was ready. At half past one he served it at a long family table in the cabin. As far as I was concerned, he might as well of left it on the stove. Even if you could of bit into the food, a glimpse of your fellow diners would of strangled your appetite.

After the repast I called the Missus aside.

“Somethin’ tells me we’re not goin’ to live through three days o’ this,” I says. “What about takin’ the train from Fort Pierce and beatin’ it for Jacksonville, and then home?”

“But that’d get us to Chicago too quick,” says she. “We told people how long we was goin’ to be gone and if we got back ahead o’ time they’d think they was somethin’ queer.”

“They’s too much queer on this boat,” I says. “But you’re goin’ to have your own way from now on.”

We landed in Fort Pierce about six. It was only two or three blocks to the hotel, but when they laid out that part o’ town they overlooked some o’ the modern conveniences, includin’ sidewalks. We staggered through the sand with our grips and sure had worked up a hunger by the time we reached Ye Inn.

“Got reservations for us here?” I ast the clerk.

“Yes,” he says, and led us to ’em in person.

The room he showed us didn’t have no bath, or even a chair that you could set on w’ile you pulled off your socks.

“Where’s the bath?” I ast him.

“This way,” he says, and I followed him down the hall, outdoors and up an alley.

Finally we come to a bathroom complete in all details, except that it didn’t have no door. I went back to the room, got the Missus and went down to supper. Well, sir, I wish you could of been present at that supper. The choice o’ meats was calves’ liver and onions or calves’ liver and onions. And I bet if them calves had of been still livin’ yet they could of gave us some personal reminiscences about Garfield.

The Missus give the banquet one look and then laughed for the first time in several days.

“The guy that named this burg got the capitals mixed,” I says. “It should of been Port Fierce.”

And she laughed still heartier. Takin’ advantage, I says:

“How about the train from here to Jacksonville?”

“You win!” says she. “We can’t get home too soon to suit me.”

VII

The mornin’ we landed in Chicago it was about eight above and a wind was comin’ offen the Lake a mile a minute. But it didn’t faze us.

“Lord!” says the Missus. “Ain’t it grand to be home!”

“You said somethin’,” says I. “But wouldn’t it of been grander if we hadn’t never left?”

“I don’t know about that,” she says. “I think we both of us learned a lesson.”

“Yes,” I says; “and the tuition wasn’t only a matter o’ close to seven hundred bucks!”

“Oh,” says she, “we’ll get that back easy!”

“How?” I ast her. “Do you expect some tips on the market from Mrs. Potter and the rest o’ your new friends?”

“No,” she says. “We’ll win it. We’ll win it in the rummy game with the Hatches.”

• 4 •

The Water Cure

When it comes to makin’ matches I hand it to the women. When it comes to breakin’ ’em leave it to the handsomer sex.

The thirteenth o’ June didn’t light on a Friday, but old Tuesday come through in the pinch with just as good results. Dear little Sister-in-law Bess blew in on the afternoon train from Wabash. She says she was makin’ us a surprise visit. The surprise affected me a good deal like the one that was pulled on Napoleon at Waterloo, Ia.

“How long are you goin’ to light up our home?” I ast her at the supper table.

“I haven’t made up my mind,” says she.

“That’s all you’ve missed, then,” I says.

“Don’t mind him!” says my Missus. “He’s just a tease. You look grand and we’re both tickled to death to have you here. You may stay with us all summer.”

“No question about that,” I says. “Not only may, but li’ble to.”

“If I do,” says Bess, “it’ll be on my sister’s account, not yourn.”

“But I’m the baby that settles your sister’s account,” I says; “and it was some account after you left us last winter. With your visit and our cute little trip to Palm Beach, I’m not what you’d call cramped for pocket space.”

“I guess I can pay my board,” says Bess.

“I guess you won’t!” says the Wife.

“The second guess is always better,” says I.

“As for you entertainin’ me, I don’t expect nothin’ like that,” says Bess.

“If you was lookin’ for a quiet time,” I says, “you made a big mistake by leavin’ Wabash.”

“And I’m not lookin’ for no quiet time, neither,” Bess says right back at me.

“Well,” says I, “about the cheapest noisy time I can recommend is to go over and set under the elevated.”

“Maybe Bess has somethin’ up in her sleeve,” the Missus says, smilin’. “You ain’t the only man in Chicago.”

“I’m the only one she knows,” says I, “outside o’ that millionaire scenario writer that had us all in misery last winter. And I wouldn’t say he was over-ardent after he’d knew her a week.”

Then the Wife winked at me to close up and I didn’t get the dope till we was alone together.

“They correspond,” she told me.

“Absolutely,” says I.

“I mean they been writin’ letters to each other,” says the Missus.

“Who’s been buyin’ Bishop’s stamps?” I ast her.

“I guess a man can buy his own stamps when he gets ten thousand a year,” says she. “Anyway, the reason Bess is here is to see him.”

“Is it illegal for him to go to Wabash and see her?” I says.

“He’s too busy to go to Wabash,” the Wife says.

“I don’t see how a man could be too busy for that,” says I.

“She phoned him this noon,” says the Missus. “He couldn’t come over here tonight, but tomorrow he’s goin’ to take her to the ball game.”

“Where all the rest o’ the busy guys hangs out,” I says. “Aren’t the White Sox havin’ enough bad luck without him?”

That reminded me that I’d came home before the final extras was out; so I put on my hat and went over to Tim’s to look at the score-board. It took me till one A.M. to memorize the batteries and everything. The Wife was still awake yet when I got home and I had enough courage to resume hostilities.

“If what you told me about Bishop and Bess is true,” I says, “I guess I’ll pack up and go fishin’ for the rest o’ the summer.”

“And leave me to starve, I suppose!” says she.

“Bishop’ll take care of the both o’ you,” I says. “If he don’t I’ll send you home a couple o’ carp.”

“If you go and leave me it’s the last time!” she says. “And it shows you don’t care nothin’ about me.”

“I care about you, all right,” I says; “but not enough to be drove crazy in my own house.”

“They’s nothin’ for you to go crazy about,” she says. “If Bess and Mr. Bishop wants to tie up leave ’em alone and forget about ’em.”

“I’d like nothin’ better,” I says; “but you know they’ll give us no chance to forget about ’em.”

“Why not?” she ast me.

“Because they’d starve to death without us,” I says.

“Starve to death!” she says. “On ten thousand a year!”

“Now here!” I says. “Who told you he got that trifle?”

“He did,” says the Wife.

“And how do you know he wasn’t overestimatin’?” I ast her.

“You mean how do I know he wasn’t lyin’?” she says.

“Yes,” says I.

“Because he’s a gentleman,” she says.

“And he told you that, too?” I ast.

“No,” she says. “I could tell that by lookin’ at him.”

“All right, Clara Voyant!” I says. “And maybe you can tell by lookin’ at me how much money he borrowed off’n me and never give back.”

“When? How much?” she says.

“One at a time, please,” says I. “The amount o’ the cash transaction was a twenty-dollar gold certificate. And the time he shook me down was the evenin’ he took us to hear Ada, and was supposed to be payin’ for it.”

“I can’t believe it,” says the Missus.

“All right,” I says. “When he brings Bessie home from the ball game tomorrow I’ll put it up to him right in front o’ you.”

“No! You mustn’t do that!” she says. “I won’t have him insulted.”

“You would have him insulted if I knowed how to go about it,” I says.

“You stayed over to Tim’s too long,” says the Wife.

“Yes,” says I, “and I made arrangements to stay over there every time Bishop comes here.”

“Suit yourself,” she says, and pretended like she was asleep.

Well, the next mornin’ I got to thinkin’ over what I’d said and wonderin’ if I’d went too strong. But I couldn’t see where. This bird was a dude that had got acquainted with Bessie on the train when she was on her way here to visit us last winter. He’d infested the house all the while she was with us. He’d gave us that ten-thousand-dollar yarn and told us he made it by writin’ movin’-pitcher plays, but we never seen none o’ them advertised and never run into anybody that had heard of him.

The Missus had picked him out for Bess the minute she seen him. Bessie herself had fell for him strong. To keep ’em both from droppin’ cyanide in my gruel, I’d took him along with us to see The Love o’ Three Kings, besides buyin’ his groceries and provisions for pretty near a week and standin’ for the upkeep on the davenport where him and Bess held hands. Finally, after he’d went six days without submittin’ even circumstantial evidence that he’d ever had a dime, I bullied him into sayin’ he’d give us a party.

Then they’d been an argument over where he’d take us. He’d suggested a vaudeville show, but I jumped on that with both feet. Bessie held out for a play, but I told her they wasn’t none that I’d leave a young unmarried sister-in-law o’ mine go to.

“Oh,” Bess had said, “they must be some that’s perfectly genteel.”

“Yes,” I told her, “there is some; but they’re not worth seein’.”

So they’d ast what was left and I’d mentioned grand opera.

“They’re worse than plays, the most o’ them,” was the Wife’s cut-in.

“But all the risky parts is sang in Latin and Greek,” I’d said.

Well, Bishop put up a great fight, but I wouldn’t break ground, and finally he says he would take us to opera if he could get tickets.

“I’m down-town every day,” I’d told him. “I’ll have ’em reserved for you.”

But no; he wouldn’t see me put to all that trouble for the world; he’d do the buyin’ himself.

So Ada was what he took us to on a Sunday night, when the seats was cut to half price. And when I and him went out between acts to try the limes he catched me with my guard down and frisked the twenty.

Now Bess had tipped off the Wife that her and Bishop was practically engaged, but the night after Ada was the last night of her visit and Bishop hadn’t never came round. So Bessie’d cried all night and tried to get him by phone before she left next day; but neither o’ them two acts done her any good. It looked like he was all through. On the way to the train Bess and the Missus had ruined three or four handkerchiefs and called the bird every low-down flirt they could think of. I didn’t say a word; nor did I perfume my linen with brine.

—

Here, though, was Bess back in town and Old Man Short makin’ up to her again. And they’d been correspondin’. The second time was li’ble to take, unless outside brains come to the rescue.

If I’d thought for a minute that they’d leave us out of it and go away somewhere by themself and live – the North Side, or one o’ the suburbs, or Wabash – I wouldn’t of cared how many times they married each other. But I had him spotted for a loafer that couldn’t earn a livin’, and I knowed what the maritile nuptials between Bess and he meant – it meant that I and the Missus would have all the pleasures o’ conductin’ a family hotel without the pain o’ makin’ out receipts.

Now I always wanted a boy and a girl, but I wanted ’em to be kind o’ youngish when I got ’em. I never craved addin’ a married couple to my family – not even if they was crazy about rummy and paid all their bills. And when it come to Bishop and Bess, well, they was just as welcome to my home as Villa and all the little Villains.

It wasn’t just Bishop, with his quaint habit o’ never havin’ car fare. Bess, in her way, was as much of a liability. You couldn’t look at her without a slight relapse. She had two complexions – A.M. and P.M. The P.M. wasn’t so bad, but she could of put the other in her vanity box for a mirror. Her nose curved a little away from the batsman and wasn’t no wider than a Julienne potato, and yet it had to draw in to get between her eyes. Her teeth was real pretty and she always kept her lips ajar. But the baseball reporters named Matty’s favorite delivery after her chin, and from there down the curves was taboo.

Where she made a hit with Bishop was laughin’ at everything he pulled – that is, he thought she was laughin’. The fact was that she was snatchin’ the chance to show more o’ them teeth. They wasn’t no use showin’ ’em to me; so I didn’t get laughs from her on my stuff, only when he or some other stranger was round. And if my stuff wasn’t funnier than Bishop’s I’ll lay down my life for Austria.

As a general rule, I don’t think a man is justified in interferin’ with other people’s hymeneal intentions, but it’s different when the said intentions is goin’ to make your own home a hell.

It was up to me to institute proceedin’s that would check the flight o’ these two cooin’ doves before their wings took ’em to Crown Point in a yellow flivver.

And I seen my duty all the more clear when the pair come home from the ball game the day after Bessie’s arrival, and not only told me that the White Sox got another trimmin’ but laughed when they said it.

“Well, Bishop,” I says when we set down to supper, “how many six-reelers are you turnin’ out a day?”

“About one every two weeks is the limit,” says Bishop.

“I’ll bet it is,” I says. “And who are you workin’ for now?”

“The Western Film Corporation,” he says. “But I’m goin’ to quit ’em the first o’ the month.”

“What for?” I ast him.

“Better offer from the Criterion,” he says.

“Better’n ten thousand a year?” says I.

“Sure!” he says.

“Twenty dollars better?” I says.

He blushed and the Wife sunk my shin with a patent-leather torpedo. Then Bishop says:

“The raise I’m gettin’ would make twenty dollars look sick.”

“If you’d give it to me,” I says, “I’d try and nurse it back to health.”

After supper the Missus called me out in the kitchen to bawl me out.

“It’s rough stuff to embarrass a guest,” she says.

“He’s always embarrassed,” says I. “But you admit now, don’t you, that I was tellin’ the truth about him touchin’ me?”

“Yes,” she says.

“Well,” says I, “if he’s so soiled with money, why don’t he pay a little puny debt?”

“He’s probably forgot it,” says she.

“Did he look like he’d forgot it?” I ast her. And she had no come-back.

But when my Missus can overlook a guy stingin’ me for legal tender, it means he’s in pretty strong with her. And I couldn’t count on no help from her, even if Bishop was a murderer, so long as Bess wanted him.

The next mornin’, just to amuse myself, I called up the Criterion people and ast them if they was goin’ to hire a scenario writer name Elmer Bishop.

“Never heard of him,” was what they told me.

So I called up the Western.

“Elmer Bishop?” they says. “He ain’t no scenario writer. He’s what we call an extra. He plays small parts sometimes.”

“And what pay do them extras drag down?” I ast.

“Five dollars a day, but nothin’ when they don’t work,” was the thrillin’ response.

My first idea was to slip this dope to the Wife and Bess both. But what’d be the use? They wouldn’t believe it even if they called up and found out for themself; and if they did believe it, Bessie’d say a man’s pay didn’t make no difference where true love was concerned, and the Missus would take her part, and they’d cry a little, and wind up by sendin’ for Bishop and a minister to make sure o’ the ceremony comin’ off before Bishop lost his five-dollar job and croaked himself.

Then I thought o’ forbiddin’ him the hospitality o’ my abode. But that’d be just as useless. They’d meet somewheres else, and if I threatened to lock Bess out, the Wife’d come back with a counter-proposition to not give me no more stewed beets or banana soufflés. Besides that, strong-arm methods don’t never kill sweet love, but act just the opposite and make the infected parties more set on gettin’ each other. This here case was somethin’ delicate, and if a man didn’t handle it exactly right you wouldn’t never get over bein’ sorry.

So, instead o’ me quarrelin’ with the Wife and Bess, and raisin’ a fuss at Bishop spendin’ eight evenin’s a week with us, I kept my clam closed and tried to be pleasant, even when I’d win a hand o’ rummy and see this guy carelessly lose a few of his remainin’ face cards under the table.

We had an awful spell o’ heat in July and it wasn’t no fun playin’ cards or goin’ to pitcher shows, or nothin’. Saturday afternoons and Sundays, I and the Missus would go over to the lake and splash. Bess only went with us a couple o’ times; that was because she couldn’t get Bishop to come along. He’d always say he was busy, or he had a cold and was afraid o’ makin’ it worse. So far as I was concerned, I managed to enjoy my baths just as much with them two stayin’ away. The sight o’ Bessie in a bathin’ suit crabbed the exhilaratin’ effects o’ the swim. When she stood up in the water the minnows must of thought two people was still-fishin’.

It was one night at supper, after Bessie’d been with us about a month, when the idear come to me. Bishop was there, and I’d been lookin’ at he and Bess, and wonderin’ what they’d seen in each other. The Missus ast ’em if they was goin’ out some place.

“No,” says Bessie. “It’s too hot and they ain’t no place to go.”

“They’s lots o’ places to go,” says the Wife. “For one thing, they’re havin’ grand opera out to Ravinia Park.”

“I wouldn’t give a nickel to see a grand opera,” says Bess, “unless it was Ada, that Elmer took us to last winter.”

So they went on talkin’ about somethin’ else. I don’t know what, because the minute she mentioned Ada I was all set.

I guess maybe I’d better tell you a little about this here opera, so’s you’ll see how it helped me out. A fella named Gus Verdi wrote it, and the scenes is laid along the Illinois Central, round Memphis and Cairo. Ada’s a big wench, with a pretty voice, and she’s the hired girl in the mayor’s family. The mayor’s daughter gets stuck on a fat little tenor that you can’t pronounce and that should of had a lawn mower ran over his chin. The tenor likes the colored girl better than the mayor’s daughter, and the mayor’s daughter tries every way she can think of to bust it up and grab off the tenor for herself; but nothin’ doin’! Finally the mayor has the tenor pinched for keepin’ open after one o’clock, and the law’s pretty strict; so, instead o’ just finin’ him, they lock him up in a safety-deposit vault. Well, the wench is down in the vault, too, dustin’ off the papers and cleanin’ the silver, and they don’t know she’s there; so the two o’ them’s locked up together and can’t get out. And when they can’t get away and haven’t got nobody else to look at or talk to, they get so’s they hate each other; and finally they can’t stand it no longer and they both die. They’s pretty music in it, but if old Gus had of seen the men that was goin’ to be in the show he’d of laid the scenes in Beardstown instead o’ Memphis.

Well, do you get the idear? If the mayor’s daughter had of been smart, instead o’ tryin’ to keep the tenor and Ada from bein’ with each other she’d of locked ’em up together a long while ago, and, first thing you know, they’d of been sick o’ one another; and just before they died she could of let ’em out and had the tenor for herself without no argument.

And the same thing would work with Bishop and Bess. In all the time o’ their mutual courtship they hadn’t been together for more’n five or six hours at a time, and never where one o’ them couldn’t make a quick duck when they got tired. Make ’em stick round with each other for a day, or for two days, without no chance to separate, and it was a cinch that the alarm clock would break in on Love’s Young Dream.

But, for some reason or other, I didn’t have no safety-deposit vault and they wasn’t no room in the flat that they couldn’t get out of by jumpin’ from the window.

How was I goin’ to work it? I thought and thought; and figured and figured; and it wasn’t till after I’d went to bed that the solution come.

A boat trip to St. Joe! I and the Missus and the two love birds. And I’d see to it that the chaperons kept their distance and let Nature take its course. We’d go over some Saturday afternoon and come back the next night. That’d give ’em eight or nine hours Saturday and from twelve to sixteen hours Sunday to get really acquainted with each other. And if they was still on speakin’ terms at the end o’ that time I’d pass up the case as incurable.

You see, I had it doped that Bishop was afraid o’ water or else he wouldn’t of turned down all our swimmin’ parties. I wouldn’t leave him a chance to duck out o’ this because I wouldn’t tell nobody where we was goin’. It’d be a surprise trip. And they was a good chance that they’d both be sick if it was the least bit rough, and that’d help a lot. I thought of Milwaukee first, but picked St. Joe because it’s dry. A man might stand for Bess a whole day and more if he was a little blear-eyed from Milwaukee’s favorite food.

The trip would cost me some money, but it was an investment with a good chance o’ big returns. I’d of been willin’ to take ’em to Palm Beach for a month if that’d been the only way to save my home.

When Bishop blew in the next evenin’ I pulled it on ’em.

“Bishop,” I says, “a man that does as much brain work as you ought to get more recreation.”

“I guess I do work too hard,” he says modestly.

“I should think,” I says, “that you’d give yourself Saturday afternoons and Sundays off.”

“I do, in summer,” he says.

“That’s good,” I says. “I was thinkin’ about givin’ a little party this comin’ week-end; and, o’ course, I wanted you to be in on it.”

The two girls got all excited.

“Party!” says the Missus. “What kind of a party?”

“Well,” I says, “I was thinkin’ about takin’ you and Bishop and Bess out o’ town for a little trip.”

“Where to?” ast the Wife.

“That’s a secret,” I says. “You won’t know where we’re goin’ till we start. All I’ll tell you is that we’ll be gone from Saturday afternoon till Monday mornin’.”

“Oh, how grand!” says Bessie. “And think how romantic it’ll be, not knowin’ where we’re headed!”

“I don’t know if I can get away or not,” says Bishop.

“I pay all expenses,” says I.

“Oh, Elmer, you’ve just got to go!” says Bess.

“The trip’s off if you don’t,” I says.

“If you don’t say yes I’ll never speak to you again,” says Bessie.

For a minute I hoped he wouldn’t say yes; but he did. Then I told ’em that the start would be from our house at a quarter to one Saturday, and to pack up their sporty clothes. The rest o’ the evenin’ was spent in them tryin’ to guess where we was goin’. It got ’em nothin’, because I wouldn’t say aye, yes or no to none o’ their guesses.

When I and the Missus was alone, she says:

“Well, what’s the idear?”

“No idear at all,” I says, “except that our honeymoon trip to Palm Beach was a flivver and I feel like as if I ought to make up to you for it. And besides that, Bessie’s our guest and I ought to do somethin’ nice for she and her friend.”

“I’d think you must of been drinkin’ if I didn’t know better,” she says.

“You never do give me credit for nothin’,” says I. “To tell the truth, I’m kind of ashamed o’ myself for the way I been actin’ to’rd Bishop and Bess; but I’m willin’ to make amends before it’s too late. If Bishop’s goin’ to be one o’ the family I and him should ought to be good friends.”

“That’s the way I like to hear you talk,” says the Wife.

“But remember,” I says, “this trip ain’t only for their benefit, but for our’n too. And from the minute we start till we get home us two’ll pal round together just like we was alone. We don’t want them buttin’ in on us and we don’t want to be buttin’ in on them.”

“That suits me fine!” says she. “And now maybe you’ll tell me where we’re goin’.”

“You promise not to tell?” I ast her.

“Sure!” she says.

“Well,” I says, “that’s one promise you’ll keep.”

And I buried my good ear in the feathers.

—

At twenty minutes to two, Saturday afternoon, I landed my entire party at the dock, foot o’ Wabash Avenue.

“Goody!” says Bess. “We’re goin’ acrost the lake.”

“If the boat stays up.”

“I don’t know if I ought to go or not,” says Bishop. “I’d ought to be where I can keep in touch with the Criterion people.”

“They got a wireless aboard,” I says.

“Yes,” says Bishop; “but they wouldn’t know where to reach me.”

“You got time to phone ’em before we sail,” says I.

“No, he hasn’t,” says Bessie. “He ain’t goin’ to take no chance o’ missin’ this boat. He can send ’em a wireless after we start.”

So that settled Bishop, and he had to walk up the gangplank with the rest of us. He looked just as pleased as if they’d lost his laundry.

I checked the baggage and sent the three o’ them up on deck, sayin’ I’d join ’em later. Then I ast a boy where the bar was.

“Right in there,” he says, pointin’. “But you can’t get nothin’ till we’re three miles out.”

So I went back to the gangplank and started off the boat. A man about four years old, with an addin’ machine in his hand, stopped me.

“Are you goin’ to make the trip?” he ast me.

“What do you think I’m on here for – to borrow a match?” says I.

“Well,” he says, “you can’t get off.”

“You’re cross!” I says. “I bet your milk don’t agree with you.”

I started past him again, but he got in front o’ me.

“You can get off, o’ course,” he says; “but you can’t get back on. That’s the rules.”

“What sense is they in that?” I ast him.

“If I let people off, and on again, my count would get mixed up,” he says.

“Who are you?” says I.

“I’m the government checker,” he says.

“Chess?” says I. “And you count all the people that gets on?”

“That’s me,” he says.

“How many’s on now?” I ast him.

“Eight hundred-odd,” he says.

“I ast you for the number, not the description,” I says. “How many’s the limit?” I ast him.

“Thirteen hundred,” he says.

“And would the boat sink if they was more’n that?” says I.

“I don’t know if it would or wouldn’t,” he says, “but that’s all the law allows.”

For a minute I felt like offerin’ him a lump sum to let seven or eight hundred more on the boat and be sure that she went down; meantime I’d be over gettin’ a drink. But then I happened to think that the Missus would be among those lost; and though a man might do a whole lot better the second time, the chances was that he’d do a whole lot worse. So I passed up the idear and stayed aboard, prayin’ for the time when we’d be three miles out on Lake Michigan.

It was the shortest three miles you ever seen. We hadn’t got out past the Municipal Pier when I seen a steady influx goin’ past the engine-room and into the great beyond. I followed ’em and got what I was after. Then I went up on deck, lookin’ for my guests.

I found ’em standin’ in front o’ one o’ the lifeboats.

“Why don’t you get comfortable?” I says to Bishop. “Why don’t you get chairs and enjoy the breeze?”

“That’s what I been tellin’ ’em,” says the Missus; “but Mr. Bishop acts like he was married to this spot.”

“I’m only thinkin’ of your wife and Bessie,” says Bishop. “If anything happened, I’d want ’em to be near a lifeboat.”

“Nothin’s goin’ to happen,” I says. “They hasn’t been a wreck on this lake for over a month. And this here boat, the City o’ Benton Harbor, ain’t never sank in her life.”

“No,” says Bishop; “and the Chicora and Eastland never sank till they sunk.”

“The boats that sinks,” I says, “is the boats that’s overloaded. I was talkin’ to the government checker-player down-stairs and he tells me that you put thirteen hundred on this boat and she’s perfectly safe; and they’s only eight hundred aboard now.”

“Then why do they have the lifeboats?” ast Bishop.

“So’s you can go back if you get tired o’ the trip,” I says.

“I ought to be back now,” says Bishop, “where the firm can reach me.”

“We ain’t more’n two miles out,” I says. “If your firm’s any good they’ll drag the bottom farther out than this. Besides,” I says, “if trouble comes the lifeboats would handle us.”

“Yes,” says Bishop; “but it’s women and children first.”

“Sure!” I says. “That’s the proper order for drownin’. The world couldn’t struggle along without us ten-thousand-dollar scenario writers.”

“They couldn’t be no trouble on such a lovely day as this,” says Bess.

“That’s where you make a big mistake,” I says. “That shows you don’t know nothin’ about the history o’ Lake Michigan.”

“What do you mean?” ast Bishop.

“All the wrecks that’s took place on this lake,” I says, “has happened in calm weather like today. It’s just three years ago this July,” I says, “when the City of Ypsilanti left Grand Haven with about as many passengers as we got today. The lake was just like a billiard table and no thought o’ danger. Well, it seems like they’s a submerged water oak about three miles from shore that you’re supposed to steer round it. But this pilot hadn’t never made the trip before, and, besides that, he’d been drinkin’ pretty heavy; so what does he do but run right plump into the tree, and the boat turned a turtle and all the passengers was lost except a tailor named Swanson.”

“But that was just an unreliable officer,” says Bessie. “He must of been crazy.”

“Crazy!” says I. “They wouldn’t nobody work on these boats unless they was crazy. It’s bound to get ’em.”

“I hope we got a reliable pilot today,” says Bishop.

“He’s only just a kid,” I says; “and I noticed him staggerin’ when he come aboard. But, anyway, you couldn’t ask for a better bottom than they is right along in here; nice clean sand and hardly any weeds.”

“What time do we get to St. Joe?” ast Bishop.

“About seven if we don’t run into a squall,” I says.

Then I and the Wife left ’em and went round to another part o’ the deck and run into squalls of all nationalities. Their mothers had made a big mistake in bringin’ ’em, because you could tell from their faces and hands that they didn’t have no use for water.

“They all look just alike,” says the Missus. “I don’t see how the different mothers can tell which is their baby.”

“It’s fifty-fifty,” I says. “The babies don’t look no more alike than the mothers. The mothers is all named Jennie, and all perfect cubes and fond of apples, and ought to go to a dentist. Besides,” I says, “suppose they did get mixed up and swap kids, none o’ the parties concerned would have reasons to gloat. And the babies certainly couldn’t look no more miserable under different auspices than they do now.”

We walked all round the deck, threadin’ our way among the banana peelin’s, and lookin’ our shipmates over.

“Pick out somebody you think you’d like to meet,” I told the Wife, “and I’ll see if I can arrange it.”

“Thanks,” she says; “but I’ll try and not get lonesome, with my husband and my sister and my sister’s beau along.”

“It’s nice for you to say it,” says I; “but you want to remember that we’re leavin’ Bess and Bishop to themself, and that leaves you and I to ourself, and they ain’t no two people in the world that can spend two days alone together without gettin’ bored stiff. Besides, you don’t want to never overlook a chance to meet high-class people.”

“When I get desperately anxious to meet high-class people,” she says, “I’ll be sure and pick out the Saturday afternoon boat from Chicago to St. Joe.”

“You can’t judge people by their looks,” says I. “You haven’t heard ’em talk.”

“No; and couldn’t understand ’em if I did,” she says.

“I’ll bet some o’ them’s just as bright as we are,” I says.

“I’m not lookin’ for bright companionship,” she says. “I want a change.”

“That’s just like I told you,” says I. “You’re bound to get tired o’ one person, no matter how much they sparkle, if you live with ’em long enough.”

We left the deck and went down-stairs. They was two or three people peerin’ in the engine-room and the Missus made me stop there a minute.

“What for?” I ast her.

“I want to see how it works,” she says.

“Well,” says I, when we’d started on again, “I can drop my insurance now.”

“Why?” says the Missus.

“I don’t never need to worry about you starvin’,” I says. “With the knowledge you just picked up there, I bet you could easy land a job as engineer on one o’ these boats.”

“I’d do about as good as you would at it,” she says.

“Sure; because I didn’t study it,” I says. “What makes the boat run?” I ast her.

“Why, the wheel,” she says.

“And who runs the wheel?” I ast her.

“The pilot,” says she.

“And what does the engineer do?” I says.

“Why, I suppose he keeps the fire burnin’,” she says.

“But in weather like this what do they want of a fire?”

“I suppose it gets colder out in the middle o’ the lake,” she says.

“No,” says I; “but on Saturdays they got to keep a fire goin’ to heat the babies’ bottles.”

We went in the room next to the bar. A boy set at the piano playin’ Sweet Cider Time in Moonshine Valley and some Hawaiian native melodies composed by a Hungarian waiter that was too proud to fight. Three or four couple was dancin’, but none o’ them was wry-necked enough to get the proper pose. The girls looked pretty good and was probably members o’ the Four Hundred employed in the Fair. The boys would of been handsomer if the laundry hadn’t failed to bring back their other shirt in time.

A big guy in a uniform come by and went into the next room. “Is that the captain?” ast the Wife.

“No,” I says, “that’s the steward.”

“And what does he do?” she ast me.

“He hangs round the bar,” I says, “and looks after the stews.”

“Have they really got a bar?” she says.

“I’ll find out for sure if you’ll wait here a minute,” says I, and led her to a chair where she could watch ’em wrestle.

In the other room I stood next to a Greek that charged ten cents on Sundays and holidays. He was all lit up like the Municipal Pier.

“Enjoyin’ the trip?” I ast him.

“Too rough; too rough!” he says, only I don’t do the dialect very good.

“I bet you never got that shine at your own stand,” says I.

“Too hot to work!” says he. “I don’t have to work. I got the mon’.”

“Yes,” I says; “and the bun.”

A little way off from us was four other political enemies o’ J. Frank Hanly, tellin’ my Greek friend in tonsorial tones that if he didn’t like his Uncle Sammy he knowed what he could do.

“Don’t you like your Uncle Sammy?” I ast him.

“I don’t have to work,” he says. “I got the mon’.”

“Then why don’t you take them boys’ advice,” I says, “and go back to your home o’er the sea?”

“Too rough; too rough!” he says; and in the twenty minutes I stood there with him, findin’ out whether they was really a bar, he didn’t say nothin’ except that he had the mon’, and he didn’t have to work, and somethin’ was too rough.

I and the Missus went back up on deck. I steered for the end o’ the boat that was farthest from where we’d left Bess and Bishop, but they’d began to get restless, and we run into them takin’ a walk.

“Where you been?” ast Bessie.

“Down watchin’ ’em dance,” says the Missus.

“Is they a place to dance aboard?” ast Bishop.

But I didn’t want ’em to dance, because that’d be an excuse not to say nothin’ to each other for a w’ile. So I says:

“They’s a place, all right; but five or six couple’s already on the floor, and when you get more’n that trottin’ round at once it’s li’ble to rock the boat and be disastrous.”

I took the Wife’s arm and started to move on.

“Where you goin’?” says Bishop.

“Just for a stroll round the decks,” says I.

“We’ll go along,” he says.

I seen the treatment was beginnin’ to work. “Nothin’ doin’!” I says. “This is one of our semi-annual honeymoons and we can’t use no outside help.”

A few minutes before we hit St. Joe we seen ’em again, settin’ down below, afraid to dance and entirely out o’ conversation. They was havin’ just as good a time as Jennie’s babies.

“We’re pretty near in,” I says, “and ’twas one o’ the smoothest crossin’s I ever made.”

“They couldn’t nobody get sick in weather like this,” says Bess.

“No,” I says, “but you take a smooth Saturday afternoon and it generally always means a rough Sunday night.”

“Ain’t they no railroad between here and Chi?” ast Bishop.

“Not direct,” I says. “You have to go to Lansing and then cut across to Fort Wayne. If you make good connections you can do it in a day and two nights, but most o’ the way is through the copper ranges and the trains keeps gettin’ later and later, and when they try to make up time they generally always slip offen the track and spill their contents.”

“If it looks like a storm tomorrow night,” says Bess, “we might wait over and go home Monday.”

That idear scared Bishop more’n the thought of a wreck.

“Oh, no!” he says. “I got to be back on the job Monday mornin’.”

“If it’s as rough as I think it’s goin’ to be,” says I, “you won’t feel like rippin’ off no scenarios Monday.”

We landed and walked up the highest hill in Michigan to the hotel. I noticed that Miss Bessie carried her own suit-case.

“Well,” I says, “I suppose you two kids would rather eat your supper by yourself, and I and the Missus will set at another table.”

“No, no!” says Bess. “It’ll be pleasanter to all eat together.”

So for about half an hour we had ’em with us; and they’d of stuck the rest o’ the evenin’ if I’d gave ’em a chance.

“What about a little game o’ cards?” says Bishop, when we was through eatin’.

“It’s mighty nice o’ you to suggest it,” I says; “but I know you’re only doin’ it for my sake and the Wife’s. We’ll find some way to amuse ourself, and you and Bess can take a stroll down on the beach.”

“The wind made me sleepy,” says Bishop. “I believe I’ll go up to my room and turn in.”

“The rooms is not ready,” I says. “The clerk’ll let us know as soon as we can have ’em.”

But he didn’t take my word; and when he’d talked to the clerk himself, and found out that he could have his room right away, they wasn’t no arguin’ with him. Off he went to bed at eight P.M., leavin’ the Missus and I to entertain the Belle o’ Wabash.

Sunday mornin’ I added to my investment by hirin’ a flivver to take us out to the Edgewater Club.

“Now,” I says, “we’ll rent some bathin’ suits and cool off.”

“I don’t dast go in,” says Bishop. “I’d take more cold. I’ll watch the rest o’ you.”

Well, I didn’t care whether he went in or not, the water bein’ too shallow along there to drownd him; but I did want him to watch the rest of us – one in particular.

The suit they gave her was an Annette. I wouldn’t make no attempt to describe what she looked like in it, unless it’d be a capital Y that had got turned upside down. She didn’t have no displacement and she could of stayed in all day without the lake ever findin’ out she was there.

But I cut the film short so’s I could get ’em back to the hotel and leave the pair together again.

“You’re goin’ to have all the rest o’ the day to yourself,” I told ’em. “We won’t eat dinner with you. I and the Missus will just disappear and meet you here in the hotel at seven o’clock tonight.”

“Where are you goin’?” ast Bishop.

“Never you mind,” I says.

“Maybe we’d like to go along with you,” he says.

“Yes, you would!” says I. “Remember, boy, I was in love once myself, and I know I didn’t want no third parties hangin’ round.”

“But what can we do all day in this burg?” he says.

“They’s plenty to do,” I says. “You can go over there and set on them benches and watch the interurbans come in from South Bend and Niles, or you can hire a boat and go out for a sail, or you can fish for tarpons; or you can take a trolley over to Benton Harbor; or you can set on the beach and spoon. Nobody minds here – only be sure you don’t set in somebody’s lunch basket, because they say a garlic stain’s almost impossible to get out. And they’s another thing you might do,” I says: “this town’s one o’ these here Gretna Greens. You can get a marriage license in any delicatessen and the street-car conductors is authorized to perform the ceremony.”

They didn’t blush when I pulled that; they turned pale, both o’ them, and I seen that I was goin’ to win, sure.

“Come on!” I says to the Missus. “We must be on our way.”

We left ’em before they could stop us and walked acrost the street and along through the park.

“Where are we headed?” ast the Wife.

“I don’t know,” I says; “but I don’t want to spoil their good time.”

“I don’t believe they’re havin’ a good time,” she says.

“How could they help it?” says I. “When two true lovers is left alone together, what more could they ast for?”

“They’s somethin’ wrong with ’em,” says the Missus. “They act like they was mad at each other. And Bess told me when we was out to the Edgewater Club that she wished we was home.”

“That’s a fine way for her to talk,” I says, “when I’m tryin’ to show her a good time!”

“And I overheard Elmer,” says the Missus, “askin’ one o’ the bell boys where he could get somethin’ to drink; and the bell boy ast him what kind of a drink, and he says, whisky or poison – it didn’t make no difference.”

“If I was sure he’d take the poison I’d try to get it for him,” I says.

On the grass and the benches in the park we seen some o’ the gang that’d came over on the boat with us. They looked like they’d laid there all night and the kids was cryin’ louder’n ever. Besides them we seen dozens o’ young couples that was still on speakin’ terms, because they’d only been together an hour or two. The girls was wearin’ nice, clean, white dresses and white shoes, and was all prettied up. They seemed to be havin’ the time o’ their life. And by four o’clock in the afternoon their fingers would be stuck together with crackerjack and their dresses decorated with chocolate sirup, and their escorts talkin’ to ’em like a section boss to a gang o’ hunkies.

We wandered round till dinner-time, and then dropped into a little restaurant where they give you a whole meal for thirty-five cents and make a profit of thirty-five cents. When we’d staggered out under the weight o’ this repast, a street-car was standin’ there that said it would take us to the House o’ David.

“Come on!” I says, and led the Missus aboard.

“Where to?” she ast me.

“I don’t know,” I says; “but it sounds like a road house.”

It was even better’n that. You couldn’t get nothin’ to drink, but they was plenty to see and hear – band concerts, male and female; movin’ pitchers; a zoo; a bowlin’ alley; and more funny-lookin’ people than I ever seen in an amusement park before.

It ain’t a regular amusement park, but fifty-fifty between that and a kind of religious sex that calls themself the Holy Roller Skaters or somethin’. All the men that was old enough to keep a beard had one; and for a minute I thought we’d bumped into the summer home o’ the people that took part in Ada.

They wouldn’t nobody of ever mistook the women for Follies chorus girls. They looked like they was havin’ a prize contest to see which could dress the homeliest; and if I’d been one o’ the judges I’d of split the first prize as many ways as they was women.

“I’m goin’ to talk to some o’ these people,” I told the Wife.

“What for?” she says.

“Well, for one thing,” I says, “I been talkin’ to one person so long I’m tired of it; and, for another thing, I want to find out what the idear o’ the whole concern is.”

So we walked up to one o’ the most flourishin’ beards and I braced him.

“Who owns this joint?” I says.

“All who have the faith,” he says.

“What do they charge a man to join?” I ast him.

“Many’s called and few chosen,” he says.

“How long have you been here?” I ast him.

“Prove all things and hold fast to what’s good,” he says. “Why don’t you get some of our books and study ’em?”

He led us over to where they had the books and I looked at some o’ them. One was the Flyin’ Roll, and another was the Livin’ Roll o’ Life, and another was the Rollin’ Ball o’ Fire.

“If you had some books about coffee you could make a breakfast on ’em,” I says.

Well, we stuck round there till pretty near six o’clock and talked to a lot o’ different ones and ast ’em all kinds o’ questions; and they answered ’em all with verses from Scripture that had nothin’ to do with what we’d ast.

“We got a lot of information,” says the Wife on the way back to St. Joe. “We don’t know no more about ’em now than before we come.”

“We know their politics,” I says.

“How?” she ast me.

“From the looks of ’em,” I says. “They’re unanimous for Hughes.”

We found Bess all alone, settin’ in the lobby o’ the hotel.

“Where’s your honey man?” I ast her.

She turned up her nose.

“Don’t call him my honey man or my anything else,” she says.

“Why, what’s the matter?” ast the Missus.

“Nothin’ at all’s the matter,” she says.

“Maybe just a lovers’ quarrel,” says I.

“No, and no lovers’ quarrel, neither,” says Bess. “They couldn’t be no lovers’ quarrel, because they ain’t no lovers.”

“You had me fooled, then,” I says. “I’d of swore that you and Bishop was just like that.”

“You made a big mistake,” says Bessie. “I never cared nothin’ for him and he never cared nothin’ for me, because he’s incapable o’ carin’ for anything – only himself.”

“Why, Bess,” says the Missus, “you told me just yesterday mornin’ that you was practically engaged!”

“I don’t care what I told you,” she says; “but I’m tellin’ you somethin’ now: I don’t never want to hear of him or see him again. And you’ll do me a favor if you’ll drop the subject.”

“But where is he?” I ast her.

“I don’t know and I don’t care!” she says.

“But I got to find him,” I says. “He’s my guest.”

“You can have him,” she says.

I found him up in his room. The bell boy had got him somethin’, and it wasn’t poison, neither. At least I haven’t never died of it.

“Well, Bishop,” I says, “finish it up and come down-stairs. Bess and the Wife’ll want some supper.”

“You’ll have to excuse me,” he says. “I don’t feel like eatin’ a thing.”

“But you can come down and set with us,” I says. “Bess will be sore if you don’t.”

“Listen here!” he says. “You’ve took too much for granted. They’s nothin’ between your sister-in-law and I. If you’ve set your heart on us bein’ somethin’ more’n friends, I’m sorry. But they’s not a chance.”

“Bishop,” I says, “this is a blow to me. It comes like a shock.”

And to keep myself from faintin’ I took the bottle from his dresser and completed its ruin.

“You won’t even come down and set with us?” I says.

“No,” says Bishop. “And, if you don’t mind, you can give me my ticket back home and I’ll stroll down to the dock and meet you on the boat.”

“Here’s your ticket,” says I.

“And where am I goin’ to sleep?” he says.

“Well,” I says, “I’ll get you a stateroom if you really want it; but it’s goin’ to be a bad night, and if you was in one o’ them berths, and somethin’ happened, you wouldn’t have a chance in the world!”

“You ain’t goin’ to have no berth, yourself?” he ast me.

“I should say not!” I says. “I’m goin’ to get me a chair and sleep in the water-tight compartments.”

Boys, my prophecy come true. They was more roll on old Lake Michigan that night than in all them books up to the Holy Roller Skaters’ park. And if the boat was filled to capacity just thirteen hundred of us was fatally ill.

I don’t think it was the rollin’ that got me. It was one glimpse of all the Jennies and their offsprings, and the wealthy Greek shoe shiners, and the millionaire truck drivers, and the heiresses from the Lace Department – layin’ hither and thither in the cabins and on the decks, breathin’ their last. And how they must of felt to think that all their outlay for crackerjack and apples was a total loss!

But Bishop wasn’t sick. I searched the boat from the back to the stern and he wasn’t aboard. I guess probably he found out some way that they was such an institution as the Père Marquette, which gets into Chicago without touchin’ them perilous copper ranges. But whether he arrived safe or not I don’t know, because I’ve never saw him from that day to this, and I’ve lived happy ever afterward.

And my investment, amountin’ all told to just about what he owes me, turned out even better than I’d hoped for. Bess went back to Wabash that Monday afternoon.

At supper Monday night, which was the first meal the Missus could face, she says:

“I haven’t got it figured out yet. Bess swears they didn’t have no quarrel; but I’ll take an oath they was in love with each other. What could of happened?”

“I know what happened,” I says. “They got acquainted!”

• 5 •

The Facts

The engagement was broken off before it was announced. So only a thousand or so of the intimate friends and relatives of the parties knew anything about it. What they knew was that there had been an engagement and that there was one no longer. The cause of the breach they merely guessed, and most of the guesses were, in most particulars, wrong.

Each intimate and relative had a fragment of the truth. It remained for me to piece the fragments together. It was a difficult job, but I did it. Part of my evidence is hearsay; the major portion is fully corroborated. And not one of my witnesses had anything to gain through perjury.

So I am positive that I have at my tongue’s end the facts, and I believe that in justice to everybody concerned I should make them public.

—

Ellen McDonald had lived on the North Side of Chicago for twenty-one years. Billy Bowen had been a South-Sider for seven years longer. But neither knew of the other’s existence until they met in New York, the night before the Army-Navy game.

Billy, sitting with a business acquaintance at a neighboring table in Tonio’s, was spotted by a male member of Ellen’s party, a Chicagoan, too. He was urged to come on over. He did, and was introduced. The business acquaintance was also urged, came, was introduced and forgotten; forgotten, that is, by every one but the waiter, who observed that he danced not nor told stories, and figured that his function must be to pay. The business acquaintance had been Billy’s guest. Now he became host, and without seeking the office.

It was not that Billy and Miss McDonald’s male friends were niggards. But unfortunately for the b. a., the checks always happened to arrive when everybody else was dancing or so hysterical over Billy’s repartee as to be potentially insolvent.

Billy was somewhere between his fourteenth and twenty-first highball; in other words, at his best, from the audience’s standpoint. His dialogue was simply screaming and his dancing just heavenly. He was Frank Tinney doubling as Vernon Castle. On the floor he tried and accomplished twinkles that would have spelled catastrophe if attempted under the fourteen mark, or over the twenty-one. And he said the cutest things – one right after the other.

II

You can be charmed by a man’s dancing, but you can’t fall in love with his funniness. If you’re going to fall in love with him at all, you’ll do it when you catch him in a serious mood.

Miss McDonald caught Billy Bowen in one at the game next day. Entirely by accident or a decree of fate, her party and his sat in adjoining boxes. Not by accident, Miss McDonald sat in the chair that was nearest Billy’s. She sat there first to be amused; she stayed to be conquered.

Here was a different Billy from the Billy of Tonio’s. Here was a Billy who trained his gun on your heart and let your risibles alone. Here was a dreamy Billy, a Billy of romance.

How calm he remained through the excitement! How indifferent to the thrills of the game! There was depth to him. He was a man. Her escort and the others round her were children, screaming with delight at the puerile deeds of pseudo heroes. Football was a great sport, but a sport. It wasn’t Life. Would the world be better or worse for that nine-yard gain that Elphant or Oliphant, or whatever his name was, had just made? She knew it wouldn’t. Billy knew, too, for Billy was deep. He was thinking man’s thoughts. She could tell by his silence, by his inattention to the scene before him. She scarcely could believe that here was the same person who, last night, had kept his own, yes, and the neighboring tables, roaring with laughter. What a complex character his!

In sooth, Mr. Bowen was thinking man’s thoughts. He was thinking that if this pretty Miss McDowell, or Donnelly, were elsewhere, he could go to sleep. And that if he could remember which team he had bet on and could tell which team was which, he would have a better idea of whether he was likely to win or lose.

When, after the game, they parted, Billy rallied to the extent of asking permission to call. Ellen, it seemed, would be very glad to have him, but she couldn’t tell exactly when she would have to be back in Chicago; she still had three more places to visit in the East. Could she possibly let him know when she did get back? Yes, she could and would; if he really wanted her to, she would drop him a note. He certainly wanted her to.

This, thought Billy, was the best possible arrangement. Her note would tell him her name and address, and save him the trouble of ’phoning to all the McConnells, McDowells, and Donnellys on the North Side. He did want to see her again; she was pretty, and, judging from last night, full of pep. And she had fallen for him; he knew it from that look.

He watched her until she was lost in the crowd. Then he hunted round for his pals and the car that had brought them up. At length he gave up the search and wearily climbed the elevated stairs. His hotel was on Broadway, near Forty-fourth. He left the train at Forty-second, the third time it stopped there.

“I guess you’ve rode far enough,” said the guard. “Fifteen cents’ worth for a nickel. I guess we ought to have a Pullman on these here trains.”

“I guess,” said Billy, “I guess——”

But the repartee well was dry. He stumbled down-stairs and hurried toward Broadway to replenish it. ,

III

Ellen McDonald’s three more places to visit in the East must have been deadly dull. Anyway, on the sixth of December, scarcely more than a week after his parting with her in New York, Billy Bowen received the promised note. It informed him merely that her name was Ellen McDonald, that she lived at so-and-so Walton Place, and that she was back in Chicago.

That day, if you’ll remember, was Monday. Miss McDonald’s parents had tickets for the opera. But Ellen was honestly just worn out, and would they be mad at her if she stayed home and went to bed? They wouldn’t. They would take Aunt Mary in her place.

On Tuesday morning, Paul Potter called up and wanted to know if she would go with him that night to “The Follies.” She was horribly sorry, but she’d made an engagement. The engagement, evidently, was to study, and the subject was harmony, with Berlin, Kern, and Van Alstyne as instructors. She sat on the piano-bench from half-past seven till quarter after nine, and then went to her room vowing that she would accept any and all invitations for the following evening.

Fortunately, no invitations arrived, for at a quarter of nine Wednesday night, Mr. Bowen did. And in a brand-new mood. He was a bit shy and listened more than he talked. But when he talked, he talked well, though the sparkling wit of the night at Tonio’s was lacking. Lacking, too, was the preoccupied air of the day at the football game. There was no problem to keep his mind busy, but even if the Army and Navy had been playing football in this very room, he could have told at a glance which was which. Vision and brain were perfectly clear. And he had been getting his old eight hours, and, like the railroad hen, sometimes nine and sometimes ten, every night since his arrival home from Gotham, N.Y. Mr. Bowen was on the wagon.

They talked of the East, of Tonio’s, of the game (this was where Billy did most of his listening), of the war, of theatres, of books, of college, of automobiles, of the market. They talked, too, of their immediate families. Billy’s, consisting of one married sister in South Bend, was soon exhausted. He had two cousins here in town whom he saw frequently, two cousins and their wives, but they were people who simply couldn’t stay home nights. As for himself, he preferred his rooms and a good book to the so-called gay life. Ellen should think that a man who danced so well would want to be doing it all the time. It was nice of her to say that he danced well, but really he didn’t, you know. Oh, yes, he did. She guessed she could tell. Well, anyway, the giddy whirl made no appeal to him, unless, of course, he was in particularly charming company. His avowed love for home and quiet surprised Ellen a little. It surprised Mr. Bowen a great deal. Only last night, he remembered, he had been driven almost desperate by that quiet of which he was now so fond; he had been on the point of busting loose, but had checked himself in time. He had played Canfield till ten, though the bookshelves were groaning with their load.

Ellen’s family kept them busy for an hour and a half. It was a dear family and she wished he could meet it. Mother and father were out playing bridge somewhere tonight. Aunt Mary had gone to bed. Aunts Louise and Harriet lived in the next block. Sisters Edith and Wilma would be home from Northampton for the holidays about the twentieth. Brother Bob and his wife had built the cutest house; in Evanston. Her younger brother, Walter, was a case! He was away tonight, had gone out right after dinner. He’d better be in before mother and father came. He had a new love-affair every week, and sixteen years old last August. Mother and father really didn’t care how many girls he was interested in, so long as they kept him too busy to run round with those crazy schoolmates of his. The latter were older than he; just at the age when it seems smart to drink beer and play cards for money. Father said if he ever found out that Walter was doing those things, he’d take him out of school and lock him up somewhere.

Aunts Louise and Mary and Harriet did a lot of settlement work. They met all sorts of queer people, people you’d never believe existed. The three aunts were unmarried.

Brother Bob’s wife was dear, but absolutely without a sense of humor. Bob was full of fun, but they got along just beautifully together. You never saw a couple so much in love.

Edith was on the basket-ball team at college and terribly popular. Wilma was horribly clever and everybody said she’d make Phi Beta Kappa.

Ellen, so she averred, had been just nothing in school; not bright; not athletic, and, of course, not popular.

“Oh, of course not,” said Billy, smiling.

“Honestly,” fibbed Ellen.

“You never could make me believe it,” said Billy.

Whereat Ellen blushed, and Billy’s unbelief strengthened.

At this crisis, the Case burst into the room with his hat on. He removed it at sight of the caller and awkwardly advanced to be introduced.

“I’m going to bed,” he announced, after the formality.

“I hoped,” said Ellen, “you’d tell us about the latest. Who is it now? Beth?”

“Beth nothing!” scoffed the Case. “We split up the day of the Keewatin game.”

“What was the matter?” asked his sister.

“I’m going to bed,” said the Case. “It’s pretty near midnight.”

“By George, it is!” exclaimed Billy. “I didn’t dream it was that late!”

“No,” said Walter. “That’s what I tell dad  – the clock goes along some when you’re having a good time.”

Billy and Ellen looked shyly at each other, and then laughed; laughed harder, it seemed to Walter, than the joke warranted. In fact, he hadn’t thought of it as a joke. If it was that good, he’d spring it on Kathryn tomorrow night. It would just about clinch her.

The Case, carrying out his repeated threat, went to bed and dreamed of Kathryn. Fifteen minutes later Ellen retired to dream of Billy. And an hour later than that, Billy was dreaming of Ellen, who had become suddenly popular with him, even if she hadn’t been so at Northampton, which he didn’t believe.

IV

They saw “The Follies” Friday night. A criticism of the show by either would have been the greatest folly of all. It is doubtful that they could have told what theatre they’d been to ten minutes after they’d left it. From wherever it was, they walked to a dancing place and danced. Ellen was so far gone that she failed to note the change in Billy’s trotting. Foxes would have blushed for shame at its awkwardness and lack of variety. If Billy was a splendid dancer, he certainly did not prove it this night. All he knew or cared to know was that he was with the girl he wanted. And she knew only that she was with Billy, and happy.

On the drive home, the usual superfluous words were spoken. They were repeated inside the storm-door at Ellen’s father’s house, while the taxi driver, waiting, wondered audibly why them suckers of explorers beat it to the Pole to freeze when the North Side was so damn handy.

Ellen’s father was out of town. So in the morning she broke the news to mother and Aunt Mary, and then sat down and wrote it to Edith and Wilma. Next she called up Bob’s wife in Evanston, and after that she hurried to the next block and sprang it on Aunts Louise and Harriet. It was decided that Walter had better not be told. He didn’t know how to keep a secret. Walter, therefore, was in ignorance till he got home from school. The only person he confided in the same evening was Kathryn, who was the only person he saw.

Bob and his wife and Aunts Louise and Harriet came to Sunday dinner, but were chased home early in the afternoon. Mr. McDonald was back and Billy was coming to talk to him. It would embarrass Billy to death to find such a crowd in the house. They’d all meet him soon, never fear, and when they met him, they’d be crazy about him. Bob and Aunt Mary and mother would like him because he was so bright and said such screaming things, and the rest would like him because he was so well-read and sensible, and so horribly good-looking.

Billy, I said, was coming to talk to Mr. McDonald. When he came, he did very little of the talking. He stated the purpose of his visit, told what business he was in and affirmed his ability to support a wife. Then he assumed the role of audience while Ellen’s father delivered an hour’s lecture. The speaker did not express his opinion of Tyrus Cobb or the Kaiser, but they were the only subjects he overlooked. Sobriety and industry were words frequently used.

“I don’t care,” he prevaricated, in conclusion, “how much money a man is making if he is sober and industrious. You attended college, and I presume you did all the fool things college boys do. Some men recover from their college education, others don’t. I hope you’re one of the former.”

The Sunday-night supper, just cold scraps you might say, was partaken of by the happy but embarrassed pair, the trying-to-look happy but unembarrassed parents, and Aunt Mary. Walter, the Case, was out. He had stayed home the previous evening.

“He’ll be here tomorrow night and the rest of the week, or I’ll know the reason why,” said Mr. McDonald.

“He won’t, and I’ll tell you the reason why,” said Ellen.

“He’s a real boy, Sam,” put in the real boy’s mother. “You can’t expect him to stay home every minute.”

“I can’t expect anything of him,” said the father. “You and the girls and Mary here have let him have his own way so long that he’s past managing. When I was his age, I was in my bed at nine o’clock.”

“Morning or night?” asked Ellen.

Her father scowled. It was evident he could not take a joke, not even a good one.

After the cold scraps had been ruined, Mr. McDonald drew Billy into the smoking-room and offered him a cigar. The prospective son-in-law was about to refuse and express a preference for cigarettes when something told him not to. A moment later he was deeply grateful to the something.

“I smoke three cigars a day,” said the oracle, “one after each meal. That amount of smoking will hurt nobody. More than that is too much. I used to smoke to excess, four or five cigars per day, and maybe a pipe or two. I found it was affecting my health, and I cut down. Thank heaven, no one in my family ever got the cigarette habit; disease, rather. How any sane, clean-minded man can start on those things is beyond me.”

“Me, too,” agreed Billy, taking the proffered cigar with one hand and making sure with the other that his silver pill-case was as deep down in his pocket as it would go.

“Cigarettes, gambling, and drinking go hand in hand,” continued the man of the house. “I couldn’t trust a cigarette fiend with a nickel.”

“There are only two or three kinds he could get for that,” said Billy.

“What say?” demanded Mr. McDonald, but before Billy was obliged to wriggle out of it, Aunt Mary came in and reminded her brother-in-law that it was nearly church time.

Mr. McDonald and Aunt Mary went to church. Mrs. McDonald, pleading weariness, stayed home with “the children.” She wanted a chance to get acquainted with this pleasant-faced boy who was going to rob her of one of her five dearest treasures.

The three were no sooner settled in front of the fireplace than Ellen adroitly brought up the subject of auction bridge, knowing that it would relieve Billy of the conversational burden.

“Mother is really quite a shark, aren’t you, mother?” she said.

“I don’t fancy being called a fish,” said the mother.

“She’s written two books on it, and she and father have won so many prizes that they may have to lease a warehouse. If they’d only play for money, just think how rich we’d all be!”

“The game is fascinating enough without adding to it the excitements and evils of gambling,” said Mrs. McDonald.

“It is a fascinating game,” agreed Billy.

“It is,” said Mrs. McDonald, and away she went.

Before father and Aunt Mary got home from church, Mr. Bowen was a strong disciple of conservativeness in bidding and thoroughly convinced that all the rules that had been taught were dead wrong. He saw the shark’s points so quickly and agreed so whole-heartedly with her arguments that he impressed her as one of the most intelligent young men she had ever talked to. It was too bad it was Sunday night, but some evening soon he must come over for a game.

“I’d like awfully well to read your books,” said Billy.

“The first one’s usefulness died with the changes in the rules,” replied Mrs. McDonald. “But I think I have one of the new ones in the house, and I’ll be glad to have you take it.”

“I don’t like to have you give me your only copy.”

“Oh, I believe we have two.”

She knew perfectly well she had two dozen.

Aunt Mary announced that Walter had been seen in church with Kathryn. He had made it his business to be seen. He and the lady had come early and had maneuvered into the third row from the back, on the aisle leading to the McDonald family pew. He had nudged his aunt as she passed on the way to her seat, and she had turned and spoken to him. She could not know that he and Kathryn had “ducked” before the end of the processional.

After reporting favorably on the Case, Aunt Mary launched into a description of the service. About seventy had turned out. The music had been good, but not quite as good as in the morning. Mr. Pratt had sung “Fear Ye Not, O Israel!” for the offertory. Dr. Gish was still sick and a lay reader had served. She had heard from Allie French that Dr. Gish expected to be out by the middle of the week and certainly would be able to preach next Sunday morning. The church had been cold at first, but very comfortable finally.

Ellen rose and said she and Billy would go out in the kitchen and make some fudge.

“I was afraid Aunt Mary would bore you to death,” she told Billy, when they had kissed for the first time since five o’clock. “She just lives for the church and can talk on no other subject.”

“I wouldn’t hold that against her,” said Billy charitably.

The fudge was a failure, as it was bound to be. But the Case, who came in just as it was being passed round, was the only one rude enough to say so.

“Is this a new stunt?” he inquired, when he had tested it.

“Is what a new stunt?” asked Ellen.

“Using cheese instead of chocolate.”

“That will do, Walter,” said his father. “You can go to bed.”

Walter got up and started for the hall. At the threshold he stopped.

“I don’t suppose there’ll be any of that fudge left,” he said. “But if there should be, you’d better put it in the mouse trap.”

Billy called a taxi and departed soon after Walter’s exit. When he got out at his South Side abode, the floor of the tonneau was littered with recent cigarettes.

And that night he dreamed that he was president of the anti-cigarette league; that Dr. Gish was vice-president, and that the motto of the organization was “No trump.”

Billy Bowen’s business took him out of town the second week in December, and it was not until the twentieth that he returned. He had been East and had ridden home from Buffalo on the same train with Wilma and Edith McDonald. But he didn’t know it and neither did they. They could not be expected to recognize him from Ellen’s description – that he was horribly good-looking. The dining-car conductor was all of that.

Ellen had further written them that he (not the dining-car conductor) was a man of many moods; that sometimes he was just nice and deep, and sometimes he was screamingly funny, and sometimes so serious and silent that she was almost afraid of him.

They were wild to see him and the journey through Ohio and Indiana would not have been half so long in his company. Edith, the athletic, would have revelled in his wit. Wilma would gleefully have fathomed his depths. They would both have been proud to flaunt his looks before the hundreds of their kind aboard the train. Their loss was greater than Billy’s, for he, smoking cigarettes as fast as he could light them and playing bridge that would have brought tears of compassion to the shark’s eyes, enjoyed the trip, every minute of it.

Ellen and her father were at the station to meet the girls. His arrival on this train had not been heralded, and it added greatly to the hysterics of the occasion.

Wilma and Edith upbraided him for not knowing by instinct who they were. He accused them of recognizing him and purposely avoiding him. Much more of it was pulled in the same light vein, pro and con.

He was permitted at length to depart for his office. On the way he congratulated himself on the improbability of his ever being obliged to play basket-ball versus Edith. She must be a whizz in condition. Chances were she’d train down to a hundred and ninety-five before the big games. The other one, Wilma, was a splinter if he ever saw one. You had to keep your eyes peeled or you’d miss her entirely. But suppose you did miss her; what then! If she won her Phi Beta Kappa pin, he thought, it would make her a dandy belt.

These two, he thought, were a misdeal. They should be reshuffled and cut nearer the middle of the deck. Lots of other funny things he thought about these two.

Just before he had left Chicago on this trip, his stenographer had quit him to marry an elevator-starter named Felix Bond. He had ’phoned one of his cousins and asked him to be on the lookout for a live stenographer who wasn’t likely to take the eye of an elevator-starter. The cousin had had one in mind.

Here was her card on Billy’s desk when he reached the office. It was not a business-card visiting-card, at $3 per hundred. “Miss Violet Moore,” the engraved part said. Above was written: “Mr. Bowen – Call me up any night after seven. Calumet 2678.”

Billy stowed the card in his pocket and plunged into a pile of uninteresting letters.

On the night of the twenty-second there was a family dinner at McDonald’s, and Billy was in on it. At the function he met the rest of them – Bob and his wife, and Aunt Harriet and Aunt Louise.

Bob and his wife, despite the former’s alleged sense of humor, spooned every time they were contiguous. That they were in love with each other, as Ellen had said, was easy to see. The wherefore was more of a puzzle.

Bob’s hirsute adornment having been disturbed by his spouse’s digits during one of the orgies, he went upstairs ten minutes before dinner time to effect repairs. Mrs. Bob was left alone on the davenport. In performance of his social duties, Billy went over and sat down beside her. She was not, like Miss Muffet, frightened away, but terror or some other fiend rendered her temporarily dumb. The game Mr. Bowen was making his fifth attempt to pry open a conversation when Bob came back.

To the impartial observer the scene on the davenport appeared heartless enough. There was a generous neutral zone between Billy and Flo, that being an abbreviation of Mrs. Bob’s given name, which, as a few may suspect, was Florence. Billy was working hard and his face was flushed with the effort. The flush may have aroused Bob’s suspicions. At any rate, he strode across the room, scowling almost audibly, shot a glance at Billy that would have made the Kaiser wince, halted magnificently in front of his wife, and commanded her to accompany him to the hall.

Billy’s flush became ace high. He was about to get up and break a chair when a look from Ellen stopped him. She was at his side before the pair of Bobs had skidded out of the room.

“Please don’t mind,” she begged. “He’s crazy. I forgot to tell you that he’s insanely jealous.”

“Did I understand you to say he had a sense of humor?”

“It doesn’t work where Flo’s concerned. If he sees her talking to a man he goes wild.”

“With astonishment, probably,” said Billy.

“You’re a nice boy,” said Ellen irrelevantly.

Dinner was announced and Mr. Bowen was glad to observe that Flo’s terrestrial body was still intact. He was glad, too, to note that Bob was no longer frothing. He learned for the first time that the Case and Kathryn were of the party. Mrs. McDonald had wanted to make sure of Walter’s presence; hence the presence of his crush.

Kathryn giggled when she was presented to Billy. It made him uncomfortable and he thought for a moment that a couple of studs had fallen out. He soon discovered, however, that the giggle was permanent, just as much a part of Kathryn as her fraction of a nose. He looked forward with new interest to the soup course, but was disappointed to find that she could negotiate it without disturbing the giggle or the linen.

He next centered his attention on Wilma and Edith. Another disappointment was in store. There were as many and as large oysters in Wilma’s soup as in any one’s. She ate them all, and, so far as appearances went, was the same Wilma. He had expected that Edith would either diet or plunge. But Edith was as prosaic in her consumption of victuals as Ellen, for instance, or Aunt Louise.

He must content himself for the present with Aunt Louise. She was sitting directly opposite and he had an unobstructed view of the widest part he had ever seen in woman’s hair.

“Ogden Avenue,” he said to himself.

Aunt Louise was telling about her experiences and Aunt Harriet’s among the heathen of Peoria Street.

“You never would dream there were such people!” said she.

“I suppose most of them are foreign born,” supposed her brother, who was Mr. McDonald.

“Practically all of them,” said Aunt Louise.

Billy wanted to ask her whether she had ever missionaried among the Indians. He thought possibly an attempt to scalp her had failed by a narrow margin.

Between courses Edith worked hard to draw out his predicated comicality and Wilma worked as hard to make him sound his low notes. Their labors were in vain. He was not sleepy enough to be deep, and he was fourteen highballs shy of comedy.

In disgust, perhaps, at her failure to be amused, the major portion of the misdeal capsized her cocoa just before the close of the meal and drew a frown from her father, whom she could have thrown in ten minutes, straight falls, any style.

“She’ll never miss that ounce,” thought Billy.

When they got up from the table and started for the living-room, Mr. Bowen found himself walking beside Aunt Harriet, who had been so silent during dinner that he had all but forgotten her.

“Well, Miss McDonald,” he said, “it’s certainly a big family, isn’t it?”

“Well, young man,” said Aunt Harriet, “it ain’t no small family, that’s sure.”

“I should say not,” repeated Billy.

Walter and his giggling crush intercepted him.

“What do you think of Aunt Harriet’s grammar?” demanded Walter.

“I didn’t notice it,” lied Billy.

“No, I s’pose not. ‘Ain’t no small family.’ I s’pose you didn’t notice it. She isn’t a real aunt like Aunt Louise and Aunt Mary. She’s just an adopted aunt. She kept house for dad and Aunt Louise after their mother died, and when dad got married, she just kept on living with Aunt Louise.”

“Oh,” was Billy’s fresh comment, and it brought forth a fresh supply of giggles from Kathryn.

Ellen had already been made aware of Billy’s disgusting plans. He had to catch a night train for St. Louis, and he would be there all day tomorrow, and he’d be back Friday, but he wouldn’t have time to see her, and he’d surely call her up. And Friday afternoon he was going to South Bend to spend Christmas Day with his married sister, because it was probably the last Christmas he’d be able to spend with her.

“But I’ll hustle home from South Bend Sunday morning,” he said. “And don’t you dare make any engagement for the afternoon.”

“I do wish you could be with us Christmas Eve. The tree won’t be a bit of fun without you.”

“You know I wish I could. But you see how it is.”

“I think your sister’s mean.”

Billy didn’t deny it.

“Who’s going to be here Christmas Eve?”

“Just the people we had tonight, except Kathryn and you. Why?”

“Oh, nothing,” said Billy.

“Look here, sir,” said his betrothed. “Don’t you do anything foolish. You’re not supposed to buy presents for the whole family. Just a little, tiny one for me, if you want to, but you mustn’t spend much on it. And if you get anything for any one else in this house, I’ll be mad.”

“I’d like to see you mad,” said Billy.

“You’d wish you hadn’t,” Ellen retorted.

When Billy had gone, Ellen returned to the living-room and faced the assembled company.

“Well,” she said, “now that you’ve all seen him, what’s the verdict?”

The verdict seemed to be unanimously in his favor.

“But,” said Bob, “I thought you said he was so screamingly funny.”

“Yes,” said Edith, “you told me that, too.”

“Give him a chance,” said Ellen. “Wait till he’s in a funny mood. You’ll simply die laughing!”

V

It is a compound fracture of the rules to have so important a character as Tommy Richards appear in only one chapter. But remember, this isn’t a regular story, but a simple statement of what occurred when it occurred. During Chapter Four, Tommy had been on his way home from the Pacific Coast, where business had kept him all fall. His business out there and what he said en route to Chicago are collateral.

Tommy had been Billy’s pal at college. Tommy’s home was in Minnesota, and Billy was his most intimate, practically his only friend in the so-called metropolis of the Middle West. So Tommy, not knowing that Billy had gone to St. Louis, looked forward to a few pleasant hours with him between the time of the coast train’s arrival and the Minnesota tram’s departure.

The coast train reached Chicago about noon. It was Thursday noon, the twenty-third. Tommy hustled from the station to Billy’s office, and there learned of the St. Louis trip. Disappointed, he roamed the streets a while and at length dropped into the downtown ticket office of his favorite Minnesota road. He was told that everything for the night was sold out. Big Christmas business. Tommy pondered.

The coast train reached Chicago about noon. It was Thursday noon, the twenty-third.

“How about tomorrow night?” he inquired.

“I can give you a lower tomorrow night on the six-thirty,” replied Leslie Painter, that being the clerk’s name.

“I’ll take it,” said Tommy.

He did so, and the clerk took $10.05.

“I’ll see old Bill after all,” said Tommy.

Leslie Painter made no reply.

In the afternoon Tommy sat through a vaudeville show, and at night he looped the loop. He retired early, for the next day promised to be a big one.

Billy got in from St. Louis at seven Friday morning and had been in his office an hour when Tommy appeared. I have no details of the meeting.

At half-past eight Tommy suggested that they’d better go out and h’ist one.

“Still on it, eh?” said Billy.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’m off of it.”

“Good Lord! For how long?”

“The last day of November.”

“Too long! You look sick already.”

“I feel great,” averred Billy.

“Well, I don’t. So come along and bathe in vichy.”

On the way “along” Billy told Tommy about Ellen. Tommy’s congratulations were physical and jarred Billy from head to heels.

“Good stuff!” cried Tommy so loudly that three pedestrians jumped sideways. “Old Bill hooked! And do you think you’re going to celebrate this occasion with water?”

“I think I am,” was Billy’s firm reply.

“You think you are! What odds?”

“A good lunch against a red hot.”

“You’re on!” said Tommy. “And I’m going to be mighty hungry at one o’clock.”

“You’ll be hungry and alone.”

“What’s the idea? If you’ve got a lunch date with the future, I’m in on it.”

“I haven’t,” said Billy. “But I’m going to South Bend on the one-forty, and between now and then I have nothing to do but clean up my mail and buy a dozen Christmas presents.”

They turned in somewhere.

“Don’t you see the girl at all today?” asked Tommy.

“Not today. All I do is call her up.”

“Well, then, if you get outside of a couple, who’ll be hurt? Just for old time’s sake.”

“If you need lunch money, I’ll give it to you.”

“No, no. That bet’s off.”

“It’s not off. I won’t call it off.”

“Suit yourself,” said Tommy graciously.

At half-past nine, it was officially decided that Billy had lost the bet. At half-past twelve, Billy said it was time to pay it.

“I’m not hungry enough,” said Tommy.

“Hungry or no hungry,” said Billy, “I buy your lunch now or I don’t buy it. See? Hungry or no hungry.”

“What’s the hurry?” asked Tommy.

“I guess you know what’s the hurry. Me for South Bend on the one-forty, and I got to go to the office first. Hurry or no hurry.”

“Listen to reason, Bill. How are you going to eat lunch, go to the office, buy a dozen Christmas presents and catch the one-forty?”

“Christmas presents! I forgot ’em! What do you think of that? I forgot ’em. Good night!”

“What are you going to do?”

“Do! What can I do? You got me into this mess. Get me out!”

“Sure, I’ll get you out if you’ll listen to reason!” said Tommy. “Has this one-forty train got anything on you? Are you under obligations to it? Is the engineer your girl’s uncle?”

“I guess you know better than that. I guess you know I’m not engaged to a girl who’s got an uncle for an engineer.”

“Well, then, what’s the next train?”

“That’s the boy, Tommy! That fixes it! I’ll go on the next train.”

“You’re sure there is one?” asked Tommy.

“Is one! Say, where do you think South Bend is? In Europe?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” said Tommy.

“South Bend’s only a two-hour run. Where did you think it was? Europe?”

“I don’t care where it is. The question is, what’s the next train after one-forty?”

“Maybe you think I don’t know,” said Billy. He called the gentleman with the apron. “What do you know about this, Charley? Here’s an old pal of mine who thinks I don’t know the timetable to South Bend.”

“He’s mistaken, isn’t he?” said Charley.

“Is he mistaken? Say, Charley, if you knew as much as I do about the time-table to South Bend, you wouldn’t be here.”

“No, sir,” said Charley. “I’d be an announcer over in the station.”

“There!” said Billy triumphantly. “How’s that, Tommy? Do I know the time-table or don’t I?”

“I guess you do,” said Tommy. “But I don’t think you ought to have secrets from an old friend.”

“There’s no secrets about it, Charley.”

“My name is Tommy,” corrected his friend.

“I know that. I know your name as well as my own, better’n my own. I know your name as well as I know the time-table.”

“If you’d just tell me the time of that train, we’d all be better off.”

“I’ll tell you, Tommy. I wouldn’t hold out anything on you, old boy. It’s five twenty-five.”

“You’re sure?”

“Sure! Say, I’ve taken it a hundred times if I’ve taken it once.”

“All right,” said Tommy. “That fixes it. We’ll go in and have lunch and be through by half-past one. That’ll give you four hours to do your shopping, get to your office and make your train.”

“Where you going while I shop?”

“Don’t bother about me.”

“You go along with me.”

“Nothing doing.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

But this argument was won by Mr. Bowen. At ten minutes of three, when they at last called for the check, Mr. Richards looked on the shopping expedition in an entirely different light. Two hours before, it had not appealed to him at all. Now he could think of nothing that would afford more real entertainment. Mr. Richards was at a stage corresponding to Billy’s twenty-one. Billy was far past it.

“What we better do,” said Tommy, “is write down a list of all the people so we won’t forget anybody.”

“That’s the stuff!” said Billy. “I’ll name ’em, you write ’em.”

So Tommy produced a pencil and took dictation on the back of a menu-card.

“First, girl’s father, Sam’l McDonald.”

“Samuel McDonald,” repeated Tommy. “Maybe you’d better give me some dope on each one, so if we’re shy of time, we can both be buying at once.”

“All right,” said Billy. “First, Sam’l McDonal’. He’s an ol’ crab. Raves about cig’rettes.”

“Like ’em?”

“No. Hates ’em.”

“Sam’l McDonald, cigarettes,” wrote Tommy. “Old crab,” he added.

When the important preliminary arrangement had at last been completed, the two old college chums went out into the air.

“Where do we shop?” asked Tommy.

“Marsh’s,” said Billy. “’S only place I got charge account.”

“Maybe we better take a taxi and save time,” suggested Tommy.

So they waited five minutes for a taxi and were driven to Marsh’s, two blocks away.

“We’ll start on the first floor and work up,” said Tommy, who had evidently appointed himself captain.

They found themselves among the jewelry and silverware.

“You might get something for the girl here,” suggested Tommy.

“Don’t worry ’bout her,” said Billy. “Leave her till las’.”

“What’s the limit on the others?”

“I don’t care,” said Billy. “Dollar, two dollars, three dollars.”

“Well, come on,” said Tommy. “We got to make it snappy.”

But Billy hung back.

“Say, ol’ boy,” he wheedled. “You’re my ol’st frien’. Is that right?”

“That’s right,” agreed Tommy.

“Well, say, ol’ frien’, I’m pretty near all in.”

“Go home, then, if you want to. I can pull this all right alone.”

“Nothin’ doin’. But if I could jus’ li’l nap, ten, fifteen minutes – you could get couple things here on fir’ floor and then come get me.”

“Where?”

“Third floor waitin’-room.”

“Go ahead. But wait a minute. Give me some of your cards. And will I have any trouble charging things?”

“Not a bit. Tell ’em you’re me.”

It was thus that Tommy Richards was left alone in a large store, with Billy Bowen’s charge account, Billy Bowen’s list, and Billy Bowen’s cards.

He glanced at the list.

“‘Samuel McDonald, cigarettes. Old crab,’” he read.

He approached a floor-walker.

“Say, old pal,” he said. “I’m doing some shopping and I’m in a big hurry. Where’d I find something for an old cigarette fiend?”

“Cigarette-cases, two aisles down and an aisle to your left,” said Old Pal.

Tommy raised the limit on the cigarette-case he picked out for Samuel McDonald. It was $3.75.

“I’ll cut down somewhere else,” he thought. “The father-in-law ought to be favored a little.”

“Charge,” he said in response to a query. “William Bowen, Bowen and Company, 18 South La Salle. And here’s a card for it. That go out tonight sure?”

He looked again at the list.

“Mrs. Samuel McDonald, bridge bug. Miss Harriet McDonald, reverse English. Miss Louise McDonald, thin hair. Miss Mary Carey, church stuff. Bob and Wife, ‘The Man Who Married a Dumb Wife’ and gets mysteriously jealous. Walter McDonald, real kid. Edith, fat lady. Wilma, a splinter.”

He consulted Old Pal once more. Old Pal’s advice was to go to the third floor and look over the books. The advice proved sound. On the third floor Tommy found for Mother “The First Principles of Auction Bridge.” and for Aunt Harriet an English grammar. He also bumped into a counter laden with hymnals, chant books, and Books of Common Prayer.

“Aunt Mary!” he exclaimed. And to the clerk: “How much are your medium prayer-books?”

“What denomination?” asked the clerk, whose name was Freda Swanson.

“One or two dollars,” said Tommy.

“What church, I mean?” inquired Freda.

“How would I know?” said Tommy. “Are there different books for different churches?”

“Sure. Catholic, Presbyterian, Episcopal, Lutheran—”

“Let’s see. McDonald, Carey. How much are the Catholic ones?”

“Here’s one at a dollar and a half. In Latin, too.”

“That’s it. That’ll give her something to work on.”

Tommy figured on the back of his list.

“Good work, Tommy!” he thought. “Four and a half under the top limit for those three. Walter’s next.”

He plunged on Walter. A nice poker set, discovered on the fourth floor, came to five even. Tommy wished he could keep it for himself. He also wished constantly that the women shoppers had taken a course in dodging. He was almost as badly battered as the day he played guard against the Indians.

“Three left besides the queen herself,” he observed. “Lord, no. I forgot Bob and his missus.”

He moved downstairs again to the books.

“Have you got ‘The Man Who Married a Dumb Wife’?” he queried.

Anna Henderson looked, but could not find it.

“Never mind!” said Tommy. “Here’s one that’ll do.”

And he ordered “The Green-Eyed Monster” for the cooing doves in Evanston.

“Now,” he figured, “there’s just Wilma and Edith and Aunt Louise.” Once more he started away from the books, but a title caught his eye: “Eat and Grow Thin.”

“Great!” exclaimed Tommy. “It’ll do for Edith. By George! It’ll do for both of them. ‘Eat’ for Wilma, and the ‘Grow Thin’ for Edith. I guess that’s doubling up some! And now for Aunt Louise.”

The nearest floor-walker told him, in response to his query, that switches would be found on the second floor.

“I ought to have a switch-engine to take me round,” said Tommy, who never had felt better in his life. But the floor-walker did not laugh, possibly because he was tired.

“Have you anything to match it with?” asked the lady in the switch-yard.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Can you give me an idea of the color?”

“What colors have you got?” demanded Tommy.

“Everything there is. I’ll show them all to you, if you’ve got the time.”

“Never mind,” said Tommy. “What’s your favorite color in hair?”

The girl laughed.

“Golden,” she said.

“You’re satisfied, aren’t you?” said Tommy, for the girl had chosen the shade of her own shaggy mane. “All right, make it golden. And a merry Christmas to you.”

He forgot to ask the price of switches. He added up the rest and found that the total was $16.25.

“About seventy-five cents for the hair,” he guessed. “That will make it seventeen even. I’m some shopper. And all done in an hour and thirteen minutes.”

He discovered Billy asleep in the waiting-room and it took him three precious minutes to bring him to.

“Everybody’s fixed but the girl herself,” he boasted. “I got books for most of ’em.”

“Where you been?” asked Billy. “What time is it?”

“You’ve got about thirty-three minutes to get a present for your lady love and grab your train. You’ll have to pass up the office.”

“What time is it? Where you been?”

“Don’t bother about that. Come on.”

On the ride down, Billy begged every one in the elevator to tell him the time, but no one seemed to know. Tommy hurried him out of the store and into a taxi.

“There’s a flock of stores round the station,” said Tommy. “You can find something there for the dame.”

But the progress of the cab through the packed downtown streets was painfully slow and the station clock, when at last they got in sight of it, registered 5.17.

“You can’t wait!” said Tommy. “Give me some money and tell me what to get.”

Billy fumbled clumsily in seven pockets before he located his pocketbook. In it were two fives and a ten.

“I gotta have a feevee,” he said.

“All right. I’ll get something for fifteen. What’ll it be?”

“Make it a wrist-watch.”

“Sure she has none?”

“She’s got one. That’s for other wris’.”

“I used your last card. Have you got another?”

“Pocketbook,” said Billy.

Tommy hastily searched and found a card. He pushed Billy toward the station entrance.

“Good-by and merry Christmas,” said Tommy.

“Goo’-by and God bless you!” said Billy, but he was talking to a large policeman.

“Where are you trying to go?” asked the latter.

“Souse Ben’,” said Billy.

“Hurry up, then. You’ve only got a minute.”

The minute and six more were spent in the purchase of a ticket. And when Billy reached the gate, the 5.25 had gone and the 5.30 was about to chase it.

“Where to?” inquired the gateman.

“Souse Ben’,” said Billy.

“Run then,” said the gateman.

Billy ran. He ran to the first open vestibule of the Rock Island train, bound for St. Joe, Missouri. ,

“Where to?” asked a porter.

“Souse,” said Billy.

“Ah can see that,” said the porter. “But where you goin’?”

The train began to move and Billy, one foot dragging on the station platform, moved with it. The porter dexterously pulled him aboard. And he was allowed to ride to Englewood.

Walking down Van Buren Street, it suddenly occurred to the genial Mr. Richards that he would have to go some himself to get his baggage and catch the 6.30 for the northwest. He thought of it in front of a Van Buren jewelry shop. He stopped and went in.

Three-quarters of an hour later, a messenger-boy delivered a particularly ugly and frankly inexpensive wrist-watch at the McDonald home. The parcel was addressed to Miss McDonald and the accompanying card read:

“Mr. Bowen: Call me up any night after seven. Calumet 2678. Miss Violet Moore.”

There was no good-will toward men in the McDonald home this Christmas. Ellen spent the day in bed and the orders were that she must not be disturbed.

Downstairs, one person smiled. It was Walter. He smiled in spite of the fact that his father had tossed his brand-new five-dollar poker set into the open fireplace. He smiled in spite of the fact that he was not allowed to leave the house, not even to take Kathryn to church.

“Gee!” he thought, between smiles, “Billy sure had nerve!”

Bob walked round among his relatives seeking to dispel the gloom with a remark that he thought apt and nifty:

“Be grateful,” was the remark, “that he had one of his screamingly funny moods before it was too late.”

But no one but Bob seemed to think much of the remark, and no one seemed grateful.

—

Those are the facts, and it was quite a job to dig them up. But I did it.

• 6 •

Some Like Them Cold

N. Y., Aug. 3.

Dear Miss Gillespie:

How about our bet now as you bet me I would forget all about you the minute I hit the big town and would never write you a letter. Well girlie it looks like you lose so pay me. Seriously we will call all bets off as I am not the kind that bet on a sure thing and it sure was a sure thing that I would not forget a girlie like you and all that is worrying me is whether it may not be the other way round and you are wondering who this fresh guy is that is writeing you this letter. I bet you are so will try and refreshen your memory.

Well girlie I am the handsome young man that was wondering round the Lasalle st. station Monday and “happened” to sit down beside of a mighty pretty girlie who was waiting to meet her sister from Toledo and the train was late and I am glad of it because if it had not of been that little girlie and I would never of met. So for once I was a lucky guy but still I guess it was time I had some luck as it was certainly tough luck for you and I to both be liveing in Chi all that time and never get together till a half hour before I was leaveing town for good.

Still “better late than never” you know and maybe we can make up for lost time though it looks like we would have to do our makeing up at long distants unless you make good on your threat and come to N. Y. I wish you would do that little thing girlie as it looks like that was the only way we would get a chance to play round together as it looks like they was little or no chance of me comeing back to Chi as my whole future is in the big town. N. Y. is the only spot and specially for a man that expects to make my liveing in the song writeing game as here is the Mecca for that line of work and no matter how good a man may be they don’t get no recognition unless they live in N. Y.

Well girlie you asked me to tell you all about my trip. Well I remember you saying that you would give anything to be makeing it yourself but as far as the trip itself was conserned you ought to be thankfull you did not have to make it as you would of sweat your head off. I know I did specially wile going through Ind. Monday P.M. but Monday night was the worst of all trying to sleep and finely I give it up and just layed there with the prespiration rolling off of me though I was laying on top of the covers and nothing on but my underwear.

Yesterday was not so bad as it rained most of the A.M. comeing through N. Y. state and in the P.M. we road along side of the Hudson all P.M. Some river girlie and just looking at it makes a man forget all about the heat and everything else except a certain girlie who I seen for the first time Monday and then only for a half hour but she is the kind of a girlie that a man don’t need to see her only once and they would be no danger of forgetting her. There I guess I better lay off that subject or you will think I am a “fresh guy.”

Well that is about all to tell you about the trip only they was one amuseing incidence that come off yesterday which I will tell you. Well they was a dame got on the train at Toledo Monday and had the birth opp. mine but I did not see nothing of her that night as I was out smokeing till late and she hit the hay early but yesterday A.M. she come in the dinner and sit at the same table with me and tried to make me and it was so raw that the dinge waiter seen it and give me the wink and of course I paid no tension and I waited till she got through so as they would be no danger of her folling me out but she stopped on the way out to get a tooth pick and when I come out she was out on the platform with it so I tried to brush right by but she spoke up and asked me what time it was and I told her and she said she geussed her watch was slow so I said maybe it just seemed slow on acct. of the company it was in.

I don’t know if she got what I was driveing at or not but any way she give up trying to make me and got off at Albany. She was a good looker but I have no time for gals that tries to make strangers on a train.

Well if I don’t quit you will think I am writeing a book but will expect a long letter in answer to this letter and we will see if you can keep your promise like I have kept mine. Don’t dissapoint me girlie as I am all alone in a large city and hearing from you will keep me from getting home sick for old Chi though I never thought so much of the old town till I found out you lived there. Don’t think that is kidding girlie as I mean it.

You can address me at this hotel as it looks like I will be here right along as it is on 47th st. right off of old Broadway and handy to everything and am only paying $21 per wk. for my rm. and could of got one for $16 but without bath but am glad to pay the difference as am lost without my bath in the A.M. and sometimes at night too.

Tomorrow I expect to commence fighting the “battle of Broadway” and will let you know how I come out that is if you answer this letter. In the mean wile girlie au reservoir and don’t do nothing I would not do.

Your new friend (?)

Chas. F. Lewis.

Chicago, Ill., Aug. 6.

My Dear Mr. Lewis:

Well, that certainly was a “surprise party” getting your letter and you are certainly a “wonder man” to keep your word as I am afraid most men of your sex are gay deceivers but maybe you are “different.” Any way it sure was a surprise and will gladly pay the bet if you will just tell me what it was we bet. Hope it was not money as I am a “working girl” but if it was not more than a dollar or two will try to dig it up even if I have to “beg, borrow or steal.”

Suppose you will think me a “case” to make a bet and then forget what it was, but you must remember, Mr. Man, that I had just met you and was “dazzled.” Joking aside I was rather “fussed” and will tell you why. Well, Mr. Lewis, I suppose you see lots of girls like the one you told me about that you saw on the train who tried to “get acquainted” but I want to assure you that I am not one of those kind and sincerely hope you will believe me when I tell you that you was the first man I ever spoke to meeting them like that and my friends and the people who know me would simply faint if they knew I ever spoke to a man without a “proper introduction.”

Believe me, Mr. Lewis, I am not that kind and I don’t know now why I did it only that you was so “different” looking if you know what I mean and not at all like the kind of men that usually try to force their attentions on every pretty girl they see. Lots of times I act on impulse and let my feelings run away from me and sometimes I do things on the impulse of the moment which I regret them later on, and that is what I did this time, but hope you won’t give me cause to regret it and I know you won’t as I know you are not that kind of a man a specially after what you told me about the girl on the train. But any way as I say, I was in a “daze” so can’t remember what it was we bet, but will try and pay it if it does not “break” me.

Sis’s train got in about ten minutes after yours had gone and when she saw me what do you think was the first thing she said? Well, Mr. Lewis, she said: “Why Mibs (That is a pet name some of my friends have given me) what has happened to you? I never seen you have as much color.” So I passed it off with some remark about the heat and changed the subject as I certainly was not going to tell her that I had just been talking to a man who I had never met or she would of dropped dead from the shock. Either that or she would not of believed me as it would be hard for a person who knows me well to imagine me doing a thing like that as I have quite a reputation for “squelching” men who try to act fresh. I don’t mean anything personal by that, Mr. Lewis, as am a good judge of character and could tell without you telling me that you are not that kind.

Well, Sis and I have been on the “go” ever since she arrived as I took yesterday and today off so I could show her the “sights” though she says she would be perfectly satisfied to just sit in the apartment and listen to me “rattle on.” Am afraid I am a great talker, Mr. Lewis, but Sis says it is as good as a show to hear me talk as I tell things in such a different way as I cannot help from seeing the humorous side of everything and she says she never gets tired of listening to me, but of course she is my sister and thinks the world of me, but she really does laugh like she enjoyed my craziness.

Maybe I told you that I have a tiny little apartment which a girl friend of mine and I have together and it is hardly big enough to turn round in, but still it is “home” and I am a great home girl and hardly ever care to go out evenings except occasionally to the theatre or dance. But even if our “nest” is small we are proud of it and Sis complimented us on how cozy it is and how “homey” it looks and she said she did not see how we could afford to have everything so nice and Edith (my girl friend) said: “Mibs deserves all the credit for that. I never knew a girl who could make a little money go a long ways like she can.” Well, of course she is my best friend and always saying nice things about me, but I do try and I hope I get results. Have always said that good taste and being careful is a whole lot more important than lots of money though it is nice to have it.

You must write and tell me how you are getting along in the “battle of Broadway” (I laughed when I read that) and whether the publishers like your songs though I know they will. Am crazy to hear them and hear you play the piano as I love good jazz music even better than classical, though I suppose it is terrible to say such a thing. But I usually say just what I think though sometimes I wish afterwards I had not of. But still I believe it is better for a girl to be her own self and natural instead of always acting. But am afraid I will never have a chance to hear you play unless you come back to Chi and pay us a visit as my “threat” to come to New York was just a “threat” and I don’t see any hope of ever getting there unless some rich New Yorker should fall in love with me and take me there to live. Fine chance for poor little me, eh Mr. Lewis?

Well, I guess I have “rattled on” long enough and you will think I am writing a book unless I quit and besides, Sis has asked me as a special favor to make her a pie for dinner. Maybe you don’t know it, Mr. Man, but I am quite famous for my pie and pastry, but I don’t suppose a “genius” is interested in common things like that.

Well, be sure and write soon and tell me what N. Y. is like and all about it and don’t forget the little girlie who was “bad” and spoke to a strange man in the station and have been blushing over it ever since.

Your friend (?)

Mabelle Gillespie.

N. Y., Aug. 10.

Dear Girlie:

I bet you will think I am a fresh guy commenceing that way but Miss Gillespie is too cold and a man can not do nothing cold in this kind of weather specially in this man’s town which is the hottest place I ever been in and I guess maybe the reason why New Yorkers is so bad is because they think they are all ready in H——— and can not go no worse place no matter how they behave themselves. Honest girlie I certainly envy you being where there is a breeze off the old Lake and Chi may be dirty but I never heard of nobody dying because they was dirty but four people died here yesterday on acct. of the heat and I seen two different women flop right on Broadway and had to be taken away in the ambulance and it could not of been because they was dressed too warm because it would be impossible for the women here to leave off any more cloths.

Well have not had much luck yet in the battle of Broadway as all the heads of the big music publishers is out of town on their vacation and the big boys is the only ones I will do business with as it would be silly for a man with the stuff I have got to waste my time on somebody that is just on the staff and have not got the final say. But I did play a couple of my numbers for the people up to Levy’s and Goebel’s and they went crazy over them in both places. So it looks like all I have to do is wait for the big boys to get back and then play my numbers for them and I will be all set. What I want is to get taken on the staff of one of the big firms as that gives a man the inside and they will plug your numbers more if you are on the staff. In the mean wile have not got nothing to worry me but am just seeing the sights of the big town as have saved up enough money to play round for a wile and any way a man that can play piano like I can don’t ever have to worry about starveing. Can certainly make the old music box talk girlie and am always good for a $75 or $100 job.

Well have been here a week now and on the go every minute and I thought I would be lonesome down here but no chance of that as I have been treated fine by the people I have met and have sure met a bunch of them. One of the boys liveing in the hotel is a vaudeville actor and he is a member of the Friars club and took me over there to dinner the other night and some way another the bunch got wise that I could play piano so of course I had to sit down and give them some of my numbers and everybody went crazy over them. One of the boys I met there was Paul Sears the song writer but he just writes the lyrics and has wrote a bunch of hits and when he heard some of my melodies he called me over to one side and said he would like to work with me on some numbers. How is that girlie as he is one of the biggest hit writers in N.Y.

N. Y. has got some mighty pretty girlies and I guess it would not be hard to get acquainted with them and in fact several of them has tried to make me since I been here but I always figure that a girl must be something wrong with her if she tries to make a man that she don’t know nothing about so I pass them all up. But I did meet a couple of pips that a man here in the hotel went up on Riverside Drive to see them and insisted on me going along and they got on some way that I could make a piano talk so they was nothing but I must play for them so I sit down and played some of my own stuff and they went crazy over it.

One of the girls wanted I should come up and see her again, and I said I might but I think I better keep away as she acted like she wanted to vamp me and I am not the kind that likes to play round with a gal just for their company and dance with them etc. but when I see the right gal that will be a different thing and she won’t have to beg me to come and see her as I will camp right on her trail till she says yes. And it won’t be none of these N. Y. fly by nights neither. They are all right to look at but a man would be a sucker to get serious with them as they might take you up and next thing you know you would have a wife on your hands that don’t know a dish rag from a waffle iron.

Well girlie will quit and call it a day as it is too hot to write any more and I guess I will turn on the cold water and lay in the tub a wile and then turn in. Don’t forget to write to

Your friend,

Chas. F. Lewis.

Chicago, Ill., Aug. 13.

Dear Mr. Man:

Hope you won’t think me a “silly Billy” for starting my letter that way but “Mr. Lewis” is so formal and “Charles” is too much the other way and any way I would not dare call a man by their first name after only knowing them only two weeks. Though I may as well confess that Charles is my favorite name for a man and have always been crazy about it as it was my father’s name. Poor old dad, he died of cancer three years ago, but left enough insurance so that mother and we girls were well provided for and do not have to do anything to support ourselves though I have been earning my own living for two years to make things easier for mother and also because I simply can’t bear to be doing nothing as I feel like a “drone.” So I flew away from the “home nest” though mother felt bad about it as I was her favorite and she always said I was such a comfort to her as when I was in the house she never had to worry about how things would go.

But there I go gossiping about my domestic affairs just like you would be interested in them though I don’t see how you could be though personaly I always like to know all about my friends, but I know men are different so will try and not bore you any longer. Poor Man, I certainly feel sorry for you if New York is as hot as all that. I guess it has been very hot in Chi, too, at least everybody has been complaining about how terrible it is. Suppose you will wonder why I say “I guess” and you will think I ought to know if it is hot. Well, sir, the reason I say “I guess” is because I don’t feel the heat like others do or at least I don’t let myself feel it. That sounds crazy I know, but don’t you think there is a good deal in mental suggestion and not letting yourself feel things? I believe that if a person simply won’t allow themselves to be affected by disagreeable things, why such things won’t bother them near as much. I know it works with me and that is the reason why I am never cross when things go wrong and “keep smiling” no matter what happens and as far as the heat is concerned, why I just don’t let myself feel it and my friends say I don’t even look hot no matter if the weather is boiling and Edith, my girl friend, often says that I am like a breeze and it cools her off just to have me come in the room. Poor Edie suffers terribly during the hot weather and says it almost makes her mad at me to see how cool and unruffled I look when everybody else is perspiring and have red faces etc.

I laughed when I read what you said about New York being so hot that people thought it was the “other place.” I can appreciate a joke, Mr. Man, and that one did not go “over my head.” Am still laughing at some of the things you said in the station though they probably struck me funnier than they would most girls as I always see the funny side and sometimes something is said and I laugh and the others wonder what I am laughing at as they cannot see anything in it themselves, but it is just the way I look at things so of course I cannot explain to them why I laughed and they think I am crazy. But I had rather part with almost anything rather than my sense of humor as it helps me over a great many rough spots.

Sis has gone back home though I would of liked to of kept her here much longer, but she had to go though she said she would of liked nothing better than to stay with me and just listen to me “rattle on.” She always says it is just like a show to hear me talk as I always put things in such a funny way and for weeks after she has been visiting me she thinks of some of the things I said and laughs over them. Since she left Edith and I have been pretty quiet though poor Edie wants to be on the “go” all the time and tries to make me go out with her every evening to the pictures and scolds me when I say I had rather stay home and read and calls me a “book worm.” Well, it is true that I had rather stay home with a good book than go to some crazy old picture and the last two nights I have been reading myself to sleep with Robert W. Service’s poems. Don’t you love Service or don’t you care for “highbrow” writings?

Personly there is nothing I love more than to just sit and read a good book or sit and listen to somebody play the piano, I mean if they can really play and I really believe I like popular music better than the classical though I suppose that is a terrible thing to confess, but I love all kinds of music but a specially the piano when it is played by somebody who can really play.

Am glad you have not “fallen” for the “ladies” who have tried to make your acquaintance in New York. You are right in thinking there must be something wrong with girls who try to “pick up” strange men as no girl with self respect would do such a thing and when I say that, Mr. Man, I know you will think it is a funny thing for me to say on account of the way our friendship started, but I mean it and I assure you that was the first time I ever done such a thing in my life and would never of thought of doing it had I not known you were the right kind of a man as I flatter myself that I am a good judge of character and can tell pretty well what a person is like by just looking at them and I assure you I had made up my mind what kind of a man you were before I allowed myself to answer your opening remark. Otherwise I am the last girl in the world that would allow myself to speak to a person without being introduced to them.

When you write again you must tell me all about the girl on Riverside Drive and what she looks like and if you went to see her again and all about her. Suppose you will think I am a little old “curiosity shop” for asking all those questions and will wonder why I want to know. Well, sir, I won’t tell you why, so there, but I insist on you answering all questions and will scold you if you don’t. Maybe you will think that the reason why I am so curious is because I am “jealous” of the lady in question. Well, sir, I won’t tell you whether I am or not, but will keep you “guessing.” Now, don’t you wish you knew?

Must close or you will think I am going to “rattle on” forever or maybe you have all ready become disgusted and torn my letter up. If so all I can say is poor little me – she was a nice little girl and meant well, but the man did not appreciate her.

There I Will stop or you will think I am crazy if you do not all ready.

Yours (?)

Mabelle.

N. Y., Aug. 20.

Dear Girlie:

Well girlie I suppose you thought I was never going to answer your letter but have been busier than a one armed paper hanger the last week as have been working on a number with Paul Sears who is one of the best lyric writers in N. Y. and has turned out as many hits as Berlin or Davis or any of them. And believe me girlie he has turned out another hit this time that is he and I have done it together. It is all done now and we are just waiting for the best chance to place it but will not place it nowheres unless we get the right kind of a deal but maybe will publish it ourselves.

The song is bound to go over big as Sears has wrote a great lyric and I have give it a great tune or at least every body that has heard it goes crazy over it and it looks like it would go over bigger than any song since Mammy and would not be surprised to see it come out the hit of the year. If it is handled right we will make a bbl. of money and Sears says it is a cinch we will clean up as much as $25000 apiece which is pretty fair for one song but this one is not like the most of them but has got a great lyric and I have wrote a melody that will knock them out of their seats. I only wish you could hear it girlie and hear it the way I play it. I had to play it over and over about 50 times at the Friars last night.

I will copy down the lyric of the chorus so you can see what it is like and get the idea of the song though of course you can’t tell much about it unless you hear it played and sang. The title of the song is When They’re Like You and here is the chorus:

“Some like them hot, some like them cold.

Some like them when they’re not too darn old.

Some like them fat, some like them lean.

Some like them only at sweet sixteen.

Some like them dark, some like them light.

Some like them in the park, late at night.

Some like them fickle, some like them true,

But the time I like them is when they’re like you.”

How is that for a lyric and I only wish I could play my melody for you as you would go nuts over it but will send you a copy as soon as the song is published and you can get some of your friends to play it over for you and I know you will like it though it is a different melody when I play it or when somebody else plays it.

Well girlie you will see how busy I have been and am libel to keep right on being busy as we are not going to let the grass grow under our feet but as soon as we have got this number placed we will get busy on another one as a couple like that will put me on Easy st. even if they don’t go as big as we expect but even 25 grand is a big bunch of money and if a man could only turn out one hit a year and make that much out of it I would be on Easy st. and no more hammering on the old music box in some cabaret.

Who ever we take the song to we will make them come across with one grand for advance royaltys and that will keep me going till I can turn out another one. So the future looks bright and rosey to yours truly and I am certainly glad I come to the big town though sorry I did not do it a whole lot quicker.

This is a great old town girlie and when you have lived here a wile you wonder how you ever stood for a burg like Chi which is just a hick town along side of this besides being dirty etc. and a man is a sucker to stay there all his life specially a man in my line of work as N. Y. is the Mecca for a man that has got the musical gift. I figure that all the time I spent in Chi I was just wasteing my time and never really started to live till I come down here and I have to laugh when I think of the boys out there that is trying to make a liveing in the song writeing game and most of them starve to death all their life and the first week I am down here I meet a man like Sears and the next thing you know we have turned out a song that will make us a fortune.

Well girlie you asked me to tell you about the girlie up on the Drive that tried to make me and asked me to come and see her again. Well I can assure you you have no reasons to be jealous in that quarter as I have not been back to see her as I figure it is wasteing my time to play round with a dame like she that wants to go out somewheres every night and if you married her she would want a house on 5th ave. with a dozen servants so I have passed her up as that is not my idea of home.

What I want when I get married is a real home where a man can stay home and work and maybe have a few of his friends in once in a wile and entertain them or go to a good musical show once in a wile and have a wife that is in sympathy with you and not nag at you all the wile but be a real help mate. The girlie up on the Drive would run me ragged and have me in the poor house inside of a year even if I was makeing 25 grand out of one song. Besides she wears a make up that you would have to blast to find out what her face looks like. So I have not been back there and don’t intend to see her again so what is the use of me telling you about her. And the only other girlie I have met is a sister of Paul Sears who I met up to his house wile we was working on the song but she don’t hardly count as she has not got no use for the boys but treats them like dirt and Paul says she is the coldest proposition he ever seen.

Well I don’t know no more to write and besides have got a date to go out to Paul’s place for dinner and play some of my stuff for him so as he can see if he wants to set words to some more of my melodies. Well don’t do nothing I would not do and have as good a time as you can in old Chi and will let you know how we come along with the song.

Chas. F. Lewis.

Chicago, Ill, Aug. 23.

Dear Mr. Man:

I am thrilled to death over the song and think the words awfully pretty and am crazy to hear the music which I know must be great. It must be wonderful to have the gift of writing songs and then hear people play and sing them and just think of making $25,000 in such a short time. My, how rich you will be and I certainly congratulate you though am afraid when you are rich and famous you will have no time for insignificant little me or will you be an exception and remember your “old” friends even when you are up in the world? I sincerely hope so.

Will look forward to receiving a copy of the song and will you be sure and put your name on it? I am all ready very conceited just to think that I know a man that writes songs and makes all that money.

Seriously I wish you success with your next song and I laughed when I read your remark about being busier than a one armed paper hanger. I don’t see how you think up all those comparisons and crazy things to say. The next time one of the girls asks me to go out with them I am going to tell them I can’t go because I am busier than a one armed paper hanger and then they will think I made it up and say: “The girl is clever.”

Seriously I am glad you did not go back to see the girl on the Drive and am also glad you don’t like girls who makes themselves up so much as I think it is disgusting and would rather go round looking like a ghost than put artificial color on my face. Fortunately I have a complexion that does not need “fixing” but even if my coloring was not what it is I would never think of lowering myself to “fix” it. But I must tell you a joke that happened just the other day when Edith and I were out at lunch and there was another girl in the restaurant whom Edie knew and she introduced her to me and I noticed how this girl kept staring at me and finally she begged my pardon and asked if she could ask me a personal question and I said yes and she asked me if my complexion was really “mine.” I assured her it was and she said: “Well, I thought so because I did not think anybody could put it on so artistically. I certainly envy you.” Edie and I both laughed.

Well, if that girl envies me my complexion, why I envy you living in New York. Chicago is rather dirty though I don’t let that part of it bother me as I bathe and change my clothing so often that the dirt does not have time to “settle.” Edie often says she cannot see how I always keep so clean looking and says I always look like I had just stepped out of a band box. She also calls me a fish (jokingly) because I spend so much time in the water. But seriously I do love to bathe and never feel so happy as when I have just “cleaned up” and put on fresh clothing.

Edie has just gone out to see a picture and was cross at me because I would not go with her. I told her I was going to write a letter and she wanted to know to whom and I told her and she said: “You write to him so often that a person would almost think you was in love with him.” I just laughed and turned it off, but she does say the most embarrassing things and I would be angry if it was anybody but she that said them.

Seriously I had much rather sit here and write letters or read or just sit and dream than go out to some crazy old picture show except once in awhile I do like to go to the theater and see a good play and a specially a musical play if the music is catchy. But as a rule I am contented to just stay home and feel cozy and lots of evenings Edie and I sit here without saying hardly a word to each other though she would love to talk but she knows I had rather be quiet and she often says it is just like living with a deaf and dumb mute to live with me because I make so little noise round the apartment. I guess I was born to be a home body as I so seldom care to go “gadding.”

Though I do love to have company once in awhile, just a few congenial friends whom I can talk to and feel at home with and play cards or have some music. My friends love to drop in here, too, as they say Edie and I always give them such nice things to eat. Though poor Edie has not much to do with it, I am afraid, as she hates anything connected with cooking which is one of the things I love best of anything and I often say that when I begin keeping house in my own home I will insist on doing most of my own work as I would take so much more interest in it than a servant, though I would want somebody to help me a little if I could afford it as I often think a woman that does all her own work is liable to get so tired that she loses interest in the bigger things of life like books and music. Though after all what bigger thing is there than home making a specially for a woman?

I am sitting in the dearest old chair that I bought yesterday at a little store on the North Side. That is my one extravagance, buying furniture and things for the house, but I always say it is economy in the long run as I will always have them and have use for them and when I can pick them up at a bargain I would be silly not to. Though heaven knows I will never be “poor” in regards to furniture and rugs and things like that as mother’s house in Toledo is full of lovely things which she says she is going to give to Sis and myself as soon as we have real homes of our own. She is going to give me the first choice as I am her favorite. She has the loveliest old things that you could not buy now for love or money including lovely old rugs and a piano which Sis wanted to have a player attachment put on it but I said it would be an insult to the piano so we did not get one. I am funny about things like that, a specially old furniture and feel towards them like people whom I love.

Poor mother, I am afraid she won’t live much longer to enjoy her lovely old things as she has been suffering for years from stomach trouble and the doctor says it has been worse lately instead of better and her heart is weak besides. I am going home to see her a few days this fall as it may be the last time. She is very cheerful and always says she is ready to go now as she has had enough joy out of life and all she would like would be to see her girls settled down in their own homes before she goes.

There I go, talking about my domestic affairs again and I will bet you are bored to death though personly I am never bored when my friends tell me about themselves. But I won’t “rattle on” any longer, but will say good night and don’t forget to write and tell me how you come out with the song and thanks for sending me the words to it. Will you write a song about me some time? I would be thrilled to death! But I am afraid I am not the kind of girl that inspires men to write songs about them, but am just a quiet “mouse” that loves home and am not giddy enough to be the heroine of a song.

Well, Mr. Man, good night and don’t wait so long before writing again to

Yours (?)

Mabelle.

N. Y. Sept. 8

Dear Girlie:

Well girlie have not got your last letter with me so cannot answer what was in it as I have forgotten if there was anything I was supposed to answer and besides have only a little time to write as I have a date to go out on a party with the Sears. We are going to the Georgie White show and afterwards somewheres for supper. Sears is the boy who wrote the lyric to my song and it is him and his sister I am going on the party with. The sister is a cold fish that has no use for men but she is show crazy and insists on Paul takeing her to 3 or 4 of them a week.

Paul wants me to give up my room here and come and live with them as they have plenty of room and I am running a little low on money but don’t know if I will do it or not as am afraid I would freeze to death in the same house with a girl like the sister as she is ice cold but she don’t hang round the house much as she is always takeing trips or going to shows or somewheres.

So far we have not had no luck with the song. All the publishers we have showed it to has went crazy over it but they won’t make the right kind of a deal with us and if they don’t loosen up and give us a decent royalty rate we are libel to put the song out ourselves and show them up. The man up to Goebel’s told us the song was O.K. and he liked it but it was more of a production number than anything else and ought to go in a show like the Follies but they won’t be in N. Y. much longer and what we ought to do is hold it till next spring.

Mean wile I am working on some new numbers and also have taken a position with the orchestra at the Wilton and am going to work there starting next week. They pay good money $60 and it will keep me going.

Well girlie that is about all the news. I believe you said your father was sick and hope he is better and also hope you are getting along O.K. and take care of yourself. When you have nothing else to do write to your friend,

Chas. F. Lewis.

Chicago, Ill, Sept. 11.

Dear Mr. Lewis:

Your short note reached me yesterday and must say I was puzzled when I read it. It sounded like you was mad at me though I cannot think of any reason why you should be. If there was something I said in my last letter that offended you I wish you would tell me what it was and I will ask your pardon though I cannot remember anything I could of said that you could take offense at. But if there was something, why I assure you, Mr. Lewis, that I did not mean anything by it. I certainly did not intend to offend you in any way.

Perhaps it is nothing I wrote you, but you are worried on account of the publishers not treating you fair in regards to your song and that is why your letter sounded so distant. If that is the case I hope that by this time matters have rectified themselves and the future looks brighter. But any way, Mr. Lewis, don’t allow yourself to worry over business cares as they will all come right in the end and I always think it is silly for people to worry themselves sick over temporary troubles, but the best way is to “keep smiling” and look for the “silver lining” in the cloud. That is the way I always do and no matter what happens, I manage to smile and my girl friend, Edie, calls me Sunny because I always look on the bright side.

Remember also, Mr. Lewis, that $60 is a salary that a great many men would like to be getting and are living on less than that and supporting a wife and family on it. I always say that a person can get along on whatever amount they make if they manage things in the right way.

So if it is business troubles, Mr. Lewis, I say don’t worry, but look on the bright side. But if it is something I wrote in my last letter that offended you I wish you would tell me what it was so I can apologize as I assure you I meant nothing and would not say anything to hurt you for the world.

Please let me hear from you soon as I will not feel comfortable until I know I am not to blame for the sudden change.

Sincerely,

Mabelle Gillespie.

N. Y. Sept. 24.

Dear Miss Gillespie:

Just a few lines to tell you the big news or at least it is big news to me. I am engaged to be married to Paul Sears’ sister and we are going to be married early next month and live in Atlantic City where the orchestra I have been playing with has got an engagement in one of the big cabarets.

I know this will be a surprise to you as it was even a surprise to me as I did not think I would ever have the nerve to ask the girlie the big question as she was always so cold and acted like I was just in the way. But she said she supposed she would have to marry somebody some time and she did not dislike me as much as most of the other men her brother brought round and she would marry me with the understanding that she would not have to be a slave and work round the house and also I would have to take her to a show or somewheres every night and if I could not take her myself she would “run wild” alone. Atlantic City will be O.K. for that as a lot of new shows opens down there and she will be able to see them before they get to the big town. As for her being a slave, I would hate to think of marrying a girl and then have them spend their lives in druggery round the house. We are going to live in a hotel till we find something better but will be in no hurry to start house keeping as we will have to buy all new furniture.

Betsy is some doll when she is all fixed up and believe me she knows how to fix herself up. I don’t know what she uses but it is weather proof and I have been out in a rain storm with her and we both got drowned but her face stayed on. I would almost think it was real only she tells me different.

Well girlie I may write to you again once in a wile as Betsy says she don’t give a damn if I write to all the girls in the world just so I don’t make her read the answers but that is all I can think of to say now except good bye and good luck and may the right man come along soon and he will be a lucky man getting a girl that is such a good cook and got all that furniture etc.

But just let me give you a word of advice before I close and that is don’t never speak to strange men who you don’t know nothing about as they may get you wrong and think you are trying to make them. It just happened that I knew better so you was lucky in my case but the luck might not last.

Your friend,

Chas. F. Lewis.

Chicago, Ill, Sept 27.

My Dear Mr. Lewis:

Thanks for your advice and also thank your fiancé for her generosity in allowing you to continue your correspondence with her “rivals,” but personly I have no desire to take advantage of that generosity as I have something better to do than read letters from a man like you, a specially as I have a man friend who is not so generous as Miss Sears and would strongly object to my continuing a correspondence with another man. It is at his request that I am writing this note to tell you not to expect to hear from me again.

Allow me to congratulate you on your engagement to Miss Sears and I am sure she is to be congratulated too, though if I met the lady I would be tempted to ask her to tell me her secret, namely how she is going to “run wild” on $60.

Sincerely,

Mabelle Gillespie.

• 7 •

The Golden Honeymoon

Mother says that when I start talking I never know when to stop. But I tell her the only time I get a chance is when she ain’t around, so I have to make the most of it. I guess the fact is neither one of us would be welcome in a Quaker meeting, but as I tell Mother, what did God give us tongues for if He didn’t want we should use them? Only she says He didn’t give them to us to say the same thing over and over again, like I do, and repeat myself. But I say:

“Well, Mother,” I say, “when people is like you and I and been married fifty years, do you expect everything I say will be something you ain’t heard me say before? But it may be new to others, as they ain’t nobody else lived with me as long as you have.”

So she says:

“You can bet they ain’t, as they couldn’t nobody else stand you that long.”

“Well,” I tell her, “you look pretty healthy.”

“Maybe I do,” she will say, “but I looked even healthier before I married you.”

You can’t get ahead of Mother.

Yes, sir, we was married just fifty years ago the seventeenth day of last December and my daughter and son-in-law was over from Trenton to help us celebrate the Golden Wedding. My son-in-law is John H. Kramer, the real estate man. He made $12,000 one year and is pretty well thought of around Trenton; a good, steady, hard worker. The Rotarians was after him a long time to join, but he kept telling them his home was his club. But Edie finally made him join. That’s my daughter.

Well, anyway, they come over to help us celebrate the Golden Wedding and it was pretty crimpy weather and the furnace don’t seem to heat up no more like it used to and Mother made the remark that she hoped this winter wouldn’t be as cold as the last, referring to the winter previous. So Edie said if she was us, and nothing to keep us home, she certainly wouldn’t spend no more winters up here and why didn’t we just shut off the water and close up the house and go down to Tampa, Florida? You know we was there four winters ago and staid five weeks, but it cost us over three hundred and fifty dollars for hotel bill alone. So Mother said we wasn’t going no place to be robbed. So my son-in-law spoke up and said that Tampa wasn’t the only place in the South, and besides we didn’t have to stop at no high price hotel but could rent us a couple of rooms and board out somewheres, and he had heard that St. Petersburg, Florida, was the spot and if we said the word he would write down there and make inquiries.

Well, to make a long story short, we decided to do it and Edie said it would be our Golden Honeymoon and for a present my son-in-law paid the difference between a section and a compartment so as we could have a compartment and have more privacy. In a compartment you have an upper and lower berth just like the regular sleeper, but it is a shut in room by itself and got a wash bowl. The car we went in was all compartments and no regular berths at all. It was all compartments.

We went to Trenton the night before and staid at my daughter and son-in-law and we left Trenton the next afternoon at 3.23 P.M.

This was the twelfth day of January. Mother set facing the front of the train, as it makes her giddy to ride backwards. I set facing her, which does not affect me. We reached North Philadelphia at 4.03 P.M. and we reached West Philadelphia at 4.14, but did not go into Broad Street. We reached Baltimore at 6.30 and Washington, D.C., at 7.25. Our train laid over in Washington two hours till another train come along to pick us up and I got out and strolled up the platform and into the Union Station. When I come back, our car had been switched on to another track, but I remembered the name of it, the La Belle, as I had once visited my aunt out in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin, where there was a lake of that name, so I had no difficulty in getting located. But Mother had nearly fretted herself sick for fear I would be left.

“Well,” I said, “I would of followed you on the next train.”

“You could of,” said Mother, and she pointed out that she had the money.

“Well,” I said, “we are in Washington and I could of borrowed from the United States Treasury. I would of pretended I was an Englishman.”

Mother caught the point and laughed heartily.

Our train pulled out of Washington at 9.40 P.M. and Mother and I turned in early, I taking the upper. During the night we passed through the green fields of old Virginia, though it was too dark to tell if they was green or what color. When we got up in the morning, we was at Fayetteville, North Carolina. We had breakfast in the dining car and after breakfast I got in conversation with the man in the next compartment to ours. He was from Lebanon, New Hampshire, and a man about eighty years of age. His wife was with him, and two unmarried daughters and I made the remark that I should think the four of them would be crowded in one compartment, but he said they had made the trip every winter for fifteen years and knowed how to keep out of each other’s way. He said they was bound for Tarpon Springs.

We reached Charleston, South Carolina, at 12.50 P.M. and arrived at Savannah, Georgia, at 4.20. We reached Jacksonville, Florida, at 8.45 P.M. and had an hour and a quarter to lay over there, but Mother made a fuss about me getting off the train, so we had the darky make up our berths and retired before we left Jacksonville. I didn’t sleep good as the train done a lot of hemming and hawing, and Mother never sleeps good on a train as she says she is always worrying that I will fall out. She says she would rather have the upper herself, as then she would not have to worry about me, but I tell her I can’t take the risk of having it get out that I allowed my wife to sleep in an upper berth. It would make talk.

We was up in the morning in time to see our friends from New Hampshire get off at Tarpon Springs, which we reached at 6.53 A.M.

Several of our fellow passengers got off at Clearwater and some at Belleair, where the train backs right up to the door of the mammoth hotel. Belleair is the winter headquarters for the golf dudes and everybody that got off there had their bag of sticks, as many as ten and twelve in a bag. Women and all. When I was a young man we called it shinny and only needed one club to play with and about one game of it would of been a-plenty for some of these dudes, the way we played it.

The train pulled into St. Petersburg at 8.20 and when we got off the train you would think they was a riot, what with all the darkies barking for the different hotels.

I said to Mother, I said:

“It is a good thing we have got a place picked out to go to and don’t have to choose a hotel, as it would be hard to choose amongst them if every one of them is the best.”

She laughed.

We found a jitney and I give him the address of the room my son-in-law had got for us and soon we was there and introduced ourselves to the lady that owns the house, a young widow about forty-eight years of age. She showed us our room, which was light and airy with a comfortable bed and bureau and washstand. It was twelve dollars a week, but the location was good, only three blocks from Williams Park.

St. Pete is what folks call the town, though they also call it the Sunshine City, as they claim they’s no other place in the country where they’s fewer days when Old Sol don’t smile down on Mother Earth, and one of the newspapers gives away all their copies free every day when the sun don’t shine. They claim to of only give them away some sixty-odd times in the last eleven years. Another nickname they have got for the town is “the Poor Man’s Palm Beach,” but I guess they’s men that comes there that could borrow as much from the bank as some of the Willie boys over to the other Palm Beach.

During our stay we paid a visit to the Lewis Tent City, which is the headquarters for the Tin Can Tourists. But maybe you ain’t heard about them. Well, they are an organization that takes their vacation trips by auto and carries everything with them. That is, they bring along their tents to sleep in and cook in and they don’t patronize no hotels or cafeterias, but they have got to be bona fide auto campers or they can’t belong to the organization.

They tell me they’s over 200,000 members to it and they call themselves the Tin Canners on account of most of their food being put up in tin cans. One couple we seen in the Tent City was a couple from Brady, Texas, named Mr. and Mrs. Pence, which the old man is over eighty years of age and they had come in their auto all the way from home, a distance of 1,641 miles. They took five weeks for the trip, Mr. Pence driving the entire distance.

The Tin Canners hails from every State in the Union and in the summer time they visit places like New England and the Great Lakes region, but in the winter the most of them comes to Florida and scatters all over the State. While we was down there, they was a national convention of them at Gainesville, Florida, and they elected a Fredonia, New York, man as their president.

His title is Royal Tin Can Opener of the World. They have got a song wrote up which everybody has got to learn it before they are a member:

“The tin can forever! Hurrah, boys! Hurrah!

Up with the tin can! Down with the foe!

We will rally round the campfire, we’ll rally once again,

Shouting, ‘We auto camp forever!’”

That is something like it. And the members has also got to have a tin can fastened on to the front of their machine.

I asked Mother how she would like to travel around that way and she said:

“Fine, but not with an old rattle brain like you driving.”

“Well,” I said, “I am eight years younger than this Mr. Pence who drove here from Texas.”

“Yes,” she said, “but he is old enough to not be skittish.”

You can’t get ahead of Mother.

Well, one of the first things we done in St. Petersburg was to go to the Chamber of Commerce and register our names and where we was from as they’s a great rivalry amongst the different States in regards to the number of their citizens visiting in town and of course our little State don’t stand much of a show, but still every little bit helps, as the fella says. All and all, the man told us, they was eleven thousand names registered, Ohio leading with some fifteen hundred-odd and New York State next with twelve hundred. Then come Michigan, Pennsylvania and so on down, with one man each from Cuba and Nevada.

The first night we was there, they was a meeting of the New York–New Jersey Society at the Congregational Church and a man from Ogdensburg, New York State, made the talk. His subject was Rainbow Chasing. He is a Rotarian and a very convicting speaker, though I forget his name.

Our first business, of course, was to find a place to eat and after trying several places we run on to a cafeteria on Central Avenue that suited us up and down. We eat pretty near all our meals there and it averaged about two dollars per day for the two of us, but the food was well cooked and everything nice and clean. A man don’t mind paying the price if things is clean and well cooked.

On the third day of February, which is Mother’s birthday, we spread ourselves and eat supper at the Poinsettia Hotel and they charged us seventy-five cents for a sirloin steak that wasn’t hardly big enough for one.

I said to Mother: “Well,” I said, “I guess it’s a good thing every day ain’t your birthday or we would be in the poorhouse.”

“No,” says Mother, “because if every day was my birthday, I would be old enough by this time to of been in my grave long ago.”

You can’t get ahead of Mother.

In the hotel they had a card-room where they was several men and ladies playing five hundred and this new fangled whist bridge. We also seen a place where they was dancing, so I asked Mother would she like to trip the light fantastic toe and she said no, she was too old to squirm like you have got to do now days. We watched some of the young folks at it awhile till Mother got disgusted and said we would have to see a good movie to take the taste out of our mouth. Mother is a great movie heroyne and we go twice a week here at home.

But I want to tell you about the Park. The second day we was there we visited the Park, which is a good deal like the one in Tampa, only bigger, and they’s more fun goes on here every day than you could shake a stick at. In the middle they’s a big bandstand and chairs for the folks to set and listen to the concerts, which they give you music for all tastes, from Dixie up to classical pieces like Hearts and Flowers.

Then all around they’s places marked off for different sports and games – chess and checkers and dominoes for folks that enjoys those kind of games, and roque and horseshoes for the nimbler ones. I used to pitch a pretty fair shoe myself, but ain’t done much of it in the last twenty years.

Well, anyway, we bought a membership ticket in the club which costs one dollar for the season, and they tell me that up to a couple years ago it was fifty cents, but they had to raise it to keep out the riffraff.

Well, Mother and I put in a great day watching the pitchers and she wanted I should get in the game, but I told her I was all out of practice and would make a fool of myself, though I seen several men pitching who I guess I could take their measure without no practice. However, they was some good pitchers, too, and one boy from Akron, Ohio, who could certainly throw a pretty shoe. They told me it looked like he would win the championship of the United States in the February tournament. We come away a few days before they held that and I never did hear if he win. I forget his name, but he was a clean cut young fella and he has got a brother in Cleveland that’s a Rotarian.

Well, we just stood around and watched the different games for two or three days and finally I set down in a checker game with a man named Weaver from Danville, Illinois. He was a pretty fair checker player, but he wasn’t no match for me, and I hope that don’t sound like bragging. But I always could hold my own on a checker-board and the folks around here will tell you the same thing. I played with this Weaver pretty near all morning for two or three mornings and he beat me one game and the only other time it looked like he had a chance, the noon whistle blowed and we had to quit and go to dinner.

While I was playing checkers, Mother would set and listen to the band, as she loves music, classical or no matter what kind, but anyway she was setting there one day and between selections the woman next to her opened up a conversation. She was a woman about Mother’s own age, seventy or seventy-one, and finally she asked Mother’s name and Mother told her her name and where she was from and Mother asked her the same question, and who do you think the woman was?

Well, sir, it was the wife of Frank M. Hartsell, the man who was engaged to Mother till I stepped in and cut him out, fifty-two years ago!

Yes, sir!

You can imagine Mother’s surprise! And Mrs. Hartsell was surprised, too, when Mother told her she had once been friends with her husband, though Mother didn’t say how close friends they had been, or that Mother and I was the cause of Hartsell going out West. But that’s what we was. Hartsell left his town a month after the engagement was broke off and ain’t never been back since. He had went out to Michigan and become a veterinary, and that is where he had settled down, in Hillsdale, Michigan, and finally married his wife.

Well, Mother screwed up her courage to ask if Frank was still living and Mrs. Hartsell took her over to where they was pitching horseshoes and there was old Frank, waiting his turn. And he knowed Mother as soon as he seen her, though it was over fifty years. He said he knowed her by her eyes.

“Why, it’s Lucy Frost!” he says, and he throwed down his shoes and quit the game.

Then they come over and hunted me up and I will confess I wouldn’t of knowed him. Him and I is the same age to the month, but he seems to show it more, some way. He is balder for one thing. And his beard is all white, where mine has still got a streak of brown in it. The very first thing I said to him, I said:

“Well, Frank, that beard of yours makes me feel like I was back north. It looks like a regular blizzard.”

“Well,” he said, “I guess yourn would be just as white if you had it dry cleaned.”

But Mother wouldn’t stand that.

“Is that so!” she said to Frank. “Well, Charley ain’t had no tobacco in his mouth for over ten years!”

And I ain’t!

Well, I excused myself from the checker game and it was pretty close to noon, so we decided to all have dinner together and they was nothing for it only we must try their cafeteria on Third Avenue. It was a little more expensive than ours and not near as good, I thought. I and Mother had about the same dinner we had been having every day and our bill was $1.10. Frank’s check was $1.20 for he and his wife. The same meal wouldn’t of cost them more than a dollar at our place.

After dinner we made them come up to our house and we all set in the parlor, which the young woman had give us the use of to entertain company. We begun talking over old times and Mother said she was a-scared Mrs. Hartsell would find it tiresome listening to we three talk over old times, but as it turned out they wasn’t much chance for nobody else to talk with Mrs. Hartsell in the company. I have heard lots of women that could go it, but Hartsell’s wife takes the cake of all the women I ever seen. She told us the family history of everybody in the State of Michigan and bragged for a half hour about her son, who she said is in the drug business in Grand Rapids, and a Rotarian.

When I and Hartsell could get a word in edgeways we joked one another back and forth and I chafed him about being a horse doctor.

“Well, Frank,” I said, “you look pretty prosperous, so I suppose they’s been plenty of glanders around Hillsdale.”

“Well,” he said, “I’ve managed to make more than a fair living. But I’ve worked pretty hard.”

“Yes,” I said, “and I suppose you get called out all hours of the night to attend births and so on.”

Mother made me shut up.

Well, I thought they wouldn’t never go home and I and Mother was in misery trying to keep awake, as the both of us generally always takes a nap after dinner. Finally they went, after we had made an engagement to meet them in the Park the next morning, and Mrs. Hartsell also invited us to come to their place the next night and play five hundred. But she had forgot that they was a meeting of the Michigan Society that evening, so it was not till two evenings later that we had our first card game.

Hartsell and his wife lived in a house on Third Avenue North and had a private setting room besides their bedroom. Mrs. Hartsell couldn’t quit talking about their private setting room like it was something wonderful. We played cards with them, with Mother and Hartsell partners against his wife and I. Mrs. Hartsell is a miserable card player and we certainly got the worst of it.

After the game she brought out a dish of oranges and we had to pretend it was just what we wanted, though oranges down there is like a young man’s whiskers; you enjoy them at first, but they get to be a pesky nuisance.

We played cards again the next night at our place with the same partners and I and Mrs. Hartsell was beat again. Mother and Hartsell was full of compliments for each other on what a good team they made, but the both of them knowed well enough where the secret of their success laid. I guess all and all we must of played ten different evenings and they was only one night when Mrs. Hartsell and I come out ahead. And that one night wasn’t no fault of her’n.

When we had been down there about two weeks, we spent one evening as their guest in the Congregational Church, at a social give by the Michigan Society. A talk was made by a man named Bitting of Detroit, Michigan, on How I was Cured of Story Telling. He is a big man in the Rotarians and give a witty talk.

A woman named Mrs. Oxford rendered some selections which Mrs. Hartsell said was grand opera music, but whatever they was my daughter Edie could of give her cards and spades and not made such a hullaballoo about it neither.

Then they was a ventriloquist from Grand Rapids and a young woman about forty-five years of age that mimicked different kinds of birds. I whispered to Mother that they all sounded like a chicken, but she nudged me to shut up.

After the show we stopped in a drug store and I set up the refreshments and it was pretty close to ten o’clock before we finally turned in. Mother and I would of preferred tending the movies, but Mother said we mustn’t offend Mrs. Hartsell, though I asked her had we came to Florida to enjoy ourselves or to just not offend an old chatter-box from Michigan.

I felt sorry for Hartsell one morning. The women folks both had an engagement down to the chiropodist’s and I run across Hartsell in the Park and he foolishly offered to play me checkers.

It was him that suggested it, not me, and I guess he repented himself before we had played one game. But he was too stubborn to give up and set there while I beat him game after game and the worst part of it was that a crowd of folks had got in the habit of watching me play and there they all was, looking on, and finally they seen what a fool Frank was making of himself, and they began to chafe him and pass remarks. Like one of them said:

“Who ever told you you was a checker player!”

And:

“You might maybe be good for tiddle-de-winks, but not checkers!”

I almost felt like letting him beat me a couple games. But the crowd would of knowed it was a put up job.

Well, the women folks joined us in the Park and I wasn’t going to mention our little game, but Hartsell told about it himself and admitted he wasn’t no match for me.

“Well,” said Mrs. Hartsell, “checkers ain’t much of a game anyway, is it?” She said: “It’s more of a children’s game, ain’t it? At least, I know my boy’s children used to play it a good deal.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “It’s a children’s game the way your husband plays it, too.”

Mother wanted to smooth things over, so she said:

“Maybe they’s other games where Frank can beat you.”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Hartsell, “and I bet he could beat you pitching horseshoes.”

“Well,” I said, “I would give him a chance to try, only I ain’t pitched a shoe in over sixteen years.”

“Well,” said Hartsell, “I ain’t played checkers in twenty years.”

“You ain’t never played it,” I said.

“Anyway,” says Frank, “Lucy and I is your master at five hundred.”

Well, I could of told him why that was, but had decency enough to hold my tongue.

It had got so now that he wanted to play cards every night and when I or Mother wanted to go to a movie, any one of us would have to pretend we had a headache and then trust to goodness that they wouldn’t see us sneak into the theater. I don’t mind playing cards when my partner keeps their mind on the game, but you take a woman like Hartsell’s wife and how can they play cards when they have got to stop every couple seconds and brag about their son in Grand Rapids?

Well, the New York–New Jersey Society announced that they was goin to give a social evening too and I said to Mother, I said:

“Well, that is one evening when we will have an excuse not to play five hundred.”

“Yes,” she said, “but we will have to ask Frank and his wife to go to the social with us as they asked us to go to the Michigan social.”

“Well,” I said, “I had rather stay home than drag that chatterbox everywheres we go.”

So Mother said:

“You are getting too cranky. Maybe she does talk a little too much but she is good hearted. And Frank is always good company.”

So I said:

“I suppose if he is such good company you wished you had of married him.”

Mother laughed and said I sounded like I was jealous. Jealous of a cow doctor!

Anyway we had to drag them along to the social and I will say that we give them a much better entertainment than they had given us.

Judge Lane of Paterson made a fine talk on business conditions and a Mrs. Newell of Westfield imitated birds, only you could really tell what they was the way she done it. Two young women from Red Bank sung a choral selection and we clapped them back and they gave us Home to Our Mountains and Mother and Mrs. Hartsell both had tears in their eyes. And Hartsell, too.

Well, some way or another the chairman got wind that I was there and asked me to make a talk and I wasn’t even going to get up, but Mother made me, so I got up and said:

“Ladies and gentlemen,” I said. “I didn’t expect to be called on for a speech on an occasion like this or no other occasion as I do not set myself up as a speech maker, so will have to do the best I can, which I often say is the best anybody can do.”

Then I told them the story about Pat and the motorcycle, using the brogue, and it seemed to tickle them and I told them one or two other stories, but altogether I wasn’t on my feet more than twenty or twenty-five minutes and you ought to of heard the clapping and hollering when I set down. Even Mrs. Hartsell admitted that I am quite a speechifier and said if I ever went to Grand Rapids, Michigan, her son would make me talk to the Rotarians.

When it was over, Hartsell wanted we should go to their house and play cards, but his wife reminded him that it was after 9.30 P.M., rather a late hour to start a card game, but he had went crazy on the subject of cards, probably because he didn’t have to play partners with his wife. Anyway, we got rid of them and went home to bed.

It was the next morning, when we met over to the Park, that Mrs. Hartsell made the remark that she wasn’t getting no exercise so I suggested that why didn’t she take part in the roque game.

She said she had not played a game of roque in twenty years, but if Mother would play she would play. Well, at first Mother wouldn’t hear of it, but finally consented, more to please Mrs. Hartsell than anything else.

Well, they had a game with a Mrs. Ryan from Eagle, Nebraska, and a young Mrs. Morse from Rutland, Vermont, who Mother had met down to the chiropodist’s. Well, Mother couldn’t hit a flea and they all laughed at her and I couldn’t help from laughing at her myself and finally she quit and said her back was too lame to stoop over. So they got another lady and kept on playing and soon Mrs. Hartsell was the one everybody was laughing at, as she had a long shot to hit the black ball, and as she made the effort her teeth fell out on to the court. I never seen a woman so flustered in my life. And I never heard so much laughing, only Mrs. Hartsell didn’t join in and she was madder than a hornet and wouldn’t play no more, so the game broke up.

Mrs. Hartsell went home without speaking to nobody, but Hartsell stayed around and finally he said to me, he said:

“Well, I played you checkers the other day and you beat me bad and now what do you say if you and me play a game of horseshoes?”

I told him I hadn’t pitched a shoe in sixteen years, but Mother said:

“Go ahead and play. You used to be good at it and maybe it will come back to you.”

Well, to make a long story short, I give in. I oughtn’t to of never tried it, as I hadn’t pitched a shoe in sixteen years, and I only done it to humor Hartsell.

Before we started, Mother patted me on the back and told me to do my best, so we started in and I seen right off that I was in for it, as I hadn’t pitched a shoe in sixteen years and didn’t have my distance. And besides, the plating had wore off the shoes so that they was points right where they stuck into my thumb and I hadn’t throwed more than two or three times when my thumb was raw and it pretty near killed me to hang on to the shoe, let alone pitch it.

Well, Hartsell throws the awkwardest shoe I ever seen pitched and to see him pitch you wouldn’t think he would ever come no-wheres near, but he is also the luckiest pitcher I ever seen and he made some pitches where the shoe lit five and six feet short and then schoonered up and was a ringer. They’s no use trying to beat that kind of luck.

They was a pretty fair size crowd watching us and four or five other ladies besides Mother, and it seems like, when Hartsell pitches, he has got to chew and it kept the ladies on the anxious seat as he don’t seem to care which way he is facing when he leaves go.

You would think a man as old as him would of learnt more manners.

Well, to make a long story short, I was just beginning to get my distance when I had to give up on account of my thumb, which I showed it to Hartsell and he seen I couldn’t go on, as it was raw and bleeding. Even if I could of stood it to go on myself, Mother wouldn’t of allowed it after she seen my thumb. So anyway I quit and Hartsell said the score was nineteen to six, but I don’t know what it was. Or don’t care, neither.

Well, Mother and I went home and I said I hoped we was through with the Hartsells and I was sick and tired of them, but it seemed like she had promised we would go over to their house that evening for another game of their everlasting cards.

Well, my thumb was giving me considerable pain and I felt kind of out of sorts and I guess maybe I forgot myself, but anyway, when we was about through playing Hartsell made the remark that he wouldn’t never lose a game of cards if he could always have Mother for a partner.

So I said:

“Well, you had a chance fifty years ago to always have her for a partner, but you wasn’t man enough to keep her.”

I was sorry the minute I had said it and Hartsell didn’t know what to say and for once his wife couldn’t say nothing. Mother tried to smooth things over by making the remark that I must of had something stronger than tea or I wouldn’t talk so silly. But Mrs. Hartsell had froze up like an iceberg and hardly said good night to us and I bet her and Frank put in a pleasant hour after we was gone.

As we was leaving, Mother said to him: “Never mind Charley’s nonsense, Frank. He is just mad because you beat him all hollow pitching horseshoes and playing cards.”

She said that to make up for my slip, but at the same time she certainly riled me. I tried to keep ahold of myself, but as soon as we was out of the house she had to open up the subject and begun to scold me for the break I had made.

Well, I wasn’t in no mood to be scolded. So I said:

“I guess he is such a wonderful pitcher and card player that you wished you had married him.”

“Well,” she said, “at least he ain’t a baby to give up pitching because his thumb has got a few scratches.”

“And how about you,” I said, “making a fool of yourself on the roque court and then pretending your back is lame and you can’t play no more!”

“Yes,” she said, “but when you hurt your thumb I didn’t laugh at you, and why did you laugh at me when I sprained my back?”

“Who could help from laughing!” I said.

“Well,” she said, “Frank Hartsell didn’t laugh.”

“Well,” I said, “why didn’t you marry him?”

“Well,” said Mother, “I almost wished I had!”

“And I wished so, too!” I said.

“I’ll remember that!” said Mother, and that’s the last word she said to me for two days.

We seen the Hartsells the next day in the Park and I was willing to apologize, but they just nodded to us. And a couple days later we heard they had left for Orlando, where they have got relatives.

I wished they had went there in the first place.

Mother and I made it up setting on a bench.

“Listen, Charley,” she said. “This is our Golden Honeymoon and we don’t want the whole thing spoilt with a silly old quarrel.”

“Well,” I said, “did you mean that about wishing you had married Hartsell?”

“Of course not,” she said, “that is, if you didn’t mean that you wished I had, too.”

So I said:

“I was just tired and all wrought up. I thank God you chose me instead of him as they’s no other woman in the world who I could of lived with all these years.”

“How about Mrs. Hartsell?” says Mother.

“Good gracious!” I said. “Imagine being married to a woman that plays five hundred like she does and drops her teeth on the roque court!”

“Well,” said Mother, “it wouldn’t be no worse than being married to a man that expectorates towards ladies and is such a fool in a checker game.”

So I put my arm around her shoulder and she stroked my hand and I guess we got kind of spoony.

They was two days left of our stay in St. Petersburg and the next to the last day Mother introduced me to a Mrs. Kendall from Kingston, Rhode Island, who she had met at the chiropodist’s.

Mrs. Kendall made us acquainted with her husband, who is in the grocery business. They have got two sons and five grandchildren and one great-grandchild. One of their sons lives in Providence and is way up in the Elks as well as a Rotarian.

We found them very congenial people and we played cards with them the last two nights we was there. They was both experts and I only wished we had met them sooner instead of running into the Hartsells. But the Kendalls will be there again next winter and we will see more of them, that is, if we decide to make the trip again.

We left the Sunshine City on the eleventh day of February, at 11 a.m. This give us a day trip through Florida and we seen all the country we had passed through at night on the way down.

We reached Jacksonville at 7 p.m. and pulled out of there at 8.10 p.m. We reached Fayetteville, North Carolina, at nine o’clock the following morning, and reached Washington, D.C., at 6.30 p.m., laying over there half an hour.

We reached Trenton at 11.01 p.m. and had wired ahead to my daughter and son-in-law and they met us at the train and we went to their house and they put us up for the night. John would of made us stay up all night, telling about our trip, but Edie said we must be tired and made us go to bed. That’s my daughter.

The next day we took our train for home and arrived safe and sound, having been gone just one month and a day.

Here comes Mother, so I guess I better shut up.

• 8 •

Haircut

I got another barber that comes over from Carterville and helps me out Saturdays, but the rest of the time I can get along all right alone. You can see for yourself that this ain’t no New York City and besides that, the most of the boys works all day and don’t have no leisure to drop in here and get themselves prettied up.

You’re a newcomer, ain’t you? I thought I hadn’t seen you round before. I hope you like it good enough to stay. As I say, we ain’t no New York City or Chicago, but we have pretty good times. Not as good, though, since Jim Kendall got killed. When he was alive, him and Hod Meyers used to keep this town in an uproar. I bet they was more laughin’ done here than any town its size in America.

Jim was comical, and Hod was pretty near a match for him. Since Jim’s gone, Hod tries to hold his end up just the same as ever, but it’s tough goin’ when you ain’t got nobody to kind of work with.

They used to be plenty fun in here Saturdays. This place is jam-packed Saturdays, from four o’clock on. Jim and Hod would show up right after their supper, round six o’clock. Jim would set himself down in that big chair, nearest the blue spittoon. Whoever had been settin’ in that chair, why they’d get up when Jim come in and give it to him.

You’d of thought it was a reserved seat like they have sometimes in a theayter. Hod would generally always stand or walk up and down, or some Saturdays, of course, he’d be settin’ in this chair part of the time, gettin’ a haircut.

Well, Jim would set there a w’ile without openin’ his mouth only to spit, and then finally he’d say to me, “Whitey,”  – my right name, that is, my right first name, is Dick, but everybody round here calls me Whitey  – Jim would say, “Whitey, your nose looks like a rosebud tonight. You must of been drinkin’ some of your aw de cologne.”

So I’d say, “No, Jim, but you look like you’d been drinkin’ somethin’ of that kind or somethin’ worse.”

Jim would have to laugh at that, but then he’d speak up and say, “No, I ain’t had nothin’ to drink, but that ain’t sayin’ I wouldn’t like somethin’. I wouldn’t even mind if it was wood alcohol.”

Then Hod Meyers would say, “Neither would your wife.” That would set everybody to laughin’ because Jim and his wife wasn’t on very good terms. She’d of divorced him only they wasn’t no chance to get alimony and she didn’t have no way to take care of herself and the kids. She couldn’t never understand Jim. He was kind of rough, but a good fella at heart.

Him and Hod had all kinds of sport with Milt Sheppard. I don’t suppose you’ve seen Milt. Well, he’s got an Adam’s apple that looks more like a mushmelon. So I’d be shavin’ Milt and when I’d start to shave down here on his neck, Hod would holler, “Hey, Whitey, wait a minute! Before you cut into it, let’s make up a pool and see who can guess closest to the number of seeds.”

And Jim would say, “If Milt hadn’t of been so hoggish, he’d of ordered a half a cantaloupe instead of a whole one and it might not of stuck in his throat.”

All the boys would roar at this and Milt himself would force a smile, though the joke was on him. Jim certainly was a card!

There’s his shavin’ mug, settin’ on the shelf, right next to Charley Vail’s. “Charles M. Vail.” That’s the druggist. He comes in regular for his shave, three times a week. And Jim’s is the cup next to Charley’s. “James H. Kendall.” Jim won’t need no shavin’ mug no more, but I’ll leave it there just the same for old time’s sake. Jim certainly was a character!

Years ago, Jim used to travel for a canned goods concern over in Carterville. They sold canned goods. Jim had the whole northern half of the State and was on the road five days out of every week. He’d drop in here Saturdays and tell his experiences for that week. It was rich.

I guess he paid more attention to playin’ jokes than makin’ sales. Finally the concern let him out and he come right home here and told everybody he’d been fired instead of sayin’ he’d resigned like most fellas would of.

It was a Saturday and the shop was full and Jim got up out of that chair and says, “Gentlemen, I got an important announcement to make. I been fired from my job.”

Well, they asked him if he was in earnest and he said he was and nobody could think of nothin’ to say till Jim finally broke the ice himself. He says, “I been sellin’ canned goods and now I’m canned goods myself.”

You see, the concern he’d been workin’ for was a factory that made canned goods. Over in Carterville. And now Jim said he was canned himself. He was certainly a card!

Jim had a great trick that he used to play w’ile he was travelin’. For instance, he’d be ridin’ on a train and they’d come to some little town like, well, like, we’ll say, like Benton. Jim would look out the train window and read the signs on the stores.

For instance, they’d be a sign, “Henry Smith, Dry Goods.” Well, Jim would write down the name and the name of the town and when he got to wherever he was goin’ he’d mail back a postal card to Henry Smith at Benton and not sign no name to it, but he’d write on the card, well, somethin’ like “Ask your wife about that book agent that spent the afternoon last week,” or “Ask your Missus who kept her from gettin’ lonesome the last time you was in Carterville.” And he’d sign the card, “A Friend.”

Of course, he never knew what really come of none of these jokes, but he could picture what probably happened and that was enough.

Jim didn’t work very steady after he lost his position with the Carterville people. What he did earn, doin’ odd jobs round town, why he spent pretty near all of it on gin and his family might of starved if the stores hadn’t of carried them along. Jim’s wife tried her hand at dressmakin’, but they ain’t nobody goin’ to get rich makin’ dresses in this town.

As I say, she’d of divorced Jim, only she seen that she couldn’t support herself and the kids and she was always hopin’ that some day Jim would cut out his habits and give her more than two or three dollars a week.

They was a time when she would go to whoever he was workin’ for and ask them to give her his wages, but after she done this once or twice, he beat her to it by borrowin’ most of his pay in advance. He told it all round town, how he had outfoxed his Missus. He certainly was a caution!

But he wasn’t satisfied with just outwittin’ her. He was sore the way she had acted, tryin’ to grab off his pay. And he made up his mind he’d get even. Well, he waited till Evans’s Circus was advertised to come to town. Then he told his wife and two kiddies that he was goin’ to take them to the circus. The day of the circus, he told them he would get the tickets and meet them outside the entrance to the tent.

Well, he didn’t have no intentions of bein’ there or buyin’ tickets or nothin’. He got full of gin and laid round Wright’s poolroom all day. His wife and the kids waited and waited and of course he didn’t show up. His wife didn’t have a dime with her, or nowhere else, I guess. So she finally had to tell the kids it was all off and they cried like they wasn’t never goin’ to stop.

Well, it seems, w’ile they was cryin’, Doc Stair came along and he asked what was the matter, but Mrs. Kendall was stubborn and wouldn’t tell him, but the kids told him and he insisted on takin’ them and their mother in the show. Jim found this out afterwards and it was one reason why he had it in for Doc Stair.

Doc Stair come here about a year and a half ago. He’s a mighty handsome young fella and his clothes always look like he has them made to order. He goes to Detroit two or three times a year and w’ile he’s there he must have a tailor take his measure and then make him a suit to order. They cost pretty near twice as much, but they fit a whole lot better than if you just bought them in a store.

For a w’ile everybody was wonderin’ why a young doctor like Doc Stair should come to a town like this where we already got old Doc Gamble and Doc Foote that’s both been here for years and all the practice in town was always divided between the two of them.

Then they was a story got round that Doc Stair’s gal had throwed him over, a gal up in the Northern Peninsula somewheres, and the reason he come here was to hide himself away and forget it. He said himself that he thought they wasn’t nothin’ like general practice in a place like ours to fit a man to be a good all round doctor. And that’s why he’d came.

Anyways, it wasn’t long before he was makin’ enough to live on, though they tell me that he never dunned nobody for what they owed him, and the folks here certainly has got the owin’ habit, even in my business. If I had all that was comin’ to me for just shaves alone, I could go to Carterville and put up at the Mercer for a week and see a different picture every night. For instance, they’s old George Purdy – but I guess I shouldn’t ought to be gossipin’.

Well, last year, our coroner died, died of the flu. Ken Beatty, that was his name. He was the coroner. So they had to choose another man to be coroner in his place and they picked Doc Stair. He laughed at first and said he didn’t want it, but they made him take it. It ain’t no job that anybody would fight for and what a man makes out of it in a year would just about buy seeds for their garden. Doc’s the kind, though, that can’t say no to nothin’ if you keep at him long enough.

But I was goin’ to tell you about a poor boy we got here in town – Paul Dickson. He fell out of a tree when he was about ten years old. Lit on his head and it done somethin’ to him and he ain’t never been right. No harm in him, but just silly. Jim Kendall used to call him cuckoo; that’s a name Jim had for anybody that was off their head, only he called people’s head their bean. That was another of his gags, callin’ head bean and callin’ crazy people cuckoo. Only poor Paul ain’t crazy, but just silly.

You can imagine that Jim used to have all kinds of fun with Paul. He’d send him to the White Front Garage for a left-handed monkey wrench. Of course they ain’t no such a thing as a left-handed monkey wrench.

And once we had a kind of a fair here and they was a baseball game between the fats and the leans and before the game started Jim called Paul over and sent him way down to Schrader’s hardware store to get a key for the pitcher’s box.

They wasn’t nothin’ in the way of gags that Jim couldn’t think up, when he put his mind to it.

Poor Paul was always kind of suspicious of people, maybe on account of how Jim had kept foolin’ him. Paul wouldn’t have much to do with anybody only his own mother and Doc Stair and a girl here in town named Julie Gregg. That is, she ain’t a girl no more, but pretty near thirty or over.

When Doc first come to town, Paul seemed to feel like here was a real friend and he hung around Doc’s office most of the w’ile; the only time he wasn’t there was when he’d go home to eat or sleep or when he seen Julie Gregg doin’ her shoppin’.

When he looked out Doc’s window and seen her, he’d run downstairs and join her and tag along with her to the different stores. The poor boy was crazy about Julie and she always treated him mighty nice and made him feel like he was welcome, though of course it wasn’t nothin’ but pity on her side.

Doc done all he could to improve Paul’s mind and he told me once that he really thought the boy was gettin’ better, that they was times when he was as bright and sensible as anybody else.

But I was goin’ to tell you about Julie Gregg. Old Man Gregg was in the lumber business, but got to drinkin’ and lost the most of his money and when he died, he didn’t leave nothin’ but the house and just enough insurance for the girl to skimp along on.

Her mother was a kind of a half invalid and didn’t hardly ever leave the house. Julie wanted to sell the place and move somewheres else after the old man died, but the mother said she was born here and would die here. It was tough on Julie, as the young people round this town – well, she’s too good for them.

She’s been away to school and Chicago and New York and different places and they ain’t no subject she can’t talk on, where you take the rest of the young folks here and you mention anything to them outside of Gloria Swanson or Tommy Meighan and they think you’re delirious. Did you see Gloria in Wages of Virtue? You missed somethin’!

Well, Doc Stair hadn’t been here more than a week when he come in one day to get shaved and I recognized who he was as he had been pointed out to me, so I told him about my old lady. She’s been ailin’ for a couple of years and either Doc Gamble or Doc Foote, neither one, seemed to be helpin’ her. So he said he would come out and see her, but if she was able to get out herself, it would be better to bring her to his office where he could make a completer examination.

So I took her to his office and w’ile I was waitin’ for her in the reception room, in come Julie Gregg. When somebody comes in Doc Stair’s office, they’s a bell that rings in his inside office so as he can tell they’s somebody to see him.

So he left my old lady inside and come out to the front office and that’s the first time him and Julie met and I guess it was what they call love at first sight. But it wasn’t fifty-fifty. This young fella was the slickest lookin’ fella she’d ever seen in this town and she went wild over him. To him she was just a young lady that wanted to see the doctor.

She’d came on about the same business I had. Her mother had been doctorin’ for years with Doc Gamble and Doc Foote and without no results. So she’d heard they was a new doc in town and decided to give him a try. He promised to call and see her mother that same day.

I said a minute ago that it was love at first sight on her part. I’m not only judgin’ by how she acted afterwards but how she looked at him that first day in his office. I ain’t no mind reader, but it was wrote all over her face that she was gone.

Now Jim Kendall, besides bein’ a jokesmith and a pretty good drinker, well, Jim was quite a lady-killer. I guess he run pretty wild durin’ the time he was on the road for them Carterville people, and besides that, he’d had a couple little affairs of the heart right here in town. As I say, his wife could of divorced him, only she couldn’t.

But Jim was like the majority of men, and women, too, I guess. He wanted what he couldn’t get. He wanted Julie Gregg and worked his head off tryin’ to land her. Only he’d of said bean instead of head.

Well, Jim’s habits and his jokes didn’t appeal to Julie and of course he was a married man, so he didn’t have no more chance than, well, than a rabbit. That’s an expression of Jim’s himself. When somebody didn’t have no chance to get elected or somethin’, Jim would always say they didn’t have no more chance than a rabbit.

He didn’t make no bones about how he felt. Right in here, more than once, in front of the whole crowd, he said he was stuck on Julie and anybody that could get her for him was welcome to his house and his wife and kids included. But she wouldn’t have nothin’ to do with him; wouldn’t even speak to him on the street. He finally seen he wasn’t gettin’ nowheres with his usual line so he decided to try the rough stuff. He went right up to her house one evenin’ and when she opened the door he forced his way in and grabbed her. But she broke loose and before he could stop her, she run in the next room and locked the door and phoned to Joe Barnes. Joe’s the marshal. Jim could hear who she was phonin’ to and he beat it before Joe got there.

Joe was an old friend of Julie’s pa. Joe went to Jim the next day and told him what would happen if he ever done it again.

I don’t know how the news of this little affair leaked out. Chances is that Joe Barnes told his wife and she told somebody else’s wife and they told their husband. Anyways, it did leak out and Hod Meyers had the nerve to kid Jim about it, right here in this shop. Jim didn’t deny nothin’ and kind of laughed it off and said for us all to wait; that lots of people had tried to make a monkey out of him, but he always got even.

Meanw’ile everybody in town was wise to Julie’s bein’ wild mad over the Doc. I don’t suppose she had any idear how her face changed when him and her was together; of course she couldn’t of, or she’d of kept away from him. And she didn’t know that we was all noticin’ how many times she made excuses to go up to his office or pass it on the other side of the street and look up in his window to see if he was there. I felt sorry for her and so did most other people.

Hod Meyers kept rubbin’ it into Jim about how the Doc had cut him out. Jim didn’t pay no attention to the kiddin’ and you could see he was plannin’ one of his jokes.

One trick Jim had was the knack of changin’ his voice. He could make you think he was a girl talkin’ and he could mimic any man’s voice. To show you how good he was along this line, I’ll tell you the joke he played on me once.

You know, in most towns of any size, when a man is dead and needs a shave, why the barber that shaves him soaks him five dollars for the job; that is, he don’t soak him, but whoever ordered the shave. I just charge three dollars because personally I don’t mind much shavin’ a dead person. They lay a whole lot stiller than live customers. The only thing is that you don’t feel like talkin’ to them and you get kind of lonesome.

Well, about the coldest day we ever had here, two years ago last winter, the phone rung at the house w’ile I was home to dinner and I answered the phone and it was a woman’s voice and she said she was Mrs. John Scott and her husband was dead and would I come out and shave him.

Old John had always been a good customer of mine. But they live seven miles out in the country, on the Streeter road. Still I didn’t see how I could say no.

So I said I would be there, but would have to come in a jitney and it might cost three or four dollars besides the price of the shave. So she, or the voice, it said that was all right, so I got Frank Abbott to drive me out to the place and when I got there, who should open the door but old John himself! He wasn’t no more dead than, well, than a rabbit.

It didn’t take no private detective to figure out who had played me this little joke. Nobody could of thought it up but Jim Kendall. He certainly was a card!

I tell you this incident just to show you how he could disguise his voice and make you believe it was somebody else talkin’. I’d of swore it was Mrs. Scott had called me. Anyways, some woman.

Well, Jim waited till he had Doc Stair’s voice down pat; then he went after revenge.

He called Julie up on a night when he knew Doc was over in Carterville. She never questioned but what it was Doc’s voice. Jim said he must see her that night; he couldn’t wait no longer to tell her somethin’. She was all excited and told him to come to the house. But he said he was expectin’ an important long distance call and wouldn’t she please forget her manners for once and come to his office. He said they couldn’t nothin’ hurt her and nobody would see her and he just must talk to her a little w’ile. Well, poor Julie fell for it.

Doc always keeps a night light in his office, so it looked to Julie like they was somebody there.

Meanw’ile Jim Kendall had went to Wright’s poolroom, where they was a whole gang amusin’ themselves. The most of them had drank plenty of gin, and they was a rough bunch even when sober. They was always strong for Jim’s jokes and when he told them to come with him and see some fun they give up their card games and pool games and followed along.

Doc’s office is on the second floor. Right outside his door they’s a flight of stairs leadin’ to the floor above. Jim and his gang hid in the dark behind these stairs.

Well, Julie come up to Doc’s door and rung the bell and they was nothin’ doin’. She rung it again and rung it seven or eight times. Then she tried the door and found it locked. Then Jim made some kind of a noise and she heard it and waited a minute, and then she says, “Is that you, Ralph?” Ralph is Doc’s first name.

They was no answer and it must of came to her all of a sudden that she’d been bunked. She pretty near fell downstairs and the whole gang after her. They chased her all the way home, hollerin’, “Is that you, Ralph?” and “Oh, Ralphie, dear, is that you?” Jim says he couldn’t holler it himself, as he was laughin’ too hard.

Poor Julie! She didn’t show up here on Main Street for a long, long time afterward.

And of course Jim and his gang told everybody in town, everybody but Doc Stair. They was scared to tell him, and he might of never knowed only for Paul Dickson. The poor cuckoo, as Jim called him, he was here in the shop one night when Jim was still gloatin’ yet over what he’d done to Julie. And Paul took in as much of it as he could understand and he run to Doc with the story.

It’s a cinch Doc went up in the air and swore he’d make Jim suffer. But it was a kind of a delicate thing, because if it got out that he had beat Jim up, Julie was bound to hear of it and then she’d know that Doc knew and of course knowin’ that he knew would make it worse for her than ever. He was goin’ to do somethin’, but it took a lot of figurin’.

Well, it was a couple days later when Jim was here in the shop again, and so was the cuckoo. Jim was goin’ duck-shootin’ the next day and had came in lookin’ for Hod Meyers to go with him. I happened to know that Hod had went over to Carterville and wouldn’t be home till the end of the week. So Jim said he hated to go alone and he guessed he would call it off. Then poor Paul spoke up and said if Jim would take him he would go along. Jim thought a w’ile and then he said, well, he guessed a half-wit was better than nothin’.

I suppose he was plottin’ to get Paul out in the boat and play some joke on him, like pushin’ him in the water. Anyways, he said Paul could go. He asked him had he ever shot a duck and Paul said no, he’d never even had a gun in his hands. So Jim said he could set in the boat and watch him and if he behaved himself, he might lend him his gun for a couple of shots. They made a date to meet in the mornin’ and that’s the last I seen of Jim alive.

Next mornin’, I hadn’t been open more than ten minutes when Doc Stair come in. He looked kind of nervous. He asked me had I seen Paul Dickson. I said no, but I knew where he was, out duck-shootin’ with Jim Kendall. So Doc says that’s what he had heard, and he couldn’t understand it because Paul had told him he wouldn’t never have no more to do with Jim as long as he lived.

He said Paul had told him about the joke Jim had played on Julie. He said Paul had asked him what he thought of the joke and the Doc had told him that anybody that would do a thing like that ought not to be let live.

I said it had been a kind of a raw thing, but Jim just couldn’t resist no kind of a joke, no matter how raw. I said I thought he was all right at heart, but just bubblin’ over with mischief. Doc turned and walked out.

At noon he got a phone call from old John Scott. The lake where Jim and Paul had went shootin’ is on John’s place. Paul had come runnin’ up to the house a few minutes before and said they’d been an accident. Jim had shot a few ducks and then give the gun to Paul and told him to try his luck. Paul hadn’t never handled a gun and he was nervous. He was shakin’ so hard that he couldn’t control the gun. He let fire and Jim sunk back in the boat, dead.

Doc Stair, bein’ the coroner, jumped in Frank Abbott’s flivver and rushed out to Scott’s farm. Paul and old John was down on the shore of the lake. Paul had rowed the boat to shore, but they’d left the body in it, waitin’ for Doc to come.

Doc examined the body and said they might as well fetch it back to town. They was no use leavin’ it there or callin’ a jury, as it was a plain case of accidental shootin’.

Personally I wouldn’t never leave a person shoot a gun in the same boat I was in unless I was sure they knew somethin’ about guns. Jim was a sucker to leave a new beginner have his gun, let alone a half-wit. It probably served Jim right, what he got. But still we miss him round here. He certainly was a card!

Comb it wet or dry?

• 9 •

Mr. and Mrs. Fix-It

They’re certainly a live bunch in this town. We ain’t only been here three days and had calls already from people representin’ four different organizations  – the Chamber of Commerce, Kiwanis, and I forget who else. They wanted to know if we was comfortable and did we like the town and is they anything they can do for us and what to be sure and see.

And they all asked how we happened to come here instead of goin’ somewheres else. I guess they keep a record of everybody’s reasons for comin’ so as they can get a line on what features tourists is most attracted by. Then they play up them features in next year’s booster advertisin’.

Well, I told them we was perfectly comfortable and we like the town fine and they’s nothin’ nobody can do for us right now and we’ll be sure and see all the things we ought to see. But when they asked me how did we happen to come here, I said it was just a kind of a accident, because the real reason makes too long a story.

My wife has been kiddin’ me about my friends ever since we was married. She says that judgin’ by the ones I’ve introduced her to, they ain’t nobody in the world got a rummier bunch of friends than me. I’ll admit that the most of them ain’t, well, what you might call hot; they’re different somehow than when I first hung around with them. They seem to be lost without a brass rail to rest their dogs on. But of course they’re old friends and I can’t give ’em the air.

We have ’em to the house for dinner every little w’ile, they and their wives, and what my missus objects to is because they don’t none of them play bridge or mah jong or do crossword puzzles or sing or dance or even talk, but just set there and wait for somebody to pour ’em a fresh drink.

As I say, my wife kids me about ’em and they ain’t really nothin’ I can offer in their defense. That don’t mean, though, that the shoe is all on one foot. Because w’ile the majority of her friends may not be quite as dumb as mine, just the same they’s a few she’s picked out who I’d of had to be under the ether to allow anybody to introduce ’em to me in the first place.

Like the Crandalls, for instance. Mrs. Crandall come from my wife’s home town and they didn’t hardly know each other there, but they met again in a store in Chi and it went from bad to worse till finally Ada asked the dame and her husband to the house.

Well, the husband turns out to be the fella that win the war, w’ile it seems that Mrs. Crandall was in Atlantic City once and some movin’ picture company was makin’ a picture there and they took a scene of what was supposed to be society people walkin’ up and down the Boardwalk and Mrs. Crandall was in the picture and people that seen it when it come out, they all said that from the way she screened, why if she wanted to go into the business, she could make Gloria Swanson look like Mrs. Gump.

Now it ain’t only took me a few words to tell you these things, but when the Crandalls tells their story themselves, they don’t hardly get started by midnight and no chance of them goin’ home till they’re through even when you drop ’em a hint that they’re springin’ it on you for the hundred and twelfth time.

That’s the Crandalls, and another of the wife’s friends is the Thayers. Thayer is what you might call a all-around handy man. He can mimic pretty near all the birds and beasts and fishes, he can yodel, he can play a ocarena, or he can recite Kipling or Robert H. Service, or he can do card tricks, and strike a light without no matches, and tie all the different knots.

And besides that, he can make a complete radio outfit and set it up, and take pictures as good as the best professional photographers and a whole lot better. He collects autographs. And he never had a sick day in his life.

Mrs. Thayer gets a headache playin’ bridge, so it’s mah jong or rhum when she’s around. She used to be a teacher of elocution and she still gives readin’s if you coax her, or if you don’t, and her hair is such a awful nuisance that she would get it cut in a minute only all her friends tells her it would be criminal to spoil that head of hair. And when she talks to her husband, she always talks baby talk, maybe because somebody has told her that she’d be single if he wasn’t childish.

And then Ada has got still another pal, a dame named Peggy Flood who is hospital mad and ain’t happy unless she is just goin’ under the knife or just been there. She’s had everything removed that the doctors knew the name of and now they’re probin’ her for new giblets.

Well, I wouldn’t mind if they cut her up into alphabet soup if they’d only do such a good job of it that they couldn’t put her together again, but she always comes through O.K. and she spends the intermissions at our place, describin’ what all they done or what they’re plannin’ to do next.

But the cat’s nightgown is Tom Stevens and his wife. There’s the team that wins the Olympics! And they’re Ada’s team, not mine.

Ada met Belle Stevens on the elevated. Ada was invited to a party out on the North Side and didn’t know exactly where to get off and Mrs. Stevens seen her talkin’ to the guard and horned in and asked her what was it she wanted to know and Ada told her, and Mrs. Stevens said she was goin’ to get off the same station Ada wanted to get off, so they got off together.

Mrs. Stevens insisted on goin’ right along to the address where Ada was goin’ because she said Ada was bound to get lost if she wasn’t familiar with the neighborhood.

Well, Ada thought it was mighty nice of her to do so much for a stranger. Mrs. Stevens said she was glad to because she didn’t know what would of happened to her lots of times if strangers hadn’t been nice and helped her out.

She asked Ada where she lived and Ada told her on the South Side and Mrs. Stevens said she was sure we’d like it better on the North Side if we’d leave her pick out a place for us, so Ada told her we had a year’s lease that we had just signed and couldn’t break it, so then Mrs. Stevens said her husband had studied law and he claimed they wasn’t no lease that you couldn’t break and some evening she would bring him out to call on us and he’d tell us how to break our lease.

Well, Ada had to say sure, come on out, though we was perfectly satisfied with our apartment and didn’t no more want to break the lease than each other’s jaw. Maybe not as much. Anyway, the very next night, they showed up, Belle and Tom, and when they’d gone, I give ’em the nickname – Mr. and Mrs. Fix-It.

After the introductions, Stevens made some remark about what a cozy little place we had and then he asked if I would mind tellin’ what rent we paid. So I told him a hundred and a quarter a month. So he said, of course, that was too much and no wonder we wanted to break the lease. Then I said we was satisfied and didn’t want to break it and he said I must be kiddin’ and if I would show him the lease he would see what loopholes they was in it.

Well, the lease was right there in a drawer in the table, but I told him it was in my safety deposit box at the bank. I ain’t got no safety deposit box and no more use for one than Judge Landis has for the deef and dumb alphabet.

Stevens said the lease was probably just a regular lease and if it was, they wouldn’t be no trouble gettin’ out of it, and meanw’ile him and his wife would see if they couldn’t find us a place in the same buildin’ with them.

And he was pretty sure they could even if the owner had to give some other tenant the air, because he, the owner, would do anything in the world for Stevens.

So I said yes, but suppose we want to stay where we are. So he said I looked like a man with better judgment than that and if I would just leave everything to him he would fix it so’s we could move within a month. I kind of laughed and thought that would be the end of it.

He wanted to see the whole apartment so I showed him around and when we come to the bathroom he noticed my safety razor on the shelf. He said, “So you use one of them things,” and I said, “Yes,” and he asked me how I liked it, and I said I liked it fine and he said that must be because I hadn’t never used a regular razor.

He said a regular razor was the only thing to use if a man wanted to look good. So I asked him if he used a regular razor and he said he did, so I said, “Well, if you look good, I don’t want to.”

But that didn’t stop him and he said if I would meet him downtown the next day he would take me to the place where he bought all his razors and help me pick some out for myself. I told him I was goin’ to be tied up, so just to give me the name and address of the place and I would drop in there when I had time.

But, no, that wouldn’t do; he’d have to go along with me and introduce me to the proprietor because the proprietor was a great pal of his and would do anything in the world for him, and if the proprietor vouched for the razors, I could be sure I was gettin’ the best razors money could buy. I told him again that I was goin’ to be tied up and I managed to get him on some other subject.

Meanw’ile Mrs. Stevens wanted to know where Ada had bought the dress she was wearin’ and how much had it cost and Ada told her and Mrs. Stevens said it was a crime. She would meet Ada downtown tomorrow morning and take her to the shop where she bought her clothes and help her choose some dresses that really was dresses.

So Ada told her she didn’t have no money to spend on dresses right then, and besides, the shop Mrs. Stevens mentioned was too high priced. But it seems the dame that run the shop was just like a sister to Mrs. Stevens and give her and her friends a big reduction and not only that, but they wasn’t no hurry about payin’.

Well, Ada thanked her just the same, but didn’t need nothin’ new just at present; maybe later on she would take advantage of Mrs. Stevens’s kind offer. Yes, but right now they was some models in stock that would be just beautiful on Ada and they might be gone later on. They was nothin’ for it but Ada had to make a date with her; she wasn’t obliged to buy nothin’, but it would be silly not to go and look at the stuff that was in the joint and get acquainted with the dame that run it.

Well, Ada kept the date and bought three dresses she didn’t want and they’s only one of them she’d had the nerve to wear. They cost her a hundred dollars a smash and I’d hate to think what the price would of been if Mrs. Stevens and the owner of the shop wasn’t so much like sisters.

I was sure I hadn’t made no date with Stevens, but just the same he called me up the next night to ask why I hadn’t met him. And a couple of days later I got three new razors in the mail along with a bill and a note from the store sayin’ that these was three specially fine razors that had been picked out for me by Thomas J. Stevens.

I don’t know yet why I paid for the razors and kept ’em. I ain’t used ’em and never intended to. Though I’ve been tempted a few times to test their edge on Stevens’s neck.

That same week, Mrs. Stevens called up and asked us to spend Sunday with them and when we got out there, the owner of the buildin’ is there, too. And Stevens has told him that I was goin’ to give up my apartment on the South Side and wanted him to show me what he had.

I thought this was a little too strong and I said Stevens must of misunderstood me, that I hadn’t no fault to find with the place I was in and wasn’t plannin’ to move, not for a year anyway. You can bet this didn’t make no hit with the guy, who was just there on Stevens’s say-so that I was a prospective tenant.

Well, it was only about two months ago that this cute little couple come into our life, but I’ll bet we seen ’em twenty times at least. They was always invitin’ us to their place or invitin’ themselves to our place and Ada is one of these here kind of people that just can’t say no. Which may be why I and her is married.

Anyway, it begin to seem like us and the Stevenses was livin’ together and all one family, with them at the head of it. I never in my life seen anybody as crazy to run other people’s business. Honest to heavens, it’s a wonder they let us brush our own teeth!

Ada made the remark one night that she wished the ski jumper who was doin’ our cookin’ would get married and quit so’s she wouldn’t have to can her. Mrs. Stevens was there and asked Ada if she should try and get her a new cook, but Ada says no, the poor gal might have trouble findin’ another job and she felt sorry for her.

Just the same, the next afternoon a Jap come to the apartment and said he was ready to go to work and Mrs. Stevens had sent him. Ada had to tell him the place was already filled.

Another night, Ada complained that her feet was tired. Belle said her feet used to get tired, too, till a friend of hers recommended a chiropodist and she went to him and he done her so much good that she made a regular appointment with him for once every month and paid him a flat sum and no matter how much runnin’ around she done, her dogs hadn’t fretted her once since this cornhusker started tendin’ to ’em.

She wanted to call up the guy at his home right then and there and make a date for Ada and the only way Ada could stop her was by promisin’ to go and see him the next time her feet hurt. After that, whenever the two gals met, Belle’s first question was “How is your feet?” and the answer was always “Fine, thanks.”

Well, I’m quite a football fan and Ada likes to go, too, when it’s a big game and lots of excitement. So we decided we’d see the Illinois-Chicago game and have a look at this “Red” Grange. I warned Ada to not say nothin’ about it to Tom and Belle as I felt like we was entitled to a day off.

But it happened that they was goin’ to be a game up at Evanston that day and the Stevenses invited us to see that one with them. So we used the other game as a alibi. And when Tom asked me later on if I’d boughten my tickets yet, instead of sayin’ yes, I told him the truth and said no.

So then he said:

“I’m glad you ain’t, because I and Belle has made up our mind that the Chicago game is the one we ought to see. And we’ll all go together. And don’t you bother about tickets because I can get better ones than you can as Stagg and I is just like that.”

So I left it to him to get the tickets and we might as well of set on the Adams Street bridge. I said to Stevens, I said:

“If these is the seats Mr. Stagg digs up for his old pals, I suppose he leads strangers twenty or thirty miles out in the country and blindfolds ’em and ties ’em to a tree.”

Now of course it was the bunk about he and Stagg bein’ so close. He may of been introduced to him once, but he ain’t the kind of a guy that Stagg would go around holdin’ hands with. Just the same, most of the people he bragged about knowin’, why it turned out that he really did know ’em; yes, and stood ace high with ’em, too.

Like, for instance, I got pinched for speedin’ one night and they give me a ticket to show up in the Speeders’ court and I told Stevens about it and he says, “Just forget it! I’ll call up the judge and have it wiped off the book. He’s a mighty good fella and a personal friend of mine.”

Well, I didn’t want to take no chances so I phoned Stevens the day before I was supposed to appear in court, and I asked him if he’d talked to the judge. He said he had and I asked him if he was sure. So he said, “If you don’t believe me, call up the judge yourself.” And he give me the judge’s number. Sure enough, Stevens had fixed it and when I thanked the judge for his trouble, he said it was a pleasure to do somethin’ for a friend of Tom Stevens’s.

Now, I know it’s silly to not appreciate favors like that and not warm up to people that’s always tryin’ to help you along, but still a person don’t relish bein’ treated like they was half-witted and couldn’t button their shirt alone. Tom and Belle meant all right, but I and Ada got kind of tired of havin’ fault found with everything that belonged to us and everything we done or tried to do.

Besides our apartment bein’ no good and our clothes terrible, we learned that my dentist didn’t know a bridge from a mustache cup, and the cigarettes I smoked didn’t have no taste to them, and the man that bobbed Ada’s hair must of been mad at her, and neither of us would ever know what it was to live till we owned a wire-haired fox terrier.

And we found out that the liquor I’d been drinkin’ and enjoyin’ was a mixture of bath salts and assorted paints, and the car we’d paid seventeen hundred smackers for wasn’t nowheres near as much of a car as one that Tom could of got for us for eight hundred on account of knowin’ a brother-in-law of a fella that used to go to school with the president of the company’s nephew, and that if Ada would take up aesthetic dancin’ under a dame Belle knew about, why she’d never have no more trouble with her tonsils.

Nothin’ we had or nothin’ we talked about gettin’ or doin’ was worth a damn unless it was recommended or suggested by the Stevenses.

Well, I done a pretty good business this fall and I and Ada had always planned to spend a winter in the South, so one night we figured it out that this was the year we could spare the money and the time and if we didn’t go this year we never would. So the next thing was where should we go, and we finally decided on Miami. And we said we wouldn’t mention nothin’ about it to Tom and Belle till the day we was goin’. We’d pretend we was doin’ it out of a clear sky.

But a secret is just as safe with Ada as a police dog tethered with dental floss. It wasn’t more than a day or two after we’d had our talk when Tom and Belle sprang the news that they was leavin’ for California right after New Year’s. And why didn’t we go with them.

Well, I didn’t say nothin’ and Ada said it sounded grand, but it was impossible. Then Stevens said if it was a question of money, to not let that bother us as he would loan it to me and I could pay it back whenever I felt like it. That was more than Ada could stand, so she says we wasn’t as poor as people seemed to think and the reason we couldn’t go to California was because we was goin’ to Miami.

This was such a surprise that it almost struck ’em dumb at first and all Tom could think of to say was that he’d been to Miami himself and it was too crowded and he’d lay off of it if he was us. But the next time we seen ’em they had our trip all arranged.

First, Tom asked me what road we was goin’ on and I told him the Big Four. So he asked if we had our reservations and I told him yes.

“Well,” he said, “we’ll get rid of ’em and I’ll fix you up on the C. & E. I. The general passenger agent is a friend of mine and they ain’t nothin’ he won’t do for my friends. He’ll see that you’re treated right and that you get there in good shape.”

So I said:

“I don’t want to put you to all that trouble, and besides I don’t know nobody connected with the Big Four well enough for them to resent me travelin’ on their lines, and as for gettin’ there in good shape, even if I have a secret enemy or two on the Big Four, I don’t believe they’d endanger the lives of the other passengers just to see that I didn’t get there in good shape.”

But Stevens insisted on takin’ my tickets and sellin’ ’em back to the Big Four and gettin’ me fixed on the C. & E. I. The berths we’d had on the Big Four was Lower 9 and Lower 10. The berths Tom got us on the C. & E. I. was Lower 7 and Lower 8, which he said was better. I suppose he figured that the nearer you are to the middle of the car, the less chance there is of bein’ woke up if your car gets in another train’s way.

He wanted to know, too, if I’d made any reservations at a hotel. I showed him a wire I had from the Royal Palm in reply to a wire I’d sent ’em.

“Yes,” he says, “but you don’t want to stop at the Royal Palm. You wire and tell ’em to cancel that and I’ll make arrangements for you at the Flamingo, over at the Beach. Charley Krom, the manager there, was born and raised in the same town I was. He’ll take great care of you if he knows you’re a friend of mine.”

So I asked him if all the guests at the Flamingo was friends of his, and he said of course not; what did I mean?

“Well,” I said, “I was just thinkin’ that if they ain’t, Mr. Krom probably makes life pretty miserable for ’em. What does he do, have the phone girl ring ’em up at all hours of the night, and hide their mail, and shut off their hot water, and put cracker crumbs in their beds?”

That didn’t mean nothin’ to Stevens and he went right ahead and switched me from one hotel to the other.

While Tom was reorganizin’ my program and tellin’ me what to eat in Florida, and what bait to use for barracuda and carp, and what time to go bathin’ and which foot to stick in the water first, why Belle was makin’ Ada return all the stuff she had boughten to wear down there and buy other stuff that Belle picked out for her at joints where Belle was so well known that they only soaked her twice as much as a stranger. She had Ada almost crazy, but I told her to never mind; in just a few more days we’d be where they couldn’t get at us.

I suppose you’re wonderin’ why didn’t we quarrel with ’em and break loose from ’em and tell ’em to leave us alone. You’d know why if you knew them. Nothin’ we could do would convince ’em that we didn’t want their advice and help. And nothin’ we could say was a insult.

Well, the night before we was due to leave Chi, the phone rung and I answered it. It was Tom.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he says. “I and Belle has give up the California idear. We’re goin’ to Miami instead, and on account of me knowin’ the boys down at the C. & E. I., I’ve landed a drawin’ room on the same train you’re takin’. How is that for news?”

“Great!” I said, and I went back and broke it to Ada. For a minute I thought she was goin’ to faint. And all night long she moaned and groaned and had hysterics.

So that’s how we happened to come to Biloxi.

• 10 •

Zone of Quiet

“Well,” said the Doctor briskly, “how do you feel?”

“Oh, I guess I’m all right,” replied the man in bed. “I’m still kind of drowsy, that’s all.”

“You were under the anesthetic an hour and a half. It’s no wonder you aren’t wide awake yet. But you’ll be better after a good night’s rest, and I’ve left something with Miss Lyons that’ll make you sleep. I’m going along now. Miss Lyons will take good care of you.”

“I’m off at seven o’clock,” said Miss Lyons. “I’m going to a show with my G. F. But Miss Halsey’s all right. She’s the night floor nurse. Anything you want, she’ll get it for you. What can I give him to eat, Doctor?”

“Nothing at all; not till after I’ve been here tomorrow. He’ll be better off without anything. Just see that he’s kept quiet. Don’t let him talk, and don’t talk to him; that is, if you can help it.”

“Help it!” said Miss Lyons. “Say, I can be old lady Sphinx herself when I want to! Sometimes I sit for hours  – not alone, neither  – and never say a word. Just think and think. And dream.

“I had a G. F. in Baltimore, where I took my training; she used to call me Dummy. Not because I’m dumb like some people  – you know  – but because I’d sit there and not say nothing. She’d say, ‘A penny for your thoughts, Eleanor.’ That’s my first name Eleanor.”

“Well, I must run along. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good-by, Doctor,” said the man in bed, as he went out.

“Good-by, Doctor Cox,” said Miss Lyons as the door closed.

“He seems like an awful nice fella,” said Miss Lyons. “And a good doctor, too. This is the first time I’ve been on a case with him. He gives a girl credit for having some sense. Most of these doctors treat us like they thought we were Mormons or something. Like Doctor Holland. I was on a case with him last week. He treated me like I was a Mormon or something. Finally, I told him, I said, ‘I’m not as dumb as I look.’ She died Friday night.”

“Who?” asked the man in bed.

“The woman; the case I was on,” said Miss Lyons.

“And what did the doctor say when you told him you weren’t as dumb as you look?”

“I don’t remember,” said Miss Lyons. “He said, ‘I hope not,’ or something. What could he say? Gee! It’s quarter to seven. I hadn’t no idear it was so late. I must get busy and fix you up for the night. And I’ll tell Miss Halsey to take good care of you. We’re going to see ‘What Price Glory?’ I’m going with my G. F. Her B. F. gave her the tickets and he’s going to meet us after the show and take us to supper.

“Marian – that’s my G. F. – she’s crazy wild about him. And he’s crazy about her, to hear her tell it. But I said to her this noon – she called me up on the phone – I said to her, ‘If he’s so crazy about you, why don’t he propose? He’s got plenty of money and no strings tied to him, and as far as I can see there’s no reason why he shouldn’t marry you if he wants you as bad as you say he does.’ So she said maybe he was going to ask her tonight. I told her, ‘Don’t be silly! Would he drag me along if he was going to ask you?’

“That about him having plenty money, though, that’s a joke. He told her he had and she believes him. I haven’t met him yet, but he looks in his picture like he’s lucky if he’s getting twenty-five dollars a week. She thinks he must be rich because he’s in Wall Street. I told her, I said, ‘That being in Wall Street don’t mean nothing. What does he do there? is the question. You know they have to have janitors in those buildings just the same like anywhere else.’ But she thinks he’s God or somebody.

“She keeps asking me if I don’t think he’s the best looking thing I ever saw. I tell her yes, sure, but between you and I, I don’t believe anybody’d ever mistake him for Richard Barthelmess.

“Oh, say! I saw him the other day, coming out of the Algonquin! He’s the best looking thing! Even better looking than on the screen. Roy Stewart.”

“What about Roy Stewart?” asked the man in bed.

“Oh, he’s the fella I was telling you about,” said Miss Lyons. “He’s my G. F.’s B. F.”

“Maybe I’m a D. F. not to know, but would you tell me what a B. F. and G. F. are?”

“Well, you are dumb, aren’t you!” said Miss Lyons. “A G. F., that’s a girl friend, and a B. F. is a boy friend. I thought everybody knew that.

“I’m going out now and find Miss Halsey and tell her to be nice to you. But maybe I better not.”

“Why not?” asked the man in bed.

“Oh, nothing. I was just thinking of something funny that happened last time I was on a case in this hospital. It was the day the man had been operated on and he was the best looking somebody you ever saw. So when I went off duty I told Miss Halsey to be nice to him, like I was going to tell her about you. And when I came back in the morning he was dead. Isn’t that funny?”

“Very!”

—

“Well,” said Miss Lyons, “did you have a good night? You look a lot better, anyway. How’d you like Miss Halsey? Did you notice her ankles? She’s got pretty near the smallest ankles I ever saw. Cute. I remember one day Tyler – that’s one of the internes  – he said if he could just see our ankles, mine and Miss Halsey’s, he wouldn’t know which was which. Of course we don’t look anything alike other ways. She’s pretty close to thirty and – well, nobody’d ever take her for Julia Hoyt. Helen.”

“Who’s Helen?” asked the man in bed.

“Helen Halsey. Helen; that’s her first name. She was engaged to a man in Boston. He was going to Tufts College. He was going to be a doctor. But he died. She still carries his picture with her. I tell her she’s silly to mope about a man that’s been dead four years. And besides a girl’s a fool to marry a doctor. They’ve got too many alibis.

“When I marry somebody, he’s got to be somebody that has regular office hours like he’s in Wall Street or somewhere. Then when he don’t come home, he’ll have to think up something better than being ‘on a case.’ I used to use that on my sister when we were living together. When I happened to be out late, I’d tell her I was on a case. She never knew the difference. Poor sis! She married a terrible oil can! But she didn’t have the looks to get a real somebody. I’m making this for her. It’s a bridge table cover for her birthday. She’ll be twenty-nine. Don’t that seem old?”

“Maybe to you; not to me,” said the man in bed.

“You’re about forty, aren’t you?” said Miss Lyons.

“Just about.”

“And how old would you say I am?”

“Twenty-three.”

“I’m twenty-five,” said Miss Lyons. “Twenty-five and forty. That’s fifteen years’ difference. But I know a married couple that the husband is forty-five and she’s only twenty-four, and they get along fine.”

“I’m married myself,” said the man in bed.

“You would be!” said Miss Lyons. “The last four cases I’ve been on was all married men. But at that, I’d rather have any kind of a man than a woman. I hate women! I mean sick ones. They treat a nurse like a dog, especially a pretty nurse. What’s that you’re reading?”

“‘Vanity Fair,’” replied the man in bed.

“‘Vanity Fair.’ I thought that was a magazine.”

“Well, there’s a magazine and a book. This is the book.”

“Is it about a girl?”

“Yes.”

“I haven’t read it yet. I’ve been busy making this thing for my sister’s birthday. She’ll be twenty-nine. It’s a bridge table cover. When you get that old, about all there is left is bridge or crossword puzzles. Are you a puzzle fan? I did them religiously for a while, but I got sick of them. They put in such crazy words. Like one day they had a word with only three letters and it said ‘A elongated fish’ and the first letter had to be an e. And only three letters. That couldn’t be right. So I said if they put things wrong like that, what’s the use? Life’s too short. And we only live once. When you’re dead, you stay a long time dead.

“That’s what a B. F. of mine used to say. He was a caution! But he was crazy about me. I might of married him only for a G. F. telling him lies about me. And called herself my friend! Charley Pierce.”

“Who’s Charley Pierce?”

“That was my B. F. that the other girl lied to him about me. I told him, I said, ‘Well, if you believe all them stories about me, maybe we better part once and for all. I don’t want to be tied up to a somebody that believes all the dirt they hear about me.’ So he said he didn’t really believe it and if I would take him back he wouldn’t quarrel with me no more. But I said I thought it was best for us to part. I got their announcement two years ago, while I was still in training in Baltimore.”

“Did he marry the girl that lied to him about you?”

“Yes, the poor fish! And I bet he’s satisfied! They’re a match for each other! He was all right, though, at that, till he fell for her. He used to be so thoughtful of me, like I was his sister or something.

“I like a man to respect me. Most fellas wants to kiss you before they know your name.

“Golly! I’m sleepy this morning! And got a right to be, too. Do you know what time I got home last night, or this morning, rather? Well, it was half past three. What would mama say if she could see her little girl now! But we did have a good time. First we went to the show – ‘What Price Glory?’ – I and my G. F.  – and afterwards her B. F. met us and took us in a taxi down to Barney Gallant’s. Peewee Byers has got the orchestra there now. Used to be with Whiteman’s. Gee! How he can dance! I mean Roy.”

“Your G. F.’s B. F.?”

“Yes, but I don’t believe he’s as crazy about her as she thinks he is. Anyway – but this is a secret – he took down the phone number of the hospital while Marian was out powdering her nose, and he said he’d give me a ring about noon. Gee! I’m sleepy! Roy Stewart!”

—

“Well,” said Miss Lyons, “how’s my patient? I’m twenty minutes late, but honest, it’s a wonder I got up at all! Two nights in succession is too much for this child!”

“Barney Gallant’s again?” asked the man in bed.

“No, but it was dancing, and pretty near as late. It’ll be different tonight. I’m going to bed just the minute I get home. But I did have a dandy time. And I’m crazy about a certain somebody.”

“Roy Stewart?”

“How’d you guess it? But honest, he’s wonderful! And so different than most of the fellas I’ve met. He says the craziest things, just keeps you in hysterics. We were talking about books and reading, and he asked me if I liked poetry – only he called it ‘poultry’ – and I said I was wild about it and Edgar M. Guest was just about my favorite, and then I asked him if he liked Kipling and what do you think he said? He said he didn’t know; he’d never kipled.

“He’s a scream! We just sat there in the house till half past eleven and didn’t do nothing but just talk and the time went like we was at a show. He’s better than a show. But finally I noticed how late it was and I asked him didn’t he think he better be going and he said he’d go if I’d go with him, so I asked him where could we go at that hour of the night, and he said he knew a roadhouse just a little ways away, and I didn’t want to go, but he said we wouldn’t stay for only just one dance, so I went with him. To the Jericho Inn.

“I don’t know what the woman thought of me where I stay, going out that time of night. But he is such a wonderful dancer and such a perfect gentleman! Of course we had more than one dance and it was after two o’clock before I knew it. We had some gin, too, but he just kissed me once and that was when we said good night.”

“What about your G. F., Marian? Does she know?”

“About Roy and I? No. I always say that what a person don’t know don’t hurt them. Besides, there’s nothing for her to know  – yet. But listen: If there was a chance in the world for her, if I thought he cared anything about her, I’d be the last one in the world to accept his intentions. I hope I’m not that kind! But as far as anything serious between them is concerned, well, it’s cold. I happen to know that. She’s not the girl for him.

“In the first place, while she’s pretty in a way, her complexion’s bad and her hair’s scraggy and her figure, well, it’s like some woman in the funny pictures. And she’s not peppy enough for Roy. She’d rather stay home than do anything. Stay home! It’ll be time enough for that when you can’t get somebody to take you out.

“She’d never make a wife for him. He’ll be a rich man in another year; that is, if things go right for him in Wall Street like he expects. And a man as rich as he’ll be wants a wife that can live up to it and entertain and step out once in a while. He don’t want a wife that’s a drag on him. And he’s too good-looking for Marian. A fella as good-looking as him needs a pretty wife or the first thing you know some girl that is pretty will steal him off of you. But it’s silly to talk about them marrying each other. He’d have to ask her first, and he’s not going to. I know! So I don’t feel at all like I’m trespassing.

“Anyway, you know the old saying, everything goes in love. And I— But I’m keeping you from reading your book. Oh, yes; I almost forgot a T. L. that Miss Halsey said about you. Do you know what a T. L. is?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then, you give me one and I’ll give you this one.”

“But I haven’t talked to anybody but the Doctor. I can give you one from myself. He asked me how I liked you and I said all right.”

“Well, that’s better than nothing. Here’s what Miss Halsey said: She said if you were shaved and fixed up, you wouldn’t be bad. And now I’m going out and see if there’s any mail for me. Most of my mail goes to where I live, but some of it comes here sometimes. What I’m looking for is a letter from the state board telling me if I passed my state examination. They ask you the craziest questions. Like ‘Is ice a disinfectant?’ Who cares! Nobody’s going to waste ice to kill germs when there’s so much of it needed in high-balls. Do you like high-balls? Roy says it spoils whisky to mix it with water. He takes it straight. He’s a terror! But maybe you want to read.”

—

“Good morning,” said Miss Lyons. “Did you sleep good?”

“Not so good,” said the man in bed. “I—”

“I bet you got more sleep than I did,” said Miss Lyons. “He’s the most persistent somebody I ever knew! I asked him last night, I said, ‘Don’t you never get tired of dancing?’ So he said, well, he did get tired of dancing with some people, but there was others who he never got tired of dancing with them. So I said, ‘Yes, Mr. Jollier, but I wasn’t born yesterday and I know apple sauce when I hear it and I bet you’ve told that to fifty girls,’ I guess he really did mean it, though.

“Of course most anybody’d rather dance with slender girls than stout girls. I remember a B. F. I had one time in Washington. He said dancing with me was just like dancing with nothing. That sounds like he was insulting me, but it was really a compliment. He meant it wasn’t any effort to dance with me like with some girls. You take Marian, for instance, and while I’m crazy about her, still that don’t make her a good dancer and dancing with her must be a good deal like moving the piano or something.

“I’d die if I was fat! People are always making jokes about fat people. And there’s the old saying, ‘Nobody loves a fat man.’ And it’s even worse with a girl. Besides people making jokes about them and don’t want to dance with them and so forth, besides that they’re always trying to reduce and can’t eat what they want to. I bet, though, if I was fat, I’d eat everything in sight. Though I guess not, either. Because I hardly eat anything as it is. But they do make jokes about them.

“I’ll never forget one day last winter, I was on a case in Great Neck and the man’s wife was the fattest thing! So they had a radio in the house and one day she saw in the paper where Bugs Baer was going to talk on the radio and it would probably be awfully funny because he writes so crazy. Do you ever read his articles? But this woman, she was awfully sensitive about being fat and I nearly died sitting there with her listening to Bugs Baer, because his whole talk was all about some fat woman and he said the craziest things, but I couldn’t laugh on account of she being there in the room with me. One thing he said was that the woman, this woman he was talking about, he said she was so fat that she wore a wrist watch on her thumb. Henry J. Belden.”

“Who is Henry J. Belden? Is that the name of Bugs Baer’s fat lady?”

“No, you crazy!” said Miss Lyons. “Mr. Belden was the case I was on in Great Neck. He died.”

“It seems to me a good many of your cases die.”

“Isn’t it a scream!” said Miss Lyons. “But it’s true; that is, it’s been true lately. The last five cases I’ve been on has all died. Of course it’s just luck, but the girls have been kidding me about it and calling me a jinx, and when Miss Halsey saw me here the evening of the day you was operated, she said, ‘God help him!’ That’s the night floor nurse’s name. But you’re going to be mean and live through it and spoil my record, aren’t you? I’m just kidding. Of course I want you to get all right.

“But it is queer, the way things have happened, and it’s made me feel kind of creepy. And besides, I’m not like some of the girls and don’t care. I get awfully fond of some of my cases and I hate to see them die, especially if they’re men and not very sick and treat you half-way decent and don’t yell for you the minute you go out of the room. There’s only one case I was ever on where I didn’t mind her dying and that was a woman. She had nephritis. Mrs. Judson.

“Do you want some gum? I chew it just when I’m nervous. And I always get nervous when I don’t have enough sleep. You can bet I’ll stay home tonight, B. F. or no B. F. But anyway he’s got an engagement tonight, some directors’ meeting or something. He’s the busiest somebody in the world. And I told him last night, I said, T should think you’d need sleep, too, even more than I do because you have to have all your wits about you in your business or those big bankers would take advantage and rob you. You can’t afford to be sleepy, I told him.

“So he said, ‘No, but of course it’s all right for you, because if you go to sleep on your job, there’s no danger of you doing any damage except maybe give one of your patients a bichloride of mercury tablet instead of an alcohol rub.’ He’s terrible! But you can’t help from laughing.

“There was four of us in the party last night. He brought along his B. F. and another girl. She was just blah, but the B. F. wasn’t so bad, only he insisted on me helping him drink a half a bottle of Scotch, and on top of gin, too. I guess I was the life of the party; that is, at first. Afterwards I got sick and it wasn’t so good.

“But at first I was certainly going strong. And I guess I made quite a hit with Roy’s B. F. He knows Marian, too, but he won’t say anything, and if he does, I don’t care. If she don’t want to lose her beaus, she ought to know better than to introduce them to all the pretty girls in the world. I don’t mean that I’m any Norma Talmadge, but at least – well – but I sure was sick when I was sick!

“I must give Marian a ring this noon. I haven’t talked to her since the night she introduced me to him. I’ve been kind of scared. But I’ve got to find out what she knows. Or if she’s sore at me. Though I don’t see how she can be, do you? But maybe you want to read.”

—

“I called Marian up, but I didn’t get her. She’s out of town but she’ll be back tonight. She’s been out on a case. Hudson, New York. That’s where she went. The message was waiting for her when she got home the other night, the night she introduced me to Roy.”

—

“Good morning,” said Miss Lyons.

“Good morning,” said the man in bed. “Did you sleep enough?”

“Yes,” said Miss Lyons. “I mean no, not enough.”

“Your eyes look bad. They almost look as if you’d been crying.”

“Who? Me? It’d take more than – I mean, I’m not a baby! But go on and read your book.”

—

“Well, good morning,” said Miss Lyons. “And how’s my patient? And this is the last morning I can call you that, isn’t it? I think you’re mean to get well so quick and leave me out of a job. I’m just kidding. I’m glad you’re all right again, and I can use a little rest myself.”

“Another big night?” asked the man in bed.

“Pretty big,” said Miss Lyons. “And another one coming. But tomorrow I won’t ever get up. Honest, I danced so much last night that I thought my feet would drop off. But he certainly is a dancing fool! And the nicest somebody to talk to that I’ve met since I came to this town. Not a smart Alex and not always trying to be funny like some people, but just nice. He understands. He seems to know just what you’re thinking. George Morse.”

“George Morse!” exclaimed the man in bed.

“Why yes,” said Miss Lyons. “Do you know him?”

“No. But I thought you were talking about this Stewart, this Roy.”

“Oh, him!” said Miss Lyons. “I should say not! He’s private property; other people’s property, not mine. He’s engaged to my G. F. Marian. It happened day before yesterday, after she got home from Hudson. She was on a case up there. She told me about it night before last. I told her congratulations. Because I wouldn’t hurt her feelings for the world! But heavens! what a mess she’s going to be in, married to that dumb-bell. But of course some people can’t be choosey. And I doubt if they ever get married unless some friend loans him the price of a license.

“He’s got her believing he’s in Wall Street, but I bet if he ever goes there at all, it’s to sweep it. He’s one of these kind of fellas that’s got a great line for a little while, but you don’t want to live with a clown. And I’d hate to marry a man that all he thinks about is to step out every night and dance and drink.

“I had a notion to tell her what I really thought. But that’d only of made her sore, or she’d of thought I was jealous or something. As if I couldn’t of had him myself! Though even if he wasn’t so awful, if I’d liked him instead of loathed him, I wouldn’t of taken him from her on account of she being my G. F. And especially while she was out of town.

“He’s the kind of a fella that’d marry a nurse in the hopes that some day he’d be an invalid. You know, that kind.

“But say – did you ever hear of J. P. Morgan and Company? That’s where my B. F. works, and he don’t claim to own it neither. George Morse.

“Haven’t you finished that book yet?”

• 11 •

The Love Nest

“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do with you, Mr. Bartlett,” said the great man. “I’m going to take you right out to my home and have you meet the wife and family; stay to dinner and all night. We’ve got plenty of room and extra pajamas, if you don’t mind them silk. I mean that’ll give you a chance to see us just as we are. I mean you can get more that way than if you sat here a whole week, asking me questions.”

“But I don’t want to put you to a lot of trouble,” said Bartlett.

“Trouble!” The great man laughed. “There’s no trouble about it. I’ve got a house that’s like a hotel. I mean a big house with lots of servants. But anyway I’m always glad to do anything I can for a writing man, especially a man that works for Ralph Doane. I’m very fond of Ralph. I mean I like him personally besides being a great editor. I mean I’ve known him for years and when there’s anything I can do for him, I’m glad to do it. I mean it’ll be a pleasure to have you. So if you want to notify your family—”

“I haven’t any family,” said Bartlett.

“Well, I’m sorry for you! And I bet when you see mine, you’ll wish you had one of your own. But I’m glad you can come and we’ll start now so as to get there before the kiddies are put away for the night. I mean I want you to be sure and see the kiddies. I’ve got three.”

“I’ve seen their pictures,” said Bartlett. “You must be very proud of them. They’re all girls, aren’t they?”

“Yes, sir; three girls. I wouldn’t have a boy. I mean I always wanted girls. I mean girls have got a lot more zip to them. I mean they’re a lot zippier. But let’s go! The Rolls is downstairs and if we start now we’ll get there before dark. I mean I want you to see the place while it’s still daylight.”

The great man  – Lou Gregg, president of Modern Pictures, Inc.  – escorted his visitor from the magnificent office by a private door and down a private stairway to the avenue, where the glittering car with its glittering chauffeur waited.

“My wife was in town today,” said Gregg as they glided northward, “and I hoped we could ride out together, but she called up about two and asked would I mind if she went on home in the Pierce. She was through with her shopping and she hates to be away from the house and the kiddies any longer than she can help. Celia’s a great home girl. You’d never know she was the same girl now as the girl I married seven years ago. I mean she’s different. I mean she’s not the same. I mean her marriage and being a mother has developed her. Did you ever see her? I mean in pictures?”

“I think I did once,” replied Bartlett. “Didn’t she play the young sister in ‘The Cad’?”

“Yes, with Harold Hodgson and Marie Blythe.”

“I thought I’d seen her. I remember her as very pretty and vivacious.”

“She certainly was! And she is yet! I mean she’s even prettier, but of course she ain’t a kid, though she looks it. I mean she was only seventeen in that picture and that was ten years ago. I mean she’s twenty-seven years old now. But I never met a girl with as much zip as she had in those days. It’s remarkable how marriage changes them. I mean nobody would ever thought Celia Sayles would turn out to be a sit-by-the-fire. I mean she still likes a good time, but her home and kiddies come first. I mean her home and kiddies come first.”

“I see what you mean,” said Bartlett.

An hour’s drive brought them to Ardsley-on-Hudson and the great man’s home.

“A wonderful place!” Bartlett exclaimed with a heroic semblance of enthusiasm as the car turned in at an arc de triomphe of a gateway and approached a white house that might have been mistaken for the Yale Bowl.

“It ought to be!” said Gregg. “I mean I’ve spent enough on it. I mean these things cost money.”

He indicated with a gesture the huge house and Urbanesque landscaping.

“But no amount of money is too much to spend on home. I mean it’s a good investment if it tends to make your family proud and satisfied with their home. I mean every nickel I’ve spent here is like so much insurance; it insures me of a happy wife and family. And what more can a man ask!”

Bartlett didn’t know, but the topic was forgotten in the business of leaving the resplendent Rolls and entering the even more resplendent reception hall.

“Forbes will take your things,” said Gregg. “And, Forbes, you may tell Dennis that Mr. Bartlett will spend the night.” He faced the wide stairway and raised his voice. “Sweetheart!” he called.

From above came the reply in contralto: “Hello, sweetheart!”

“Come down, sweetheart. I’ve brought you a visitor.”

“All right, sweetheart, in just a minute.”

Gregg led Bartlett into a living-room that was five laps to the mile and suggestive of an Atlantic City auction sale.

“Sit there,” said the host, pointing to a balloon-stuffed easy chair, “and I’ll see if we can get a drink. I’ve got some real old Bourbon that I’d like you to try. You know I come from Chicago and I always liked Bourbon better than Scotch. I mean I always preferred it to Scotch. Forbes,” he addressed the servant, “we want a drink. You’ll find a full bottle of that Bourbon in the cupboard.”

“It’s only half full, sir,” said Forbes.

“Half full! That’s funny! I mean I opened it last night and just took one drink. I mean it ought to be full.”

“It’s only half full,” repeated Forbes, and went to fetch it.

“I’ll have to investigate,” Gregg told his guest. “I mean this ain’t the first time lately that some of my good stuff has disappeared. When you keep so many servants, it’s hard to get all honest ones. But here’s Celia!”

Bartlett rose to greet the striking brunette who at this moment made an entrance so Delsarte as to be almost painful. With never a glance at him, she minced across the room to her husband and took a half interest in a convincing kiss.

“Well, sweetheart,” she said when it was at last over.

“This is Mr. Bartlett, sweetheart,” said her husband. “Mr. Bartlett, meet Mrs. Gregg.”

Bartlett shook his hostess’s proffered two fingers.

“I’m so pleased!” said Celia in a voice reminiscent of Miss Claire’s imitation of Miss Barrymore.

“Mr. Bartlett,” Gregg went on, “is with Mankind, Ralph Doane’s magazine. He is going to write me up; I mean us.”

“No, you mean you,” said Celia. “Tm sure the public is not interested in great men’s wives.”

“I am sure you are mistaken, Mrs. Gregg,” said Bartlett politely. “In this case at least. You are worth writing up aside from being a great man’s wife.”

“I’m afraid you’re a flatterer, Mr. Bartlett,” she returned. “I have been out of the limelight so long that I doubt if anybody remembers me. I’m no longer an artist; merely a happy wife and mother.”

“And I claim, sweetheart,” said Gregg, “that it takes an artist to be that.”

“Oh, no, sweetheart!” said Celia. “Not when they have you for a husband!”

The exchange of hosannahs was interrupted by the arrival of Forbes with the tray.

“Will you take yours straight or in a high-ball?” Gregg inquired of his guest. “Personally I like good whisky straight. I mean mixing it with water spoils the flavor. I mean whisky like this, it seems like a crime to mix it with water.”

“I’ll have mine straight,” said Bartlett, who would have preferred a high-ball.

While the drinks were being prepared, he observed his hostess more closely and thought how much more charming she would be if she had used finesse in improving on nature. Her cheeks, her mouth, her eyes, and lashes had been, he guessed, far above the average in beauty before she had begun experimenting with them. And her experiments had been clumsy. She was handsome in spite of her efforts to be handsomer.

“Listen, sweetheart,” said her husband. “One of the servants has been helping himself to this Bourbon. I mean it was a full bottle last night and I only had one little drink out of it. And now it’s less than half full. Who do you suppose has been at it?”

“How do I know, sweetheart? Maybe the groceryman or the iceman or somebody.”

“But you and I and Forbes are the only ones that have a key. I mean it was locked up.”

“Maybe you forgot to lock it.”

“I never do. Well, anyway, Bartlett, here’s a go!”

“Doesn’t Mrs. Gregg indulge?” asked Bartlett.

“Only a cocktail before dinner,” said Celia. “Lou objects to me drinking whisky, and I don’t like it much anyway.”

“I don’t object to you drinking whisky, sweetheart. I just object to you drinking to excess. I mean I think it coarsens a woman to drink. I mean it makes them coarse.”

“Well, there’s no argument, sweetheart. As I say, I don’t care whether I have it or not.”

“It certainly is great Bourbon!” said Bartlett, smacking his lips and putting his glass back on the tray.

“You bet it is!” Gregg agreed. “I mean you can’t buy that kind of stuff any more. I mean it’s real stuff. You help yourself when you want another. Mr. Bartlett is going to stay all night, sweetheart. I told him he could get a whole lot more of a line on us that way than just interviewing me in the office. I mean I’m tongue-tied when it comes to talking about my work and my success. I mean it’s better to see me out here as I am, in my home, with my family. I mean my home life speaks for itself without me saying a word.”

“But, sweetheart,” said his wife, “what about Mr. Latham?”

“Gosh! I forgot all about him! I must phone and see if I can call it off. That’s terrible! You see,” he explained to Bartlett, “I made a date to go up to Tarrytown tonight, to K. L. Latham’s, the sugar people. We’re going to talk over the new club. We’re going to have a golf club that will make the rest of them look like a toy. I mean a real golf club! They want me to kind of run it. And I was to go up there tonight and talk it over. I’ll phone and see if I can postpone it.”

“Oh, don’t postpone it on my account!” urged Bartlett. “I can come out again some other time, or I can see you in town.”

“I don’t see how you can postpone it, sweetheart,” said Celia. “Didn’t he say old Mr. King was coming over from White Plains? They’ll be mad at you if you don’t go.”

“I’m afraid they would resent it, sweetheart. Well, I’ll tell you. You can entertain Mr. Bartlett and I’ll go there right after dinner and come back as soon as I can. And Bartlett and I can talk when I get back. I mean we can talk when I get back. How is that?”

“That suits me,” said Bartlett.

“I’ll be as entertaining as I can,” said Celia, “but I’m afraid that isn’t very entertaining. However, if I’m too much of a bore, there’s plenty to read.”

“No danger of my being bored,” said Bartlett.

“Well, that’s all fixed then,” said the relieved host. “I hope you’ll excuse me running away. But I don’t see how I can get out of it. I mean with old King coming over from White Plains. I mean he’s an old man. But listen, sweetheart – where are the kiddies? Mr. Bartlett wants to see them.”

“Yes, indeed!” agreed the visitor.

“Of course you’d say so!” Celia said. “But we are proud of them! I suppose all parents are the same. They all think their own children are the only children in the world. Isn’t that so, Mr. Bartlett? Or haven’t you any children?”

“I’m sorry to say I’m not married.”

“Oh, you poor thing! We pity him, don’t we, sweetheart? But why aren’t you, Mr. Bartlett? Don’t tell me you’re a woman hater!”

“Not now, anyway,” said the gallant Bartlett.

“Do you get that, sweetheart? He’s paying you a pretty compliment.”

“I heard it, sweetheart. And now I’m sure he’s a flatterer. But I must hurry and get the children before Hortense puts them to bed.”

“Well,” said Gregg when his wife had left the room, “would you say she’s changed?”

“A little, and for the better. She’s more than fulfilled her early promise.”

“I think so,” said Gregg. “I mean I think she was a beautiful girl and now she’s an even more beautiful woman. I mean wifehood and maternity have given her a kind of a – well, you know  – I mean a kind of a pose. I mean a pose. How about another drink?”

They were emptying their glasses when Celia returned with two of her little girls.

“The baby’s in bed and I was afraid to ask Hortense to get her up again. But you’ll see her in the morning. This is Norma and this is Grace. Girls, this is Mr. Bartlett.”

The girls received this news calmly.

“Well, girls,” said Bartlett.

“What do you think of them, Bartlett?” demanded their father. “I mean what do you think of them?”

“They’re great!” replied the guest with creditable warmth.

“I mean aren’t they pretty?”

“I should say they are!”

“There, girls! Why don’t you thank Mr. Bartlett?”

“Thanks,” murmured Norma.

“How old are you, Norma?” asked Bartlett.

“Six,” said Norma.

“Well,” said Bartlett. “And how old is Grace?”

“Four,” replied Norma.

“Well,” said Bartlett. “And how old is baby sister?”

“One and a half,” answered Norma.

“Well,” said Bartlett.

As this seemed to be final, “Come, girls,” said their mother. “Kiss daddy good night and I’ll take you back to Hortense.”

“I’ll take them,” said Gregg. “I’m going upstairs anyway. And you can show Bartlett around. I mean before it gets any darker.”

“Good night, girls,” said Bartlett, and the children murmured a good night.

“I’ll come and see you before you’re asleep,” Celia told them. And after Gregg had led them out, “Do you really think they’re pretty?” she asked Bartlett.

“I certainly do. Especially Norma. She’s the image of you,” said Bartlett.

“She looks a little like I used to,” Celia admitted. “But I hope she doesn’t look like me now. I’m too old looking.”

“You look remarkably young!” said Bartlett. “No one would believe you were the mother of three children.”

“Oh, Mr. Bartlett! But I mustn’t forget I’m to ‘show you around.’ Lou is so proud of our home!”

“And with reason,” said Bartlett.

“It is wonderful! I call it our love nest. Quite a big nest, don’t you think? Mother says it’s too big to be cosy; she says she can’t think of it as a home. But I always say a place is whatever one makes of it. A woman can be happy in a tent if they love each other. And miserable in a royal palace without love. Don’t you think so, Mr. Bartlett?”

“Yes, indeed.”

“Is this really such wonderful Bourbon? I think I’ll just take a sip of it and see what it’s like. It can’t hurt me if it’s so good. Do you think so, Mr. Bartlett?”

“I don’t believe so.”

“Well then, I’m going to taste it and if it hurts me it’s your fault.”

Celia poured a whisky glass two-thirds full and drained it at a gulp.

“It is good, isn’t it?” she said. “Of course I’m not much of a judge as I don’t care for whisky and Lou won’t let me drink it. But he’s raved so about this Bourbon that I did want to see what it was like. You won’t tell on me, will you, Mr. Bartlett?”

“Not I!”

“I wonder how it would be in a high-ball. Let’s you and I have just one. But I’m forgetting I’m supposed to show you the place. We won’t have time to drink a high-ball and see the place too before Lou comes down. Are you so crazy to see the place?”

“Not very.”

“Well, then, what do you say if we have a high-ball? And it’ll be a secret between you and I.”

They drank in silence and Celia pressed a button by the door.

“You may take the bottle and tray,” she told Forbes. “And now,” she said to Bartlett, “we’ll go out on the porch and see as much as we can see. You’ll have to guess the rest.”

Gregg, having changed his shirt and collar, joined them.

“Well,” he said to Bartlett, “have you seen everything?”

“I guess I have, Mr. Gregg,” lied the guest readily. “It’s a wonderful place!”

“We like it. I mean it suits us. I mean it’s my idear of a real home. And Celia calls it her love nest.”

“So she told me,” said Bartlett.

“She’ll always be sentimental,” said her husband.

He put his hand on her shoulder, but she drew away.

“I must run up and dress,” she said.

“Dress!” exclaimed Bartlett, who had been dazzled by her flowered green chiffon.

“Oh, I’m not going to really dress,” she said. “But I couldn’t wear this thing for dinner!”

“Perhaps you’d like to clean up a little, Bartlett,” said Gregg. “I mean Forbes will show you your room if you want to go up.”

“It might be best,” said Bartlett.

Celia, in a black lace dinner gown, was rather quiet during the elaborate meal. Three or four times when Gregg addressed her, she seemed to be thinking of something else and had to ask, “What did you say, sweetheart?” Her face was red and Bartlett imagined that she had “sneaked” a drink or two besides the two helpings of Bourbon and the cocktail that had preceded dinner.

“Well, I’ll leave you,” said Gregg when they were in the living-room once more. “I mean the sooner I get started, the sooner I’ll be back. Sweetheart, try and keep your guest awake and don’t let him die of thirst. Au revoir, Bartlett. I’m sorry, but it can’t be helped. There’s a fresh bottle of the Bourbon, so go to it. I mean help yourself. It’s too bad you have to drink alone.”

“It is too bad, Mr. Bartlett,” said Celia when Gregg had gone.

“What’s too bad?” asked Bartlett.

“That you have to drink alone. I feel like I wasn’t being a good hostess to let you do it. In fact, I refuse to let you do it. I’ll join you in just a little wee sip.”

“But it’s so soon after dinner!”

“It’s never too soon! I’m going to have a drink myself and if you don’t join me, you’re a quitter.”

She mixed two life-sized high-balls and handed one to her guest.

“Now we’ll turn on the radio and see if we can’t stir things up. There! No, no! Who cares about the old baseball! Now! This is better! Let’s dance.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Gregg, but I don’t dance.”

“Well, you’re an old cheese! To make me dance alone! ‘All alone, yes, I’m all alone.’”

There was no affectation in her voice now and Bartlett was amazed at her unlabored grace as she glided around the big room.

“But it’s no fun alone,” she complained. “Let’s shut the damn thing off and talk.”

“I love to watch you dance,” said Bartlett.

“Yes, but I’m no Pavlowa,” said Celia as she silenced the radio. “And besides, it’s time for a drink.”

“I’ve still got more than half of mine.”

“Well, you had that wine at dinner, so I’ll have to catch up with you.”

She poured herself another high-ball and went at the task of “catching up.”

“The trouble with you, Mr. – now isn’t that a scream! I can’t think of your name.”

“Bartlett.”

“The trouble with you, Barker – do you know what’s the trouble with you? You’re too sober. See? You’re too damn sober! That’s the whole trouble, see? If you weren’t so sober, we’d be better off. See? What I can’t understand is how you can be so sober and me so high.”

“You’re not used to it.”

“Not used to it! That’s the cat’s pajamas! Say, I’m like this half the time, see? If I wasn’t, I’d die!”

“What does your husband say?”

“He don’t say because he don’t know. See, Barker? There’s nights when he’s out and there’s a few nights when I’m out myself. And there’s other nights when we’re both in and I pretend I’m sleepy and I go upstairs. See? But I don’t go to bed. See? I have a little party all by myself. See? If I didn’t, I’d die!”

“What do you mean, you’d die?”

“You’re dumb, Barker! You may be sober, but you’re dumb! Did you fall for all that apple sauce about the happy home and the contented wife? Listen, Barker – I’d give anything in the world to be out of this mess. I’d give anything to never see him again.”

“Don’t you love him any more? Doesn’t he love you? Or what?”

“Love! I never did love him! I didn’t know what love was! And all his love is for himself!”

“How did you happen to get married?”

“I was a kid; that’s the answer. A kid and ambitious. See? He was a director then and he got stuck on me and I thought he’d make me a star. See, Barker? I married him to get myself a chance. And now look at me!”

“I’d say you were fairly well off.”

“Well off, am I? I’d change places with the scum of the earth just to be free! See, Barker? And I could have been a star without any help if I’d only realized it. I had the looks and I had the talent. I’ve got it yet. I could be a Swanson and get myself a marquis; maybe a prince! And look what I did get! A self-satisfied, self-centered ———! I thought he’d make me! See, Barker? Well, he’s made me all right; he’s made me a chronic mother and it’s a wonder I’ve got any looks left.

“I fought at first. I told him marriage didn’t mean giving up my art, my life work. But it was no use. He wanted a beautiful wife and beautiful children for his beautiful home. Just to show us off. See? I’m part of his chattels. See, Barker? I’m just like his big diamond or his cars or his horses. And he wouldn’t stand for his wife ‘lowering’ herself to act in pictures. Just as if pictures hadn’t made him!

“You go back to your magazine tomorrow and write about our love nest. See, Barker? And be sure and don’t get mixed and call it a baby ranch. Babies! You thought little Norma was pretty. Well, she is. And what is it going to get her? A rich ——— of a husband that treats her like a ———! That’s what it’ll get her if I don’t interfere. I hope I don’t last long enough to see her grow up, but if I do, I’m going to advise her to run away from home and live her own life. And be somebody! Not a thing like I am! See, Barker?”

“Did you ever think of a divorce?”

“Did I ever think of one! Listen – but there’s no chance. I’ve got nothing on him, and no matter what he had on me, he’d never let the world know it. He’d keep me here and torture me like he does now, only worse. But I haven’t done anything wrong, see? The men I might care for, they’re all scared of him and his money and power. See, Barker? And the others are just as bad as him. Like fat old Morris, the hotel man, that everybody thinks he’s a model husband. The reason he don’t step out more is because he’s too stingy. But I could have him if I wanted him. Every time he gets near enough to me, he squeezes my hand. I guess he thinks it’s a nickel, the tight old ———! But come on, Barker. Let’s have a drink. I’m running down.”

“I think it’s about time you were running up – upstairs,” said Bartlett. “If I were you, I’d try to be in bed and asleep when Gregg gets home.”

“You’re all right, Barker. And after this drink I’m going to do just as you say. Only I thought of it before you did, see? I think of it lots of nights. And tonight you can help me out by telling him I had a bad headache.”

Left alone, Bartlett thought a while, then read, and finally dozed off. He was dozing when Gregg returned.

“Well, well, Bartlett,” said the great man, “did Celia desert you?”

“It was perfectly all right, Mr. Gregg. She had a headache and I told her to go to bed.”

“She’s had a lot of headaches lately; reads too much, I guess. Well, I’m sorry I had this date. It was about a new golf club and I had to be there. I mean I’m going to be president of it. I see you consoled yourself with some of the Bourbon. I mean the bottle doesn’t look as full as it did.”

“I hope you’ll forgive me for helping myself so generously,” said Bartlett. “I don’t get stuff like that every day!”

“Well, what do you say if we turn in? We can talk on the way to town tomorrow. Though I guess you won’t have much to ask me. I guess you know all about us. I mean you know all about us now.”

“Yes, indeed, Mr. Gregg. I’ve got plenty of material if I can just handle it.”

Celia had not put in an appearance when Gregg and his guest were ready to leave the house next day.

“She always sleeps late,” said Gregg. “I mean she never wakes up very early. But she’s later than usual this morning. Sweetheart!” he called up the stairs.

“Yes, sweetheart,” came the reply.

“Mr. Bartlett’s leaving now. I mean he’s going.”

“Oh, good-by, Mr. Bartlett. Please forgive me for not being down to see you off.”

“You’re forgiven, Mrs. Gregg. And thanks for your hospitality.”

“Good-by, sweetheart!”

“Good-by, sweetheart!”

• 12 •

A Day with Conrad Green

Conrad Green woke up depressed and, for a moment, could not think why. Then he remembered. Herman Plant was dead; Herman Plant, who had been his confidential secretary ever since he had begun producing; who had been much more than a secretary  – his champion, votary, shield, bodyguard, tool, occasional lackey, and the butt of his heavy jokes and nasty temper. For forty-five dollars a week.

Herman Plant was dead, and this Lewis, recommended by Ezra Peebles, a fellow entrepreneur, had not, yesterday, made a good first impression. Lewis was apparently impervious to hints. You had to tell him things right out, and when he did understand he looked at you as if you were a boob. And insisted on a salary of sixty dollars right at the start. Perhaps Peebles, who, Green knew, hated him almost enough to make it fifty-fifty, was doing him another dirty trick dressed up as a favor.

After ten o’clock, and still Green had not had enough sleep. It had been nearly three when his young wife and he had left the Bryant-Walkers’. Mrs. Green, the former Marjorie Manning of the Vanities chorus, had driven home to Long Island, while he had stayed in the rooms he always kept at the Ambassador.

Marjorie had wanted to leave a good deal earlier; through no lack of effort on her part she had been almost entirely ignored by her aristocratic host and hostess and most of the guests. She had confided to her husband more than once that she was sick of the whole such-and-such bunch of so-and-so’s. As far as she was concerned, they could all go to hell and stay there! But Green had been rushed by the pretty and stage-struck Joyce Brainard, wife of the international polo star, and had successfully combated his own wife’s importunities till the Brainards themselves had gone.

Yes, he could have used a little more sleep, but the memory of the party cheered him. Mrs. Brainard, excited by his theatrical aura and several highballs, had been almost affectionate. She had promised to come to his office some time and talk over a stage career which both knew was impossible so long as Brainard lived. But, best of all, Mr. and Mrs. Green would be listed in the papers as among those present at the Bryant-Walkers’, along with the Vanderbecks, the Suttons, and the Schuylers, and that would just about be the death of Peebles and other social sycophants of “show business.” He would order all the papers now and look for his name. No; he was late and must get to his office. No telling what a mess things were in without Herman Plant. And, by the way, he mustn’t forget Plant’s funeral this afternoon.

He bathed, telephoned for his breakfast, and his favorite barber, dressed in a symphony of purple and gray, and set out for Broadway, pretending not to hear the “There’s Conrad Green!” spoken in awed tones by two flappers and a Westchester realtor whom he passed en route.

Green let himself into his private office, an office of luxurious, exotic furnishings, its walls adorned with expensive landscapes and a Zuloaga portrait of his wife. He took off his twenty-five dollar velour hat, approved of himself in the large mirror, sat down at his desk, and rang for Miss Jackson.

“All the morning papers,” he ordered, “and tell Lewis to come in.”

“I’ll have to send out for the papers,” said Miss Jackson, a tired-looking woman of forty-five or fifty.

“What do you mean, send out? I thought we had an arrangement with that boy to leave them every morning.”

“We did. But the boy says he can’t leave them any more till we’ve paid up to date.”

“What do we owe?”

“Sixty-five dollars.”

“Sixty-five dollars! He’s crazy! Haven’t you been paying him by the week?”

“No. You told me not to.”

“I told you nothing of the kind! Sixty-five dollars! He’s trying to rob us!”

“I don’t believe so, Mr. Green,” said Miss Jackson. “He showed me his book. It’s more than thirty weeks since he began, and you know we’ve never paid him.”

“But hell! There isnt’ sixty-five dollars’ worth of newspapers ever been printed! Tell him to sue us! And now send out for the papers and do it quick! After this we’ll get them down at the corner every morning and pay for them. Tell Lewis to bring me the mail.”

Miss Jackson left him, and presently the new secretary came in.

He was a man under thirty, whom one would have taken for a high school teacher rather than a theatrical general’s aide-decamp.

“Good-morning, Mr. Green,” he said.

His employer disregarded the greeting.

“Anything in the mail?” he asked.

“Not much of importance. I’ve already answered most of it. Here are a few things from your clipping bureau and a sort of dunning letter from some jeweler in Philadelphia.”

“What did you open that for?” demanded Green, crossly. “Wasn’t it marked personal?”

“Look here, Mr. Green,” said Lewis quietly: “I was told you had a habit of being rough with your employees. I want to warn you that I am not used to that sort of treatment and don’t intend to get used to it. If you are decent with me, I’ll work for you. Otherwise I’ll resign.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lewis. I didn’t mean to be rough. It’s just my way of speaking. Let’s forget it and I’ll try not to give you any more cause to complain.”

“All right, Mr. Green. You told me to open all your mail except the letters with that one little mark on them—”

“Yes, I know. Now let’s have the clippings.”

Lewis laid them on the desk.

“I threw away about ten of them that were all the same – the announcement that you had signed Bonnie Blue for next season. There’s one there that speaks of a possible partnership between you and Sam Stein—”

“What a nerve he’s got, giving out a statement like that. Fine chance of me mixing myself up with a crook like Stein! Peebles says he’s a full stepbrother to the James boys. So is Peebles himself, for that matter. What’s this long one about?”

“It’s about that young composer, Casper Ettelson. It’s by Deems Taylor of the World. There’s just a mention of you down at the bottom.”

“Read it to me, will you? I’ve overstrained my eyes lately.”

The dead Herman Plant had first heard of that recent eye strain twenty years ago. It amounted to almost total blindness where words of over two syllables were concerned.

“So far,” Lewis read, “Ettelson has not had a book worthy of his imaginative, whimsical music. How we would revel in an Ettelson score with a Barrie libretto and a Conrad Green production.”

“Who is this Barrie?” asked Green.

“I suppose it’s James M. Barrie,” replied Lewis, “the man who wrote Peter Pan.”

“I thought that was written by a fella over in England,” said Green.

“I guess he does live in England. He was born in Scotland. I don’t know where he is now.”

“Well, find out if he’s in New York, and, if he is, get a hold of him. Maybe he’ll do a couple of scenes for our next show. Come in, Miss Jackson. Oh, the papers!”

Miss Jackson handed them to him and went out. Green turned first to the society page of the Herald Tribune. His eye trouble was not so severe as to prevent his finding that page. And he could read his name when it was there to be read.

Three paragraphs were devoted to the Bryant-Walker affair, two of them being lists of names. And Mr. and Mrs. Conrad Green were left out.

“———!” commented Green, and grabbed the other papers.

The World and Times were searched with the same hideous result. And the others did not mention the party at all.

“———!” repeated Green. “I’ll get somebody for this!” Then, to Lewis: “Here! Take this telegram. Send it to the managing editors of all the morning papers; you’ll find their names pasted on Plant’s desk. Now: ‘Ask your society editor why my name was not on list of guests at Bryant-Walker dinner Wednesday night. Makes no difference to me, as am not seeking and do not need publicity, but it looks like conspiracy, and thought you ought to be informed, as have always been good friend of your paper, as well as steady advertiser.’ I guess that’s enough.”

“If you’ll pardon a suggestion,” said Lewis, “I’m afraid a telegram like this would just be laughed at.”

“You send the telegram; I’m not going to have a bunch of cheap reporters make a fool of me!”

“I don’t believe you can blame the reporters. There probably weren’t reporters there. The list of guests is generally given out by the people who give the party.”

“But listen—” Green paused and thought. “All right. Don’t send the telegram. But if the Bryant-Walkers are ashamed of me, why the hell did they invite me? I certainly didn’t want to go and they weren’t under obligation to me. I never—”

As if it had been waiting for its cue, the telephone rang at this instant, and Kate, the switchboard girl, announced that the Bryant-Walkers’ secretary was on the wire.

“I am speaking for Mrs. Bryant-Walker,” said a female voice. “She is chairman of the committee on entertainment for the Women’s Progress Bazaar. The bazaar is to open on the third of next month and wind up on the evening of the fifth with a sort of vaudeville entertainment. She wanted me to ask you—”

Green hung up with an oath.

“That’s the answer!” he said. “The damn grafters!”

Miss Jackson came in again.

“Mr. Robert Blair is waiting to see you.”

“Who is he?”

“You know. He tried to write some things for one of the shows last year.”

“Oh, yes. Say, did you send flowers to Plant’s house?”

“I did,” replied Miss Jackson. “I sent some beautiful roses.”

“How much?”

‘Forty-five dollars,” said Miss Jackson.

“Forty-five dollars for roses! And the man hated flowers even when he was alive! Well, send in this Blair.”

Robert Blair was an ambitious young free lance who had long been trying to write for the stage, but with little success.

“Sit down, Blair,” said Green. “What’s on your mind?”

“Well, Mr. Green, my stuff didn’t seem to suit you last year, but this time I think I’ve got a scene that can’t miss.”

“All right. If you want to leave it here, I’ll read it over.”

“I haven’t written it out. I thought I’d tell you the idea first.”

“Well, go ahead, but cut it short; I’ve got a lot of things to do today. Got to go to old Plant’s funeral for one thing.”

“I bet you miss him, don’t you?” said Blair, sympathetically.

“Miss him! I should say I do! A lovable character and” – with a glance at Lewis – “the best secretary I’ll ever have. But let’s hear your scene.”

“Well,” said Blair, “it may not sound like much the way I tell it, but I think it’ll work out great. Well, the police get a report that a woman has been murdered in her home, and they go there and find her husband, who is acting very nervous. They give him the third degree, and he finally breaks down and admits he killed her. They ask him why, and he tells them he is very fond of beans, and on the preceding evening he came home to dinner and asked her what there was to eat, and she told him she had lamb chops, mashed potatoes, spinach, and apple pie. So he says, ‘No beans?’ and she says, ‘No beans.’ So he shoots her dead. Of course, the scene between the husband and wife is acted out on the stage. Then—”

“It’s no good!” said Conrad Green. “In the first place, it takes too many people, all those policemen and everybody.”

“Why, all you need is two policemen and the man and his wife. And wait till I tell you the rest of it.”

“I don’t like it; it’s no good. Come back again when you’ve got something.”

When Blair had gone Green turned to Lewis.

“That’s all for just now,” he said, “but on your way out tell Miss Jackson to get a hold of Martin and say I want him to drop in here as soon as he can.”

“What Martin?” asked Lewis.

“She’ll know – Joe Martin, the man that writes most of our librettos.”

Alone, Conrad Green crossed the room to his safe, opened it, and took out a box on which was inscribed the name of a Philadelphia jeweler. From the box he removed a beautiful rope of matched pearls and was gazing at them in admiration when Miss Jackson came in; whereupon he hastily replaced them in their case and closed the safe.

“That man is here again,” said Miss Jackson, “That man Hawley from Gay New York.”

“Tell him I’m not in.”

“I did, but he says he saw you come in and he’s going to wait till you’ll talk to him. Really, Mr. Green, I think it would be best in the long run to see him. He’s awfully persistent.”

“All right; send him in,” said Green, impatiently, “though I have no idea what he can possibly want of me.”

Mr. Hawley, dapper and eternally smiling, insisted on shaking hands with his unwilling host, who had again sat down at his desk.

“I think,” he said, “we’ve met before.”

“Not that I know of,” Green replied shortly.

“Well, it makes no difference, but I’m sure you’ve read our little paper, Gay New York.”

“No,” said Green. “All I have time to read is manuscripts.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” said Hawley. “It’s really a growing paper, with a big New York circulation, and a circulation that is important from your standpoint.”

“Are you soliciting subscriptions?” asked Green.

“No. Advertising.”

“Well, frankly, Mr. Hawley, I don’t believe I need any advertising. I believe that even the advertising I put in the regular daily papers is a waste of money.”

“Just the same,” said Hawley, “I think you’d be making a mistake not to take a page in Gay New York. It’s only a matter of fifteen hundred dollars.”

“Fifteen hundred dollars! That’s a joke! Nobody’s going to hold me up!”

“Nobody’s trying to, Mr. Green. But I might as well tell you that one of our reporters came in with a story the other day – well, it was about a little gambling affair in which some of the losers sort of forgot to settle, and – well, my partner was all for printing it, but I said I had always felt friendly toward you and why not give you a chance to state your side of it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. If your reporter has got my name mixed up in a gambling story he’s crazy.”

“No. He’s perfectly sane and very, very careful. We make a specialty of careful reporters and we’re always sure of our facts.”

Conrad Green was silent for a long, long time. Then he said:

“I tell you, I don’t know what gambling business you refer to, and, furthermore, fifteen hundred dollars is a hell of a price for a page in a paper like yours. But still, as you say, you’ve got the kind of circulation that might do me good. So if you’ll cut down the price—”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Green, but we never do that.”

“Well, then, of course you’ll have to give me a few days to get my ad fixed up. Say you come back here next Monday afternoon.”

“That’s perfectly satisfactory, Mr. Green,” said Hawley, “and I assure you that you’re not making a mistake. And now I won’t keep you any longer from your work.”

He extended his hand, but it was ignored, and he went out, his smile a little broader than when he had come in. Green remained at his desk, staring straight ahead of him and making semi-audible references to certain kinds of dogs as well as personages referred to in the Old and New Testaments. He was interrupted by the entrance of Lewis.

“Mr. Green,” said the new secretary, “I have found a check for forty-five dollars made out to Herman Plant. I imagine it is for his final week’s pay. Would you like to have me change it and make it out to his widow?”

“Yes,” said Green. “But no; wait a minute. Tear it up and I’ll make out my personal check to her and add something to it.”

“All right,” said Lewis, and left.

“Forty-five dollars’ worth of flowers,” said Green to himself, and smiled for the first time that morning.

He looked at his watch and got up and put on his beautiful hat.

“I’m going to lunch,” he told Miss Jackson on his way through the outer office. “If Peebles or anybody important calls up, tell them I’ll be here all afternoon.”

“You’re not forgetting Mr. Plant’s funeral?”

“Oh, that’s right. Well, I’ll be here from one-thirty to about three.”

A head waiter at the Astor bowed to him obsequiously and escorted him to a table near a window, while the occupants of several other tables gazed at him spellbound and whispered, “Conrad Green.”

A luncheon of clams, sweetbreads, spinach, strawberry ice cream, and small coffee seemed to satisfy him. He signed his check and then tipped his own waiter and the head waiter a dollar apiece, the two tips falling just short of the cost of the meal.

Joe Martin, his chief librettist, was waiting when he got back to his office.

“Oh, hello, Joe!” he said, cordially. “Come right inside. I think I’ve got something for you.”

Martin followed him in and sat down without waiting for an invitation. Green seated himself at his desk and drew out his cigarette case.

“Have one, Joe?”

“Not that kind!” said Martin, lighting one of his own. “You’ve gotten rotten taste in everything but gals.”

“And librettists,” replied Green, smiling.

“But here’s what I wanted to talk about. I couldn’t sleep last night, and I just laid there and an idea came to me for a comedy scene. I’ll give you the bare idea and you can work it out. It’ll take a girl and one of the comics, maybe Fraser, and a couple of other men that can play.

“Well, the idea is that the comic is married to the girl. In the first place, I’d better mention that the comic is crazy about beans. Well, one night the comic – no, wait a minute. The police get word that the comic’s wife has been murdered and two policemen come to the comic’s apartment to investigate. They examine the corpse and find out she’s been shot through the head. They ask the comic if he knows who did it and he says no, but they keep after him, and finally he breaks down and admits that he did it himself.

“But he says, ‘Gentlemen, if you’ll let me explain the circumstances, I don’t believe you’ll arrest me.’ So they tell him to explain, and he says that he came home from work and he was very hungry and he asked his wife what they were going to have for dinner. So she tells him – clams and sweetbreads and spinach and strawberry ice cream and coffee. So he asks her if she isn’t going to have any beans and she says no, and he shoots her. What do you think you could do with that idea?”

“Listen, Connie,” said Martin: “You’ve only got half the scene, and you’ve got that half wrong. In the second place, it was played a whole season in the Music Box and it was written by Bert Kalmar and Harry Ruby. Otherwise I can do a whole lot with it.”

“Are you sure you’re right?”

“I certainly am!”

“Why, that damn little thief! He told me it was his!”

“Who?” asked Martin.

“Why, that Blair, that tried to butt in here last year. I’ll fix him!”

“I thought you said it was your own idea.”

“Hell, no! Do you think I’d be stealing stuff, especially if it was a year old?”

“Well,” said Martin, “when you get another inspiration like this, give me a ring and I’ll come around. Now I’ve got to hurry up to the old Stadium and see what the old Babe does in the first inning.”

“I’m sorry, Joe. I thought it was perfectly all right.”

“Never mind! You didn’t waste much of my time. But after this you’d better leave the ideas to me. So long!”

“Good-by, Joe; and thanks for coming in.”

Martin went and Green pressed the button for Miss Jackson.

“Miss Jackson, don’t ever let that young Blair in here again. He’s a faker!”

“All right, Mr. Green. But don’t you think it’s about time you were starting for the funeral? It’s twenty minutes of three.”

“Yes. But let’s see: where is Plant’s house?”

“It’s up on One Hundred and Sixtieth street, just off Broadway.”

“My God! Imagine living there! Wait a minute, Miss Jackson. Send Lewis here.”

“Lewis,” he said, when the new secretary appeared, “I ate something this noon that disagreed with me. I wanted to go up to Plant’s funeral, but I really think it would be dangerous to try it. Will you go up there, let them know who you are, and kind of represent me? Miss Jackson will give you the address.”

“Yes, sir,” said Lewis, and went out.

Almost immediately the sanctum door opened again and the beautiful Marjorie Green, née Manning, entered unannounced. Green’s face registered not altogether pleasant surprise.

“Why, hello, dear!” he said. “I didn’t know you were coming to town today.”

“I never told you I wasn’t,” his wife replied.

They exchanged the usual connubial salutations.

“I supposed you noticed,” said Mrs. Green, “that our names were not on the list of guests at the party.”

“No; I haven’t had time to look at the papers. But what’s the difference?”

“No difference at all, of course. But do you know what I think? I think we were invited just because those people want to get something out of you, for some benefit or something.”

“A fine chance! I hope they try it!”

“However, that’s not what I came to talk about.”

“Well, dear, what is it?”

“I thought maybe you’d remember something.”

“What, honey?”

“Why – oh, well, there’s no use talking about it if you’ve forgotten.”

Green’s forehead wrinkled in deep thought; then suddenly his face brightened.

“Of course I haven’t forgotten! It’s your birthday!”

“You just thought of it now!”

“No such a thing! I’ve been thinking of it for weeks!”

“I don’t believe you! If you had been, you’d have said something, and” – his wife was on the verge of tears – “you’d have given me some little thing, just any little thing.”

Once more Green frowned, and once more brightened up.

“I’ll prove it to you,” he said, and walked rapidly to the safe.

In a moment he had placed in her hands the jewel box from Philadelphia. In another moment she had opened it, gasped at the beauty of its contents, and thrown her arms around his neck.

“Oh, dearest!” she cried. “Can you ever forgive me for doubting you?”

She put the pearls to her mouth as if she would eat them.

“But haven’t you been terribly extravagant?”

“I don’t consider anything too extravagant for you.”

“You’re the best husband a girl ever had!”

“I’m glad you’re pleased,” said Green.

“Pleased! I’m overwhelmed. And to think I imagined you’d forgotten! But I’m not going to break up your whole day. I know you want to get out to poor old Plant’s funeral. So I’ll run along. And maybe you’ll take me to dinner somewhere tonight.”

“I certainly will! You be at the Ambassador about six-thirty and we’ll have a little birthday party. But don’t you want to leave the pearls here now?”

“I should say not! They’re going to stay with me forever! Anyone that tries to take them will do it over my dead body!”

“Well, good-by, then, dear.”

“Till half past six.”

Green, alone again, kicked shut the door of his safe and returned to his desk, saying in loud tones things which are not ordinarily considered appropriate to the birthday of a loved one. The hubbub must have been audible to Miss Jackson outside, but perhaps she was accustomed to it. It ceased at another unannounced entrance, that of a girl even more beautiful than the one who had just gone out. She looked at Green and laughed.

“My God! You look happy!” she said.

“Rose!”

“Yes, it’s Rose. But what’s the matter with you?”

“I’ve had a bad day.”

“But isn’t it better now?”

“I didn’t think you were coming till tomorrow.”

“But aren’t you glad I came today?”

“You bet I am!” said Green. “And if you’ll come here and kiss me I’ll be all the gladder.”

“No. Let’s get our business transacted first.”

“What business?”

“You know perfectly well! Last time I saw you you insisted that I must give up everybody else but you. And I promised you it would be all off between Harry and I if— Well, you know. There was a little matter of some pearls.”

“I meant everything I said.”

“Well, where are they?”

“They’re all bought and all ready for you. But I bought them in Philadelphia and for some damned reason they haven’t got here yet.”

“Got here yet! Were they so heavy you couldn’t bring them with you?”

“Honest, dear, they’ll be here day after tomorrow at the latest.”

“‘Honest’ is a good word for you to use! Do you think I’m dumb? Or is it that you’re so used to lying that you can’t help it?”

“If you’ll let me explain—”

“Explain hell! We made a bargain and you haven’t kept your end of it. And now—”

“But listen—”

“I’ll listen to nothing! You know where to reach me and when you’ve kept your promise you can call me up. Till then – Well, Harry isn’t such bad company.”

“Wait a minute, Rose!”

“You’ve heard all I’ve got to say. Good-by!”

And she was gone before he could intercept her.

Conrad Green sat as if stunned. For fifteen minutes he was so silent and motionless that one might have thought him dead. Then he shivered as if with cold and said aloud:

“I’m not going to worry about them any more. To hell with all of them!”

He drew the telephone to him and took off the receiver.

“Get me Mrs. Bryant-Walker.”

And after a pause:

“Is this Mrs. Bryant-Walker? No, I want to speak to her personally. This is Conrad Green. Oh, hello, Mrs. Walker. Your secretary called me up this morning, but we were cut off. She was saying something about a benefit. Why, yes, certainly, I’ll be glad to. As many of them as you want. If you’ll just leave it all in my hands I’ll guarantee you a pretty good entertainment. It’s no bother at all. It’s a pleasure. Thank you. Good-by.”

Lewis came in.

“Well, Lewis, did you get to the funeral?”

“Yes, Mr. Green, and I saw Mrs. Plant and explained the circumstances to her. She said you had always been very kind to her husband. She said that during the week of his illness he talked of you nearly all the time and expressed confidence that if he died you would attend his funeral. So she wished you had been there.”

“Good God! So do I!” said Conrad Green.

• 13 •

Reunion

This is one about a brother and sister and the sister’s husband and the brother’s wife. The sister’s name was Rita Mason Johnston; she was married to Stuart Johnston, whose intimates called him Stu, which was appropriate only on special occasions. The brother was Bob Mason, originally and recently from Buchanan, Michigan, and in between whiles a respected resident of Los Angeles. His wife was a woman he had found in San Bernardino and married for some reason.

Rita had been named after a Philadelphia aunt with money. The flattered aunt had made Rita’s mother bring Rita east for a visit when the child was three or four. After that, until she met Stu, she had spent two-thirds of her time with her aunt or at schools of her aunt’s choosing. Her brother Bob, in bad health at fourteen, had gone to California to live with cousins or something. He had visited home only three times in nearly twenty years, and not once while Rita was there. So he and Rita hardly knew each other, you might say.

Johnston and Rita had become acquainted at a party following a Cornell-Pennsylvania football game. Johnston’s people were decent and well-off, and Rita’s aunt had encouraged the romance, which resulted in a wedding and a comfortable home at Sands Point, Long Island.

Bob Mason had first worked for a cousin in a Los Angeles real estate office, then had gone into business for himself, and finally saved enough to bring his wife to the old Michigan homestead, which had been left him by his father.

He and Jennie were perfectly satisfied with small-town life. Once in a while they visited Chicago, less than a hundred miles away, or drove up the lake shore or down into Indiana in Bob’s two-thousand-dollar automobile. In the past year they had been to Chicago three times and had attended three performances of Abie’s Irish Rose. It was the best play ever played; better, even, than Lightnin’.

“I honestly think we ought to do something about Rita,” said Jennie to Bob one June day. “Imagine a person not seeing their own sister in nearly twenty years!”

“I’d love to see her,” replied Bob, “and I wish you’d write her a letter. She don’t pay no attention to mine. I’ve asked her time and time again to come out here and stay as long as she likes, but she hasn’t even answered.”

“Well,” said Jennie, “I’ll write to her, although she still owes me a letter from last Christmas.”

“Stu,” said Rita to her husband, “we’ve simply got to do something about Bob and his wife. Heaven knows how many times he’s asked us to go out there and visit and now here is a letter from Jennie, inviting us again.”

“Well, why don’t you go? You’d enjoy it, seeing the old home and the people you used to play around with. I’d go along, but I haven’t the time.”

“Time! You have time to go to the Water Gap or up to Manchester for golf every two or three weeks. As for me wanting to see the old home, you know that’s silly!”

“Well, we won’t argue about it, but I’m certainly not going to waste my vacation in any hick town where they’ve probably got a six-hole course that you have to putt on with a niblick! Why can’t they come here?”

“I don’t suppose they could, but if you want me to, I’ll ask them.”

“Suit yourself. It’s your brother.”

The Bob Masons boarded The Wolverine at the nearby metropolis of Niles and got off some twenty hours later in New York’s Grand Central Station. Compared with the jump from California to Michigan, it seemed like once around on a roller coaster.

Rita met them and identified Bob by the initials on his suitcase. He wouldn’t have known her. She was the same age as Jennie, thirty-five, and he had expected her to look it. Instead, she looked ten years younger and was prettier than a member of the Buchanan Mason family had any right to be. And what clothes! Like those of the movie gals who had infested his Los Angeles.

“Why, sis, are you sure it’s you?”

“Am I changed?” she said, laughing.

“Not as much as you ought to be,” replied Bob. “That’s what makes it so hard to recognize you.”

“Well, you’ve changed,” said Rita. “Let’s see – it’s twenty years, isn’t it? You were fourteen and naturally you didn’t have that mustache. But even if you were clean shaven, you wouldn’t be a bit like the Bob I remember. And this is Jennie,” she added. “Well!”

“Yes,” admitted Bob’s wife.

She smiled and Rita noticed her teeth for the first time. Most of the visible ones were of gold, and the work had evidently been done by a dentist for whom three members of a foursome were waiting. Rita, Bob, and Bob’s wife, escorted by a red cap, walked through the Biltmore and across Forty-third Street to where Gates was parked with Rita’s sedan. Gates observed the newcomers as he relieved the red cap of their meager baggage. “Sears, Roebuck,” he said to himself, for he had lived in Janesville, Wisconsin.

“Oh, we forgot to see about your trunks!” exclaimed Rita when the car had started.

“We didn’t bring no trunks,” said Bob.

“We can only stay two weeks,” said his wife.

“That seems like an awfully short visit,” Rita said.

“I know, but Bob don’t feel like he can stay away from the garden this time of year. We left old Jimmy Preston to take care of it, but nobody can be trusted to tend to another person’s garden like you would yourself.”

“Does the place look just the same?”

“I should say not! It was in terrible condition when he first came East.”

“Came East?”

“I mean, to Michigan. But Bob spent— How much did you spend fixing things up, Bob, about?”

“Over two thousand dollars,” said Bob.

“I thought it was nearer twenty-one or twenty-two hundred,” said his wife.

“Well, somewhere over two thousand.”

“It was more than two thousand,” insisted his wife.

“Look out!” yelled Bob, and the two women jumped.

They were on the Fifty-ninth Street bridge and Gates was worming his way through the myriad trucks and funerals that prevail on that structure at 11 A.M.

“What’s the matter? You scared me to death!” said Rita.

“I thought we was going to hit that Reo,” Bob explained.

“Bob’s a nervous wreck when anybody else is driving,” apologized Jennie. “I often think a person who drives themselves is more liable to be nervous when somebody else is driving.”

“I guess that’s true,” agreed Rita, and reflected that she had heard this theory expounded before.

“And I do believe,” continued Jennie, “that Bob is just about the best driver in the world, and that’s not because he’s my husband, either.”

This remark caused Gates to turn around suddenly and look the speaker in the eye, and the sedan missed another Reo by a flea’s upper lip.

The road leading from New York to the towns on Long Island’s north shore is, for the most part, as scenically attractive as an incinerating plant. Nevertheless, Jennie kept saying “How beautiful!” and asking Rita who were the owners of various places which looked as if they had been disowned these many years. Bob was too nervous to make any effort to talk and Rita sighed with relief when the drive was over.

“I’ll show you your room,” she said, “and then you can rest till lunch. Stu is in the city and won’t be home till dinner. But he only goes in once or twice a week, and he said he would arrange not to go at all while you’re here, so he’d have plenty of time to visit.”

Jennie was impressed with the luxurious guest room and its outlook on the Sound, but Bob had slept badly on the train and dozed off while she was still marveling.

“I don’t suppose you feel like doing much this afternoon,” said Rita when lunch was over. “Maybe we’d better just loaf. I imagine that tomorrow and the rest of the week will be pretty strenuous. Stu has all kinds of plans.”

So they loafed, and Jennie and Rita took naps, and Bob walked around the yard and plotted the changes he would make in it if it were his.

Seven o’clock brought Stu, who was introduced to the in-laws and then ordered to his room to make himself presentable for dinner. Rita followed him upstairs.

“Well?” he said.

“I’m not sure yet,” said Rita, “but I’m kind of afraid— Bob is awfully quiet and I guess she’s embarrassed to death. I hope they’ve brought some other clothes, but then I don’t know A change might be for the worse, though it doesn’t seem possible.”

“Does she think,” asked Stu, “that just because she’s from the Golden State she has to run around with a mouthful of nuggets?”

“She’s all right when she doesn’t smile. You mustn’t say anything that will make her smile.”

“That’s going to be tough,” said Stu. “You know what I am when I get started!”

“And another thing I just thought of,” said Rita. “He didn’t bring any golf clubs.”

“Oh, that doesn’t matter. I can fit him out.”

The host and hostess joined their guests on the porch. A Swedish girl served cocktails.

“Are these – is it liquor?” asked Jennie.

“Just Bacardi, and they’re awfully mild,” said Rita.

“But Bob and I don’t indulge at all,” said Jennie.

“This wouldn’t be indulging,” urged Stu. “This is practically a soft drink.”

“I know, but it would be violating the letter of the law,” said Jennie.

So Rita and Stu drank alone and the four moved in to dinner.

“What time do you get up, Bob?” asked the host, at table.

“Six o’clock, in the summer,” replied his brother-in-law.

“Oh, well, there’s no need of that! But it would be nice if we could get through breakfast tomorrow at, say, nine o’clock. I’m going to take you to Piping Rock. We’ll make a day of it.”

“That’ll be fine,” said Bob.

“What do you go around in?” inquired his brother-in-law.

“I’ve got a 1924 Studebaker,” said Bob.

“No, no,” said Stu. “I mean your golf game.”

“Me? I haven’t any golf game. I never played golf in my life.”

Stu’s expression would have made Rita laugh if she hadn’t felt so sorry for him.

“Bob can’t see anything in golf,” explained Jennie. “He says it’s a sissy game. I tell him he ought to try it some time and he might change his mind. Why don’t you try it while you’re here, Bob? Maybe Stuart would show you the fine points.”

The host seemed not to have heard this suggestion.

“They have got a links near Buchanan, between Buchanan and Niles,” said Bob, “but they charge fifty dollars to join and thirty-five dollars annual dues. That seems exorbitant.”

“It’s an outrage!” is what Stu was going to say, but Rita shook her head at him. “I think you’d find it was worth the money,” is what he said.

“Lots of our friends play,” said Jennie. “Some of the nicest people in both Niles and Buchanan belong to the club, so it can’t be as silly as Bob thinks. But he gets an idear in his head and you can’t change him.”

“What’s on tonight?” asked Stu as the dessert was served.

“Well,” said Rita, “I thought these people would want to get to bed early after their trip, so we won’t go anywhere. We might have a little bridge. Do you feel like bridge, Jennie?”

“I’m awfully sorry, but neither Bob or I play. I know it must be a wonderful game and some of our best friends play it a great deal, but somehow or other, Bob and I just never took it up.”

This was a terrific blow to Rita, who counted that day lost which was without its twenty or thirty rubbers.

“You miss something,” she said with remarkable self-control. “Shall we have our coffee on the porch? I think it’s pleasanter.”

“What do you smoke, Bob? Cigars or cigarettes?” inquired the host.

“Neither, thanks,” Bob replied. “I never cared for tobacco.”

“You’re lucky,” said Stu. “A cigarette, Jennie?”

“Mercy! It would kill me! Even the smell of smoke makes me dizzy.”

Stu and Rita evidently missed this statement for they proceeded to light their cigarettes.

“Is bridge hard to learn?” asked Jennie presently.

“Not very,” said Rita.

“I was wondering if maybe you and Stuart couldn’t teach it to Bob and I. Then we could have some games while we’re here.”

“Well,” said Rita, “it’s— it’s a terribly hard game to learn, that is, to play it right.”

“You said it wasn’t,” put in Bob.

“Well, it isn’t, if you don’t care— if you just— But to learn to play it right, it’s impossible!”

“Have you got a radio?” asked Bob. He pronounced the “a” short, as in Buchanan.

“I’m sorry to say we haven’t,” said Stu, who wasn’t sorry at all.

“I don’t know how you get along without one,” said Bob.

“We just live for ours!” said Jennie.

“What is it, an Atwater-Kent?” asked Rita.

She had seen that name in some paper yesterday.

“No,” replied Bob. “It’s a Ware Neutrodyne, with a Type X receiver.”

“And an Ethovox horn,” added Jennie. “We had Omaha one night.”

“You did!” said Rita.

There was a silence, which was broken by Bob’s asking his sister how often she went to New York.

“Only when I can’t help myself, when I simply have to get something.”

“Don’t you never go to the theater?”

“Oh, yes, if it’s something especially good.”

“Of course,” said Jennie, “you’ve seen Abie’s Irish Rose?”

“Heavens, no!” said Rita. “Everybody says it’s terrible!”

“Well, it’s not terrible!” said Bob indignantly. “That is, if you’ve got anywheres near as good a company here as they have in Chicago.”

“I’d like to see the New York company,” said Jennie, “and see how they do compare.”

This met with no encouragement and another silence followed.

“Well, Bob,” said Stu at length, “you must do something for exercise. How about a little tennis in the morning?”

“That’s another game I don’t play,” Bob replied. “As for exercise, I get plenty of it fooling around the garden and monkeying with the car.”

“Then all I can suggest is that we put in the day fishing or swimming or just riding around in the launch.”

Bob was silent, but his wife spoke up.

“You know, Stuart, Bob’s ashamed to admit it, but being on the water makes him deathly sick, even if it’s as smooth as glass. And he can’t swim.”

Bob didn’t seem to relish this topic and turned to his sister.

“Do you remember the Aliens in Buchanan, old Tom Allen and his family?”

“Kind of.”

“Did you hear about Louise Allen running away and getting married?”

“No.”

“Well, she ran away with Doc Marshall and got married. And at first old Tom was pretty near wild, but when Doc and Louise came back, why one day Doc was walking along the street and old Tom came along from the opposite direction and Doc spoke to him and called him by name and old Tom looked at him and asked him what he wanted, and Doc said he wanted to know if he’d forgave him. So old Tom said, ‘Forgiven you! Have you forgiven me, is the question.’ So Doc said, forgiven him for what, and old Tom said, for not killing her when she was a baby. This put the laugh on Doc and the boys have all been kidding him about it. I guess you didn’t know Doc.”

“No, I didn’t,” admitted Rita.

“Quite a card,” said Bob.

Jennie had picked up a book. “May Fair,” she read. “Is it good?”

“Yes,” said Rita. “It’s short stories by Michael Arlen; you know, the man who wrote The Green Hat.”

“A detective story?” asked Bob.

“No, Michael Arlen. He was here last spring and we met him. He’s awfully nice. He’s really an Armenian.”

“There’s an Armenian comes to Buchanan two or three times a year,” said Jennie. “But he sells linen.”

Upstairs, two or three hours later, Stu made a brief speech:

“My God! He doesn’t play golf, he doesn’t play tennis, he doesn’t play bridge, he doesn’t swim, fish, drink, or smoke. And I’d arranged these two weeks for a kind of a vacation! Hell’s bells!”

In the guest room Bob said:

“I certainly miss the old radio.”

“Yes,” said Jennie. “We’d be getting the Drake Hotel now.”

“I’d like to see the New York company in Abie’s Irish Rose,” said Jennie at breakfast next morning. “I’d like to compare them with the companies that’s in Chicago.”

“Did you see it in Chicago?” asked Stu.

“Three times,” said Jennie.

“You must be sick of it,” said Stu.

“I couldn’t get sick of it,” replied Jennie, “not if I saw it every night in the year.”

After breakfast Bob tried to read the Herald-Tribune, the World, and the Times, but couldn’t make head or tail of them. He wished he had a copy of the Chi Trib, even if it was two or three days old.

“Do you go to pictures much?” inquired Jennie of her hostess.

“Hardly ever,” said Rita.

“We’re very fond of them,” said Jennie. “You know, we lived in Los Angeles for a long time, and that’s right near Hollywood. So we often saw different stars in person. And some friends of ours knew Harold Lloyd and introduced us to him. You’d never know him without those glasses. He’s really handsome! And democratic!”

“What is he running for?” asked Stu.

“Nothing that I know of,” said Jennie. “Is he running for anything, Bob?”

“I don’t think so,” said Bob.

The morning dragged along and finally it was time for lunch and Stu broke a precedent by having seven highballs with his meal.

“They’ll make you sleepy,” warned Rita.

“What of it?” he said, and there seemed to be no answer.

Sure enough, Stu slept on the porch swing all afternoon while Jennie struggled with the first volume of The Peasants and Rita took Bob for a walk.

“Do you remember Tom Allen?” Bob asked her.

“I don’t believe so,” she answered.

“Oh, you must remember the Aliens! They lived next door to the Deans. Well, anyway, Tom had a daughter, Louise, about our age, and she ran away with Doc Marshall and got married. Everybody thought old Tom would shoot Doc on sight, but when they met and Doc asked Tom to forgive him, old Tom said he was the one that ought to be asking forgiveness. So Doc said forgiveness for what, and old Tom said, for not killing Louise when she was a baby.”

Near the end of their walk, Bob asked:

“Don’t you never go to New York?”

“Hardly ever, and especially at this time of year. It’s so hot! But I suppose you and Jennie would like to see something of it. We’ll arrange to drive in before you go home.”

Stu woke up a little after five and took on a fresh cargo of Scotch before dinner.

“You certainly ought to get a radio!” said Bob as the clock struck nine.

At half past, everybody went to bed.

“This will be our third day here,” said Bob, dressing. “We don’t start home till a week from next Thursday.”

“Yes,” said Jennie absently.

“I’d wear my other suit today, but it’s all wrinkled up,” said Bob.

“I’ll ask Rita for an iron and press it out for you. Or maybe we could send it to a tailor.”

“Tailor! There’s no tailor within miles of here, or anything else as far as I can see!”

Stu wasn’t up for breakfast, but joined the party on the porch a little before lunch time. He had started in on a new bottle.

“Bob,” he said, “you ought to fall off the wagon. I’ve got some of the most able-bodied Scotch on Long Island.”

“Thanks,” said his brother-in-law. “I may be tempted before long.”

It was late in the afternoon when Bob said to Rita:

“Do you remember old Tom Allen?”

“I think so,” his sister replied. “Didn’t his daughter run away with some doctor?”

“Yes,” said Bob, “and—”

He was interrupted by Stu’s voice, calling Rita from upstairs.

“Listen,” said Stu when she had answered his summons, “A telegram is coming for me tonight, saying that my grandfather is sick up in Bennington, Vermont, or some place, and for me to come at once. And he’s going to stay sick for at least ten days, so sick that I can’t leave him.”

“No, sir!” said Rita firmly. “You don’t do that to me!”

“Well, then, how about this? Suppose it’s one of our dearest friends that’s sick and we’ve both got to go. Do you think they’d go home? You see, we could pack up some baggage and run in to New York and stay over night if necessary, and come back here after they’re gone.”

“If they ever found out, I couldn’t forgive myself.”

“They won’t. You let me plan it and we’ll spring it after dinner. I wouldn’t be so desperate if I hadn’t just got so I could break an eighty-five and if I don’t keep after it I’ll be back in the nineties.”

But after dinner, while Rita and Stu were sparring for an opening, Jennie said:

“Folks, I hope you won’t think we are crazy, but Bob is, almost. He’s worried to death about his garden. He read in the paper this morning that there’s a regular drought threatened all through southern Michigan. We were afraid of it, because it hadn’t rained for a long time before we left. And now it looks like everything would be ruined unless he gets back there and tends to things himself. We left old Jimmy Preston to look out for things, but you can’t trust things to an outsider. Bob feels like if he was there, he could see that things were taken care of. The garden will get plenty of water if Bob is there to see to it, but if he isn’t, there’s no telling what will happen. So if you’ll forgive us, we’re thinking about starting home on The Wolverine tomorrow afternoon.”

“Well!” said Rita.

“Well!” said Stu.

“Of course,” said Rita, “you know best, and it would be a shame to have your whole garden spoiled. But it does seem— But of course we wouldn’t dream of urging—”

“We’ve simply got to go, sis,” said Bob. “And another thing: Don’t bother about coming in to New York with us. Just send us in your car tomorrow forenoon, say, and we’ll have time to look around a little before we catch the train.”

—

The Masons were in their room at the Biltmore.

“It’s eight dollars a day without meals,” said Bob, “but we can eat out, some place where it’s not expensive, and besides, it’s only for a week. Tonight,” he went on, “Abie’s Irish Rose. Tomorrow morning the top of the Woolworth Building. Tomorrow afternoon, Coney. Thursday night, Abie again. After that, we’ll see.”

Jennie laughed nervously.

“I’ll be petrified every time we leave the hotel,” she said. “Suppose we should meet them on the street!”

“There’s no danger of that,” said Bob. “Sis never comes to town in summer and Stuart is taking a vacation. What I’m afraid of is that they’ll run acrost some article on the weather conditions in the Middle West and see where we’ve had the rainiest summer since 1902.”

• 14 •

Who Dealt?

You know, this is the first time Tom and I have been with real friends since we were married. I suppose you’ll think it’s funny for me to call you my friends when we’ve never met before, but Tom has talked about you so much and how much he thought of you and how crazy he was to see you and everything  – well, it’s just as if I’d known you all my life, like he has.

We’ve got our little crowd out there, play bridge and dance with them; but of course we’ve only been there three months, at least I have, and people you’ve known that length of time, well, it isn’t like knowing people all your life, like you and Tom. How often I’ve heard Tom say he’d give any amount of money to be with Arthur and Helen, and how bored he was out there with just poor little me and his new friends!

Arthur and Helen, Arthur and Helen  – he talks about you so much that it’s a wonder I’m not jealous; especially of you, Helen. You must have been his real pal when you were kids.

Nearly all of his kid books, they have your name in front  – to Thomas Cannon from Helen Bird Strong. This is a wonderful treat for him to see you! And a treat for me, too. Just think, I’ve at last met the wonderful Helen and Arthur! You must forgive me calling you by your first names; that’s how I always think of you and I simply can’t say Mr. and Mrs. Gratz.

No, thank you, Arthur; no more. Two is my limit and I’ve already exceeded it, with two cocktails before dinner and now this. But it’s a special occasion, meeting Tom’s best friends. I bet Tom wishes he could celebrate too, don’t you, dear? Of course he could if he wanted to, but when he once makes up his mind to a thing, there’s nothing in the world can shake him. He’s got the strongest will power of any person I ever saw.

I do think it’s wonderful, him staying on the wagon this long, a man that used to  – well, you know as well as I do; probably a whole lot better, because you were with him so much in the old days, and all I know is just what he’s told me. He told me about once in Pittsburgh – All right, Tommie; I won’t say another word. But it’s all over now, thank heavens! Not a drop since we’ve been married; three whole months! And he says it’s forever, don’t you, dear? Though I don’t mind a person drinking if they do it in moderation. But you know Tom! He goes the limit in everything he does. Like he used to in athletics –

All right, dear; I won’t make you blush. I know how you hate the limelight. It’s terrible, though, not to be able to boast about your own husband; everything he does or ever has done seems so wonderful. But is that only because we’ve been married such a short time? Do you feel the same way about Arthur, Helen? You do? And you married him four years ago, isn’t that right? And you eloped, didn’t you? You see I know all about you.

Oh, are you waiting for me? Do we cut for partners? Why can’t we play families? I don’t feel so bad if I do something dumb when it’s Tom I’m playing with. He never scolds, though he does give me some terrible looks. But not very often lately; I don’t make the silly mistakes I used to. I’m pretty good now, aren’t I, Tom? You better say so, because if I’m not, it’s your fault. You know Tom had to teach me the game. I never played at all till we were engaged. Imagine! And I guess I was pretty awful at first, but Tom was a dear, so patient! I know he thought I never would learn, but I fooled you, didn’t I, Tommie?

No, indeed, I’d rather play than do almost anything. But you’ll sing for us, won’t you, Helen? I mean after a while. Tom has raved to me about your voice and I’m dying to hear it.

What are we playing for? Yes, a penny’s perfectly all right. Out there we generally play for half a cent a piece, a penny a family. But a penny a piece is all right. I guess we can afford it now, can’t we, dear? Tom hasn’t told you about his raise. He was— All right, Tommie; I’ll shut up. I know you hate to be talked about, but your wife can’t help being just a teeny bit proud of you. And I think your best friends are interested in your affairs, aren’t you, folks?

But Tom is the most secretive person I ever knew. I believe he even keeps things from me! Not very many, though. I can usually tell when he’s hiding something and I keep after him till he confesses. He often says I should have been a lawyer or a detective, the way I can worm things out of people. Don’t you, Tom?

For instance, I never would have known about his experience with those horrid football people at Yale if I hadn’t just made him tell me. Didn’t you know about that? No, Tom, I’m going to tell Arthur even if you hate me for it. I know you’d be interested, Arthur, not only because you’re Tom’s friend, but on account of you being such a famous athlete yourself. Let me see, how was it, Tom? You must help me out. Well, if I don’t get it right, you correct me.

Well, Tom’s friends at Yale had heard what a wonderful football player he was in high school so they made him try for a place on the Yale nine. Tom had always played half-back. You have to be a fast runner to be a half-back and Tom could run awfully fast. He can yet. When we were engaged we used to run races and the prize was— All right, Tommie, I won’t give away our secrets. Anyway, he can beat me to pieces.

Well, he wanted to play half-back at Yale and he was getting along fine and the other men on the team said he would be a wonder and then one day they were having their practice and Tex Jones, no, Ted Jones – he’s the main coach – he scolded Tom for having the signal wrong and Tom proved that Jones was wrong and he was right and Jones never forgave him. He made Tom quit playing half-back and put him tackle or end or some place like that where you can’t do anything and being a fast runner doesn’t count. So Tom saw that Jones had it in for him and he quit. Wasn’t that it, Tom? Well, anyway, it was something.

Oh, are you waiting for me? I’m sorry. What did you bid, Helen? And you, Tom? You doubled her? And Arthur passed? Well, let’s see. I wish I could remember what that means. I know that sometimes when he doubles he means one thing and sometimes another. But I always forget which is which. Let me see; it was two spades that he doubled, wasn’t it? That means I’m to leave him in, I’m pretty sure. Well, I’ll pass. Oh, I’m sorry, Tommie! I knew I’d get it wrong. Please forgive me. But maybe we’ll set them anyway. Whose lead?

I’ll stop talking now and try and keep my mind on the game. You needn’t look that way, Tommie. I can stop talking if I try. It’s kind of hard to concentrate though, when you’re, well, excited. It’s not only meeting you people, but I always get excited traveling. I was just terrible on our honeymoon, but then I guess a honeymoon’s enough to make anybody nervous. I’ll never forget when we went into the hotel in Chicago— All right, Tommie, I won’t. But I can tell about meeting the Bakers.

They’re a couple about our age that I’ve known all my life. They were the last people in the world I wanted to see, but we ran into them on State Street and they insisted on us coming to their hotel for dinner and before dinner they took us up to their room and Ken – that’s Mr. Baker – Ken made some cocktails, though I didn’t want any and Tom was on the wagon. He said a honeymoon was a fine time to be on the wagon! Ken said.

“Don’t tempt him, Ken,” I said. “Tom isn’t a drinker like you and Gertie and the rest of us. When he starts, he can’t stop.” Gertie is Mrs. Baker.

So Ken said why should he stop and I said there was good reason why he should because he had promised me he would and he told me the day we were married that if I ever saw him take another drink I would know that—

What did you make? Two odd? Well, thank heavens that isn’t a game! Oh, that does make a game, doesn’t it? Because Tom doubled and I left him in. Isn’t that wicked! Oh, dearie, please forgive me and I’ll promise to pay attention from now on! What do I do with these? Oh, yes, I make them for Arthur.

I was telling you about the Bakers. Finally Ken saw he couldn’t make Tom take a drink, so he gave up in disgust. But imagine meeting them on our honeymoon, when we didn’t want to see anybody! I don’t suppose anybody does unless they’re already tired of each other, and we certainly weren’t, were we, Tommie? And aren’t yet, are we, dear? And never will be. But I guess I better speak for myself.

There! I’m talking again! But you see it’s the first time we’ve been with anybody we really cared about; I mean, you’re Tom’s best friends and it’s so nice to get a chance to talk to somebody who’s known him a long time. Out there the people we run around with are almost strangers and they don’t talk about anything but themselves and how much money their husbands make. You never can talk to them about things that are worth while, like books. I’m wild about books, but I honestly don’t believe half the women we know out there can read. Or at least they don’t. If you mention some really worth while novel like, say, “Black Oxen,” they think you’re trying to put on the Ritz.

You said a no-trump, didn’t you, Tom? And Arthur passed. Let me see; I wish I knew what to do. I haven’t any five-card— it’s terrible! Just a minute. I wish somebody could— I know I ought to take— but— well, I’ll pass. Oh, Tom, this is the worst you ever saw, but I don’t know what I could have done.

I do hold the most terrible cards! I certainly believe in the saying, “Unlucky at cards, lucky in love.” Whoever made it up must have been thinking of me. I hate to lay them down, dear. I know you’ll say I ought to have done something. Well, there they are! Let’s see your hand, Helen. Oh, Tom, she’s— but I mustn’t tell, must I? Anyway, I’m dummy. That’s one comfort. I can’t make a mistake when I’m dummy. I believe Tom overbids lots of times so I’ll be dummy and can’t do anything ridiculous. But at that I’m much better than I used to be, aren’t I, dear?

Helen, do you mind telling me where you got that gown? Crandall and Nelsons’s? I’ve heard of them, but I heard they were terribly expensive. Of course a person can’t expect to get a gown like that without paying for it. I’ve got to get some things while I’m here and I suppose that’s where I better go, if their things aren’t too horribly dear. I haven’t had a thing new since I was married and I’ve worn this so much I’m sick of it

Tom’s always after me to buy clothes, but I can’t seem to get used to spending somebody else’s money, though it was dad’s money I spent before I did Tom’s, but that’s different, don’t you think so? And of course at first we didn’t have very much to spend, did we, dear? But now that we’ve had our raise— All right, Tommie, I won’t say another word.

Oh, did you know they tried to get Tom to run for mayor? Tom is making faces at me to shut up, but I don’t see any harm in telling it to his best friends. They know we’re not the kind that brag, Tommie. I do think it was quite a tribute; he’d only lived there a little over a year. It came up one night when the Guthries were at our house, playing bridge. Mr. Guthrie – that’s A. L. Guthrie  – he’s one of the big lumbermen out there. He owns— just what does he own, Tom? Oh, I’m sorry. Anyway, he’s got millions. Well, at least thousands.

He and his wife were at our house playing bridge. She’s the queerest woman! If you just saw her, you’d think she was a janitor or something; she wears the most hideous clothes. Why, that night she had on a – honestly you’d have sworn it was a maternity gown, and for no reason. And the first time I met her – well, I just can’t describe it. And she’s a graduate of Bryn Mawr and one of the oldest families in Philadelphia. You’d never believe it!

She and her husband are terribly funny in a bridge game. He doesn’t think there ought to be any conventions; he says a person might just as well tell each other what they’ve got. So he won’t pay any attention to what-do-you-call-’em, informatory, doubles and so forth. And she plays all the conventions, so you can imagine how they get along. Fight! Not really fight, you know, but argue. That is, he does. It’s horribly embarrassing to whoever is playing with them. Honestly, if Tom ever spoke to me like Mr. Guthrie does to his wife, well – aren’t they terrible, Tom? Oh, I’m sorry!

She was the first woman in Portland that called on me and I thought it was awfully nice of her, though when I saw her at the door I would have sworn she was a book agent or maybe a cook looking for work. She had on a— well, I can’t describe it. But it was sweet of her to call, she being one of the real people there and me— well, that was before Tom was made a vice-president. What? Oh, I never dreamed he hadn’t written you about that!

But Mrs. Guthrie acted just like it was a great honor for her to meet me, and I like people to act that way even when I know it’s all apple sauce. Isn’t that a funny expression, “apple sauce”? Some man said it in a vaudeville show in Portland the Monday night before we left. He was a comedian – Jack Brooks or Ned Frawley or something. It means – well, I don’t know how to describe it. But we had a terrible time after the first few minutes. She is the silentest person I ever knew and I’m kind of bashful myself with strangers. What are you grinning about, Tommie? I am, too, bashful when I don’t know people. Not exactly bashful, maybe, but, well, bashful.

It was one of the most embarrassing things I ever went through. Neither of us could say a word and I could hardly help from laughing at what she had on. But after you get to know her you don’t mind her clothes, though it’s a terrible temptation all the time not to tell her how much nicer— And her hair! But she plays a dandy game of bridge, lots better than her husband. You know he won’t play conventions. He says it’s just like telling you what’s in each other’s hand. And they have awful arguments in a game. That is, he does. She’s nice and quiet and it’s a kind of mystery how they ever fell in love. Though there’s a saying or a proverb or something, isn’t there, about like not liking like? Or is it just the other way?

But I was going to tell you about them wanting Tom to be mayor. Oh, Tom, only two down? Why, I think you did splendidly! I gave you a miserable hand and Helen had – what didn’t you have, Helen? You had the ace, king of clubs. No, Tom had the king. No, Tom had the queen. Or was it spades? And you had the ace of hearts. No, Tom had that. No, he didn’t. What did you have, Tom? I don’t exactly see what you bid on. Of course I was terrible, but – what’s the difference anyway?

What was I saying? Oh, yes, about Mr. and Mrs. Guthrie. It’s funny for a couple like that to get married when they are so different in every way. I never saw two people with such different tastes. For instance, Mr. Guthrie is keen about motoring and Mrs. Guthrie just hates it. She simply suffers all the time she’s in a car. He likes a good time, dancing, golfing, fishing, shows, things like that. She isn’t interested in anything but church work and bridge work.

“Bridge work.” I meant bridge, not bridge work. That’s funny, isn’t it? And yet they get along awfully well; that is when they’re not playing cards or doing something else together. But it does seem queer that they picked each other out. Still, I guess hardly any husband and wife agree on anything.

You take Tom and me, though, and you’d think we were made for each other. It seems like we feel just the same about everything. That is, almost everything. The things we don’t agree on are little things that don’t matter. Like music. Tom is wild about jazz and blues and dance music. He adores Irving Berlin and Gershwin and Jack Kearns. He’s always after those kind of things on the radio and I just want serious, classical things like “Humoresque” and “Indian Love Lyrics.” And then there’s shows. Tom is crazy over Ed Wynn and I can’t see anything in him. Just the way he laughs at his own jokes is enough to spoil him for me. If I’m going to spend time and money on a theater I want to see something worth while – “The Fool” or “Lightnin’.”

And things to eat. Tom insists, or that is he did insist, on a great big breakfast – fruit, cereal, eggs, toast, and coffee. All I want is a little fruit and dry toast and coffee. I think it’s a great deal better for a person. So that’s one habit I broke Tom of, was big breakfasts. And another thing he did when we were first married was to take off his shoes as soon as he got home from the office and put on bedroom slippers. I believe a person ought not to get sloppy just because they’re married.

But the worst of all was pajamas! What’s the difference, Tommie? Helen and Arthur don’t mind. And I think it’s kind of funny, you being so old-fashioned. I mean Tom had always worn a nightgown till I made him give it up. And it was a struggle, believe me! I had to threaten to leave him if he didn’t buy pajamas. He certainly hated it. And now he’s mad at me for telling, aren’t you, Tommie? I just couldn’t help it. I think it’s so funny in this day and age. I hope Arthur doesn’t wear them; nightgowns, I mean. You don’t, do you, Arthur? I knew you didn’t

Oh, are you waiting for me? What did you say, Arthur? Two diamonds? Let’s see what that means. When Tom makes an original bid of two it means he hasn’t got the tops. I wonder— but of course you couldn’t have the— heavens! What am I saying! I guess I better just keep still and pass.

But what was I going to tell you? Something about— oh, did I tell you about Tom being an author? I had no idea he was talented that way till after we were married and I was unpacking his old papers and things and came across a poem he’d written, the saddest, mushiest poem! Of course it was a long time ago he wrote it; it was dated four years ago, long before he met me, so it didn’t make me very jealous, though it was about some other girl. You didn’t know I found it, did you, Tommie?

But that wasn’t what I refer to. He’s written a story, too, and he’s sent it to four different magazines and they all sent it back. I tell him though, that that doesn’t mean anything. When you see some of the things the magazines do print, why, it’s an honor to have them not like yours. The only thing is that Tom worked so hard over it and sat up nights writing and rewriting, it’s a kind of a disappointment to have them turn it down.

It’s a story about two men and a girl and they were all brought up together and one of the men was awfully popular and well off and good-looking and a great athlete – a man like Arthur. There, Arthur! How is that for a T. L.? The other man was just an ordinary man with not much money, but the girl seemed to like him better and she promised to wait for him. Then this man worked hard and got money enough to see him through Yale.

The other man, the well-off one, went to Princeton and made a big hit as an athlete and everything and he was through college long before his friend because his friend had to earn the money first. And the well-off man kept after the girl to marry him. He didn’t know she had promised the other one. Anyway she got tired waiting for the man she was engaged to and eloped with the other one. And the story ends up by the man she threw down welcoming the couple when they came home and pretending everything was all right, though his heart was broken.

What are you blushing about, Tommie? It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I thought it was very well written and if the editors had any sense they’d have taken it.

Still, I don’t believe the real editors see half the stories that are sent to them. In fact I know they don’t. You’ve either got to have a name or a pull to get your things published. Or else pay the magazines to publish them. Of course if you are Robert Chambers or Irving R. Cobb, they will print whatever you write whether it’s good or bad. But you haven’t got a chance if you are an unknown like Tom. They just keep your story long enough so you will think they are considering it and then they send it back with a form letter saying it’s not available for their magazine and they don’t even tell why.

You remember, Tom, that Mr. Hastings we met at the Hammonds’. He’s a writer and knows all about it. He was telling me of an experience he had with one of the magazines; I forget which one, but it was one of the big ones. He wrote a story and sent it to them and they sent it back and said they couldn’t use it.

Well, some time after that Mr. Hastings was in a hotel in Chicago and a bell-boy went around the lobby paging Mr.—— I forget the name, but it was the name of the editor of this magazine that had sent back the story, Rungle, or Byers, or some such name. So the man, whatever his name was, he was really there and answered the page and afterwards Mr. Hastings went up to him and introduced himself and told the man about sending a story to his magazine and the man said he didn’t remember anything about it. And he was the editor! Of course he’d never seen it. No wonder Tom’s story keeps coming back!

He says he is through sending it and just the other day he was going to tear it up, but I made him keep it because we may meet somebody some time who knows the inside ropes and can get a hearing with some big editor. I’m sure it’s just a question of pull. Some of the things that get into the magazines sound like they had been written by the editor’s friends or relatives or somebody whom they didn’t want to hurt their feelings. And Tom really can write!

I wish I could remember that poem of his I found. I memorized it once, but – wait! I believe I can still say it! Hush, Tommie! What hurt will it do anybody? Let me see; it goes:

“I thought the sweetness of her song

Would ever, ever more belong

To me; I thought (O thought divine!)

My bird was really mine!

“But promises are made, it seems,

Just to be broken. All my dreams

Fade out and leave me crushed, alone.

My bird, alas, has flown!”

Isn’t that pretty. He wrote it four years ago. Why, Helen, you revoked! And, Tom, do you know that’s Scotch you’re drinking? You said— Why, Tom!

• 15 •

Rhythm

This story is slightly immoral, but so, I guess, are all stories based on truth. It concerns, principally, Harry Hart, whose frankness and naturalness were the traits that endeared him to fellow members of the Friars’ Club and all red-blooded she-girls who met him in and out of show business. Music writers have never been noted for self-loathing and Harry was a refreshing exception to the general run. That was before “Upsy Daisy” began its year’s tenancy of the Casino.

You can judge what sort of person he was by listening in on a talk he had at the club one night with Sam Rose, lyricist of “Nora’s Nightie,” “Sheila’s Shirt” and a hundred popular songs. They were sitting alone at the table nearest the senile piano.

Sam,” said Harry, “I was wondering if they’s a chance of you and I getting together.”

“What’s happened to Kane?” asked Sam.

“It’s off between he and I,” Harry replied. “That dame ruined him. I guess she married him to make an honest man of him. Anyways, he got so honest that I couldn’t stand it no more. You how how I am, Sam – live and let live. I don’t question nobody’s ethics or whatever you call them, as long as they don’t question mine. We’re all trying to get along; that’s the way I look at it. At that, I’ve heard better lyrics than he wrote for those two rhythm numbers of mine in ‘Lottie’; in fact, between you and I, I thought he made a bum out of those two numbers. They sold like hymns, so I was really able to bear up when we reached the parting of the ways.

“But I’ll tell you the climax just to show you how silly a guy can get. You remember our ‘Yes, Yes, Eulalie.’ Well, they was spot for a swell love duet near the end of the first act and I had a tune for it that was a smash. You know I’m not bragging when I say that; I don’t claim it as my tune, but it was and is a smash. I mean the ‘Catch Me’ number.”

“I’ll say it’s a smash!” agreed Sam.

“But a smash in spite of the words,” said Harry.

“You’re right,” said Sam.

“Well, the first time I played this tune for him, he went nuts over it and I gave him a lead sheet and he showed it to his wife. It seems she plays piano a little and she played this melody and she told him I had stole it from some opera; she thought it was ‘Gioconda,’ but she wasn’t sure. So the next day Kane spoke to me about it and I told him it wasn’t ‘Gioconda’; it was Donizetti’s ‘Linda di Chamounix.’ Well, he said he didn’t feel like it was right to work on a melody that had been swiped from somewhere. So I said, ‘Ain’t it kind of late for you to be having all those scruples?’ So he said, ‘Maybe it is, but better late than never. So I said, ‘Listen, Benny – this is your wife talking, not you.’ And he said, ‘Let’s leave her out of this,’ and I said, ‘I wished to heaven we could.’

“I said ‘Benny, you’ll admit that’s a pretty melody,’ and he said yes, he admitted it. So I said: ‘Well, how many of the dumb-bells that goes to our shows has ever heard “Linda di Chamounix” or ever will hear it? When I put this melody in our troupe I’m doing a million people a favor; I’m giving them a chance to hear a beautiful piece of music that they wouldn’t never hear otherwise. Not only that, but they’ll hear it at its best because I’ve improved it.’ So Benny said, ‘The first four bars is exactly the same and that’s where people will notice.’

“So then I said: ‘Now listen here, Benny – up to the present you haven’t never criticized my music and I haven’t criticized your lyrics. But now you say I’m a tune thief. I don’t deny it but if I wasn’t, you’d of had a sweet time making a living for yourself, let alone get married. However, laying that to one side, I was over to my sister’s house the other night and she had a soprano singer there and she sung a song something about “I love you, I love you; ’tis all my heart can say.” It was a mighty pretty song and it come out about twenty or thirty years ago.’

“So then Benny said, ‘What of it?’ So I said. Just this I can recall four or five lyrics of yours where “I love you” come in and I bet you’ve used the words “heart “and “say” and “all” at least twice apiece during your remarkable career as a song writer Well, did you make those words up or did you hear then somewhere?’ That’s what I said to him and of course he was stopped. But his ethics was ravaged just the same and it was understood we’d split up right after ‘Eulalie.’ And as I say, his words wasn’t no help to my Donizetti number; they’d of slayed it if it could of been slayed.”

“Well?“said Sam.

“Well,” said Harry, “Conrad Green wired me yesterday to come and see him, so I was up there today. He’s so dumb that he thinks I’m better than Friml. And he’s got a book by Jack Prendergast that he wanted Kane and I to work on. So I told him I wouldn’t work with Kane and he said to get who I wanted. So that’s why I gave you a ring.”

“It sounds good to me,” said Sam. “How is the book?”

“I only skimmed it through, but I guess it’s all right. It’s based on ‘Cinderella,’ so what with that idear combined with your lyrics and my tunes, it looks like we ought to give the public a novelty at least.”

“Have you got any new tunes?”

“New?” Hart laughed. “I’m dirty with them.” He sat down at the piano. “Get this rhythm number. If it ain’t a smash, I’m Gatti-Casazza!”

He played it, beautifully, first in F sharp – a catchy refrain that seemed to be waltz time in the right hand and two-four in the left.

“It’s pretty down here, too,” he said, and played it again, just as surely, in B natural, a key whose mere mention is henbane to the average pianist.

“A wow!” enthused Sam Rose. “What is it?”

“Don’t you know?”

“The Volga boat song.”

“No,” said Hart. “It’s part of Aida’s number when she finds out the fella is going to war. And nobody that comes to our shows will spot it except maybe Deems Taylor and Alma Gluck.”

“It’s so pretty,” said Sam, “that it’s a wonder it never goes popular.”

“The answer is that Verdi didn’t know rhythm!” said Hart.

—

Or go back and observe our hero at the Bucks’ house on Long Island. Several of the boys and girls were there and thrilled to hear that Harry Hart was coming. He hardly had time to taste his first cocktail before they were after him to play something.

“Something of your own!” pleaded the enraptured Helen Morse.

“If you mean something I made up,” he replied with engaging frankness, “why, that’s impossible; not exactly impossible, but it would be the homeliest tune you ever listened to. However, my name is signed to some mighty pretty things and I’ll play you one or two of those.”

Thus, without the conventional show of reluctance, Harry played the two “rhythm numbers” and the love-song that were making Conrad Green’s “Upsy Daisy” the hit of the season. And he was starting in on another, a thing his informal audience did not recognize, when he overheard his hostess introducing somebody to Mr. Rudolph Friml.

“Good night!” exclaimed Hart. “Let somebody play that can play!” And he resigned his seat at the piano to the newcomer and moved to a far corner of the room.

“I hope Friml didn’t hear me,”’ he confided to a Miss Silloh. “I was playing a thing he wrote himself and letting you people believe it was mine.”

—

Or catch him in the old days at a football game with Rita Marlowe of Goldwyn. One of the college bands was playing “Yes, Sir! That’s My Baby!”

“Walter Donaldson. There’s the boy that can write the hits!” said Hart.

“Just as if you couldn’t!” said his companion.

“I don’t class with him.” replied her modest escort.

Later on, Rita remarked that he must have been recognized by people in the crowd. Many had stared.

“Let’s not kid ourselves, girlie,” he said. “They’re staring at you, not me.”

Still later, on the way home from the game, he told her he had saved over $25,000 and expected to average at least $40,000 a year income while his vogue lasted.

“I’m good as long as I don’t run out of pretty tunes,” he said, “and they’s no reason why I should with all those old masters to draw from. I’m telling you my financial status because – well, I guess you know why.”

Rita did know, and it was the general opinion, shared by the two principals, that she and Harry were engaged.

—

When “Upsy Daisy” had been running two months and its hit numbers were being sung, played, and whistled almost to cloyment, Hart was discovered by Spencer Deal. That he was the pioneer in a new American jazz, that his rhythms would revolutionize our music – these things and many more were set forth by Deal in a four-thousand-word article called “Harry Hart, Harbinger,” printed by the erudite Webster’s Weekly. And Harry ate it up, though some of the words nearly choked him.

Interesting people were wont to grace Peggy Leech’s drawing-room on Sunday afternoons. Max Reinhardt had been there. Reinald Werrenrath had been there. So had Heifetz and Jeritza and Michael Arlen, and Noel Coward and Dudley Malone. And Charlie Chaplin, and Gene Tunney. In fact, Peggy’s Sunday afternoons could be spoken of as salons and her apartment as a hot-bed of culture.

It was to Peggy’s that Spencer Deal escorted Hart a few weeks after the appearance of the article in Webster’s. Deal in presenting him, announced that he was at work on a “blue” symphony that would make George Gershwin’s ultra rhythms and near dissonants sound like the doxology. “Oh!” exclaimed pretty Myra Hampton. “Will he play some of it for us?”

“Play, play, play!” said Hart querulously. “Don’t you think I ever want a rest! Last night it was a party at Broun’s and they kept after me and wouldn’t take ‘No’ and finally I played just as rotten as I could, to learn them a lesson. But they didn’t even know it was rotten. What do you do for a living?”

,“I’m an actress,” confessed the embarrassed young lady0

Well, would you like it if, every time you went anywhere socially, people asked you to act?”

“Yes,” she answered, but he had moved away He seemed to be seeking seclusion; sat down as far as possible from the crowd and looked hurt. He accepted a highball proffered by his hostess, but neglected to thank her. Not a bit discouraged she brought him Signor Parelli of the Metropolitan.

“Mr Hart,” she said, “this is Mr. Parelli, one of the Metropolitan’s conductors.”

“Yay?” said Hart.

“Perhaps some day Mr. Parelli will conduct one of your operas.”

“I hope so,” said the polite Parelli.

“Do you?” said Hart. “Well, if I ever write an opera, I’ll conduct it myself, or at least I won’t take no chance of having it ruined by a foreigner.”

The late war increased people’s capacity for punishment and in about twenty minutes Peggy’s guests began to act as if they would live in spite of Harry’s refusal to perform. In fact, one of them, Roy Lattimer, full of Scotch courage and not so full of musical ability, went to the piano himself and began to play.

“Began” is all, for he had not completed four bars before Hart plunged across the room and jostled him off the bench.

“I hope you don’t call yourself a pianist!” he said, pronouncing it as if it meant a cultivator of, or dealer in, peonies. And for two hours, during which everybody but Spencer Deal and the unfortunate hostess walked out on him, Harry played and played and played. Nor in all that time did he play anything by Kern, Gershwin, Stephen Jones, or Isham Jones, Samuels, Youmans, Friml, Stamper, Tours, Berlin, Tierney, Hubbell, Hein, or Gitz-Rice.

—

It was during this epoch that Harry had occasion one day to walk up Fifth Avenue from Forty-fifth Street to the Plaza. He noticed that almost everyone he passed on the line of march gazed at him intently. He recalled that his picture had been in two rotogravure sections the previous Sunday. It must have been a better likeness than he had thought.

New York was burning soft coal that winter and when Hart arrived in the Plaza wash-room he discovered a smudge on the left side of his upper lip. It made him look as if he had had a mustache, had decided to get it removed and then had changed his mind when the barber was half through.

Harry’s date at the Plaza was with Rita Marlowe. He had put it off as long as he could. If the girl had any pride or sense, she’d have taken a hint. Why should he waste his time on a second-rate picture actress when he was hobnobbing with women like Elinor Deal and Thelma Warren and was promised an introduction to Mrs. Wallace Gerard? Girls ought to know that when a fella who has been taking them out three and four times a week and giving them a ring every morning, night and noon between whiles – they ought to know that when a fella stops calling them up and taking them out and won’t even talk to them when they call up, there is only one possible answer. Yet this dame insists on you meeting her and probably having a scene. Well, she’ll get a scene. No, she won’t. No use being brutal. Just make it apparent in a nice way that things ain’t like they used to be and get it over as quick as possible.

“Where can we go?” asked Rita. “I mean, to talk.”

“Nowheres that’ll take much time,” said Harry. “I’ve got a date with Paul Whiteman to look over part of my symphony.’

“I don’t want to interrupt your work,” said Rita. “Maybe it would be better if you came up to the house tonight.”

“I can’t tonight,” he told her.

“When can you?”

“I’ll give you a ring. It’s hard to get away. You see—”

“I think I do.” said Rita, and left him.

“About time,” said Harry to himself.

—

His symphony went over fairly “big.” The critics seemed less impressed than with the modern compositions of Gershwin and Deems Taylor. “But then,” Harry reflected, “Gershwin was ahead of me and of course Taylor has friends on the paper.”

A party instigated by Spencer Deal followed the concert and Harry met Mrs. Wallace Gerard, who took a great interest in young composers and had been known to give them substantial aid. Hart accepted an invitation to play to her at her Park Avenue apartment. He made the mistake of thinking she wanted to be petted, not played to, and his first visit was his last.

He had been engaged by Conrad Green to do the music for a new show, with a book by Guy Bolton. He balked at working again with Sam Rose, whose lyrics were hopelessly proletarian. Green told him to pick his own lyricist and Harry chose Spencer Deal. The result of the collaboration was a score that required a new signature at the beginning of each bar, and a collection of six-syllable rhymes that has as much chance of being unriddled, let alone sung, by chorus girls as a pandect on biotaxy by Ernest Boyd.

“Terrible!” was Green’s comment on advice of his musical adviser, Frank Tour:.

“You’re a fine judge!” said Hart. “But it don’t make no difference what you think. Our contract with you is to write music and lyrics for this show and that’s what we’ve done. If you don’t like it, you can talk to my lawyer.”

Your lawyer is probably one of mine, too,” replied Green. “He must be if he practices in New York. But that is neither here or there. If you think you can compel me to accept a score which Tours tells me that if it was orchestrated, Stokowski himself couldn’t even read the triangle part, to say nothing of lyrics which you would have to ring up every night at seven o’clock to get the words in the opening chorus all pronounced in time for Bayside people to catch the one-twenty train – well. Hart, go along home now, because you and I are going to see each other in court every day for the next forty years.”

A year or so later, Harry’s total cash on hand and in bank amounted to $214.60, including the $56 he had cleaned up on the sale of sheet music and mechanical records of his symphony. He read in the Sunday papers that Otto Harbach had undertaken a book for Willis Merwin and the latter was looking around for a composer. Merwin was one of the younger producers and had been a pal of Harry’s at the Friars’. Hart sought him there. He found Merwin and came to the point at once.

“It’s too late,” said the young entrepreneur. “I did consider you at first, but – well, I didn’t think you were interested now in anything short of oratorio. The stuff you used to write would have been great, but this piece couldn’t stand the ponderous junk you’ve been turning out lately. It needs light treatment and I’ve signed Donaldson and Gus Kahn.”

“Maybe I could interpolate—” Harry began.

“I don’t believe so,” Merwin interrupted. “I don’t recall a spot where we could use either a fugue or a dirge.”

On his way out, Hart saw Benny Kane, his collaborator of other years. Benny made as if to get up and greet him, but changed his mind and sank back in his sequestered chair.

“He don’t look as cocky as he used to,” thought Harry, and wished that Kane had been more cordial. “What I’ll have to do is turn out a hit song, just to tide me over. Of course I can write the words myself, but Benny had good idears once in a while.”

Hart stopped in at his old publishers’ where, in the halcyon days, he had been as welcome as more beer at the Pastry Cooks’ Ball. He had left them for a more esthetic firm at the suggestion of Spencer Deal.

“Well, Harry,” said Max Wise, one of the partners, “you’re quite a stranger. We don’t hear much of you lately.”

“Maybe you will again,” said Hart. “What would you say if I was to write another smash?”

“I’d say,” replied Wise, “that it wasn’t any too soon.”

“How would you like to have me back here?”

“With a smash, yes. Go get one and you’ll find the door wide open. Who are you working with?”

“I haven’t nobody.”

“You could do a lot worse,” said Wise, “than team up again with Benny Kane. You and him parting company was like separating Baltimore and Ohio or pork and beans.”

“He hasn’t done nothing since he left me,” said Hart.

“No,” replied Wise, “but you can’t hardly claim to have been glutting the country with sensations yourself!”

Harfwent back to his hotel and wished there was no such thing as pride. He’d like to give Benny a ring.

He answered the telephone and recognized Benny’s voice.

“I seen you at the Friars’ today,” said Benny, “and it reminded me of an idear. Where could we get together?”

“At the club,” Harry replied. “I’ll be there in a half-hour.”

“I was thinking,” said Benny, when they were seated at the table near the piano,” that nobody has wrote a rhythm song lately about ‘I love you’; that is, not in the last two or three months And one time you was telling me about being over to your sister’s and they was a soprano there that sung a song that went ‘I love you, I love you; ’tis all my heart can say.’”

“What of it?”

“Well,” said Benny, “let’s take that song and I’ll just fix up the words a little and you can take the tune and put it into your rhythm and we’re all set. That is, if the tune’s O.K. What is it like?

“Oh ‘Arcady’ and ‘Marcheta’ and maybe that ‘Buzz Around’ song of Dave Stamper’s. But then, what ain’t?”

“Well, let’s go to it.”

“Where is your ethics?”

“Listen,” said Benny Kane – “I and Rae was talking this afternoon, and we didn’t disgust ethics. She was just saying she thought that all God’s children had shoes except her.”

“All right,” said Hart. “I can remember enough of the tune. But I’ll look the song up tomorrow and give it to you and you can rewrite the words.”

“Fine! And now how about putting on the feed bag?”

“No,” said Harry. “I promised to call up a dame.”

Whereupon he kept his ancient promise.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” said Rita at the other end of the wire, “imagining a girl would wait for you this long. And I’d say ‘No’ and say it good and loud, except that my piano has just been tuned and you’ve never played me your symphony.”

“I ain’t going to, neither,” said Harry. “But I want to try out a new rhythm number that ought to be a smash. It starts off ‘I love you, I love you.’”

“It sounds wonderful!” said Rita.

• 16 •

Travelogue

They met for the first time at luncheon in the diner of the west-bound limited that had left Chicago the night before. The girls, it turned out, were Hazel Dignan and her friend Mildred Orr. The man was Dan Chapman.

He it was who broke the ice by asking if they minded riding backwards. It was Hazel who answered. She was a seasoned traveler and knew how to talk to strangers. Mildred had been hardly anywhere and had little to say, even when she knew people.

“Not at all,” was Hazel’s reply to his polite query. “I’m so used to trains that I believe I could ride on top of them and not be uncomfortable.”

“Imagine,” put in Mildred, “riding on top of a train!”

“Many’s the time I’ve done it!” said their new acquaintance. “Freight-trains, though; not passenger-trains. And it was when I was a kid.”

“I don’t see how you dared,” said Mildred.

“I guess I was a kind of a reckless, wild kid,” he said. “It’s a wonder I didn’t get killed, the chances I took. Some kids takes lots of chances; that is, boys.”

“Girls do, too,” said Hazel quickly. “Girls take just as many chances as boys.”

“Oh, no, Hazel!” remonstrated her friend, and received an approving look from the male.

“Where are you headed for?” he asked.

“Frisco first and then Los Angeles,” Hazel replied.

“Listen  – let me give you a tip. Don’t say ‘Frisco’ in front of them native sons. They don’t like that nickname.”

“I should worry what they like and don’t like!” said Hazel, rather snootily, Mildred thought.

“This your first trip out there?” Chapman inquired.

“No,” Hazel answered to Mildred’s surprise, for the purpose of the journey, she had been led to believe, was to give Hazel a glimpse of one of the few parts of America that she had never visited.

“How long since you was out there last?” asked Chapman.

“Let’s see,” said Hazel. “It’s been—” She was embarrassed by Mildred’s wondering look. “I don’t know exactly. I’ve forgotten.”

“This is about my fiftieth trip,” said Chapman. “If you haven’t been—”

“I like Florida better,” interrupted Hazel. “I generally go there in the winter.”

“Generally!” thought Mildred, who had reliable information that the previous winter had been her friend’s first in the South.

“I used to go to Palm Beach every year,” said Chapman, “but that was before it got common. It seems to be that the people that goes to Florida now, well, they’re just riffraff.”

“The people that go to Tampa aren’t riffraff,” said Hazel. “I met some lovely people there last winter, especially one couple, the Babcocks. From Racine. They were perfectly lovely to me. We played Mah Jong nearly every evening. They wanted me to come up and visit them in Racine this last summer, but something happened. Oh, yes; Sis’s nurse got married. She was a Swedish girl. Just perfect! And Sis had absolute confidence in her.

“I always say that when a Swede is good, they’re good! Now she’s got a young girl about nineteen that’s wild about movie actors and so absent-minded that Sis is scared to death she’ll give Junior coffee and drink his milk herself. Just crazy! Jennie, her name is. So I didn’t get up to Racine.”

“Ever been out to Yellowstone?”

“Oh, isn’t it wonderful!” responded Hazel. “Isn’t ‘Old Faithful’ just fascinating! You see,” she explained to Mildred, “It’s one of the geysers and they call it ‘Old Faithful’ because it spouts every hour and ten minutes or something, just as regular as clockwork. Wonderful! And the different falls and canyons! Wonderful! And what a wonderful view from Inspiration Point!”

“Ever been to the Thousand Islands?” asked Chapman.

“Wonderful! And I was going up there again last summer with a girl friend of mine, Bess Eldridge. She was engaged to a man named Harley Bateman. A wonderful fellow when he wasn’t drinking, but when he’d had a few drinks, he was just terrible. So Bess and I were in Chicago and we went to a show; Eddie Cantor. It was the first time I ever saw him when he wasn’t blacked up. Well, we were walking out of the theater that night and who should we run into but Harley Bateman, terribly boiled, and a girl from Elkhart, Joan Killian. So Bess broke off her engagement and last fall she married a man named Wannop who’s interested in flour-mills or something up in Minneapolis. So I didn’t get to the Thousand Islands after all. That is, a second time.

“But I always think that if a person hasn’t taken that trip, they haven’t seen anything. And Bess would have certainly enjoyed it. She used to bite her fingernails till she didn’t have any left. But she married this man from Minneapolis.”

—

After luncheon the three moved to the observation-car and made a brave effort to be interested in what passes for scenery in Nebraska.

For no possible reason, it reminded Chapman of Northern Michigan.

“Have you ever been up in Northern Michigan?”

“Yes, indeed,” said Hazel. “I visited a week once in Petoskey. Some friends of mine named Gilbert. They had their own launch. Ina Gilbert – that’s Mrs. Gilbert – her hair used to be the loveliest thing in the world and she had typhoid or something and lost nearly all of it. So we played Mah Jong every afternoon and evening.”

“I mean ’way up,” said Chapman. “Mackinac Island and the Upper Peninsula, the Copper Country.”

“Oh, wonderful!” said Hazel. “Calumet and Houghton and Hancock! Wonderful! And the boat trip is wonderful! Though I guess I was about the only one that thought so. Everybody else was sick. The captain said it was the roughest trip he’d ever been on, and he had lived on the Great Lakes for forty years. And another time I went across from Chicago to St. Joseph. But that wasn’t so rough. We visited the House of David in Benton Harbor. They wear long beards. We were almost in hysterics, Marjorie Trumbull and I. But the time I went to Petoskey, I went alone.”

“You see a lot of Finns up in that Northern Peninsula,” remarked Chapman.

“Yes, and Sis had a Finnish maid once. She couldn’t hardly understand a word of English. She was a Finn. Sis finally had to let her go. Now she has an Irish girl for a maid and Jennie takes care of the kiddies. Poor little Dickie, my nephew, he’s nearly seven and of course he’s lost all his front teeth. He looks terrible! Teeth do make such a difference! My friends always say they envy me my teeth.”

—

“Talking about teeth,” said Chapman, “you see this?” He opened his mouth and pointed to a large, dark vacancy where once had dwelt a molar. “I had that one pulled in Milwaukee the day before yesterday. The fella said I better take gas, but I said no. So he said, ‘Well, you must be pretty game.’ I said I faced German shell-fire for sixteen months and I guess I ain’t going to be a-scared of a little forceps. Well, he said afterwards that it was one of the toughest teeth he ever pulled. The roots were the size of your little finger. And the tooth itself was full of—”

“I only had one tooth pulled in my life,” said Hazel. “I’d been suffering from rheumatism and somebody suggested that it might be from a tooth, but I couldn’t believe it at first because my teeth are so perfect. But I hadn’t slept in months on account of these pains in my arms and limbs. So finally, just to make sure, I went to a dentist, old Doctor Platt, and he pulled this tooth” – she showed him where it had been – “and my rheumatism disappeared just like that. It was terrible not to be able to sleep because I generally sleep like a log. And I do now, since I got my tooth pulled.”

“I don’t sleep very good on trains,” said Chapman.

“Oh, I do. Probably on account of being so used to it. I slept just beautifully last night. Mildred here insisted on taking the upper. She said if she was where she could look out the window, she never would go to sleep. Personally, I’d just as lief have the upper. I don’t mind it a bit. I like it really better. But this is Mildred’s first long trip and I thought she ought to have her choice. We tried to get a compartment or drawing-room, but they were all gone. Sis and I had a compartment the time we went to New Orleans. I slept in the upper.”

Mildred wished she had gone places so she could take part in the conversation. Mr. Chapman must think she was terribly dumb.

She had nothing to talk about that people would care to hear, and it was kind of hard to keep awake when you weren’t talking yourself, even with such interesting, traveled people to listen to as Mr. Chapman and Hazel. Mr. Chapman was a dandy-looking man and it was terrible to have to appear dumb in front of him.

But after all, she was dumb and Hazel’s erudition made her seem all the dumber. No wonder their new acquaintance had scarcely looked at her since luncheon.

—

“Have you ever been to San Antone?” Chapman asked his companions.

“Isn’t it wonderful!” Hazel exclaimed. “The Alamo! Wonderful! And those dirty Mexicans! And Salt Lake City is wonderful, too! That temple! And swimming in the lake itself is one of the most fascinating experiences! You know, Mildred, the water is so salt that you can’t sink in it. You just lie right on top of it like it was a floor. You can’t sink. And another wonderful place is Lake Placid. I was going back there last summer with Bess Eldridge, but she was engaged at the time to Harley Bateman, an awfully nice boy when he wasn’t drinking, but perfectly terrible when he’d had a few drinks. He went to college with my brother, to Michigan. Harley tried for the football nine, but the coach hated him. His father was a druggist and owned the first automobile in Berrien County. So we didn’t go to Placid last summer, but I’m going next summer sure. And it’s wonderful in winter, too!”

“It feels funny, where that tooth was,” said Chapman.

“Outside of one experience,” said Hazel, “I’ve never had any trouble with my teeth. I’d been suffering from rheumatism and somebody suggested it might be a bad tooth, but I couldn’t believe it because my teeth are perfect—”

“This was all shot to pieces,” said Chapman.

“But my friends always say they envy me my teeth; my teeth and my complexion. I try to keep my mouth clean and my face clean, and I guess that’s the answer. But it’s hard to keep clean on a train.”

“Where are you going? Out to the coast?”

“Yes. Frisco and then Los Angeles.”

“Don’t call it Frisco in front of them Californians. They don’t like their city to be called Frisco. Is this your first trip out there?”

“No. I was there a good many years ago.”

She turned to Mildred.

“You didn’t know that, did you?” she said. But Mildred was asleep. “Poor Mildred! She’s worn out. She isn’t used to traveling. She’s quite a pretty girl, don’t you think so?”

“Very pretty!”

“Maybe not exactly pretty,” said her friend, “but kind of sweet-looking, like a baby. You’d think all the men would be crazy about her, but they aren’t. Lots of people don’t even think she’s pretty and I suppose you can’t be really pretty unless you have more expression in your face than she’s got. Poor Mildred hasn’t had many advantages.”

“At this time of year, I’d rather be in Atlantic City than San Francisco.”

“Oh, isn’t Atlantic City wonderful! There’s only one Atlantic City! And I really like it better in the winter. Nobody but nice people go there in the winter. In the summertime it’s different. I’m no snob, but I don’t mind saying that I hate to mix up with some people a person has to meet at these resort places. Terrible! Two years ago I went to Atlantic City with Bess Eldridge. Like a fool I left it to her to make the reservations and she wired the Traymore, she says, but they didn’t have anything for us. We tried the Ritz and the Ambassador and everywhere else, but we couldn’t get in anywhere, that is, anywhere a person would want to stay. Bess was engaged to Harley Bateman at the time. Now she’s married to a man named Wannop from Minneapolis. But this time I speak of, we went to Philadelphia and stayed all night with my aunt and we had scrapple and liver and bacon for breakfast. Harley was a dandy boy when he wasn’t drinking. But give me Atlantic City any time of the year!”

“I’ve got to send a telegram at Grand Island.”

“Oh, if I sent one from there, when would it get to Elkhart?”

“Tonight or tomorrow morning.”

“I want to wire my sister.”

“Well, wire her from Grand Island.”

“I think I’ll wait and wire her from Frisco.”

“But we won’t be in San Francisco for over two days yet.”

“But we change time before then, don’t we?”

“Yes, we change at North Platte.”

“Then I think I’ll wire her from Grand Island.”

“Your sister, you say?”

“Yes. My sister Lucy. She married Jack Kingston, the Kingston tire people.”

“It certainly feels empty, where that tooth was,” said Chapman.

—

As the train pulled out of North Platte, later in the afternoon, Chapman rejoined the two girls in the observation-car.

“Now, girls,” he said, “you can set your watches back an hour. We change time here. We were Central time and now we’re Mountain time.”

“Mountain time,” repeated Mildred. “I suppose that’s where the expression started, ‘it’s high time.’”

Hazel and Chapman looked blank and Mildred blushed. She felt she had made a mistake saying anything at all. She opened her book, “Carlyle on Cromwell and Others,” which Rev. N. L. Veach had given her for Christmas.

“Have you ever been to Washington?” Chapman asked Hazel.

“Oh, isn’t it beautiful! ‘The City of Magnificent Distances.’ Wonderful! I was there two years ago with Bess Eldridge. We were going to meet the President, but something happened. Oh, yes; Bess got a wire from Harley Bateman that he was going to get in that afternoon. And he never came at all. He was awfully nice when he wasn’t drinking, and just terrible when he drank. Bess broke off her engagement to him and married a man named Wannop, who owned some flour-mills in Minneapolis. She was a dandy girl, but bit her fingernails just terribly. So we didn’t get to see the President, but we sat through two or three sessions of the Senate and House. Do you see how they ever get anything done? And we went to Rock Creek Park and Mount Vernon and Arlington Cemetery and Keith’s.

“Moran and Mack were there; you know, the black-face comedians. Moran, or maybe it’s Mack, whichever is the little one, he says to the other – I’ve forgotten just how it went, but they were simply screaming and I thought Bess and I would be put out. We just howled. And the last night we were there we saw Thomas Meighan in ‘Old Home Week.’ Wonderful! Harley Bateman knows Thomas Meighan personally. He’s got a beautiful home out on Long Island. He invited Harley out there to dinner one night, but something happened. Oh, yes; Harley lost a front tooth once and he had a false one put in and this day he ate some caramels and the tooth came out—”

“Look here,” said Chapman, opening his mouth and pointing in it. “I got that one pulled in Milwaukee—”

“Harley was a perfect peach when he was sober, but terrible when—”

It occurred to Mildred that her presence might be embarrassing. Here were evidently kindred spirits, two people who had been everywhere and seen everything. But of course they couldn’t talk anything but geography and dentistry before her.

“I think I’ll go to our car and take a little nap,” she said.

“Oh, don’t—” began Chapman surprisingly, but stopped there.

She was gone and the kindred spirits were alone.

“I suppose,” said Chapman, “you’ve been to Lake Louise.”

“Wonderful!” Hazel responded. “Did you ever see anything as pretty in your life? They talk about the lakes of Ireland and Scotland and Switzerland, but I don’t believe they can compare with Lake Louise. I was there with Bess Eldridge just before she got engaged to Harley Bateman. He was—”

“Your friend’s a mighty pretty girl.”

“I suppose some people would think her pretty. It’s a matter of individual taste.”

“Very quiet, isn’t she?”

“Poor Mildred hasn’t much to say. You see, she’s never had any advantages and there’s really nothing she can talk about. But what was I saying? Oh, yes; about Harley Bateman—”

“I think that’s a good idea, taking a little nap. I believe I’ll try it, too.”

—

Hazel and Chapman lunched alone next day.

“I’m afraid Mildred is a little train sick,” said Hazel. “She says she is all right but just isn’t hungry. I guess the trip has been a little too much for her. You see, this is the first time she’s ever been anywhere at all.”

The fact was that Mildred did not like to be stared at and Chapman had stared at her all through dinner the night before, stared at her, she thought, as if she were a curiosity, as if he doubted that one so dumb could be real. She liked him, too, and it would have been so nice if she had been more like Hazel, never at a loss for something to say and able to interest him in her conversation.

“We’ll be in Ogden in half an hour,” said Chapman. “We stay there twenty-five minutes. That ought to give your friend a chance to get over whatever ails her. She should get out and walk around and get some air.”

“You seem quite interested in Mildred,” Hazel said.

“She’s a mighty attractive girl,” he replied. “And besides, I feel sorry for anybody that—”

“Men don’t usually find her attractive. She’s pretty in a way, but it’s a kind of a babyish face.”

“I don’t think so at all—”

“We change time here again, don’t we?”

“Yes. Another hour back. We’ve been on Mountain time and now we go to Pacific time. Some people say it’s bad for a watch to turn it backwards, but it never seemed to hurt mine any. This watch—”

“I bought this watch of mine in New York,” said Hazel. “It was about two years ago, the last time Bess Eldridge and I went East. Let’s see; was that before or after she broke her engagement to Harley Bateman? It was before. But Harley said he knew the manager of the Belmont and he would wire him and get us a good room. Well, of course, he forgot to wire, so we finally got into the Pennsylvania, Room 1012. No, Room 1014. It was some people from Pittsburgh, a Mr. and Mrs. Bradbury, in 1012. He was lame. Bess wanted to see Jeanne Eagels in ‘Rain’ and we tried to get tickets at the newsstand, but they said fifteenth row. We finally went to the Palace that night. Ina Claire was on the bill. So the next morning we came down to breakfast and who should we run into but Dave Homan! We’d met him at French Lick in the spring. Isn’t French Lick wonderful!

“Well, Dave insisted on ‘showing’ us New York, like we didn’t know it backwards. But we did have a dandy time. Dave kept us in hysterics. I remember he took us to the Aquarium and of course a lot of other people were in there and Dave gave one of the attendants a quarter to page Mr. Fish. I thought they’d put us out, we screamed so! Dave asked me to marry him once, just jokingly, and I told him I wouldn’t think of it because I had heard it made people fat to laugh and if I lived with him I would soon have to buy my clothes from a tent-maker. Dave said we would make a great pair as we both have such a keen sense of humor. Honestly, I wouldn’t give up my sense of humor for all the money in the world. I don’t see how people can live without a sense of humor. Mildred, for instance; she never sees the funny side of things unless you make her a diagram and even then she looks at you like she thought you were deranged.

“But I was telling you about Dave Homan. We were talking along about one thing and another and I happened to mention Harley Bateman and Dave said, ‘Harley Bateman! Do you know Harley Bateman?’ and Bess and I smiled at each other and I said I guessed we did. Well, it seems that Dave and Harley had been at Atlantic City together at a Lions’ convention or something and they had some drinks and Dave had a terrible time keeping a policeman from locking Harley up. He’s just as different when he’s drinking as day and night. Dave got him out of it all right and they met again later on, in Chicago. Or was it Duluth? So the next day was Wednesday and Dave asked Bess and I to go to the matinee of ‘Rain,’ but Bess had an engagement with a dentist M

“Do you see this?” interrupted Chapman, opening his mouth wide.

“So Dave took me alone and he said he had been hoping for that chance right along. He said three was a crowd. I believe if I had given him any encouragement— But the man I marry must be something more than clever and witty. I like men that have been around and seen things and studied human nature and have a background. Of course they must see the funny side, too. That’s the trouble with Dave Homan – he can’t be serious. Harley Bateman is twice as much of a man if he wouldn’t drink. It’s like two different people when he drinks. He’s terrible! Bess Eldridge was engaged to him, but she broke it off after we happened to see him in Chicago one time with Joan Killian, from Elkhart. Bess is married now, to a man named Wannop, a flour man from Minneapolis. So after the matinee we met Bess. She’d been to the dentist—”

“Three days ago, in Milwaukee—” began Chapman.

“So the next afternoon we were taking the boat for Boston. I’d been to Boston before, of course, but never by boat. Harley Bateman told us it was a dandy trip, so we decided to try it. Well, we left New York at five o’clock and Bess and I were up on deck when somebody came up behind us and put their hands over my eyes and said, ‘Guess who it is?’ Well, I couldn’t have guessed in a hundred years. It was Clint Poole from South Bend. Imagine! Harley Bateman’s brother-in-law!”

“Here’s Ogden,” said Chapman as the train slowed down.

“Oh, and I’ve got to send Sis a telegram! My sister Lucy Kingston.”

“I think I’ll get out and get some air,” said Chapman, but he went first to the car where Mildred sat reading.

“Miss Mildred,” he said, “suppose you have breakfast with me early tomorrow morning. I’d like to show you the snow-sheds.”

“That would be wonderful!” said Mildred. “I’ll tell Hazel.”

“No,” said Chapman. “Please don’t tell Hazel. I’d like to show them to you alone.”

Well, even if Mildred had been used to trains, that remark would have interfered seriously with her night’s sleep.

—

Mildred found Chapman awaiting her in the diner next morning, an hour west of Truckee.

“Are those the snow-sheds you spoke of?”

“Yes,” he replied, “but we’ll talk about them later. First I want to ask you a few questions.”

“Ask me questions!” said Mildred. “Well, they’ll have to be simple ones or I won’t be able to answer them.”

“They’re simple enough,” said Chapman. “The first one is, do you know Harley Bateman?”

“I know of him, but I don’t know him.”

“Do you know Bess Eldridge?”

“Just to speak to; that’s all.”

“What other trips have you taken besides this?”

“None at all. This is really the first time I’ve ever been anywhere.”

“Has your friend ever been engaged?”

“Yes; twice. It was broken off both times.”

“I bet I know why. There was no place to take her on a honeymoon.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing. Say, did I tell you about getting my tooth pulled in Milwaukee?”

“I don’t believe so,” said Mildred.

“Well, I had a terrible toothache. It was four days ago. And I thought there was no use fooling with it, so I went to a dentist and told him to pull it. He said I’d better take gas, but I wouldn’t. So he pulled it and it pretty near killed me, but I never batted an eye. He said it was one of the toughest teeth he’d ever seen; roots as big as your little finger. And the tooth itself full of poison.”

“How terrible! You must be awfully brave!”

“Look here, at the hole,” said Chapman, opening his mouth.

“Why, Mr. Chapman, it must have hurt horribly!”

“Call me Dan.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.”

“Well, listen – are you going to be with Miss Hazel all the time you’re in San Francisco?”

“Why, no,” said Mildred. “Hazel is going to visit her aunt in Berkeley part of the time. And I’m going to stop at the Fairmont.”

“When is she going to Berkeley?”

“Next Tuesday, I think.”

“Can I phone you next Wednesday?”

“But Hazel will be gone then.”

“Yes, I know,” said Chapman, “but if you don’t mind, I’ll phone you just the same. Now about these snow-sheds—”

• 17 •

I Can’t Breathe

July 12

I am staying here at the Inn for two weeks with my Uncle Nat and Aunt Jule and I think I will keep a kind of diary while I am here to help pass the time and so I can have a record of things that happen though goodness knows there isn’t lightly to anything happen, that is anything exciting with Uncle Nat and Aunt Jule making the plans as they are both at least 35 years old and maybe older.

Dad and mother are abroad to be gone a month and me coming here is supposed to be a recompence for them not taking me with them. A fine recompence to be left with old people that come to a place like this to rest. Still it would be a heavenly place under different conditions, for instance if Walter were here, too. It would be heavenly if he were here, the very thought of it makes my heart stop.

I can’t stand it. I won’t think about it.

This is our first separation since we have been engaged, nearly 17 days. It will be 17 days tomorrow. And the hotel orchestra at dinner this evening played that old thing “Oh how I miss you tonight” and it seemed as if they must be playing it for my benefit though of course the person in that song is talking about how they miss their mother though of course I miss mother too, but a person gets used to missing their mother and it isn’t like Walter or the person you are engaged to.

But there won’t be any more separations much longer, we are going to be married in December even if mother does laugh when I talk to her about it because she says I am crazy to even think of getting married at 18.

She got married herself when she was 18, but of course that was “different,” she wasn’t crazy like I am, she knew whom she was marrying. As if Walter were a policeman or a foreigner or something. And she says she was only engaged once while I have been engaged at least five times a year since I was 14, of course it really isn’t as bad as that and I have really only been really what I call engaged six times altogether, but is getting engaged my fault when they keep insisting and hammering at you and if you didn’t say yes they would never go home.

But it is different with Walter. I honestly believe if he had not asked me I would have asked him. Of course I wouldn’t have, but I would have died. And this is the first time I have ever been engaged to be really married. The other times when they talked about when we should get married I just laughed at them, but I hadn’t been engaged to Walter ten minutes when he brought up the subject of marriage and I didn’t laugh. I wouldn’t be engaged to him unless it was to be married. I couldn’t stand it.

Anyway mother may as well get used to the idea because it is “No Foolin’” this time and we have got our plans all made and I am going to be married at home and go out to California and Hollywood on our honeymoon. December, five months away. I can’t stand it. I can’t wait.

There were a couple of awfully nice looking boys sitting together alone in the dining-room tonight. One of them wasn’t so much, but the other was cute. And he—

There’s the dance orchestra playing “Always,” what they played at the Biltmore the day I met Walter. “Not for just an hour not for just a day.” I can’t live. I can’t breathe.

July 13

This has been a much more exciting day than I expected under the circumstances. In the first place I got two long night letters, one from Walter and one from Gordon Flint. I don’t see how Walter ever had the nerve to send his, there was everything in it and it must have been horribly embarrassing for him while the telegraph operator was reading it over and counting the words to say nothing of embarrassing the operator.

But the one from Gordon was a kind of a shock. He just got back from a trip around the world, left last December to go on it and got back yesterday and called up our house and Helga gave him my address, and his telegram, well it was nearly as bad as Walter’s. The trouble is that Gordon and I were engaged when he went away, or at least he thought so and he wrote to me right along all the time he was away and sent cables and things and for a while I answered his letters, but then I lost track of his itinery and couldn’t write to him any more and when I got really engaged to Walter I couldn’t let Gordon know because I had no idea where he was besides not wanting to spoil his trip.

And now he still thinks we are engaged and he is going to call me up tomorrow from Chicago and how in the world can I explain things and get him to understand because he is really serious and I like him ever and ever so much and in lots of ways he is nicer than Walter, not really nicer but better looking and there is no comparison between their dancing. Walter simply can’t learn to dance, that is really dance. He says it is because he is flat footed, he says that as a joke, but it is true and I wish to heavens it wasn’t.

All forenoon I thought and thought and thought about what to say to Gordon when he calls up and finally I couldn’t stand thinking about it any more and just made up my mind I wouldn’t think about it any more. But I will tell the truth though it will kill me to hurt him.

I went down to lunch with Uncle Nat and Aunt Jule and they were going out to play golf this afternoon and were insisting that I go with them, but I told them I had a headache and then I had a terrible time getting them to go without me. I didn’t have a headache at all and just wanted to be alone to think about Walter and besides when you play with Uncle Nat he is always correcting your stance or your swing or something and always puts his hands on my arms or shoulders to show me the right way and I can’t stand it to have old men touch me, even if they are your uncle.

I finally got rid of them and I was sitting watching the tennis when that boy that I saw last night, the cute one, came and sat right next to me and of course I didn’t look at him and I was going to smoke a cigarette and found I had left my lighter upstairs and I started to get up and go after it when all of a sudden he was offering me his lighter and I couldn’t very well refuse it without being rude. So we got to talking and he is even cuter than he looks, the most original and wittiest person I believe I ever met and I haven’t laughed so much in I don’t know how long.

For one thing he asked me if I had heard Rockefeller’s song and I said no and he began singing “Oil alone.” Then he asked me if I knew the orange juice song and I told him no again and he said it was “Orange juice sorry you made me cry.” I was in hysterics before we had been together ten minutes.

His name is Frank Caswell and he has been out of Darthmouth a year and is 24 years old. That isn’t so terribly old, only two years older than Walter and three years older than Gordon. I hate the name Frank, but Caswell is all right and he is so cute.

He was out in California last winter and visited Hollywood and met everybody in the world and it is fascinating to listen to him. He met Norma Shearer and he said he thought she was the prettiest thing he had ever seen. What he said was “I did think she was the prettiest girl in the world, till today.” I was going to pretend I didn’t get it, but I finally told him to be sensible or I would never be able to believe anything he said.

Well, he wanted me to dance with him tonight after dinner and the next question was how to explain how we had met each other to Uncle Nat and Aunt Jule. Frank said he would fix that all right and sure enough he got himself introduced to Uncle Nat when Uncle Nat came in from golf and after dinner Uncle Nat introduced him to me and Aunt Jule too and we danced together all evening, that is not Aunt Jule. They went to bed, thank heavens.

He is a heavenly dancer, as good as Gordon. One dance we were dancing and for one of the encores the orchestra played “In a cottage small by a waterfall” and I simply couldn’t dance to it. I just stopped still and said “Listen, I can’t bear it, I can’t breathe” and poor Frank thought I was sick or something and I had to explain that that was the tune the orchestra played the night I sat at the next table to Jack Barrymore at Barney Gallant’s.

I made him sit out that encore and wouldn’t let him talk till they got through playing it. Then they played something else and I was all right again and Frank told me about meeting Jack Barrymore. Imagine meeting him. I couldn’t live.

I promised Aunt Jule I would go to bed at eleven and it is way past that now, but I am all ready for bed and have just been writing this. Tomorrow Gordon is going to call up and what will I say to him? I just won’t think about it.

July 14

Gordon called up this morning from Chicago and it was wonderful to hear his voice again though the connection was terrible. He asked me if I still loved him and I tried to tell him no, but I knew that would mean an explanation and the connection was so bad that I never could make him understand so I said yes, but I almost whispered it purposely, thinking he wouldn’t hear me, but he heard me all right and he said that made everything all right with the world. He said he thought I had stopped loving him because I had stopped writing.

I wish the connection had been decent and I could have told him how things were, but now it is terrible because he is planning to get to New York the day I get there and heaven knows what I will do because Walter will be there, too. I just won’t think about it.

Aunt Jule came in my room just after I was through talking to Gordon, thank heavens. The room was full of flowers. Walter had sent me some and so had Frank. I got another long night letter from Walter, just as silly as the first one. I wish he would say those things in letters instead of night letters so everybody in the world wouldn’t see them. Aunt Jule wanted me to read it aloud to her. I would have died.

While she was still in the room, Frank called up and asked me to play golf with him and I said all right and Aunt Jule said she was glad my headache was gone. She was trying to be funny.

I played golf with Frank this afternoon. He is a beautiful golfer and it is thrilling to watch him drive, his swing is so much more graceful than Walter’s. I asked him to watch me swing and tell me what was the matter with me, but he said he couldn’t look at anything but my face and there wasn’t anything the matter with that.

He told me the boy who was here with him had been called home and he was glad of it because I might have liked him, the other boy, better than himself. I told him that couldn’t be possible and he asked me if I really meant that and I said of course, but I smiled when I said it so he wouldn’t take it too seriously.

We danced again tonight and Uncle Nat and Aunt Jule sat with us a while and danced a couple of dances themselves, but they were really there to get better acquainted with Frank and see if he was all right for me to be with. I know they certainly couldn’t have enjoyed their own dancing, no old people really can enjoy it because they can’t really do anything.

They were favorably impressed with Frank I think, at least Aunt Jule didn’t say I must be in bed at eleven, but just not to stay up too late. I guess it is a big surprise to a girl’s parents and aunts and uncles to find out that the boys you go around with are all right, they always seem to think that if I seem to like somebody and the person pays a little attention to me, why he must be a convict or a policeman or a drunkard or something queer.

Frank had some more songs for me tonight. He asked me if I knew the asthma song and I said I didn’t and he said “Oh, you must know that. It goes yes, sir, asthma baby.” Then he told me about the underwear song, “I underwear my baby is tonight.” He keeps you in hysterics and yet he has his serious side, in fact he was awfully serious when he said good night to me and his eyes simply shown. I wish Walter were more like him in some ways, but I mustn’t think about that.

July 15

I simply can’t live and I know I’ll never sleep tonight. I am in a terrible predicament or rather I won’t know whether I really am or not till tomorrow and that is what makes it so terrible.

After we had danced two or three dances, Frank asked me to go for a ride with him and we went for a ride in his car and he had had some cocktails and during the ride he had some drinks out of a flask and finally he told me he loved me and I said not to be silly, but he said he was perfectly serious and he certainly acted that way. He asked me if I loved anybody else and I said yes and he asked if I didn’t love him more than anybody else and I said yes, but only because I thought he had probably had too much to drink and wouldn’t remember it anyway and the best thing to do was humor him under the circumstances.

Then all of a sudden he asked me when I could marry him and I said, just as a joke, that I couldn’t possibly marry him before December. He said that was a long time to wait, but I was certainly worth waiting for and he said a lot of other things and maybe I humored him a little too much, but that is just the trouble, I don’t know.

I was absolutely sure he was tight and would forget the whole thing, but that was early in the evening, and when we said good night he was a whole lot more sober than he had been and now I am not sure how it stands. If he doesn’t remember anything about it, of course I am all right. But if he does remember and if he took me seriously, I will simply have to tell him about Walter and maybe about Gordon, too. And it isn’t going to be easy. The suspense is what is maddening and I know I’ll never live through this night.

July 16

I can’t stand it, I can’t breathe, life is impossible. Frank remembered everything about last night and firmly believes we are engaged and going to be married in December. His people live in New York and he says he is going back when I do and have them meet me.

Of course it can’t go on and tomorrow I will tell him about Walter or Gordon or both of them. I know it is going to hurt him terribly, perhaps spoil his life and I would give anything in the world not to have had it happen. I hate so to hurt him because he is so nice besides being so cute and attractive.

He sent me the loveliest flowers this morning and called up at ten and wanted to know how soon he could see me and I hope the girl wasn’t listening in because the things he said were, well, like Walter’s night letters.

And that is another terrible thing, today I didn’t get a night letter from Walter, but there was a regular letter instead and I carried it around in my purse all this afternoon and evening and never remembered to read it till ten minutes ago when I came up in the room. Walter is worried because I have only sent him two telegrams and written him one letter since I have been here, he would be a lot more worried if he knew what has happened now, though of course it can’t make any difference because he is the one I am really engaged to be married to and the one I told mother I was going to marry in December and I wouldn’t dare tell her it was somebody else.

I met Frank for lunch and we went for a ride this afternoon and he was so much in love and so lovely to me that I simply did not have the heart to tell him the truth, I am surely going to tell him tomorrow and telling him today would have just meant one more day of unhappiness for both of us.

He said his people had plenty of money and his father had offered to take him into partnership and he might accept, but he thinks his true vocation is journalism with a view to eventually writing novels and if I was willing to undergo a few hardships just at first we would probably both be happier later on if he was doing something he really liked. I didn’t know what to say, but finally I said I wanted him to suit himself and money wasn’t everything.

He asked me where I would like to go on my honeymoon and I suppose I ought to have told him my honeymoon was all planned, that I was going to California, with Walter, but all I said was that I had always wanted to go to California and he was enthusiastic and said that is where we would surely go and he would take me to Hollywood and introduce me to all those wonderful people he met there last winter. It nearly takes my breath away to think of it, going there with someone who really knows people and has the entrée.

We danced again tonight, just two or three dances, and then went out and sat in the tennis-court, but I came upstairs early because Aunt Jule had acted kind of funny at dinner. And I wanted to be alone, too, and think, but the more I think the worse it gets.

Sometimes I wish I were dead, maybe that is the only solution and it would be best for everyone concerned. I will die if things keep on the way they have been. But of course tomorrow it will be all over, with Frank I mean, for I must tell him the truth no matter how much it hurts us both. Though I don’t care how much it hurts me. The thought of hurting him is what is driving me mad. I can’t bear it.

July 18

I have skipped a day. I was busy every minute of yesterday and so exhausted when I came upstairs that I was tempted to fall into bed with all my clothes on. First Gordon called me up from Chicago to remind me that he would be in New York the day I got there and that when he comes he wants me all to himself all the time and we can make plans for our wedding. The connection was bad again and I just couldn’t explain to him about Walter.

I had an engagement with Frank for lunch and just as we were going in another long distance call came, from Walter this time. He wanted to know why I haven’t written more letters and sent him more telegrams and asked me if I still loved him and of course I told him yes because I really do. Then he asked if I had met any men here and I told him I had met one, a friend of Uncle Nat’s. After all it was Uncle Nat who introduced me to Frank. He reminded me that he would be in New York on the 25th which is the day I expect to get home, and said he would have theater tickets for that night and we would go somewhere afterwards and dance.

Frank insisted on knowing who had kept me talking so long and I told him it was a boy I had known a long while, a very dear friend of mine and a friend of my family’s. Frank was jealous and kept asking questions till I thought I would go mad. He was so serious and kind of cross and gruff that I gave up the plan of telling him the truth till some time when he is in better spirits.

I played golf with Frank in the afternoon and we took a ride last night and I wanted to get in early because I had promised both Walter and Gordon that I would write them long letters, but Frank wouldn’t bring me back to the Inn till I had named a definite date in December. I finally told him the 10th and he said all right if I was sure that wasn’t a Sunday. I said I would have to look it up, but as a matter of fact I know the 10th falls on a Friday because the date Walter and I have agreed on for our wedding is Saturday the 11th.

Today has just been the same thing over again, two more night letters, a long distance call from Chicago, golf and a ride with Frank, and the room full of flowers. But tomorrow I am going to tell Frank and I am going to write Gordon a long letter and tell him, too, because this simply can’t go on any longer. I can’t breathe. I can’t live.

July 21

I wrote to Gordon yesterday, but I didn’t say anything about Walter because I don’t think it is a thing a person ought to do by letter. I can tell him when he gets to New York and then I will be sure that he doesn’t take it too hard and I can promise him that I will be friends with him always and make him promise not to do anything silly, while if I told it to him in a letter there is no telling what he would do, there all alone.

And I haven’t told Frank because he hasn’t been feeling well, he is terribly sunburned and it hurts him terribly so he can hardly play golf or dance, and I want him to be feeling his best when I do tell him, but whether he is all right or not I simply must tell him tomorrow because he is actually planning to leave here on the same train with us Saturday night and I can’t let him do that.

Life is so hopeless and it could be so wonderful. For instance how heavenly it would be if I could marry Frank first and stay married to him five years and he would be the one who would take me to Hollywood and maybe we could go on parties with Norman Kerry and Jack Barrymore and Buster Collier and Marion Davies and Lois Moran.

And at the end of five years Frank could go into journalism and write novels and I would only be 23 and I could marry Gordon and he would be ready for another trip around the world and he could show me things better than someone who had never seen them before.

Gordon and I would separate at the end of five years and I would be 28 and I know of lots of women that never even got married the first time till they were 28 though I don’t suppose that was their fault, but I would marry Walter then, for after all he is the one I really love and want to spend most of my life with and I wouldn’t care whether he could dance or not when I was that old. Before long we would be as old as Uncle Nat and Aunt Jule and I certainly wouldn’t want to dance at their age when all you can do is just hobble around the floor. But Walter is so wonderful as a companion and we would enjoy the same things and be pals and maybe we would begin to have children.

But that is all impossible though it wouldn’t be if older people just had sense and would look at things the right way.

It is only half past ten, the earliest I have gone to bed in weeks, but I am worn out and Frank went to bed early so he could put cold cream on his sunburn.

Listen, diary, the orchestra is playing “Limehouse Blues.” The first tune I danced to with Merle Oliver, two years ago. I can’t stand it. And how funny that they should play that old tune tonight of all nights, when I have been thinking of Merle off and on all day, and I hadn’t thought of him before in weeks and weeks. I wonder where he is, I wonder if it is just an accident or if it means I am going to see him again. I simply mustn’t think about it or I’ll die.

July 22

I knew it wasn’t an accident. I knew it must mean something, and it did.

Merle is coming here today, here to this Inn, and just to see me. And there can only be one reason. And only one answer. I knew that when I heard his voice calling from Boston. How could I ever had thought I loved anyone else? How could he ever have thought I meant it when I told him I was engaged to George Morse?

A whole year and he still cares and I still care. That shows we were always intended for each other and for no one else. I won’t make him wait till December. I doubt if we even wait till dad and mother get home. And as for a honeymoon I will go with him to Long Beach or the Bronx Zoo, wherever he wants to take me.

After all this is the best way out of it, the only way. I won’t have to say anything to Frank, he will guess when he sees me with Merle. And when I get home Sunday and Walter and Gordon call me up, I will invite them both to dinner and Merle can tell them himself, with two of them there it will only hurt each one half as much as if they were alone.

The train is due at 2:40, almost three hours from now. I can’t wait. And what if it should be late? I can’t stand it.

• 18 •

Sun Cured

It seems there were two New Yorkers, C. L. Walters and Ernie Fretts. They met on a train Florida bound. Fretts was in the insurance business, over in Brooklyn.

“I’m in the insurance business, over in Brooklyn,” said Fretts. “Handle all kinds of insurance. I started when I was just a kid twenty years ago, and now I’ve got it built up so’s I don’t need to worry. It runs itself. I guess that’s the trouble. I mean I got too much time on my hands, and I play around too much. Why, say, It’s a wonder I ain’t dead, the way I been going. I bet I ain’t been to bed before two, three o’clock the last six months. You can’t go that pace and not feel it.”

“It’s bound to tell on a man after a w’ile,” said Walters. “Now you take me—”

“So I’m about all in,” said Fretts. “and the funny part of it is I didn’t realize it. I wouldn’t of thought nothing about it only for the girl I got in my office. You couldn’t hardly call her a girl, either – she’s a woman about fifty-three and looks like a Channel swimmer. That’s the kind to have in your office. I had a regular Miss America once, the first year I was in business for myself, and we were so busy petting each other that we couldn’t even answer the phone. I didn’t sell enough insurance that year to keep her in typewriter erl. The smartest play I ever made in my life was getting rid of her.

“This woman I got now – well, you’d about as soon think of making love to a horse. And she’s as smart as a man; you don’t have to tell her nothing. And where do you think I got her? In an emplerment agency.”

“Now you take me—” said Walters.

“So as I was telling you, I come in the office one day last week, along about noon, and hadn’t been to bed in thirty-six hours, and Miss Clancy – that’s the woman I got in the office – she give me one look and said, ‘Mr. Fretts,’ she said, “don’t think I am butting in on your private affairs, but you better be careful or you will kill yourself. If you will take my advice,’ she said, ‘lay off for a month or two and go to Florida or somewheres and rest up. Get away from these friends of yours for a w’ile.’

“She said, ‘You know you can trust me to handle the business,’ she said, ‘and if you will take a vacation for a month or two, you will feel like a new man. You use’ to play golf and tennis and enjer yourself in things that was good for you,’ she said,’ and now look at you! I bet you ain’t taken no real exercise in four years. And you don’t sleep and you don’t eat. Just pack up and go down to Palm Beach or Miami or some place and take a little exercise and lay around in the sun and read, or just lay there and relax yourself. You got nothing in the world to worry about and if something does come up that needs your personal attention, I will let you know. But I won’t anner you,’ she said, ‘unless it’s absolutely necessary and I don’t think it will be.’

“She knows me so well that she could see what kind of shape I was in. I tell you I was a wreck, but wouldn’t of thought nothing of it only for her calling my attention. I tell you I was a wreck.

“You and me both,” said Walters. “Now in my case—”

“So I promised her I’d think it over and that night I went on another party – without a wink of sleep, mind you – and I told a pal of mine, Ben Drew – he’s in the furniture business in Brooklyn, in partners with his brother, and a great pal of mine – I told him what Miss Clancy had said, and they was a couple of girls with us Bonnie Werner, the girl I been going around with, she was with us, and a girl named Stevens that Ben had picked up somewheres; they were both along on the party.

“The Werner girl thinks I’m going to marry her. Fine chance!

“Anyway, she overheard me telling Ben about this Florida idear and she was all ears. She made some crack about Palm Beach being a grand place for a honeymoon. I guess she thought I was steweder than I really was. I kept right on talking to Ben and he was cock-eyed and got all steamed up over the idear and said he would go along with me. He would of been right on this train, too, only for his brother getting sick. But he’s going to jern me next week.”

“I tried to persuade a friend of mine—”

“We got rid of the girls and sat up all that night in a poker game and I was half asleep, and at that I win over seven hundred dollars. We was playing deuces wild and they was one hand where I had three deuces and drew to them and caught a five and nine of clubs. Well, I and a fella named Garvey bet back and forth and he finally called me and laid down a deuce and three tens. I was so gone by this time that I couldn’t talk, so I just throwed down my hand face up and somebody said, ‘My Lord! A straight flush!’

So they give me the pot and I thought all the w’ile that what I had was four nines. That shows—”

“I don’t like deuces wild,” said Walters. “What’s the—”

“I finally got home about noon and called up the office and then slept five or six hours and by that time I was ready for another party. But when I showed up at the office on Wednesday, MissClancy bawled me out again and I promised I’d take her advice. Well, I hadnt played golf or tennis for years and meanw’ile I’d moved three or four times and when I come to look for my golf-clubs and tennis racket, well, they’d disappeared. And I couldn’t find a bathing-suit either, or my fishing-tackle. So all this stuff I’m taking along it’s all new; I had to buy an entire new outfit – seventy-some dollars for a set of golf-clubs and a bag, fourteen dollars for a tennis racket, and thirty-odd dollars for fishing-tackle. And besides that, a bathing-suit that I paid thirty-two dollars for it, but it’ll knock ’em dead.

“I don’t know how my golf game will be after laying off so long; I expect it’ll come back to me after the first couple of days. The last time I played was out on Long Island, at the Engineer’s; must of been four, five years ago. I remember I shot an eighty-seven and win over a hundred dollars. Tennis is my game, though and I can’t hardly wait to get at it again. What I’m planning to do is get up early in the morning, have breakfast, play two or three sets of tennis, then go swimming and maybe lay around on the beach for an hour; have lunch and then get in eighteen holes of golf and another little swim; then have my dinner, probably up in my room, and go to bed around nine, ten o’clock. Three weeks and I’ll be in the pink!”

“Now you take me,” said Walters, “and—”

“Yes,” said Fretts, “but you probably use some judgment or maybe you’re married and don’t—”

“No, I’m—”

“I don’t believe they’s a man living could of went the pace I been going and stood up under it. Ben Drew – he’s a pal of mine – he says I’m a marvel. He said, ‘Ernie, you’re a marvel!’ Why listen: Here’s what I did three weeks ago, just for an example That was right after New Year’s eve. Of course I was on parties morning night and noon all through the holidays and wound up with a bat that started New Year’s eve and lasted till Monday morning, the third. I slept a w’ile Monday forenoon and showed up at the office about three o’clock. Miss Clancy – the girl I got in the office – she give me a message to call up a pal of mine, Ben Drew.

“I called him up and he had a date with a girl he had picked up somewhere named Stevens, and would I and my girl come along. That’s a girl named Bonnie Werner that I been going with. She thinks I’m going to marry her, and I suppose everybody’s entitled to their opinion. Anyway, I couldn’t leave Ben in a hole so I said all right and he and I got together around five o’clock and loaded up on cocktails and later we jerned the girls and made the rounds and wound up at a Black and Tan, and I and Ben both got pie-eyed and finally sent the girls home mad and we stayed and got in a crap game and I win two, three hundred dollars. The game broke up at noon.

“I went straight to the office and Miss Clancy give me a message to call up Miss Werner; that’s the girl I was with the night before, Monday. She was sore on account of me not seeing her home and said if I didn’t take her out this night – Tuesday – why, it was all off between her and I. Well, Tuesday nights we always have a big poker game and I told her I couldn’t get out of the game, but I would see her Wednesday night. I was praying she’d stay sore and carry out her threat and I wouldn’t have to bother with her no more. But no; she backed down and said Wednesday would be k. o.

“So I got in the poker game and it not only lasted all Tuesday night and all day Wednesday, but all night Wednesday night. I got outside of five, six bottles of Ben Drew’s Scotch and won a hundred and seventy dollars. I snatched three, four hours sleep Thursday forenoon and when I showed up at the office, the girl, the Werner girl, was waiting for me.

“To keep her from making a scene I had to promise to devote the rest of the week to her, and the next three nights, we made the rounds of all the different jernts, dancing and drinking rat-poison. Now that’s just one week, but it’s like all the other weeks. No wonder Miss Clancy said I looked terrible!”

“A man can’t go that pace and not feel it. I know in my case—”

“So I need just this kind of a trip – go down there where I don’t know nobody and no girls pestering me all the w’ile, and be outdoors all day and exercise and breathe God’s fresh air. Three, four weeks of that life and the boys in Brooklyn and New York won’t recognize me. And besides that, I never been to Florida and I’m anxious to look it over and see if it’s all they claim. They tell me a man can pick up some great bargains there now and if I find something I like, I’m liable to grab off a piece of it, not for speculation, but maybe build myself a little place to spend the winter months. I hate cold weather and snow and they’s no sense in a man in my position hanging around New York and freezing to death when I could just as well be enjering myself in a clean wholesome way, in the sunshine.”

“You take me, now—”

“You’re probably a fella that uses some judgment and eat regular, or maybe you got a wife and family to make you behave But I got nobody only my friends, though I guess I got more of them than any man in Brooklyn. That’s one of my troubles having too many friends, but only for them, I wouldn’t be where I am, I mean in business. A man in my business has got to have friends, or they wouldn’t have no business.”

“In my business, too. I’m—”

“This must be Fayetteville we’re coming to,” said Fretts. “I’ve got to send a wire to a pal of mine, Ben Drew. He’s in Brooklyn now, but he’s going to jern me next week down in Miami.”

—

It seems that the two New Yorkers happened to be on the same train a month later, northward bound from Jacksonville

“Hello, there,” said Walters.

“Fine,” replied Fretts, regarding the other somewhat vaguely.

“I come down on the same train with you a month ago,” said Walters.

“That’s right,” said Fretts. “We come down on the same train together.”

“Well, what do you think of Florida?”

“No place like it in the world!” said Fretts, warming up. “Say I could write a book! I wished I’d kept a diary of the month I been there. Only nobody would believe it.”

“Where was you? Palm Beach?”

“No, Miami. That is, I guess we drove up to Palm Beach one night. I don’t know.”

“Where did you stop in Miami?”

“Over at the Beach, at the Flamingo.”

“What did they charge you there?”

“I’ve got no idear. I paid them with a check,” said Fretts.

“It’s American plan, ain’t it?”

“No. Yes, yes, it’s American plan.”

“And how was the meals?”

“Meals! I don’t know. I didn’t hear anybody say anything about them.”

“I thought—”

“After this, I’m going to take all my vacations in the winter and spend them right there. That’s the Garden Spot of God’s Green Footstool!”

“So you bought yourself a place?”

“No, I didn’t buy nothing; that is, no real estate. I met some guy the second day that was talking about a big bargain in some development he was interested in, and I promised I’d go out and look at it. He called up a couple of times to remind me of my promise, so to keep him from pestering me, I finally did go out there, but they was no moon, so I couldn’t tell much about it.”

“I thought—”

“Listen till you hear something funny. When I got to the hotel, they told me my room was still occupied, but the guy was just moving out and I could move in inside of an hour. Well, they made the fella pack up in a hurry and he overlooked two bottles of Plymouth gin. So there was the two bottles staring me in the eye and I was afraid he’d come back after them, so I phoned up to another fella’s room that had rode over with me in the taxi from the station and he come down and we had ten, eleven Tom Collinses just as fast as we could drink them.

“Then we filled up the both bottles with water and fixed them like they hadn’t been opened, and sure enough, the bird come back for his treasure. He said he was on his way to Key West and had got clear over near to Miami station when he recalled leaving the gin and he had enough time to come back for it and still catch his train yet. That’s one thing about Florida trains – you can’t miss them no matter what time you get there. He said it was a good thing for him that his room had been inherited by an honest man. I’d like to heard what he said when he took his first swig out of those bottles.

—

“Well, I and the other fella, the fella that split the gin with me – he’s a fella named Leo Hargrave, from Cleveland; got a foundry there or something – the two of us went up in his room_ and polished off a bottle of Scotch and then it was time to dress for dinner. That’s all I done about dinner the whole month I was in Miami – I dressed for it, but I never got it. Hargrave said he knew a swell jernt out near Hialeah and we hired a car and drove out there and it was a place where you dined and danced, but we wasn’t hungry and we didn’t have nobody to dance with. So we just ordered some drinks—”

“Did you have any trouble getting drinks?”

“Yes. You had to call a waiter. Well, we stayed there till pretty close to midnight and then drove back towards the beach and stopped at another jernt where you play roulette. There’s a game I always been wild about and I’d of been satisfied to send for my baggage and settle right down for the month. But Hargrave was dance mad and he said we would have to find some girls to travel around with. He said he knew one girl; he would call her up in the morning, and maybe she had a friend.

“I told him to never mind about a friend, because it’s been my experience that when you ask a girl to bring along a girl friend, the girl friend generally always looks like she had charge of the linen room at a two dollar hotel. So we stayed up till the telegraph office was open and then I sent a letter to New York, to a girl I been going around with, a girl named Bonnie Werner, and told her to jump in an upper and jern me.”

“Did she come?”

“Sure, she come. She thinks I’m going to marry her. But she couldn’t get there till two, three days later and in the meanwhile, I run around with Hargrave and his dame. I wasn’t lonesome, though; not as long as they was plenty of Scotch and a roulette w’eel, and besides that, I found a poker game, to say nothing about a couple dandy fellas lives there at the Beach and love to just sit around and hit up the old barber shop harmony – Jim Allison and Jess Andrew.

“But I didn’t really strike my stride till Miss Werner got in. From that time on, I went some pace! And of course it was even worse when Ben Drew showed up. He’s a pal of mine, in partners with his brother in the furniture business in Brooklyn. He was going to come down with me, but his brother got sick and held him up a week. He brought a girl named Stevens that he picked up somewheres, and with Miss Werner and I, and Ben Drew and the Stevens dame, and Hargrave and his girl, that made six of us that stuck together all the w’ile; that is, for the first few nights. After that, we’d get the giris all wore out by one, two o’clock and chase them home and then I and Ben and Hargrave, we’d play the w’eel or sit in a game of stud.

“It was the same schedule, day after day, the whole time I was there. The party would start out along about seven, eight o’clock in the evening and go to whatever place we hadn’t been to the night before. We’d dance till, say, one o’clock and then chase the women home and do a little serious gambling. The poker game generally broke up a little before noon. That would give us fellas the afternoon to sleep, w’ile the girls would do their shopping or go to the polo or waste their time some way another. About six o’dock, I’d get up and have the barber come in and shave me and then I’d dress and be all set for the roll-call.”

“But I thought—”

“From the first day, I didn’t wear nothing but dinner clothes. And I brought along a trunk full of white pants and knickers that I never even unpacked.

“You’d have to get Miss Werner or one of the other giris to tell you the different places we went. They all looked alike to me  – just jernts, with tables and waiters and an orchestra.”

“But the weather was beautiful—”

“So I heard somebody say. I guess it’s a great climate, if that’s what a man is looking for. They say California’s another garden spot and that’s another place I’ve always intended to go. But of course it takes longer.”

“The California climate,” said Walters, “is probably just as good—”

“I’ve always intended to go out there. But of course it takes longer. Four, five days on a train is too much. A fella don’t get no sun or air. I always feel cooped up on a train.”

—

“How was the golf?”

“I didn’t get to play golf; never had my clubs out of the bag. But I heard somebody telling Ben Drew that they had four, five fine courses around Miami.”

“Play any tennis?”

“No, I didn’t have time for tennis. They got some swell courts right by the hotel, but even at that, when you change into your tennis clothes and play four, five sets and then take a bath and dress again, why, it means a waste of two hours.”

“Go fishing?”

“Fishing! That’s a whole day! And as far as bathing is concerned, why, it looks like they was a law that you couldn’t swim only at noon time, just when a man’s ready for the hay.”

“How far is the ocean from the hotel where you stopped?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t get over there. You see you can’t do everything at a place like that. It would wear you out. I’m thirty-eight years old and when a man gets that age, you’ve got to watch your step. You can’t go in for athaletics like you was a kid.

“I’m in the insurance business in Brooklyn, and one of the things we learn in our business is that a man is taking chances if he goes in too strong for sports after a certain age. You can’t be a youngster all your life.”

“Did your friends go home ahead of you?”

“Do you mean Ben Drew and Miss Werner and the Stevens girl? No, Ben, he’s back there in a compartment dead to the world and he said he’d shoot anybody that woke him up this side of Manhattan Transfer,

“And the girls – they look like they’d just stepped out of a waste-pipe.”

“You look pretty good yourself, better than last time I seen you.”

“I should! A trip like this was just what I needed – away from the office a whole month and longer and ain’t even given business a thought.

“That’s where so many men make mistakes – not taking a vacation; or if they do take one, they keep in touch with their office all the time and sperl the whole trip, worrying. I got a girl that can run my business pretty near as good as I can myself – not a girl, either; a woman about fifty-three years old; a Miss Clancy.

Shes the one that realized the shape I was in and insisted on nae taking this trip. And how her face will light up when I walk in that office Monday morning – or maybe Monday afternoon – and she sees what this has done for me!”

• 19 •

Now and Then

Nassau, Bahamas, Feb. 3.

Dearest Esther:

Bob is asleep and I will snatch these few minutes to write you a letter, but it may not be very long because he is liable to wake up any moment and insist that I stop writing and “pay some attention” to him. He is honestly jealous of you and I being friends or of me caring for anybody besides him enough to write to them. Isn’t that too silly for words and yet it thrills me to have him be that way and shows that I am really everything in his life. He is a regular child where I am concerned and can’t bear to have me even mention my old friends or things that happened before I met him.

Esther, I am tickled to death now that we didn’t go on our honeymoon right after we were married, but waited these seven months when Bob can have a real vacation and don’t have to be worrying about business all of the time. Just think we might never have seen this place if we hadn’t made up our minds to wait and Esther it is just heaven, so beautiful and quaint that it is like a place in some other world.

Well I will begin at the beginning and tell you everything about our trip like I promised though I am afraid it won’t be very interesting as in the first place I was deathly seasick all the way down on the boat, but it may sound funny but I am honestly glad I was because Bob was so perfectly dear and would not leave me for a minute though he is a wonderful sailor himself and I being sick must have simply ruined the trip for him. Well I was just in misery for three nights and two days, but as soon as the boat stopped Monday morning I was all right again and able to take in all the lights.

The boat has to anchor out in the harbor on account of the water being too shallow near land so we were all loaded on to a tender and brought to the dock here and then we had to wait around while they inspected our baggage because this is a British port though hey didn’t open anything at all but just put chalk marks on it and Bob says about the only thing the customs inspectors look for these days is liquor and they realize nobody would try and smuggle liquor to this place as it would be like bringing coal to New Castle Pa.

Next we got into a two seated carriage and drove to the hotel and Bob talked to the Negro driver and of course all the drivers and people like that here are Negros but not like our Negros at home, they talk with a kind of English accent and you can’t hardly understand them half the time. Our room is wonderful and faces on the water which is wonderful, all different shades of green and blue and purple, it makes a person wish they were a painter it is so wonderful in coloring.

At lunch time Bob told the head waiter to put us as far as he could from other people. Bob says he used to be one of the most sociable men in the world but since he married me he don’t want anything to do with other people and the more we can keep to ourselves just we two the better he likes it. The head waiter gave us a table in a corner near a window and when another couple came in and sat at the next table Bob actually got mad at them like nobody had a right to be in the same dining room with us almost.

After lunch I unpacked or rather I directed the unpacking and Bob did the real work as he won’t let me lift my hand to really do anything as he says he would never forgive himself if I overdid. At five o’clock the hotel orchestra began playing out on the lawn where they have a dance floor and serve tea and drinks and Bob and I had some tea and cakes and danced four dances.

Most of the other people around us were drinking highballs and things and Bob said he didn’t blame them, if he had to dance with some of the women here he would want to drink enough first to blind him. But he said he wanted his eyes clear when he looked at me and as for drinking anything why just being with me and touching me made him intoxicated. He does say the nicest things and puts them so differently.

He is beginning to wake up so this will have to be “continued in our next.”

With love,

Irma

Nassau, Bahamas, Feb. 6.

Dearest Esther:

We are having such a heavenly time that it seems criminal to not share it with somebody but of course it is just being here together alone that makes it so heavenly. It is simply heavenly here and I don’t see why people go other places when they can come here and I guess maybe they don’t know about this place or perhaps it seems more wonderful to me than it really is on account of being here with Bob and that is what makes it so wonderful. Anyway I was never so happy in my life and am already dreading the time when it will be time to start home.

The first day we got here there was a young couple introduced themselves to Bob after dinner that evening and wanted to know did we want to play bridge with them. As you know I don’t play bridge and Bob says he can’t take a tiny interest in games unless I am in them so he told these people we were going out for a sail and after we were alone he said he hated to tell a lie so we would have to go out for a sail so he would not have told those people a lie so he hired a sail boat and it was simply heavenly sailing in the moonlight just Bob and I and the man sailing the boat who never looked at us.

The moonlight here is heavenly and I don’t believe there is any other place where it is so wonderful and it was so wonderful that Bob and I had to laugh at the idea of staying in a stuffy hotel and playing cards when you could be out sailing in the moonlight though I suppose it would bore some people.

The next morning we got on the hotel boat and went over to the bathing beach and went in swimming and the water was wonderful but Bob didn’t like it at first as he said there was too many people around and he hated to have other men see me in my bathing suit so he and I walked away along the beach where there was nobody else and we went in the water there. It was kind of weedy and not as nice as the regular beach as there was also some rocks in the place we went in and I stubbed my toe on one of them, but Bob said he would rather I stubbed my toe than have a lot of men staring at me but he was awfully nice about my toe and kept asking me how it felt.

Bob is a wonderful swimmer and I tried to make him go out and enjoy himself in the deep water, but he wouldn’t leave me for a second and he said he would never forgive himself if he left me and something happened to me. I told him I would stay in shallow water and there would be no danger, but he said he had heard that sharks and baracudas sometimes came right up to the beach and bit women if they were alone.

We came back to the hotel for lunch and in the afternoon we took a ride on the glass bottom boat to the sea garden. It is a boat with a glass bottom and you can see right through it and they took us to a place where the bottom of the sea is just like a garden with things growing in it and fish. It was simply heavenly, but Bob got kind of mad because there was a man that spoke to me, the man didn’t mean anything, but Bob gave him a terrible look and the incident kind of spoiled the trip.

We had dinner in our room as Bob said there was too many people in the dining room. We went to bed early and the orchestra was playing out on the lawn and it was heavenly just lying there listening and finally they sang some native Bahamian songs and Bob just loved them and is going to try and get them to take home with us.

He is through shaving and all dressed and this will have lo be “continued in our next” as he gets impatient if I am not ready to do things with him when he is ready to do them.

Yours.

Irma

Nassau, Bahamas, Feb. 10.

Dearest Esther:

What do you think I did today? Well you will never guess so I may as well tell you. I played golf. I suppose I ought not to say I really played it but I played at it though Bob said I had a beautiful swing and he was amazed at how quickly I picked it up.

Bob of course is a splendid golf player and brought his clubs along, but up to today I couldn’t make him play as he said it was no fun for him to do anything if I was not doing it with him, but yesterday we took a carriage ride and went past the golf course and Bob said he would like to try it and I said why didn’t he and then he said he would if I would go along and play with him. Well at first I thought he was joking, but he was in dead earnest and he said he did not see any reason why I did not learn the game and then in the summer time we could play together and he would not have to play around with a lot of stupid men who always wanted to bet and then get sore when he beats them.

Well I finally agreed to try it and he borrowed some clubs from Jock Hutchinson who is the teacher down here and we went out on the linx and the first time I swang at the ball I missed it entirely, but I hit it the next time and did better after that and we played nine holes and Bob said my score was 92 which was good for a beginner. We are going to play again tomorrow and every day we are down here. It is really wonderful exercise and as long as Bob won’t play without me I feel like I really ought to play with him because he really enjoys the game so much.

It took us an hour to get out there and an hour to get back, but we could have made it in ten minutes each way if we had gone in an automobile, but Bob won’t use the automobiles here as he says the carriages look more in keeping with the place they are so quaint and it would be sacrilegious to use the automobiles. Well Esther won’t you be proud of me when I am a real golfer and maybe I will have a chance to teach you the game some time when Bob is away on business.

We had a narrow escape when we got back to the hotel. Just as we were coming in the door a man got out of a car right behind us that Bob knows and it was just luck that he didn’t see Bob. He is from Chicago and Bob says he is an awfully nice man and he does business with him sometimes, but he says our whole trip would be ruined if we couldn’t be alone just by ourselves all the time we are here and not see anybody else, that is to talk to them. So we are having dinner in our room again so as not to take any chance of seeing this man and maybe his wife is here with him and we would have to spend an evening with them or something. I hope they will go away soon and not bother us.

I had some pictures taken the second day we were here by a man who takes pictures of all the hotel guests and then if you like them you can buy some of them. They were finished today and the man showed them to us and I wanted to buy two or three of each as they were awfully good, but Bob said I could only buy one of each and that would be for him and he didn’t want me sending my pictures around to other people, so I guess you will just have to remember what I look like and get along without my picture.

Last night the orchestra played out on the lawn and Bob and I danced a couple of dances and were sitting there watching the others and the assistant manager of the hotel was there and he came to our table and asked me to dance and I almost started to get up when Bob answered for me and said he was sorry but I had turned my ankle in swimming.

I know the man had seen me dancing just a few minutes before and I don’t know what he thought, but he was awfully nice about it and said maybe we could have a dance some other time.

After he had gone away Bob said I wasn’t to speak to him next time I saw him or he would take it as an encouragement and ask me to dance with him again.

Must close now as Bob has finished the letters he was writing and wants to be read aloud to. I don’t read aloud very well, but he says he loves to have me as he can sit and look at me while I read and it don’t make any difference if I read well or not because he is too busy looking at me to pay any attention to what I am reading.

Love,

Irma

Nassau, Bahamas, Feb. 13.

Dearest Esther:

I know I promised to write you every other day while we were down here, but I am afraid I will have to ask you to release me from my promise. I suppose I could tell you a fib and say I don’t have time to write, but that would be a fib and the real reason I can’t write to you any more is because it makes Bob mad and I won’t do anything behind his back so I know you will understand if you don’t hear from me again and as soon as I get home and Bob’s vacation is over, I will come and see you and tell you about the rest of our trip, that is anything that might be interesting.

Bob don’t like to have me write for two reasons, in the first place he is jealous of all my old friends and he says I am his wife now and all my time belongs to him and he don’t want me wasting it writing to other people even if they are old friends and secondly he don’t like the idea of me telling anybody the things we do down here as he says this belated honeymoon as he calls it is sacred between him and me and it is nobody’s else business what we do down here.

Please try and understand Esther and forgive me and you know I love you and wouldn’t do anything in the world to hurt your feelings, but I am married to Bob now and his feelings are to be considered above everything else. We are having such a heavenly time that I simply can’t do anything that would spoil it in any way.

Your friend,

Irma

Nassau, Bahamas, Feb. 5.

Dearest Esther:

Well Esther here we are Bob and I “honeymooning” again and it hardly seems possible that three years have gone by since we were in Nassau before, but don’t you think it was a wonderful idea coming back to the place where we had such a heavenly time the winter after we were married and this is the first time Bob has had a real vacation since then and he has certainly earned it and I know he will enjoy every minute down here even if we keep to ourselves and just rest and “loaf.”

I am feeling all right again after being terribly seasick all the way down from New York. I thought it was quite rough, but Bob said it was just like a billiard table and he was quite provoked at me being sick and threatened to leave me home the next time he was going anywhere on a boat. He said he did not see how I ever sat through a dinner party as he would think the waves in the finger bowl would upset me. Bob just loves to tease me.

When we went in the dining room for lunch today the same head waiter was there as the last time and he remembered us after three years and gave us the same corner table we had the last time. Imagine him remembering us after three years, but after lunch Bob stopped and talked to him about giving us another table in the middle of the room and not so far off from everybody as he said it would not seem like we were in a big hotel way off from everybody like that. So tonight he is going to change us.

I have had quite a busy afternoon unpacking and getting settled. Bob went out with some men he met on the boat to play golf as he said he couldn’t very well get out of it and he thought I would be too worn out to play with him after my seasickness. I am afraid he will be bothered to death by all the different people he met on the boat which he couldn’t help because of course I was unable to leave my stateroom for meals and they put him at a big table with a lot of other people but he can always manage to discourage new acquaintances if they begin to make a nuisance of themselves.

Will have to close as Bob promised he would be back in time for a few dances before it is time to dress for dinner, but it is after six now and the orchestra will soon stop playing, but I suppose they were slow getting their golf game started the first day or maybe he has had trouble getting away from those other men.

With love,

Irma

Nassau, Bahamas, Feb. 7.

Dearest Esther:

Well it is nearly bed time but I don’t feel like going to bed till Bob comes in and he is downstairs playing bridge with a woman and her husband and the woman’s sister that he met on the boat. I have hardly seen him at all today as he was not feeling well this morning and would not go to the beach swimming as he said he thought it had upset his stomach swallowing the salt water, but he insisted on me going without him and he introduced me to a friend of his from Chicago a Mr. Granville who was here three years ago with his wife but his wife has since died. Bob said Mr. Granville was a great swimmer and would see that I did not drown and would teach me to swim.

Well I wouldn’t let him teach me to swim because I hate to nave a strange man come near me in swimming, but he was awfully nice to me, but I didn’t stay in long as I hate to enjoy myself when Bob is not feeling well.

Bob and I had lunch together and he felt better and arranged a golf game with some people he met on the boat I asked him if he was sure he ought to play when he didn’t feel well he said it was swimming that upset him and not golf. I asked him if he wasn’t ever going to play golf again with me and he said yes some time, but he said it wasn’t much fun playing with me as I am so terrible that we can’t play any kind of a match and he likes to play with people he can bet with and he also said I look so awkward when I try to play that he is afraid people will laugh at me.

Yesterday I asked him if he didn’t want to go out in the glass bottom boat and look at the sea garden as we did when we were here before and he said yes we would go tomorrow, meaning today,but when I reminded him of it he told me to go alone or find somebody else to go with as he didn’t get any thrill out of looking at a bunch of dirty sea weed. He did keep his promise to take me to tea out on the lawn where they dance.

The golf match had tired him out though and he wouldn’t dance but he would not admit he was tired but said he didn’t like the music and wished the orchestra would get up to date and play something besides old native tunes that the Negros down here made up. They really only played the native songs for one dance, but Bob has no ear and don’t know one tune from another. He insisted on me dancing with Mr. Granville whom he invited to our table.

We had tea and Bob said he felt like he needed something stronger than tea and he drank four highballs so I knew he wasn’t telling the truth when he said the golf hadn’t made him tired.

I was really very tired myself and I suggested that it would be a good thing for both of us if we had dinner in our room and we would go to bed right after and I would read to him. He said he wouldn’t like anything better though he could hardly understand me when I read because I mumble my words so, but he had asked some people he met on the boat to have a cocktail with him and they were people who might help him in a business way so he couldn’t get out of it, but if I met them too why it would mean we would probably have them on our hands the rest of the time we are here so he thought it would be a good idea for me to have dinner by myself and go to bed when I felt like it.

After dinner he phoned up to say that he got tangled up in a bridge game with these people and I had better go to bed and not wait for him. But I know he will have some things to tell me about these people when he comes in and he tells things in such an amusing way that I hate to miss it and maybe by tomorrow morning he won’t remember half the things that happened.

The weather has been heavenly and we are having a simply wonderful time and I wish some time you could come down here and spend a week or two as it is simply heavenly and I don’t believe there is another place like it in the world.

Am out of stationery so this will have to be “continued in our next.”

Love,

Irma

Nassau, Bahamas, Feb. 8.

Dearest Esther:

I have been having dinner in the room again as I did not feel like dressing up and going downstairs. Bob was tired out too and wanted to stay here with me, but those people he met on the boat insisted on him having a cocktail with them and as long as he had to get dressed for that he thought he might as well eat in the dining room and now he is playing bridge with them again as they couldn’t find a fourth without him. They are a Mr. and Mrs. Griffin and Mrs. Griffin’s sister, Miss Cutts, and he met them on the boat coming down. Mr. Griffin is in a position to do Bob some good in a business way and that is why Bob don’t like to refuse their invitations.

This morning I went over to the beach with Mr. Granville and Bob played golf with some people he met on the boat. As we were coming back from the beach a man stopped us who takes pictures and he wanted to take a picture of Mr. Granville and me together but I thought that wouldn’t look right so I let him take my picture alone and while he was taking it Bob came along and he had just come back from his golf game and when he saw me getting my picture taken he teased me about it and said I must think I was a movie star, or somebody, getting my picture taken all the time.

I said I was just having it taken for him and he said I needn’t waste money on pictures of myself for him as he already had enough of them and I better send these to my friends who were always asking me for my picture. So if they are good I will send you one and send some to the other girls too.

This afternoon Bob went out to play golf and I was sitting on the porch reading and Mr. Granville came along and invited me to take a drive with him and I was tired reading so I accepted and we took a carriage though Bob says it is silly to ride in the old broken down carriages they have got here when you can get a car and get to places ten times as fast but we were in no hurry so we took a carriage and drove past the golf club and they have got a bathing beach out there too and we stopped for a minute to watch the people in swimming and there was Bob swimming with Miss Cutts whom he met on the boat coming down.

Well he didn’t see us and I didn’t say anything to him about it when he came home but he is just a child Esther and he knew I would think it was bad for him to go in swimming when the salt water affects him so and that is why he went in swimming where he thought I wouldn’t see him and I only hope he don’t get sick again.

He had promised to take me for a moonlight sail tonight, but I could see that his golf and his swim had worn him out and besides that the Griffins made him stay down on the lawn when they got back from the golf club and he didn’t want to offend them but felt so tired that he had to take some highballs and then Miss Cutts practically made him dance with her twice and he was tired enough without that, but he never would have told me all the things he had had to do and probably would have gone sailing with me if I had reminded him of it, but I had watched him dancing from my window which fronts on the lawn and I knew how he must feel so I pretended I had forgotten all about our sail.

Poor Bob he wasn’t a bit like his usual cheerful self when he got up in the room and he would have given anything to get out of his engagement tonight and he was so cross that when I tried to persuade him to stay here by hinting that I was getting lonesome staying all by myself with nothing to do, he said, “What would you do if I was here? All you ever do is read or write letters. Why don’t you write to your friend Esther and tell her your troubles?”

So I just laughed it off but I do get a little lonesome sometimes and wish he could get rid of these people he met on the boat. It is so heavenly here and such a wonderful place and we could be having such a heavenly time if it wasn’t for the Griffins. Isn’t it a darn shame that a man can’t get away from business even on his vacation when he hasn’t had one in three years?

With love,

Irma.

Miami, Fla., Feb. 11.

Dearest Esther:

You will probably be surprised at me writing to you from this place. I arrived here by boat from Nassau this morning and was sick all the way and now I am waiting for train time. I leave here tonight for home and will arrive there Thursday forenoon. I am crazy to see you Esther and I am writing to know if you can’t come and visit me for a few days next week. We will go to a show every night or do anything you want to do. I just want to see you and have a nice visit.

Bob is staying on at Nassau for two more weeks as he loves it there and it agrees with him so well. I love it too and think it is the most heavenly place I ever went to, but there is so much to do there that a person simply gets worn out and both Bob and I agreed that I wasn’t strong enough to stand the pace and would be better off at home.

I will be expecting a wire from you as soon as you get this. Wire me at home and I will try and get tickets for things I know you will want to see. Please come Esther. Any day will do and the sooner the better, but don’t disappoint me.

Your friend,

Irma.

• 20 •

Man Not Overboard

Ben Brainard posed for the newspaper photographers on the deck of the Gargantua, saying to himself: “There’s a picture for Page one – ‘Young Novelist Kills Himself at Sea.’”

He went into his cabin and opened his two bags. In one were couple of clean handkerchiefs. The other was empty. He would tell the steward he had come in a terrible hurry, had not had time to pack. The truth was that after eleven o’clock that night he would need nothing in the world, not even the clothes he was wearing. He wondered vacantly how long a man’s clothes outlasted his body in salt water.

He sat down on the bed and felt pressing against him the little gun he had bought on Third Avenue a week ago, the day when he had planned this thing he was going to do. He would have been a week dead now but for his not exceptional aversion to funerals and his preference to die at sea, and the added fact that it was not quite a year since he had taken out insurance for $10,000 in favor of his mother and sister and the suicide clause would still, five days ago, have been in force. The mother and sister had very little and he realized that he was hurting them enough by just killing himself without, in addition, leaving them penniless.

His plan had been carefully made. The Gargantua, on which his friend Phil Runyon was purser, would dock on the eighth and sail again on the tenth, just a week after his Third Avenue shopping tour. He would be on board and would have Phil for a witness of his death to avoid any balking on the part of the insurance company. And he would spend the intervening days and nights in boundless drinking, such as would cause him to be remembered around New York as something more than the writer of two popular books and one which no publisher would accept. (Perhaps they would accept it when he had made his name better known by doing what he was about to do; if so, the royalties would help his poor mother and sister.)

Well he had had his orgy, opening and closing day clubs and night clubs till early yesterday morning, when he had been taken home and put to bed by his friend the purser after a party of whose details he remembered nothing at all.

The Gargantua was gliding smoothly out of New York Harbor. Ben Brainard went into the lounge and ordered three quick drinks to steady his hand so that he might write farewell letters to the members of his family and to the Girl whose heartless treatment of him had made life intolerable. His last act would be to entrust these letters to good old Phil Runyon, just previous to his embarkation to another World.

To his mother and sister he explained the reasons for his deed – the failure of his latest and greatest work to win appreciation and the loss of the most wonderful and lovable of all girls. He asked their forgiveness. He knew they would understand.

To the Girl he wrote over two thousand words that would make her at least a little bit sorry even if she were really as hard-hearted as she had appeared at their last meeting. (The Girl was Pauline Lannin of the chorus of “Hit the Deck” and he might have known that a chorus girl, what with making quick changes and one thing and another, would never have time to digest two thousand words especially as the ordinary daily extent of her reading was the captions in an evening tabloid.)

The bugle blew for dinner, but of what use was dinner to a man who had only four hours more to live? What Brainard needed was enough Scotch to sustain his resolution, for it really is tough to pass out at the age of thirty, when you are a genius and there is so much good writing God wants you to do. It was this fear of weakening at the last moment that had influenced him to buy a gun. He was an excellent swimmer and if he toppled overboard without shooting himself first, a natural instinct of self-preservation might keep him afloat until the Gargantua’s sailors had rescued him.

He had had one drink and was about to order another when stranger stopped at his table, a man of robust health, apparent about fifty-five years old.

“Do you mind if I join you?” he asked. “I am all alone and I like company when I have a drink.”

Brainard was going to lie and say he expected a friend, but occurred to him that the time would pass more quickly if he had someone to talk to; listen to, rather, for he was not in a mood to do much talking himself.

“Sit down,” he invited. “I am ordering a Scotch high-ball. Perhaps you’d rather have a cocktail.”

“No, make it two high-balls,” said the stranger, and added to the waiter, “Bring me the check.”

“You can buy the next one,” Brainard said. “I suppose we ought to introduce ourselves. I am Benjamin Brainard, of New York.

“Not Benjamin Brainard the author!” the other exclaimed. “Why, I read two of your books and enjoyed them immensely. Jut I certainly never would have guessed you were such a young man; your novels show such a wide knowledge of life—”

“I guess I’ve lived!” said Brainard with a bitter smile.

My name,” said his new companion, “is Fred Lemp. I’m just a plain business man, with very little business,” he added good-naturedly.

“Where are you bound for?” Brainard inquired

“Paris,” said Lemp. “Paris and Château-Thierry. And you?

Brainard’s face wore a queer expression. “I don’t know,” he said.

“You don’t know!”

“I only know that it’s a long way off,” said Brainard.

“Oh, I suppose you are just wandering around, in search of material for a new book.”

“I have written my last book.”

“You mustn’t say that! A man your age and with your talent! You owe it to the world to keep on writing.”

“Thank you, but I am sure I don’t owe the world anything.”

They had had four drinks and Brainard was now ordering another.

“I don’t know whether I’d better or not,” said Lemp hesitantly. “I hardly ever drink more than three, because after three I get talky and bore everybody to death.”

“It doesn’t matter to me if you get talky,” said Brainard, and added to himself: “I don’t have to listen to you.”

“Well, it’s on your own head,” said Lemp, and ordered his fifth high-ball.

“Mr. Lemp,” Brainard said, “what would you do— Never mind. I guess I’m getting too talky myself.”

“Not at all,” said Lemp. “I’d like to hear what you were going to ask me.”

“Well, I was going to ask what you would do if you were an artist in a certain line and nobody appreciated your work—”

“I’d keep at it anyway if I knew it was good work.”

“I wasn’t through. What would you do if you suddenly realized you were an unappreciated artist, and then, on top of that, a Girl broke your heart?”

“Is this autobiographical?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well. I’d try my best to forget her and I’d go ahead and do such masterful work that she would be very sorry for what she had done to me.”

“Forget her!” Brainard’s tone was bitter in the extreme.

They were awaiting a sixth drink.

“You said you were going to Château-Thierry. I was in the fight there. I wish I’d been killed!”

“My boy was,” said Lemp.

“Are you going to visit the grave?”

“Yes, and also to visit a little Frenchwoman who ought to have been his wife. Every year I pay her a call, to see if there is anything I can do for her and her child. Every year I try to coax her back to America with me, but she won’t leave France. I wish she would. I’m all alone now and the youngster – he’s nine years old  – he’s a mighty cute kid and would be company for me. A man gets lonesome sometimes. And my wife is worse than dead. She has lost her mind and has to be kept in a private sanitarium.”

“Are you allowed to see her?”

“I do see her twice a year, on her birthday and on our anniversary. But I might as well stay away. She has no idea who I am. Poor Margaret! She is almost as beautiful as the day met her.”

“What type?”

“I suppose you would call her an Irish type – black hair and blue eyes. Just the type my first wife was; in fact, I believe it was her resemblance to Edith that made me fall in love with her.”

“How old was your first wife when she died?”

“She didn’t die. Poor Edith! I guess it was mostly my fault. She was too young to marry, too young to know her own mind. When we had lived together a little over a year, she fell desperately in love with a man I used to invite frequently to the house, a business acquaintance.”

“Did she run away with him?”

“Yes. He had more money than I. I don’t mean to say that Edith was money-mad, but she did like good times and our marriage came just at a period when I was in desperate finance straits; rather, just before that period, for naturally, if I had known what was going to happen, I wouldn’t have married her.”

“What did happen?” asked Brainard, sipping his eighth drink.

“You are an inquisitive young man.”

“Oh, if you’d rather not tell me—”

“I might as well. I warned you I’d get talky. Well, my youngest brother went wrong. He was cashier in a small bank, out on Long Island, and he embezzled to the extent of twenty thousand dollars. He had gambled it all away at the race-tracks and in order to keep him out of jail, I liquidated all my assets and borrowed three thousand from a friend to make up the amount. I did it more for my mother’s sake than for his; I knew that if she heard that he had stolen, it would kill her.” Lemp brushed a hand across his eyes. “She found out about it anyway, and it did kill her.”

“Horrible!”

“I worked like the devil to get back on my feet, and I did it but it was too late. Edith had gone.”

“What do you say if we have a drink?”

“I say yes.”

“And how long after that did you get married the second time?

“Four years, and the same thing nearly happened again. My other brother, older than I, fell in love with a woman in Garden City, another man’s wife. The husband found it out and there was fight in which my brother shot the husband dead. There was no chance in the world of my brother’s getting off, but I felt it my duty to give him the best counsel obtainable. He had no money himself. I paid two lawyers forty thousand and my brother went the chair. Well, I learned afterwards that on the very same day my brother committed murder, Margaret, my second wife, became friendly with a piano tuner. Of course he had nothing except his wages and she was not fool enough to give me up for him. It when those lawyers had taken all my capital she would have left me if Providence had not intervened. The piano tuner was hit by a truck on the Fifty-ninth Street bridge and lost his hearing.”

“Did you have any other children besides the boy killed in the war?”

“Yes, a girl. But I’d rather not talk about her. Oh, well, what does it matter? Miriam was our first-born, a year and a half older than my son. One day she was driving a car up in Westchester County, going forty or fifty miles an hour, when she was stopped by a handsome young motorcycle policeman, and the rascal told her he would let her off if she would be his girl.

“She said to him,’ I don’t know what you mean by being your girl, but I think you’re awfully nice-looking and I’d just as soon be your wife.’ They were married and had three children. Then it was discovered that he had another wife and family in Ardsley. He was sent to jail, she is a stenographer in an insurance office downtown and I am supporting the kiddies.”

Brainard consumed his twelfth drink, then fumbled awkwardly in his pocket and drew out his gun.

“Mr. Lumps,” he said, “I’m going to ask you to do me a favor. Put this right in your mouth, aim it upwards and shoot.”

“What are you talking about, boy? Do you want me to commit suicide? Why, I’m only sixty-one years old and having a damn good time!”

“You do as I say and do it right in here so we won’t lose the gun. I’m going to need it myself at eleven o’clock.”

“What for?”

“To do the same thing you’re going to do.”

“But I’m not going to do anything except go to bed. What you intend to do is none of my business, though I would suggest that as you still have over two hours and a half to wait, you go to your cabin and take a nap and leave a call for eleven. I’ve always heard that the time to kill yourself with the best results is right after a nice nap.”

Brainard had already started on one, but Lemp and a steward managed to get his room key out of his pocket and arouse him sufficiently to be conducted to the cabin, partly undressed and laid on his bed. Lemp then returned to the lounge and was soon joined by Phil Runyon.

“He’s safe for the night anyway,” said Lemp. “You’ve done a good job, Fred, and I’m grateful to you,” said the purser.

“I made him cry twice, and there were three or four times when I nearly broke down myself. Here’s his gun.”

“All right; I’ll take charge of it if you’re sure you don’t want it. Though I don’t know what good it would do you, as I emptied it yesterday morning after I’d got him to sleep, and I don’t think we’re selling any ammunition on the Gargantua, except what comes in bottles.

“That was a great party he took me on night before last. He insisted on dragging me to some night club and who should be there but this dame that’s turned him down. She was with a man who could have been her father, but wouldn’t want to if he was sober. I swear, Fred, she must be the manager’s wife’s sister ever to land a job in what they tell me is a pretty chorus.

“He was going to their table and make a scene, but I told him it would be cowardly to pick on a man as old as that. I finally got her eye and gave her the office to duck, and when she saw who was vith me, she didn’t hesitate a minute.

“Pretty soon Ben was worse than I ever saw him. He had his suicide plan all worked out and he gave me the details, thinking I was somebody else. He talked like this:

“‘I haven’t much longer to live,’ he said. ‘In fact, this is the last time you’ll see me. I’ve got it all fixed up to kill myself and a good old pal of mine is going to help me. I’ve bought a gun; it’s over in my room now, all loaded and waiting for me. Well, this pal of mine is Phil Runyon, purser on the Gargantua, and he sails day after tomorrow. I’m going to be aboard and I’ll make a date to meet Phil when we’re out at sea and I’ll coax him up on one of the decks, telling him I want to discuss something with him where we can’t be overheard. Then I’ll sit up on the rail and and sit so that when I shoot myself, I’ll be bound to fall overboard, you see, I’ve got to have him there, or somebody else that knows me so there won’t be any trouble about my insurance. How is that for an idea?’

“Imagine him asking me what kind of an idea I thought it was!

“And the funny part, along about five o’clock, when I finally succeeded in getting him out of the place, he knew me and was calling me Phil and talking about other times we’d been out together. Yesterday afternoon I called up his hotel and made sure he was out; then I went there and fixed it with a bellhop and porter to go up in his room after he left this morning and pack up enough stuff for him to make the trip with and have it sent down to the ship in my name. He thinks he hasn’t any baggage, but he’s got enough to go over and back with, and I really think the crossing’ll do him a lot of good. Though writers are mostly all nutty and you never know what to expect of them.”

“I haven’t told you,” said Lemp, “that when I was through with my story, he gave me the gun and ordered me to use it on myself.

“Oh, Ben was always a generous boy,” said Runyon. “It surprises me that he didn’t offer to take you out on deck, shoot you and throw you off the ship.”

“Listen,” said Lemp; “I need one more drink for courage and then I’ve got to find my wife and take my scolding. I explained to her that I’d met a man I thought I could do some business with and I might not be in for dinner. But what good is that explanation going to be when she sees me?”

“Probably none,” Runyon said cheerfully. “But the drink is on me.”

About noon next day Brainard woke up, summoned his steward and ordered him to send the purser to his cabin.

“Phil,” he said when Runyon arrived, “didn’t we have an engagement last night?”

“Yes, but you went to bed long before your bedtime.”

“Phil, where did that steamer trunk come from?”

“I suppose it came from your hotel.”

“I didn’t bring any baggage except those two empty bags.”

“Did you plan crossing the ocean without baggage?”

“I didn’t plan crossing the ocean. And another thing, who was the fella I was with all evening, a fella about sixty years old, named Limp or Lemp or something?”

“Oh,” said Runyon, “that’s Fred Lemp, a big hosiery manufacturer from upstate.”

“Say, he’s had a tough life. He told me all about it. He told me stuff enough for a whale of a novel.”

“Why don’t you write it?”

“Because I can’t remember a word he said.”

“Well,” said Runyon, “we’ll get you together again sometime”

“Do that, Phil,” said Brainard. “But make it out on deck where he can’t order so many drinks. A man as old as he ought not to drink so much. It’s liable to get him.”

• 21 •

Anniversary

Mrs. Taylor shuffled a worn pack of cards and began her evening session at solitaire. She would play probably forty games before she went to bed, and she would win thirty of them. What harm if she cheated a little? Russian Bank was more fun, but it cannot be played alone, and her husband was bored by it. He had been unable to learn bridge in spite of the patient and more or less expert teaching of the Hammonds, who lived three blocks away.

The thirty-four-dollar synthetic radio had done nothing but croak since the day following its installation. The cheap piano’s D and G above middle C were mute. The town’s Carnegie Library acquired very few “hot” books and the few were nearly always out. Picture plays hurt Louis’ eyes and he would not let her go out nights by herself, though he had no scruples against leaving her at home from eight to eleven Wednesdays, when he attended lodge and bowled.

So Mrs. Taylor shuffled her cards and tried to listen when Louis read aloud from the Milton Daily Star or the Milton Weekly Democrat, or recounted stories she had heard six times before and would hear six times again.

She had awakened this morning to the realization that it was the twelfth day of November, the ninth anniversary of her marriage. Louis had remembered that date for the first six years of their life together; for the last three years it had been to him just November the twelfth.

Nine years ago the Star and the Democrat had called her one of Milton’s most charming and beautiful young women, and they had been right. They had referred to Louis as a model young man, sober, industrious and “solid”; a young man whom any girl should be proud and glad to have as a husband. They were right again.

Now Mrs. Taylor, at thirty-three, was good-looking, but in a cold, indifferent sort of way. She no longer bothered to embellish her natural attractiveness and she lacked the warmth and vivacity which had won the adoration of most of Milton’s male youth, notably Walter Frayne, Jim Satterly and Louis Taylor himself.

Louis was still a model young man, sober, industrious and “solid.” When you thought of the precarious existence of the women who had married his chief rivals, you couldn’t help feeling that wisdom and good luck had been on Mrs. Taylor’s side when she made her choice.

Walter had attended college for one semester, at the end of which he came home with a perfect record of Studies, 4; Flunks, 4. He had run amuck in Milton and ultimately, turned down by the girl he really cared for, had married an orphan whose parents had left her $150,000 – but not for long. After this tidy sum had been poured away Walter was almost continuously unemployed and people wondered how he and his wife lived. And why.

There was nothing of the gay dog about Jim Satterly. He had graduated from high school and gone into the Milton Gas Company’s office as bookkeeper at eight dollars per week. He was now thirty-five years old and still with the gas company, but his salary had been steadily increased until it was twenty-two dollars. His wife gave weekly piano lessons to a class of four pupils at fifty cents a half-hour each. She had borne Jim three children, or kiddies. The Satterlys seemed to enjoy their kiddies and an occasional picture show, but no magazine editor had ever sent a staff man to get a success story out of Jim.

Louis Taylor was secretary to the town’s only wealthy man, old Thomas Parvis, who owned a controlling interest in the Interurban Railway. Louis worked long hours and was paid four thousand a year, big money in Milton. It was enough to keep the childless Taylors in comfort; in comparative luxury, even. Couples with smaller incomes owned cars, took trips to nearby lake resorts and to Harper City, where a stock company presented worthwhile plays. But Louis was saving for a rainy day and his wife had long ago given up praying for rain.

Mrs. Taylor was winning her fourth successive victory over solitaire by the simple expedient of pretending that a black queen was red.

“It says here,” stated her husband, “that there are 27,650,267 automobiles in the world, according to a census just completed.”

It was Mrs. Taylor’s own fault that Louis had contracted the habit of reciting interesting tidbits from the paper. Back in May, 1924, he had asked her whether she would like to hear the news of the Loeb-Leopold case. She had already read it, but she said yes, thinking it would be more thrilling, even in repetition, than one of Louis’ own experiences, also in repetition. Since then, she had listened every evening – except Wednesday, when Louis went out, and Sundays, when there was no paper – to excerpts from the Star, consisting principally of what is known in newspaper offices as filler – incontrovertible statistics about men and things in all parts of the world, facts that seemed to smite her husband like a bolt from the blue.

“Think of it!” he said. “Nearly twenty-eight million automobiles!”

“Heavens!” said Mrs. Taylor.

“And speaking of automobiles: ‘Storms have made roads so bad in parts of Chile that drivers have not dared to go into the rural districts.’ That’s the trouble with owning a car. If you don’t stay right on the paved streets or paved roads, you’re liable to get stuck and maybe walk home. Besides that, you’ve got to be a mechanic yourself or else, when there’s something wrong, you have to take it to a garage and lay it up a week till they consent to look at it and find out what’s the matter, and then they don’t know themselves nine times out of ten. But they charge you just the same and they charge you plenty. Did I tell you about Walter Trumbull’s trip to Harper City?”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Taylor.

“I don’t believe I did. It was only last Friday night; no, Thursday night, the night after the Spartans beat us by one pin, when I had a chance to get a 202 and hit the head pin just a little too full and they split on me. That was the night Berger showed up so drunk he couldn’t bowl and we had to use Tommy and he shot 123.

“So it was the night after that when Walter and Marjorie started over to the City to see the ‘Seventh Heaven,’ and about five miles the other side of Two Oaks the engine died and Walter couldn’t get it going again. His flashlight wouldn’t work and Marjorie wouldn’t let him strike matches with the hood up to see what the trouble was. As it turned out, it wouldn’t have done him any good anyway.

“Finally he left poor Marjorie in the car and walked way back to Two Oaks, but the garage was closed up for the night and the whole town was asleep, so he went back to the car and by that time of course it was too late to see the show. He hailed three or four cars coming from the other way, trying to get a ride home, but it wasn’t till after ten o’clock that he could get a car to stop and pick them up. The next morning he sent Charlie Thomas out to fix up the car so it would run or else tow it in, and Charlie found out there was nothing the matter with it except it was out of gas. When Walter told me about it, I said that was what he deserved for not patronizing the Interurban.”

“We don’t patronize it ourselves.”

“I hear enough about it in the daytime without riding on it at night”

—

Mrs. Taylor shuffled the cards and Louis resumed perusal of the Star.

“The old U. S. is a pretty good country after all,” he said presently. “Listen to this: ‘The Netherlands’ unemployed now include 26,000 skilled and 24,000 unskilled workers.’ And listen: ‘A large proportion of Belgium’s population still wear wooden shoes.’ You wouldn’t think that was possible in this day and age!”

“I imagine,” said Mrs. Taylor, “that there are some places in the United States where people don’t wear any shoes at all.”

“Oh, sure, but not a large proportion; probably a few of those backwoods Tennessee mountaineers. And of course the colored people in the small towns in Georgia and South Carolina. You see lots of them, passing through on the train, that never had a shoe on in their life. I remember a place named Jesup, Georgia, a kind of junction. There was— No, that wasn’t Jesup; it was some other place, some place the boss and I went through on the way to Daytona that time. I guess I told you about it.”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Taylor.

“You wouldn’t believe the way some of those people live. Not all colored people, either; white people, too. Poor white trash, they call them. Or rather, ‘po’ white trash.’ Families of four and five in one room. Mr. Parvis said it was a crime and kept wishing he could do something for them.”

“Why didn’t he?”

“Well, he’s hardly got money enough to house and clothe the whole South and it wouldn’t do any good to just pick out some one town and try and better conditions there.”

“Why not?”

“It would be a drop in the bucket, and besides, other towns would hear about it and pester the life out of him. I reminded him he was taking the trip to get away from care and worry for a while and he ought not to fret himself about other people’s business. Then, too, if he was going to practice some of his philanthrophy down there, I’d probably be put in charge of it. We might have even had to live there a year or two. I guess you wouldn’t like that, would you?”

“It wouldn’t make any difference to me,” said Mrs. Taylor.

“What! Live in one of those God-forsaken holes, without any friends or anybody you’d want to make friends with! Nothing to do all day and all night but eat and sleep and—”

“Play solitaire,” suggested Mrs. Taylor.

“You may think you wouldn’t mind it, but that’s because you’ve never seen it. Those Georgia villages are an interesting study, but as for making your home in one of them, you’d die of loneliness. Of course there’s some spots in Florida that are pretty close to heaven. Take Daytona, for instance. But I’ve told you what it’s like.”

“Yes.”

“They’ve got a beach that’s so hard and smooth that they have automobile races on it. It’s beautiful. And it’s right close to Ormond, where Rockefeller spends his winters. Mr. Parvis and I saw him playing golf on the Ormond course. I can’t see anything in golf myself, but maybe I would if I had a chance to get interested in it. When I’m as old as he is, I’ll try it out, providing I’ve got as much time and one-millionth as much money.”

“There’s no reason why you shouldn’t have fully as much money.”

“I know what you mean by that. You’re digging at my thriftiness, though I suppose you call it stinginess. You’ll look at it differently when we’re old.”

“I hope I won’t be here to look at it at all.”

“No, you don’t. But what was I saying? Oh, yes. Daytona is where I’d like to live in winter, if I had the means. I must have told you about running into Harry Riker down there.”

“You did.”

“It certainly was a funny thing, running into him! We hadn’t seen each other for twenty-two years and he recognized me the minute he set eyes on me. I wouldn’t have known him from Adam’s off ox.

“It sure did take me back, running into Harry. He recalled one time, just before I left Shelbyville, when his father and mother were away on a visit somewhere. Harry’s aunt, Mr. Riker’s sister, was supposed to be taking care of Harry while his father and mother was away, but she was kind of old and she used to go to sleep right after supper.

“Well, there were a couple of girls, sisters, named Lindsay. They lived out in the country, but came in town to school. Harry and I thought we were stuck on them, so one night after supper, when Harry’s aunt had gone to sleep, we hitched up Mr. Riker’s horse and buggy and drove seven miles out in the country to call on the Lindsay girls. When we got out there it was raining, so we unhitched the horse and put him in the barn and—”

“He got loose, didn’t he? And ran all the way home?”

“Yes, but that comes later. We put him in Lindsay’s barn and we thought we had him tied all right, and Harry and I went in the house and sat around with the girls. Mrs. Lindsay stayed right in the room with us and did most of the talking—”

“You’re sure of that?”

“I certainly am! She was one of these women that talk all the time. She never stopped. So about half past nine she said the girls would have to go to bed, and that was telling us to get out. Well, to make a long story short, the horse wasn’t in the barn and Harry and I walked home seven miles in the pouring rain. We found the horse in his own stall and Harry had to ride him out to Lindsay’s next day and get the buggy. That was the last time we ever called on the Lindsay girls.”

“Kind of hard on them,” said Mrs. Taylor.

“Oh, we were all just kids and there wasn’t anything serious between us. Harry’s in the insurance business now in Indianapolis, doing fine, he told me.”

Louis was almost, but not quite, through with his paper.

“Here’s a funny thing,” he said. “Although Edinburgh, Scotland, had only 237 ice-cream parlors last season, the number was fifty more than were in the city a year ago.”

“I should think that was enough ice-cream parlors.”

“Not for the size of the town. Let’s see. How big is Edinburgh? I’ll have to look it up.”

He was on his way to the bookcase when the doorbell rang. He went to the door and admitted Florence Hammond.

“Hello, Louis. Hello, Bess. This isn’t a social call. We’re out here with a flat tire and Perce wants to borrow your flash.”

“There’s automobiles for you!” said Louis. “More trouble than they’re worth.”

“I tried to persuade Perce to take it to the garage and have them fix it, but he’s afraid driving it even that far would ruin the rim or the shoe or whatever you call it.”

“I’ll get the flash and see if I can help him,” said Louis.

“And you sit down, Florence, and keep me company,” said Mrs. Taylor. “I haven’t been out of the house for three days and I’m dying to hear what’s going on in Milton.”

“You take the Star, don’t you?”

“I’m afraid we do, but it hasn’t been very thrilling lately.”

“You can’t blame the paper for that,” said Mrs. Hammond. “Nothing exciting has happened; that is, in Milton.”

“Has anything happened anywhere?”

“Yes. In Clyde.”

“Clyde. That’s where your sister lives, isn’t it?”

“If you call it living. I’d rather be dead! Honestly, Bess, you and I ought to thank the Lord that we married men who are at least sane and normal. Louis and Perce may not be as good-looking or ‘brilliant’ as Ed, but anyway we always know where they are and what to expect of them.”

“That’s true,” said Mrs. Taylor.

“I wrote Grace a letter today and told her she was simply crazy not to leave him, especially after this last mess. But she won’t give him up. I believe he’s got her hypnotized. And she still loves him. She admits his faults and excuses him and expects everybody to do the same. If she didn’t, she’d keep her troubles to herself and not write me all the details. I realize everybody has their weakness, but it seems to me there are some things I couldn’t forgive. And one of them is a punch in the eye.”

“You don’t mean—”

“Yes, I do. And Grace took it and accepted his apology when he made one. When I think of it, I simply boil!”

“What was the occasion?”

“No special occasion. Just Saturday night. Everybody in Clyde goes to the Yacht Club Saturday nights. There’s no river or lake and no yachts, but they have a sunset gun, so I suppose they’re entitled to call it a yacht club. Grace hated it at first and let Ed go alone, but that only made him drink more and get home later Sunday mornings. Besides, she’s always been a little jealous, and probably with reason. So she decided to go with him and try to enjoy herself. Grace loves to dance and there are some awfully good dancers in Clyde; that is, early in the evening, before they begin to flounder and reel.

“Of course nobody can say Ed married her under false pretenses. She went into it with her eyes wide open. She saw him for the first time at one of those parties and she fell in love with him when he got mad at a man and knocked him down for cutting in on a dance. The man was about half Ed’s size and Ed hit him when he wasn’t looking. That didn’t make any difference to Grace. And it didn’t seem to make any difference to the Yacht Club. Anybody else would have been expelled, but Ed begged everyone’s pardon and wasn’t even scolded.

“That first night he asked Grace to let him drive her home. She was visiting Helen Morse, and Helen advised her not to take the chance. Ed didn’t seem to be in very good driving condition. But Grace was so crazy about him that she told him yes. And then he forgot all about it, went home with another girl and left Grace at the club with some people she hardly knew. She had to call up the Morses and get them to come back after her.

“Well, they met again the next week and Grace thought she would put him in his place by ignoring him entirely, but that didn’t work because he didn’t remember having seen her before. He was comparatively sober this time and awfully nice and attentive. I’ll admit Ed can be nice when he wants to. After that they played tennis together two or three times and then Ed proposed and Grace accepted him and he said he couldn’t wait for a big wedding and she agreed to marry him secretly at Colby, a town about thirty miles from Clyde. She was to be in front of the Clyde post office at twelve o’clock on a certain day and he was to pick her up in his car and drive to Colby and be married.

“The day came and she waited for him an hour and then went back to the Morses’. That evening he telephoned that he had made a mistake in the day and had just discovered it, and would she please forgive him and meet him the next day at the same place. I blush to say she succumbed, though she suspected what she found out later to be true – Ed had been on a bat and was sleeping it off at the time he was supposed to do his eloping.

“They were married and Ed behaved beautifully on the honeymoon. They spent two weeks in New York and went to the theatre every night and sightseeing in the mornings and afternoons. He had men friends of his to dinner once or twice and gave them all they wanted to drink, but wouldn’t touch anything himself.

“When they got back to Clyde, Ed bought a lovely house already furnished, and the furniture was just what Grace would have picked out. Grace was so happy it seemed as if it couldn’t last, and it didn’t.

“They had been in Clyde a week when Ed announced that he had to go away on a trip. He didn’t trouble to say where or why or how long. He just went, stayed away five days and came home looking as if he had had five or six operations. Grace tried to get him to tell her where he had been, but he just laughed and said it was a secret.

“And that’s the way things have gone on ever since. Ed’s got plenty of money and he gives Grace all she can possibly spend, besides buying her presents that are always lovely and terribly expensive. He’ll be as good as pie for weeks and weeks – except for the Saturday night carousal – and then he’ll disappear for a few days and she won’t know where he is or when to expect him home. Her life is one surprise after another. But when he suddenly hits her in the eye, it’s more than a surprise. It’s a kind of a shock. At least it would be to me.”

“When did it happen?” asked Mrs. Taylor.

“A week ago Saturday,” said Mrs. Hammond. “There was the usual party at the Yacht Club and Ed took more than his usual amount to drink. Along about midnight he disappeared, and so did a girl named Eva Grayson.

“Finally Grace went home, but she sat up and waited for Ed. He came in about four o’clock, pie-eyed. He walked right to where Grace was sitting and without saying anything at all, he hit her, not hard enough to knock her out of her chair but with enough force to really hurt. Then, still not saying anything, he went to bed without taking the time to undress.

“In the morning, or whenever he woke up, he noticed that Grace’s eye was discolored and asked her what had happened. She told him and he made no attempt to deny it. All he said was, ‘Dearest, I can’t tell you how sorry I am. You must believe me when I say I had no idea it was you. I thought it was Eva Grayson. And she deserved to be hit.’

“Can you imagine forgiving a man for a thing like that? Can you imagine continuing to live with him and love him? I’d kill myself before I’d stand it! And Grace excuses him and writes me the full details, just as if it were something she was proud of. I tell you, Bess, you and I can consider ourselves lucky—”

The front door opened and Louis came in with his flashlight.

“You’re all set, Florence,” said he. “I asked Perce in, but he thinks it’s time to drive on.”

“I know it is,” said Mrs. Hammond. “We’re going to play bridge out at the Cobbs’ and we’re terribly late. I ought to have phoned them, but I guess they’ll sit up for us. Good night, Bess. I hope I didn’t bore you with my long monolog.”

“You didn’t,” said Mrs. Taylor.

Louis sat down to finish the Star. Mrs. Taylor shuffled her cards and started a new game, but in the middle of it she rose from the table and went close to her husband’s chair.

“Do you know what day this is?” she said.

“Why, yes,” Louis replied. “It’s Tuesday.”

“It’s Tuesday, November twelfth. Our anniversary.”

“Gosh! That’s right! I wish I’d remembered it. I’d have bought you some flowers. Will it do tomorrow?”

“I don’t want any flowers. But there is something I would like you to give me. And you don’t have to wait till tomorrow.”

“What is it?”

“A punch in the eye,” said Mrs. Taylor.

“You’re feeling kind of funny, aren’t you? Did Florence have a shot of their home-made gin in her bag?”

“No. And I’m not feeling funny. I’m just sleepy. I think I’ll go to bed.”

Louis was reading again.

“It says: ‘Experiments in the raising of sisal are being made in Haiti.’ I don’t suppose you happen to know what sisal is.”

But Mrs. Taylor was on her way upstairs.

• 22 •

Nora

“Mr. Hazlett, shake hands with Jerry Morris and Frank Moon. I guess you’ve heard of the both of them.”

The speaker was Louie Brock, producer of musical shows, who had cleared over half a million dollars in two years through the popularity of “Jersey Jane,” tunes by Morris and lyrics by Moon.

They were in Brock’s inner office, the walls of which were adorned with autographed pictures of six or seven of the more celebrated musical comedy stars and a too-perfect likeness of Brock’s wife, whom he had evidently married in a dense fog.

“Mr. Hazlett,” continued Brock, “has got a book which he wrote as a straight play, but it struck me right off that it was great material for a musical, especially with you two fellas to do the numbers. It’s a brand-new idear, entirely opposite from most of these here musical comedy books that’s all the same thing and the public must be getting sick of them by this time. Don’t you think so, Jerry?”

“I certainly do,” the tunesmith replied. “Give us a good novelty story, and with what I and Frank can throw in there to jazz it up, we’ll run till the theatre falls down.”

‘Well, Mr. Hazlett,” said Brock, “suppose you read us the book and we’ll see what the boys thinks of it”

Hazlett was quite nervous in spite of Brock’s approval of his work and the fact that friends to whom he had shown it had given it high praise and congratulated him on his good fortune in getting a chance to collaborate with Morris and Moon – Morris who had set a new style in melodies and rhythms and whose tunes made up sixty percent of all dance programs, and Moon, the ideal lyricist who could fit Jerry’s fast triplets with such cute-sounding three-syllable rhymes that no one ever went to the considerable trouble of trying to find out what they meant.

“I’ve tried to stay away from the stereotyped Cinderella theme,” said Hazlett. “In my story the girl starts out just moderately well off and winds up poor. She sacrifices everything for love and the end finds her alone with her lover, impoverished but happy. She—”

“Let’s hear the book,” said the producer.

Hazlett, with trembling fingers, opened to the first page of his script.

“Well,” he began, “the title is ‘Nora’ and the first scene—”

“Excuse me a minute,” Morris interrupted. “I promised a fella that I’d come over and look at a big second-hand Trinidad Twelve. Only eight grand and a bargain if there ever was one, hey, Frank?”,

“I’ll say it’s a bargain,” Moon agreed.

“The fella is going to hold it for me till half-past three and its nearly three o’clock now. So if you don’t mind, Mr. Hazlett, I wish that instead of reading the book clear through, you’d kind of give us a kind of a synopsis and it will save time and we can tell just as good, hey, Frank?”

“Just as good,” said Moon.

“All right, Mr. Hazlett,” Brock put in. Suppose you tell the story in your own way, with just the main idear and the situations.”

“Well,” said Hazlett, “of course, as a straight play, I wrote it in three acts, but when Mr. Brock suggested that I make a musical show out of it, I cut it to two. To start with, the old man, the girl’s uncle, is an Irishman who came to this country when he was about twenty years old. He worked hard and he was thrifty and finally he got into the building business for himself. He’s pretty well-to-do, but he’s avaricious and not satisfied with the three or four hundred thousand he’s saved up. He meets another Irish immigrant about his own age, a politician who has a lot to say about the letting of big city building contracts. This man, Collins, had a handsome young son, John, twenty-three or twenty-four.

“The old man, the girl’s uncle – their name is Crowley – he tries his hardest to get in strong with old Collins so Collins will land him some of the city contracts, but Collins, though he’s very friendly all the while, he doesn’t do Crowley a bit of good in a business way.

“Well, Crowley gives a party at his house for a crowd of his Irish friends in New York, young people and people his own age, and during the party young John Collins sees a picture of Crowley’s beautiful niece, Nora. She’s still in Ireland and and has never been to this country. Young Collins asks Crowley who it is and he tells him and young Collins says she is the only girl he will ever marry.

“Crowley then figures to himself that if he can connect up with the Collinses by having his niece marry young John, he can land just about all the good contracts there are. So he cables for Nora to come over and pay him a visit. She comes and things happen just as Crowley planned – John and Nora fall in love.

“Now there’s a big dinner and dance in honor of the Mayor and one of the guests is Dick Percival, a transplanted Englishman who has made fifty million dollars in the sugar business. He also falls in love with Nora and confesses it to her uncle. Old Crowley has always hated Englishmen, but his avarice is so strong that he decides Nora must get rid of John and marry Dick. Nora refuses to do this, saying John is ‘her man’ and that she will marry him or nobody.

“Crowley forbids her to see John, but she meets him whenever she can get out. The uncle and niece had a long, stubborn battle of wills, neither yielding an inch. Finally John’s father, old Collins, is caught red-handed in a big bribery scandal and sent to the penitentiary. It is also found out that he has gambled away all his money and John is left without a dime.

“Crowley, of course, thinks this settles the argument, that Nora won’t have anything more to do with a man whose father is a crook and broke besides, and he gets up a party to announce the engagement between her and Dick. Nora doesn’t interfere at all, but insists that young John Collins be invited. When the announcement’s made, Nora says her uncle has got the name of her fiancé wrong she has been engaged to John Collins since the first day she came to the United States, and if he will still have her, she is his. Then she and John walk out alone into the world, leaving Dick disappointed and Crowley in a good old-fashioned Irish rage.”

Well, boys,” said Brock, after a pause, “what do you think of it?”

The “boys” were silent.

“You see,” said Brock, “for natural ensembles, you got the first party at What’s-his-name’s, the scene on the pier when the gal lands from Ireland, the Mayor’s party at some hotel maybe, and another party at What’s-his-name’s, only this time it’s outdoors at his country place. You can have the boy sing a love-song to the picture before he ever sees the gal; you can make that the melody you want to carry clear through. You can have love duets between she and the boy and she and the Englishman. You can write a song like ‘East Side, West Side’ for the Mayor’s party.

“You can write a corking good number for the pier scene, where some people of all nationalities are meeting their relatives and friends. And you can run wild with all the good Irish tunes in the world.”

“Where’s your comic?” inquired Morris.

“Mr. Hazlett forgot to mention the comic,” Brock said. “He’s an old Irishman, a pal of What’s-his-name’s, a kind of a Jiggs.”

“People don’t want an Irish comic these days,” said Morris. “Can’t you make him a Wop or a Heeb?”

“I’d have to rewrite the part,” said Hazlett.

“No you wouldn’t,” said Morris. “Give him the same lines with a different twist to them.”

“It really would be better,” Brock put in, “if you could change him to a Heeb or even a Dutchman. I’ve got to have a spot for Joe Stein and he’d be a terrible flop as a Turkey.”

“And listen,” said Morris. “What are you going to do with Enriqueta?”

“Gosh! I’d forgot her entirely!” said Brock. “Of course we’ll have to make room for her.”

“Who is she?” Hazlett inquired.

“The best gal in Spain,” said Brock. “I brought her over here and I’m paying her two thousand dollars every week, with nothing for her to do. You’ll have to write in a part for her.”

“Write in a part!” exclaimed Morris. “She’ll play the lead or she won’t play.”

“But how is a Spanish girl going to play Nora Crowley?” asked Hazlett.

“Why does your dame have to be Nora Crowley?” Morris retorted. “Why does she have to be Irish at all?”

“Because her uncle is Irish.”

“Make him a Spaniard, too.”

“Yes, and listen,” said Moon. “While you’re making the gal and her uncle Spaniards, make your boy a wop. If you do that, I and Jerry have got a number that’ll put your troupe over with a bang! Play it for them, Jerry.”

Morris went to the piano and played some introductory chords.

“This is a great break of luck,” said Moon, “to have a number already written that fits right into the picture. Of course, I’ll polish the lyric up a little more and I want to explain that the boy sings part of the lines, the gal the rest. But here’s about how it is. Let’s go, Jerry!”

Morris repeated his introduction and Moon began to sing:

“Somewhere in the old world

You and I belong.

It will be a gold world,

Full of light and song.

Why not let’s divide our time

Between your native land and mine?

Move from Italy to Spain,

Then back to Italy again?

“In sunny Italy,

My Spanish queen,

You’ll fit so prettily

In that glorious scene.

You will sing me ‘La Paloma’;

I will sing you ‘Cara Roma’;

We will build a little home, a

Bungalow serene.

Then in the Pyrenees,

Somewhere in Spain,

We’ll rest our weary knees

Down in Lovers’ Lane,

And when the breakers roll a-

Cross the azure sea,

Espanola, Gorgonzola;

Spain and Italy.”

“A wow!” cried Brock. “Congratulations, Jerry! You, too, Frank! What do you think of that one, Mr. Hazlett?”

“Very nice,” said Hazlett. “The tune sounds like ‘Sole Mio’ and ‘La Paloma.’”

“It sounds like them both and it’s better than either,” said the composer.

“That one number makes our troupe, Jerry,” said Brock. “You don’t need anything else.”

“But we’ve got something else, hey, Frank?”

“You mean ‘Montgomery’?” said Moon.

“Yeh.”

“Let’s hear it,” requested Brock.

“It’ll take a dinge comic to sing it.”

“Well, Joe Stein can do a dinge.”

“I’ll say he can! I like him best in blackface. And he’s just the boy to put over a number like this.”

Morris played another introduction, strains that Hazlett was sure he had heard a hundred times before, and Moon was off again:

“I want to go to Alabam’.

That’s where my lovin’ sweetheart am,

And won’t she shout and dance for joy

To see once more her lovin’ boy!

I’ve got enough saved up, I guess,

To buy her shoes and a bran’-new dress.

She’s black as coal, and yet I think

When I walk in, she’ll be tickled pink.

“Take me to Montgomery

Where it’s always summery.

New York’s just a mummery.

Give me life that’s real.

New York fields are rotten fields.

Give me those forgotten fields;

I mean those there cotton fields,

Selma and Mobile.

I done been away so long;

Never thought I’d stay so long.

Train, you’d better race along

To my honey lamb.

Train, you make it snappy till

(’Cause I won’t be happy till)

I am in the capital,

Montgomery, Alabam’.”

“Another knock-out!” said Brock enthusiastically. “Boys, either one of those numbers are better than anything in ‘Jersey Jane.’ Either one of them will put our troupe over. And the two of them together in one show! Well, it’s in!”

Hazlett mustered all his courage.

“They’re a couple of mighty good songs,” he said. But I don’t exactly see how they’ll fit.”

“Mr. Hazlett,” said Jerry Morris. “I understand this is your first experience with a musical comedy. I’ve had five successes in four years and could have had five more if I wanted to work that hard. I know the game backwards and I hope you won’t take offense if I tell you a little something about it.”

“I’m always glad to learn,” said Hazlett.

“Well, then,” said Morris, “you’ve got a great book there, with a good novelty idear, but it won’t go without a few changes, changes that you can make in a half-hour and not detract anything from the novelty. In fact, they will add to it. While you were telling your story, I was thinking of it from the practical angle, the angle of show business, and I believe I can put my finger right on the spots that have got to be fixed.

“In the first place, as Louie has told you, he’s got a contract with Enriqueta and she won’t play any secondary parts. That means your heroine must be Spanish. Well, why not make her uncle her father and have him a Spaniard, running a Spanish restaurant somewhere downtown? It’s a small restaurant and he just gets by. He has to use her as cashier and she sits in the window where the people going past can see her.

“One day the boy, who is really an Italian count – we’ll call him Count Pizzola – he is riding alone in a taxi and he happens to look in the window and see the gal. He falls in love with her at first sight, orders the driver to stop and gets out and goes in the restaurant. He sits down and has his lunch, and while he is eating we can put in a novelty dance number with the boys and gals from the offices that are also lunching in this place.

“When the number is over, I’d have a comedy scene between Stein, who plays a dinge waiter, and, say, a German customer who isn’t satisfied with the food or the check or something. Louie, who would you suggest for that part?”

“How about Charlie Williams?” said Brock.

“Great!” said Morris. “Well, they have this argument and the dinge throws the German out. The scrap amuses Pizzola and the gal, too, and they both laugh and that brings them together. He doesn’t tell her he is a count, but she likes him pretty near as well as he likes her. They gab a while and then go into the Spanish number I just played for you.

“Now, in your story, you’ve got a boat scene where the gal is landing from Ireland. You’d better forget that scene. There was a boat scene in ‘Sunny’ and a boat scene in ‘Hit the Deck,’ and a lot of other troupes. We don’t want anything that isn’t our own. But Pizzola is anxious to take the gal out somewhere and let’s see  – Frank, where can he take her?”

“Why not a yacht?” suggested Moon.

“Great! He invites her out on a yacht, but he’s got to pretend it isn’t his own yacht. He borrowed it from a friend. She refuses at first, saying she hasn’t anything to wear. She’s poor, see? So he tells her his sister has got some sport clothes that will fit her. He gets the clothes for her and then we have a scene in her room where she is putting them on with a bunch of girl friends helping her. We’ll write a number for that.

“Now the clothes he gave her are really his sister’s clothes and the sister has carelessly left a beautiful brooch pinned in them. We go to the yacht and the Spanish dame knocks everybody dead. They put on an amateur show. That will give Enriqueta a chance for a couple more numbers. She and Pizzola are getting more and more stuck on each other and they repeat the Spanish song on the yacht, in the moonlight.

“There’s a Frenchman along on the party who is greatly attracted by Enriqueta’s looks. The Frenchman hates Pizzola. He has found out in some way that Enriqueta is wearing Pizzola’s sister’s clothes and he notices the diamond brooch. He figures that if he can steal it off of her, why, suspicion will be cast on the gal herself on account of her being poor, and Pizzola, thinking her a thief, won’t have anything more to do with her and he, the Frenchman, can have her. So, during a dance, he manages to steal the brooch and he puts it in his pocket.

“Of course Pizzola’s sister is also on the yachting party. All of a sudden she misses her brooch. She recalls having left it in the clothes she lent to Enriqueta. She goes to Enriqueta and asks her for it and the poor Spanish dame can’t find it. Then Pizzola’s sister calls her a thief and Pizzola himself can’t help thinking she is one.

“They demand that she be searched, but rather than submit to that indignity, she bribes a sailor to take her off the yacht in a small launch and the last we see of her she’s climbing overboard to get into the launch while the rest of the party are all abusing her. That’s your first act curtain.

“I’d open the second act with a paddock scene at the Saratoga racetrack. We’ll write a jockey number and have about eight boys and maybe twenty-four gals in jockey suits. Enriqueta’s father has gone broke in the restaurant business and he’s up here looking for a job as assistant trainer or something. He used to train horses for the bull-fights in Spain.

“The gal is along with him and they run into the Frenchman that stole the brooch. The Frenchman tries to make love to the gal, but she won’t have anything to do with him. While they are talking, who should come up but Pizzola! He is willing to make up with Enriqueta even though he still thinks her a thief. She won’t meet his advances.

“He asks the Frenchman for a light. The Frenchman has a patent lighter and in pulling it out of his pocket, he pulls the brooch out, too. Then Pizzola realizes what an injustice he has done the gal and he pretty near goes down on his knees to her, but she has been badly hurt and won’t forgive him yet.

“Now we have a scene in the café in the club-house and Stein is one of the waiters there. He sings the Montgomery number with a chorus of waiters and lunchers and at the end of the number he and the Spanish gal are alone on the stage.

“She asks him if he is really going to Montgomery and he says yes, and she says she and her father will go with him. She is anxious to go some place where there is no danger of running into the Frenchman or Pizzola.

“The third scene in the second act ought to be a plantation in Alabama. Stein is working there and the negroes are having a celebration or revival of some kind. Louie, you can get a male quartet to sing us some spirituals.

“Enriqueta’s father has landed a job as cook at the plantation and she is helping with the housework. Pizzola and his sister follow her to Montgomery and come out to see her at the plantation.

“They are about to go up on the porch and inquire for her when they hear her singing the Spanish number. This proves to Pizzola that she still loves him and he finally gets his sister to plead with her for forgiveness. She forgives him. He tells her who he really is and how much dough he’s got. And that pretty near washes us up.”

“But how about our Japanese number?” said Moon.

“That’s right,” Morris said. “We’ll have to send them to Japan before we end it. I’ve got a cherry-blossom number that must have the right setting. But that’s easy to fix. You make these few changes I’ve suggested, Mr. Hazlett, and I feel that we’ve got a hit.

“And I want to say that your book is a whole lot better than most of the books they hand us. About the fella falling in love with the gal’s picture – that’s a novelty idear.”

Hazlett said good-by to his producer and collaborators, went home by taxi and called up his bootlegger.

“Harry,” he said, “what kind of whiskey have you got?”

“Well, Mr. Hazlett, I can sell you some good Scotch, but I ain’t so sure of the rye. In fact, I’m kind of scared of it.”

“How soon can you bring me a case?”

“Right off quick. It’s the Scotch you want, ain’t it?

“No,” said Hazlett. “I want the rye.”

• 23 •

Liberty Hall

My husband is in Atlantic City, where they are trying out “Dear Dora,” the musical version of “David Copperfield.” My husband wrote the score. He used to take me along for these out-of-town openings, but not any more.

He, of course, has to spend almost all his time in the theater and that leaves me alone in the hotel, and pretty soon people find out whose wife I am and introduce themselves, and the next thing you know they are inviting us for a week or a weekend at Dobbs Ferry or Oyster Bay. Then it is up to me to think of some legitimate-sounding reason why we can’t come.

In lots of cases they say, “Well, if you can’t make it the twenty-second, how about the twenty-ninth?” and so on till you simply have to accept. And Ben gets mad and stays mad for days.

He absolutely abhors visiting and thinks there ought to be a law against invitations that go beyond dinner and bridge. He doesn’t mind hotels where there is a decent light for reading in bed and one for shaving, and where you can order meals, with coffee, any time you want them. But I really believe he would rather spend a week in the death house at Sing Sing than in somebody else’s home.

Three or four years ago we went around quite a lot with a couple whom I will call the Buckleys. We liked them and they liked us. We had dinner together at least twice a week and after dinner we played bridge or went to a show or just sat and talked. Ben never turned down their invitations and often actually called them up himself and suggested parties. Finally they moved to Albany on account of Mr. Buckley’s business. We missed them a great deal, and when Mrs. Buckley wrote for us to come up there for the holidays we were tickled pink.

Well, their guest-room was terribly cold; it took hours to fill the bathtub; there was no reading-lamp by the bed; three reporters called to interview Ben, two of them kittenish young girls; the breakfasts were just fruit and cereal and toast; coffee was not served at luncheon; the faucets in the wash-basin were the kind that won’t run unless you keep pressing them; four important keys on the piano were stuck and people were invited in every night to hear Ben play, and the Buckley family had been augmented by a tremendous police dog, who was “just a puppy and never growled or snapped at anyone he knew,” but couldn’t seem to remember that Ben was not an utter stranger.

On the fourth awful day Ben gave out the news – news to him and to me as well as to our host and hostess – that he had lost a filling which he would not trust any but his own New York dentist to replace. We came home and we have never seen the Buckleys since. If we do see them it will be an accident. They will hardly ask us there unless we ask them here, and we won’t ask them here for fear they would ask us there. And they were honestly the most congenial people we ever met.

It was after our visit to the Craigs at Stamford that Ben originated what he calls his “emergency exit.” We had such a horrible time at the Craigs’ and such a worse time getting away that Ben swore he would pay no more visits until he could think up a graceful method of curtailing them in the event they proved unbearable.

Here is the scheme he hit on: He would write himself a telegram and sign it with the name Ziegfeld or Gene Buck or Dillingham or George M. Cohan. The telegram would say that he must return to New York at once, and it would give a reason. Then, the day we started out, he would leave it with Irene, the girl at Harms’, his publishers, with instructions to have it sent to him twenty-four hours later.

When it arrived at whatever town we were in, he would either have the host or hostess take it over the telephone or ask the telegraph company to deliver it so he could show it around. We would put on long faces and say how sorry we were, but of course business was business, so good-by and so forth. There was never a breath of suspicion even when the telegram was ridiculous, like the one Ben had sent to himself at Spring Lake, where we were staying with the Marshalls just after “Betty’s Birthday” opened at the Globe. The Marshalls loved musical shows, but knew less than nothing about music and swallowed this one whole:

Shaw and Miss Miller both suffering from laryngitis Stop Entire score must be rewritten half tone lower Stop Come at once Stop.

C. B. Dillingham.

If, miraculously, Ben had ever happened to be enjoying himself, he would, of course, have kept the contents of his message a secret or else displayed it and remarked swaggeringly that he guessed he wasn’t going to let any so-and-so theatrical producer spoil his fun.

Ben is in Atlantic City now and I have read every book in the house and am writing this just because there doesn’t seem to be anything else to do. And also because we have a friend, Joe Frazier, who is a magazine editor and the other day I told him I would like to try my hand at a short story, but I was terrible at plots, and he said plots weren’t essential; look at Ernest Hemingway; most of his stories have hardly any plot; it’s his style that counts. And he – I mean Mr. Frazier – suggested that I write about our visit to Mr. and Mrs. Thayer in Lansdowne, outside of Philadelphia, which Mr. Frazier said, might be termed the visit that ended visits and which is the principal reason why I am here alone.

Well, it was a beautiful night a year ago last September. Ben was conducting the performance – “Step Lively” – and I was standing at the railing of the Boardwalk in front of the theater, watching the moonlight on the ocean. A couple whom I had noticed in the hotel dining-room stopped alongside of me and pretty soon the woman spoke to me, something about how pretty it was. Then came the old question, wasn’t I Mrs. Ben Drake? I said I was, and the woman went on:

“My name is Mrs. Thayer – Hilda Thayer. And this is my husband. We are both simply crazy about Mr. Drake’s music and just dying to meet him personally. We wondered if you and he would have supper with us after the performance tonight.”

“Oh, I’m afraid that’s impossible,” I replied. “You see when they are having a tryout, he and the librettists and the lyric writers work all night every night until they get everything in shape for the New York opening. They never have time for more than a sandwich and they eat that right in the theater.”

“Well, how about luncheon tomorrow?”

“He’ll be rehearsing all day.”

“How about dinner tomorrow evening?”

“Honestly, Mrs. Thayer, it’s out of the question. Mr. Drake never makes engagements during a tryout week.”

“And I guess he doesn’t want to meet us anyway,” put in Mr. Thayer. “What use would a genius like Ben Drake have for a couple of common-no-account admirers like Mrs. Thayer and myself! If we were ‘somebody’ too, it would be different!”

“Not at all!” said I. “Mr. Drake is perfectly human. He loves to have his music praised and I am sure he would be delighted to meet you if he weren’t so terribly busy.”

“Can you lunch with us yourself?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Any day.”

Well, whatever Ben and other husbands may think, there is no decent way of turning down an invitation like that. And besides I was lonesome and the Thayers looked like awfully nice people.

I lunched with them and I dined with them, not only the next day but all the rest of the week. And on Friday I got Ben to lunch with them and he liked them, too; they were not half as gushing and silly as most of his “fans.”

At dinner on Saturday night, they cross-examined me about our immediate plans. I told them that as soon as the show was “over” in New York, I was going to try to make Ben stay home and do nothing for a whole month.

“I should think,” said Mrs. Thayer, “it would be very hard for him to rest there in the city, with the producers and publishers and phonograph people calling him up all the time.”

I admitted that he was bothered a lot.

“Listen, dearie,” said Mrs. Thayer. “Why don’t you come to Lansdowne and spend a week with us? I’ll promise you faithfully that you won’t be disturbed at all. I won’t let anyone know you are there and if any of our friends call on us I’ll pretend we’re not at home. I won’t allow Mr. Drake to even touch the piano. If he wants exercise, there are miles of room in our yard to walk around in, and nobody can see him from the street. All day and all night, he can do nothing or anything, just as he pleases. It will be ‘Liberty Hall’ for you both. He needn’t tell anybody where he is, but if some of his friends or business acquaintances find out and try to get in touch with him, I’ll frighten them away. How does that sound?”

“It sounds wonderful,” I said, “but—”

“It’s settled then,” said Mrs. Thayer, “and we’ll expect you on Sunday, October eleventh.”

“Oh, but the show may not be ‘set’ by that time,” I remonstrated.

“How about the eighteenth?” said Mr. Thayer.

Well, it ended by my accepting for the week of the twenty-fifth and Ben took it quite cheerfully.

“If they stick to their promise to keep us under cover,” he said, “it may be a lot better than staying in New York. I know that Buck and the Shuberts and Ziegfeld want me while I’m ‘hot’ and they wouldn’t give me a minute’s peace if they could find me. And of course if things aren’t as good as they look, Irene’s telegram will provide us with an easy out.”

On the way over to Philadelphia he hummed me an awfully pretty melody which had been running through his head since we left the apartment. “I think it’s sure fire,” he said. “I’m crazy to get to a piano and fool with it.”

“That isn’t resting, dear.”

“Well, you don’t want me to throw away a perfectly good tune! They aren’t so plentiful that I can afford to waste one. It won’t take me five minutes at a piano to get it fixed in my mind.”

The Thayers met us in an expensive-looking limousine.

“Ralph,” said Mrs. Thayer to her husband, “you sit in one of the little seats and Mr. and Mrs. Drake will sit back here with me.”

“I’d really prefer one of the little seats myself,” said Ben and he meant it, for he hates to get his clothes mussed and being squeezed in beside two such substantial objects as our hostess and myself was bound to rumple them.

“No, sir!” said Mrs. Thayer positively. “You came to us for a rest and we’re not going to start you off uncomfortable.”

“But I’d honestly rather—”

It was no use. Ben was wedged between us and throughout the drive maintained a morose silence, unable to think of anything but how terrible his coat would look when he got out.

—

The Thayers had a very pretty home and the room assigned to us was close to perfection. There were comfortable twin beds with a small stand and convenient reading-lamp between; a big dresser and chiffonier; an ample closet with plenty of hangers; a bathroom with hot water that was hot, towels that were not too new and faucets that stayed on when turned on, and an ash-tray within reach of wherever you happened to be. If only we could have spent all our time in that guest-room, it would have been ideal.

But presently we were summoned downstairs to luncheon. I had warned Mrs. Thayer in advance and Ben was served with coffee. He drinks it black.

“Don’t you take cream, Mr. Drake?”

“No. Never.”

“But that’s because you don’t get good cream in New York.”

“No. It’s because I don’t like cream in coffee.”

“You would like our cream. We have our own cows and the cream is so rich that it’s almost like butter. Won’t you try just a little?”

“No, thanks.”

“But just a little, to see how rich it is.”

She poured about a tablespoonful of cream into his coffee-cup and for a second I was afraid he was going to pick up the cup and throw it in her face. But he kept hold of himself, forced a smile and declined a second chop.

“You haven’t tasted your coffee,” said Mrs. Thayer.

“Yes, I have,” lied Ben. “The cream is wonderful. I’m sorry it doesn’t agree with me.”

“I don’t believe coffee agrees with anyone,” said Mrs. Thayer. “While you are here, not doing any work, why don’t you try to give it up?”

“I’d be so irritable you wouldn’t have me in the house. Besides, it isn’t plain coffee that disagrees with me; it’s coffee with cream.”

“Pure, rich cream like ours couldn’t hurt you,” said Mrs. Thayer, and Ben, defeated, refused to answer.

He started to light a Jaguar cigaret, the brand he had been smoking for years.

“Here! Wait a minute!” said Mr. Thayer. “Try one of mine.”

“What are they?” asked Ben.

“Trumps,” said our host, holding out his case. “They’re mild and won’t irritate your throat.”

“I’ll sample one later,” said Ben.

“You’ve simply got to try one now,” said Mrs. Thayer. “You may as well get used to them because you’ll have to smoke them all the time you’re here. We can’t have guests providing their own cigarets.” So Ben had to discard his Jaguar and smoke a Trump, and it was even worse than he had anticipated.

After luncheon we adjourned to the living-room and Ben went straight to the piano.

“Here! Here! None of that!” said Mrs. Thayer. “I haven’t forgotten my promise.”

“What promise?” asked Ben.

“Didn’t your wife tell you? I promised her faithfully that if you visited us, you wouldn’t be allowed to touch the piano.”

“But I want to,” said Ben. “There’s a melody in my head that I’d like to try.”

“Oh, yes, I know all about that,” said Mrs. Thayer. “You just think you’ve got to entertain us! Nothing doing! We invited you here for yourself, not to enjoy your talent. I’d be a fine one to ask you to my home for a rest and then make you perform.”

“You’re not making me,” said Ben. “Honestly I want to play for just five or ten minutes. I’ve got a tune that I might do something with and I’m anxious to run it over.”

“I don’t believe you, you naughty man!” said our hostess. “Your wife has told you how wild we are about your music and you’re determined to be nice to us. But I’m just as stubborn as you are. Not one note do you play as long as you’re our guest!”

Ben favored me with a stricken look, mumbled something about unpacking his suitcase – it was already unpacked – and went up to our room, where he stayed nearly an hour, jotting down his new tune, smoking Jaguar after Jaguar and wishing that black coffee flowed from bathtub faucets.

About a quarter of four Mr. Thayer insisted on taking him around the place and showing him the shrubbery, something that held in Ben’s mind a place of equal importance to the grade of wire used in hairpins.

“I’ll have to go to business tomorrow,” said Mr. Thayer, “and you will be left to amuse yourself. I thought you might enjoy this planting more if you knew a little about it. Of course it’s much prettier in the spring of the year.”

“I can imagine so.”

“You must come over next spring and see it.”

“I’m usually busy in the spring,” said Ben.

“Before we go in,” said Mr. Thayer, “I’d like to ask you one question: Do tunes come into your mind and then you write them down, or do you just sit at the piano and improvise until you strike something good?”

“Sometimes one way and sometimes the other,” said Ben.

“That’s very interesting,” said Mr. Thayer. “I’ve often wondered how it was done. And another question: Do you write the tunes first and then give them to the men who write the words, or do the men write the words first and then give them to you to make up the music to them?”

“Sometimes one way and sometimes the other,” said Ben.

“That’s very interesting,” said Mr. Thayer. “It’s something I’m glad to know. And now we’d better join the ladies or my wife will say I’m monopolizing you.”

They joined us, much to my relief. I had just reached a point where I would either have had to tell “Hilda” exactly how much Ben earned per annum or that it was none of her business.

“Well!” said Mrs. Thayer to Ben. “I was afraid Ralph had kidnapped you.”

“He was showing me the shrubbery,” said Ben.

“What did you think of it?”

“It’s great shrubbery,” said Ben, striving to put some warmth into his voice.

“You must come and see it in the spring.”

“I’m usually busy in the spring.”

“Ralph and I are mighty proud of our shrubbery.”

“You have a right to be.”

Ben was taking a book out of the bookcase.

“What book is that?” asked Mrs. Thayer.

“‘The Great Gatsby,’” said Ben. “I’ve always wanted to read it but never got around to it.”

“Heavens!” said Mrs. Thayer as she took it away from him. “That’s old! You’ll find the newest ones there on the table. We keep pretty well up to date. Ralph and I are both great readers. Just try any one of those books in that pile. They’re all good.”

Ben glanced them over and selected “Chevrons.” He sat down and opened it.

“Man! Man!” exclaimed Mrs. Thayer. “You’ve picked the most uncomfortable chair in the house!”

“He likes straight chairs,” I said.

“That’s on the square,” said Ben.

“But you mustn’t sit there,” said Mrs. Thayer. “It makes me uncomfortable just to look at you. Take this chair here. It’s the softest, nicest chair you’ve ever sat in.”

“I like hard straight chairs,” said Ben, but he sank into the soft, nice one and again opened his book.

“Oh, you never can see there!” said Mrs. Thayer. “You’ll ruin your eyes! Get up just a minute and let Ralph move your chair by that lamp.”

“I can see perfectly well.”

“I know better! Ralph, move his chair so he can see.”

“I don’t believe I want to read just now anyway,” said Ben, and went to the phonograph. “Bess,” he said, putting on a record, “here’s that ‘Oh! Miss Hannah!’ by the Revelers.”

Mrs. Thayer fairly leaped to his side, and herded Miss Hannah back into her stall.

“We’ve got lots later ones that that,” she said. “Let me play you the new Gershwins.”

It was at this juncture that I began to suspect our hostess of a lack of finesse. After all, Gershwin is a rival of my husband’s and, in some folk’s opinion, a worthy one. However, Ben had a word of praise for each record as it ended and did not even hint that any of the tunes were based on melodies of his own.

“Mr. Drake,” said our host at length, “would you like a gin cocktail or a Bacardi?”

“I don’t like Bacardi at all,” said Ben.

“I’ll bet you will like the kind I’ve got,” said Mr. Thayer. “It was brought to me by a friend of mine who just got back from Cuba. It’s the real stuff!”

“I don’t like Bacardi,” said Ben.

“Wait till you taste this,” said Mr. Thayer.

Well, we had Bacardi cocktails. I drank mine and it wasn’t so good. Ben took a sip of his and pretended it was all right. But he had told the truth when he said he didn’t like Bacardi.

I won’t go into details regarding the dinner except to relate that three separate items were highly flavored with cheese, and Ben despises cheese.

“Don’t you care for cheese, Mr. Drake?” asked Mr. Thayer, noticing that Ben was not exactly bolting his food.

“No,” replied the guest of honor.

“He’s spoofing you, Ralph,” said Mrs. Thayer. “Everybody likes cheese.”

There was coffee, and Ben managed to guzzle a cup before it was desecrated with pure cream.

We sat down to bridge.

“Do you like to play families or divide up?”

“Oh, we like to play together,” said I.

“I’ll bet you don’t,” said Mrs. Thayer. “Suppose Ralph and you play Mr. Drake and me. I think it’s a mistake for husbands and wives to be partners. They’re likely to criticize one another and say things that leave a scar.”

Well, Mr. Thayer and I played against Ben and Mrs. Thayer and I lost sixty cents at a tenth of a cent a point. Long before the evening was over I could readily see why Mrs. Thayer thought it was a mistake to play with her husband and if it had been possible I’d have left him a complete set of scars.

Just as we were getting to sleep, Mrs. Thayer knocked on our door.

“I’m afraid you haven’t covers enough,” she called. “There are extra blankets on the shelf in your closet.”

“Thanks,” I said. “We’re as warm as toast.”

“I’m afraid you aren’t,” said Mrs. Thayer.

“Lock the door,” said Ben, “before she comes in and feels our feet.”

All through breakfast next morning we waited in vain for the telephone call that would yield Irene’s message. The phone rang once and Mrs. Thayer answered, but we couldn’t hear what she said. At noon Ben signalled me to meet him upstairs and there he stated grimly that I might do as I choose, but he was leaving Liberty Hall ere another sun set.

“You haven’t any excuse,” I reminded him.

“I’m a genius,” he said, “and geniuses are notoriously eccentric.”

“Geniuses’ wives sometimes get eccentric, too,” said I, and began to pack up.

Mr. Thayer had gone to Philadelphia and we were alone with our hostess at luncheon.

“Mrs. Thayer,” said Ben, “do you ever have premonitions or hunches?”

She looked frightened. “Why, no. Do you?”

“I had one not half an hour ago. Something told me that I positively must be in New York tonight. I don’t know whether it’s business or illness or what, but I’ve just got to be there!”

“That’s the strangest thing I ever heard of,” said Mrs. Thayer. “It scares me to death!”

“It’s nothing you need be scared of,” said Ben. “It only concerns me.”

“Yes, but listen,” said Mrs. Thayer. “A telegram came for you at breakfast time this morning. I wasn’t going to tell you about it because I had promised that you wouldn’t be disturbed. And it didn’t seem so terribly important. But this hunch of yours puts the matter in a different light. I’m sorry now that I didn’t give you the message when I got it, but I memorized it and can repeat it word for word: ‘Mr. Ben Drake, care of Mr. Ralph Thayer, Lansdowne, Pennsylvania. In Nile song, second bar of refrain, bass drum part reads A flat which makes discord. Should it be A natural? Would appreciate your coming to theater tonight to straighten this out as harmony must be restored in orchestra if troupe is to be success. Regards, Gene Buck.’”

“It sounds silly, doesn’t it?” said Ben. “And yet I have known productions to fail and lose hundreds of thousands of dollars just because an author or composer left town too soon. I can well understand that you considered the message trivial. At the same time I can thank my stars that this instinct, or divination, or whatever you want to call it, told me to go home.”

Just as the trainmen were shouting “Board!” Mrs. Thayer said:

“I have one more confession to make. I answered Mr. Buck’s telegram. I wired him. ‘Mr. Ben Drake resting at my home. Must not be bothered. Suggest that you keep bass drums still for a week.’ And I signed my name. Please forgive me if I have done something terrible. Remember, it was for you.”

Small wonder that Ben was credited at the Lambs’ Club with that month’s most interesting bender.

• 24 •

There Are Smiles

At the busy corner of Fifth Avenue and Forty-sixth Street there was, last summer, a traffic policeman who made you feel that he didn’t have such a terrible job after all. Lots of traffic policemen seem to enjoy abusing you, sadistic complex induced by exposure to bad weather and worse drivers, and, possibly, brutal wives. But Ben Collins just naturally appeared to be having a good time whether he was scolding you or not; his large freckled face fairly beamed with joviality and refused to cloud up even under the most trying conditions.

It heartened you to look at him. It amused you to hear him talk. If what he said wasn’t always so bright, the way he said it was.

Ben was around thirty years old. He was six feet four inches tall and weighed two hundred and eighteen pounds. This describes about eighty per cent of all the traffic officers between Thirty-second Street and the Park. But Ben was distinguished from the rest by his habitual good humor and  – well, I guess you’d have to call it his subtlety.

For example, where Noonan or Wurtz or Carmody was content with the stock “Hey! Get over where you belong!” or “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Ben was wont to finesse. “How are you, Barney?” he would say to a victim halted at the curb.

“My name isn’t Barney.”

“I beg you pardon. The way you was stepping along, I figured you must be Barney Oldfield.”

Or, “I suppose you didn’t see that red light.”

“No.”

“Well, what did you think the other cars was stopped for? Did you think they’d all ran out of gas at once?”

Or, “What business are you in?”

“I’m a contractor.”

“Well, that’s a good, honorable business and, if I was you, I wouldn’t be ashamed of it. I’d quit trying to make people believe I was in the fire department.”

Or, “How do you like London?”

“Me? I’ve never been there.”

“I thought that’s where you got the habit of driving on the wrong side of the street.”

Trangressions at Ben’s corner, unless they resulted seriously, were seldom punished beyond these sly rebukes, which were delivered in such a nice way that you were kind of glad you had done wrong.

Off duty he was “a big good-natured boy,” willing to take Grace to a picture, or go over to the Arnolds’ and play cards, or just stay at home and do nothing.

And then one morning in September, a dazzingly new Cadillac roadster, blue with yellow trimmings, flashed down from the north, violating all the laws of common sense and of the State and City of New York. Shouts and whistles from Carmody and Noonan, at Forty-eighth and Forty-seventh, failed to check its crazy career, but Ben, first planting his huge bulk directly in its path, giving the driver the choice of slackening speed or running into him, and then, with an alertness surprising in one so massive, sidestepping and jumping onto the running-board, succeeded in forcing a surrender at the curb half-way between his post and Forty-fifth Street.

He was almost mad and about to speak his mind in words beginning with capitals when he got his first look at the miscreant’s face. It was the prettiest face he had ever seen and it wore a most impudent, ill-timed, irresistible smile, a smile that spoiled other smiles for you once for all.

“Well—” Ben began falteringly; then recovering something of his stage presence: “Where’s your helmet?”

She made no reply, but continued to smile.

“If you’re in the fire department,” said Ben, “you ought to wear a helmet and a badge. Or paint your car red and get a sireen.”

Still no reply.

“Maybe I look like a bobby. Maybe you thought you was in London where they drive on the left side of the street.”

“You’re cute,” she said, and her voice was as thrilling as her smile. “I could stay here all morning and listen to you. That is I could, but I can’t. I’ve got a date down on Eighth Street and I’m late for it now. And I know you’re busy, too. So we mustn’t keep each other any longer now. But I’d like to hear your whole line some day.”

“Oh, you would!”

“Where do you live?”

“At home.”

“That isn’t very polite, is it? I was thinking you might live in the Bronx—”

“I do.”

“—and that’s on the way to Rye, where I live, so I might drive you.”

“Thanks. When I die, I want to die of old age.”

“Oh, I’m not a bad driver, really. I do like to go fast, but I’m careful. In Buffalo, where we lived before, the policemen all knew I was careful and they generally let me go as fast as I wanted to.”

“This ain’t Buffalo. And this ain’t no speedway. If you want to go fast, stay off Fifth Avenue.”

The girl looked him right in the eye. “Would you like that?”

“No,” said Ben.

She smiled at him again. “What time are you through?”

“Four o’clock,” said Ben.

“Well,” said the girl, “some afternoon I may be going home about then—”

“I told you I wasn’t ready to die.”

“I’d be extra careful.”

Ben suddenly realized that they were playing to a large staring audience and that, for once, he was not the star.

“Drive on!” he said in his gruffest tone. “I’m letting you go because you’re a stranger, but you won’t get off so easy next time.”

“I’m very, very grateful,” said the girl. “Just the same I don’t like being a stranger and I hope you won’t excuse me on that ground again.”

Which remark, accompanied by her radiant smile, caused Mr. Collins, hitherto only a bathroom singer, to hum quite loudly all the rest of his working day snatches of a gay Ohman and Arden record that his wife had played over and over the night before.

His relief, Tim Martin, appeared promptly at four, but Ben seemed in no hurry to go home. He pretended to listen to two new ones Tim had heard on the way in from Flushing, one about a Scotchman and some hotel towels and one about two Heebs in a night club. He managed to laugh in the right place, but his attention was on the northbound traffic, which was now none of his business.

At twenty minutes past four he said good-by to Martin and walked slowly south on the east side of the street. He walked as far as Thirty-sixth, in vain. Usually he caught a ride home with some Bronx or north suburban motorist, but now he was late and had to pay for his folly by hurrying to Grand Central and standing up in a subway express.

“I was a sucker!” he thought. “She probably drove up some other street on purpose to miss me. Or she might have came in on one of them cross streets after I’d walked past it. I ought to stuck at Forty-fourth a while longer. Or maybe some other fella done his duty and had her locked up. Not if she smiled at him, though.”

But she wouldn’t smile like that at everybody. She had smiled at him because she liked him, because she really thought he was cute. Yes, she did! That was her regular line. That was how she had worked on them Buffalo fellas. “Cute!” A fine word to use on a human Woolworth Building. She was kidding. No, she wasn’t; not entirely. She’d liked his looks as plenty other gals had, and maybe that stuff about the fire department and London had tickled her.

—

Anyway, he had seen the most wonderful smile in the world and he still felt warm from it when he got home, so warm that he kissed his wife with a fervor that surprised her.

When Ben was on the day shift, he sometimes entertained Grace at supper with an amusing incident or two of his work. Sometimes his stories were pure fiction and she suspected as much, but what difference did it make? They were things that ought to have happened even if they hadn’t.

On this occasion he was wild to talk about the girl from Rye, but he had learned that his wife did not care much for anecdotes concerning pretty women. So he recounted one-sided arguments with bungling drivers of his own sex which had very little foundation in fact.

“There was a fella coming south in a 1922 Buick and the light changed and when it was time to go again, he thought he was starting in second, and it was reverse instead, and he backed into a big Pierce from Greenwich. He didn’t do no damage to the Pierce and only bent himself a little. But they’d have held up the parade ten minutes talking it over if I hadn’t bore down.

“I got the Buick fella over to the curb and I said to him, ‘What’s the matter? Are you homesick?’ So he said what did I mean, homesick, and I said, ‘Well, you was so anxious to get back to wherever you come from that you couldn’t even wait to turn around.’

“Then he tried to explain what was the matter, just like I didn’t know. He said this was his first trip in a Buick and he was used to a regular gear shift.

“I said, ‘That’s fine, but this ain’t no training-camp. The place to practice driving is four blocks farther down, at Forty-second. You’ll find more automobiles there and twicet as many pedestrians and policemen, and besides, they’ve got street-cars and a tower to back into.’

“I said, ‘You won’t never learn nothing in a desert like this.’ You ought to heard the people laugh.”

“I can imagine!” said Grace.

“Then there was a Jordan, an old guy with a gray beard. He was going to park right in front of Kaskel’s. He said he wouldn’t be more than half an hour. I said, ‘Oh, that’s too bad! I wished you could spend the weekend.’ I said, ‘If you’d let us knew you was coming, we’d have arranged some parties for you.’ So he said, ‘I’ve got a notion to report you for being too fresh.’

“So I said, ‘If you do that, I’ll have you arrested for driving without your parents’ consent.’ You ought to have heard them laugh. I said, ‘Roll, Jordon, roll!’ You ought to have heard them.”

“I’ll bet!” said Grace.

Ben fell into a long, unaccustomed silence.

“What are you thinking about?”

It came out against his better judgment. “There was a gal in a blue Cadillac.”

“Oh! There was! What about her?”

“Nothing. Only she acted like it was her Avenue and I give her hell.”

“What did you say to her?”

“I forget.”

“Was she pretty?”

“I didn’t notice. I was sore.”

“You!”

“She all but knocked me for a corpse.”

“And you probably just smiled at her.”

“No. She done the smiling. She smiled—” He broke off and rose from the table. “Come on, babe. Let’s go to the Franklin. Joe Frisco’s there. And a Chaplin picture.”

Ben saw nothing of the blue Cadillac or its mistress the rest of that week, but in all his polemics he was rehearsing lines aimed to strengthen her belief in his “cuteness.” When she suddenly appeared, however, late on the following Tuesday afternoon, he was too excited to do anything but stare, and he would have lost an opportunity of hearing her enchanting voice if she hadn’t taken the initiative. Northbound, she stopped at the curb a few feet above his corner and beckoned to him.

“It’s after four,” she said. “Can’t I drive you home?”

What a break! It was his week on the late shift.

“I just come to work. I won’t be off till midnight.”

“You’re mean! You didn’t tell me you were going to change.”

“I change every week. Last week, eight to four; this week, four to twelve.”

“And next week eight to four?”

“Yes’m.”

“Well, I’ll just have to wait.”

He couldn’t say a word.

“Next Monday?”

He made an effort. “If you live.”

She smiled that smile. “I’ll live,” she said. “There’s an incentive.”

She was on her way and Ben returned to his station, dizzy.

“Incentive, incentive, incentive,” he repeated to himself, memorizing it, but when he got home at half past one, he couldn’t find it in Grace’s abridged Webster; he thought it was spelled with an s.

—

The longest week in history ended. A little before noon on Monday the Cadillac whizzed past him going south and he caught the word “later.” At quitting time, while Tim Martin was still in the midst of his first new one about two or more Heebs, Ben was all at once aware that she had stopped right beside him, was blocking the traffic, waiting for him.

Then he was in her car, constricting his huge bulk to fit it and laughing like a child at Tim’s indelicate ejaculation of surprise.

“What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing. I just feel good.”

“Are you glad to be through?”

“Yes. Today.”

“Not always?”

“I don’t generally care much.”

“I don’t believe you do. I believe you enjoy your job. And I don’t see how you can because it seems to me such a hard job. I’m going to make you tell me all about it as soon as we get out of this jam.”

A red light stopped them at Fifty-first Street and she turned and looked at him amusedly.

“It’s a good thing the top is down,” she said. “You’d have been hideously uncomfortable in one more fold.”

“When I get a car of my own,” said Ben, “it’ll have to be a Mack, and even then I’ll have to hire a man to drive it.”

“Why a man?”

“Men ain’t all crazy.”

“Honestly, I’m not crazy. Have I come near hitting anything?”

“You’ve just missed everything. You drive too fast and you take too many chances. But I knew it before I got in, so I can’t kick.”

“There isn’t room for you to, anyway. Do you want to get out?”

“No.”

“I doubt if you could. Where do you live?”

“Hundred and sixty-fourth, near the Concourse,” said Ben.

“How do you usually go home?”

“Like this.”

“And I thought I was saving you from a tiresome subway ride or something. I ought to have known you’d never lack invitations. Do you?”

“Hardly ever.”

“Do the people ask you all kinds of questions?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry. Because I wanted to and now I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You must be tired of answering.”

“I don’t always answer the same.”

“Do you mean you lie to people, to amuse yourself?”

“Sometimes.”

“Oh, that’s grand! Come on, lie to me! I’ll ask you questions, probably the same questions they all ask, and you answer them as if I were a fool. Will you?”

“I’ll try.”

“Well, let’s see. What shall I ask first? Oh, yes. Don’t you get terribly cold in winter?”

He repeated a reply he had first made to an elderly lady, obviously a visitor in the city, whose curiosity had prompted her to cross-examine him for over twenty minutes on one of the busiest days he had ever known.

“No. When I feel chilly, I stop a car and lean against the radiator.”

His present interviewer rewarded him with more laughter than was deserved.

“That’s wonderful!” she said. “And I suppose when your ears are cold, you stop another car and borrow its hood.”

“I’ll remember that one.”

“Now what next? Do you ever get hit?”

“Right along, but only glancing blows. I very seldom get knocked down and run over.”

“Doesn’t it almost kill you, standing on your feet all day?”

“It ain’t near as bad as if it was my hands. Seriously, Madam, I get so used to it that I sleep that way nights.”

“Don’t the gasoline fumes make you sick?”

“They did at first, but now I can’t live without them. I have an apartment near a public garage so I can run over there any time and re-fume myself.”

“How tall are you?”

“Six feet ten.”

“Not really!”

“You know better, don’t you? I’m six feet four, but when women ask me, I tell them anything from six feet eight to seven feet two. And they always says, ‘Heavens!’”

“Which do you have the most trouble with, men drivers or women drivers?”

“Men drivers.”

“Honestly?”

“Sure. There’s fifty times as many of them.”

“Do lots of people ask you questions?”

“No. You’re the first one.”

“Were you mad at me for calling you cute the other day?”

“I couldn’t be mad at you.”

A silence of many blocks followed. The girl certainly did drive fast and Ben might have been more nervous if he had looked ahead, but mostly his eyes were on her profile which was only a little less alluring than her smile.

“Look where we are!” she exclaimed as they approached Fordham Road. “And you live at a Hundred and sixty-fourth! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t notice.”

“Don’t get out. I’ll drive you back.”

“No, you won’t. I’ll catch a ride. There’s a fella up this way I want to see.”

“You were nice to take a chance with me and not to act scared Will you do it again?”

“Whenever you say.”

“I drive in once a week. I go down to Greenwich Village to visit my sister. Generally on Mondays.”

“Next Monday I’ll be on the late shift.”

“Let’s make it the Monday after.”

“That’s a long ways off.”

“The time will pass. It always does.”

It did, but so haltingly! And the day arrived with such a threat of rain that Ben was afraid she wouldn’t come in. Later on, when the threat was fulfilled and the perils of motoring trebled by a steady drizzle and slippery pavements, he was afraid she would. Prudence, he knew, was not in her make-up and if she had an engagement with her sister, nothing short of a flood would prevent her keeping it.

Just before his luncheon time, the Cadillac passed, going south. Its top was up and its squeegee flying back and forth across the front glass.

Through the rain he saw the girl smile and wave at him briefly. Traffic was thick and treacherous and both must keep their minds on it.

It was still drizzling when she reappeared and stopped for him at four.

“Isn’t this a terrible day?” she said.

“Not now!”

She smiled, and in an instant he forgot all the annoyance and discomfort of the preceding hours.

“If we leave the top up, you’ll get stoop-shouldered, and if we take it down, we’ll be drowned.”

“Leave it up. I’m all right.”

“Do you mind if we don’t talk much? I feel quiet.”

He didn’t answer and nothing more was said until they turned east at Mount Morris Park. Then:

“I could find out your name,” she said, “by remembering your number and having somebody look it up. But you can save me the trouble by telling me.”

“My name is Ben Collins. And I could learn yours by demanding to see your driver’s license.”

“Heavens! Don’t do that! I haven’t any. But my name is Edith Dole.”

“Edith Dole. Edith Dole,” said Ben.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s pretty.”

“It’s a funny combination. Edith means happiness and Dole means grief.”

“Well,” said Ben, “you’ll have plenty of grief if you drive without a license. You’ll have it anyway if you drive fast on these kind of streets. There’s nothing skiddier than car-tracks when it’s raining.”

They were on upper Madison and the going was dangerous. But that was not the only reason he wanted her to slow down.

Silence again until they were on the Concourse.

“Are you married?” she asked him suddenly.

“No,” he lied. “Are you?”

“I will be soon.”

“Who to?”

“A man in Buffalo.”

“Are you stuck on him?”

“I don’t know. But he wants me and my father wants him to have me.”

“Will you live in Buffalo?”

“No. He’s coming here to be my father’s partner.”

“And yours.”

“Yes. Oh, dear! Here’s a Hundred and sixty-fourth and I mustn’t take you past it today, not in this weather. Do you think you can extricate yourself?”

He managed it with some difficulty.

“I don’t suppose I’ll see you again for two weeks.”

“I’m afraid not,” she said.

He choked down the words that wanted to come out. “Miss Dole,” he said, “take my advice and don’t try for no records getting home. Just loaf along and you’ll be there an hour before your supper’s ready. Will you? For that guy’s sake in Buffalo?”

“Yes.”

“And my sake, too.”

Gosh! What a smile to remember!

He must walk slow and give himself a chance to calm down before he saw Grace. Why had he told the girl he wasn’t married? What did she care?

Grace’s greeting was a sharp command. “Take a hot bath right away! And wear your bathrobe afterwards. We won’t be going anywhere tonight.”

She and Mary Arnold had been in Mount Vernon at a card-party. They had got soaked coming home. She talked about it all through supper, thank the Lord!

After supper he tried to read, but couldn’t. He listened awhile to the Ohman and Arden record which his wife couldn’t get enough of. He went to bed, wishing he could sleep and dream, wishing he could sleep two weeks.

He was up early, early enough to look at the paper before breakfast. “Woman Motorist Killed By Street-Car in Bronx.” His eyes felt funny as he read: “Miss Edith Dole, twenty-two, of Rye, was instantly killed when the automobile she was driving skidded and struck a street-car at the corner of Fordham Road and Webster Avenue, the Bronx, shortly after four-thirty yesterday afternoon.”

“Grace,” he said in a voice that was not his own, “I forgot. I’m supposed to be on the job at seven this morning. There’s some kind of a parade.”

Out of the house, alone, he talked aloud to himself for the first time since he was a kid.

“I can’t feel as bad as I think I do. I only seen her four or five times. I can’t really feel this bad.”

—

Well, on an afternoon two or three weeks later, a man named Hughes from White Plains, driving a Studebaker, started across Forty-sixth Street out of turn and obeyed a stern order to pull over to the curb.

“What’s your hurry?” demanded the grim-faced traffic policeman. “Where the hell do you think you’re going? What’s the matter with you, you so-and-so!”

“I forgot myself for a minute. I’m sorry,” said Mr. Hughes. “If you’ll overlook it, I’ll pick you up on my way home and take you to the Bronx – Remember, I give you a ride home last month? Remember? That is, it was a fella that looked like you. That is, he looked something like you. I can see now it wasn’t you. It was a different fella.”

• 25 •

Dinner

Harry Barton was thirty-three years old, unmarried and good-looking. Young matrons liked him as a filler-in at dinner parties, but he hated dinner parties unless they promised an evening of contract. So it was with a heavy heart that he heard Grace Halpern’s voice on the telephone.

“You’ve Just got to do this for me! I know you’ll hate it. There won’t be any bridge. But Frank backed out at the last minute and I can’t get anybody else. I honestly tried. I tried Bill; I even tried Lester Graham, but neither of them can come. And I must have two bachelors because there are going to be two girls from out of town, girls who were in my class in boarding school. They really are peaches and I can’t disappoint them. Please say—”

Harry was a bad liar and, besides, he liked Grace. He had had lots of good times at her house. He said yes and wished all the rest of the day that he hadn’t.

He arrived late at the Halperns’, too late to get half enough cocktails. He knew everybody there excepting the two peaches, a Miss Coakley and a Miss Rell. They were strikingly pretty. Miss Coakley a pony brunette and Miss Rell a rather tall, slender blonde. Harry thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

His hostess drew him aside before dinner was announced.

“I’m going to reward you for this. I’m going to let you sit between them at dinner. And remember, they’re both free.”

“What do you mean, free?”

“Not engaged or anything. And I think it’s about time you were settling down.”

The other bachelor, Dave Wallace, sat on Miss Coakley’s left, with Harry, as Grace had promised, between Miss Coakley and Miss Rell.

“Grace tells me you’re a great bridge player,” Miss Rell said.

“No, but I like—”

“Which do you consider the greatest authority, Lenz or Works or Whitehall? I don’t know anything about it myself, but I hear people arguing about it at home. I mean I live in Chicago. I belong to a bridge club there and I was just getting so the others didn’t laugh at me when somebody introduced this horrible contract and I simply gave up. That’s the game, you know, where you don’t bid anything but slams and I just haven’t the nerve. I mean in bridge. I don’t want you to think I’m a coward in everything.”

“I—”

“Because I’m not. I made a flight with Lindbergh in Washington. It was arranged through Congressman Burleigh. He’s a great friend of my father’s. You know, Burleigh the paint people in South Chicago. Oh, it was too thrilling for words! But I felt just as safe as if I’d been in a car, safer because once I was in a terrible smash-up out in Lake Forest and the doctor said I was lucky to escape without at least a few broken ribs.

“I was a little bit scared when we first started, but then I thought to myself this is the man who flew from Detroit to Paris and why should anybody be frightened just flying twenty minutes over Washington with him at the wheel. Have you ever been up?”

“Yes, I—”

“Then you don’t know what a real thrill is. Honestly, it just makes you gasp, like the first time you dive in Lake Michigan. I really dive and I swim awfully well and some of the men say I swim awfully well for a girl. There’s one man in Chicago. Like Roberts – he and his wife are our best friends, I mean my brother’s and mine – Lee calls me Gertrude Ederle; you know she’s the girl who swam across the English Channel and back.

“Of course he says it just joking because naturally I’m not in her class. She’s quite fat, isn’t she? Or haven’t you ever seen her? She looks fat in her pictures. But then you can’t always tell from pictures. There was a picture of me in the rotogravure section that made me look simply hideous.”

Mr. Halpern, on Miss Rell’s right, spoke to her and Harry found himself attacked by Miss Coakley.

“Mr. Burton, I was just telling Mr. Walters about— I don’t know whether you’d be interested or not— maybe you don’t— but still everybody I’ve told, they think— it’s probably—”

“I’m sure I’d like to hear it,” said Harry.

“I hate to bore people with— you know how it is— you’d be too polite to— and this is so awfully— well, it isn’t a thing that— it’s just interesting if you happen— people in Baltimore— though we’ve only lived there a few—”

“If,” said Harry to himself, “she doesn’t complete a sentence in the next two minutes, I’m going to ask Grace for a high-ball.”

“—it was some people who lived— well, our apartment was just two buildings— they were people you wouldn’t want— but it was in a kind of secluded— not many apartments— it’s a neighborhood that’s just— and my sister’s little boy goes to the same school as—”

“Grace,” said Harry, “am I an old enough customer here to ask for a drink?”

“Whatever you like,” said his hostess.

“I’d like a high-ball. I had a pretty tough day.”

Miss Rell turned on him.

“Oh, are you in the Street? That’s what they call Wall Street, isn’t it? I should think it would be just thrilling! But I suppose it is hard work, too. You stand there all day and shout at other men, don’t you, and they shout back at you? It must ruin your voice. Why, I know we went to the Illinois-Chicago game last fall and I got excited and yelled so for Illinois that I couldn’t talk for a week.”

“That must have—”

“Do you have football here in the East? Oh, certainly you do! I’d forgotten – Yale and Harvard. And which are the Giants? I never can keep them straight. My father and Lou – that’s my brother; we’re great pals – he and Father read the sporting page religiously every day. I tease them about it and they tease me about reading the society news and the movies. We have great tiffs over it, all in fun of course.

“Father is a great golfer, I mean really. He’s fifty-four years old and he plays the Onwentsia course in sixty, or maybe it’s a hundred and sixty. Which would be right? He wanted me to take it up and begged and begged till finally one day I went out and played nine holes with him.

“I made some wonderful shots, I mean I really did, and he said I had a perfect natural swing and if I would take lessons from the professor it wouldn’t be long before I could be playing in tournaments, just for women I mean. Wouldn’t that be exciting! But I just couldn’t do it; I’d die!

“And besides, it seems to me that girls who win things in sports are always queer looking, at least most of them, and what chance would – I mean it would be almost unheard of if— Well, I just don’t believe I could ever be a champion of anything. Do you play golf?”

“Yes.”

“You ought to try it. It’s lots of fun, especially for a man. I mean men seem to have such good times playing together, the nineteenth hole and all that. And I should think it would be such wonderful relaxation for you over the weekend after that Wall Street grind.”

“I’m not in Wall Street.”

“Oh, now I’ve got an expert here, I wish you’d tell me what are bulls and what are bears? Father’s tried to explain it to me, but I can’t get it straight.”

“Well, a bull is—”

“Have you ever been to bull-fights, I mean in Spain or Mexico? They say they are terribly thrilling, but terribly cruel. I mean about the horses. You know what they do, don’t you?”

“No. I never heard of them.”

“Well, they bring out three or four old horses into the ring and men with spears spear the bull and get him mad at the horses and he goes after them and kills them and the blood makes him mad at everybody and then the man comes out and kills him. They call them toreadors.”

“Who?”

“The man that fights the bull. Haven’t you ever heard ‘Carmen,’ I mean the opera? There’s a toreador in that. He sings a song; it goes, ‘Toreador, en garde.’ That’s the French. It’s a French opera. Carmen is the girl; she works in a cigaret factory. First she falls in love with a soldier and then this toreador wins her away from him, but the soldier kills himself and her.

“I haven’t heard it for years; I like to go to ones I haven’t heard so much. We’ve got a simply gorgeous opera company in Chicago. Everybody says it’s better than the Metropolitan. And Rosa Raisa is the greatest dramatic soprano I ever heard. She’s Ruffo’s wife. No, I guess she’s Rimini’s. Anyway, they’re both barytones.”

Again Mr. Halpern intervened and Harry took on Miss Coakley for another round.

“Mr. Walters and I were just— Don’t you like Nassau better than— I mean for climate— and the different colors of the water— and it’s ideal bathing, hardly any surf— of course lots of people prefer heavy surf— but for people like me who can’t— and I think the crowd that goes there— and the tennis. Then there’s that lovely garden, with the orchestra.

“Three of us girls— I think it was four winters— it was three winters ago. One night we went— it’s the Holy Rollers— honestly they do the craziest— a man told us they were just— but I couldn’t believe it, they were so— I think— Have you ever been there, Mr. Burton?”

“No.”

“We went by land to— and then from Miami— when you wake up— it’s the most beautiful— with the sun just rising over the islands— it’s simply heavenly— it’s just— Well, you have no idea!”

“Yes, I have,” said Harry to himself, and aloud: “Grace, I’d like a high-ball. I had a tough day.”

“The days are getting shorter,” said his hostess.

“I imagine every day must be pretty hard for you men in the Street,” said Miss Rell.

“I’m not in any street,” said Harry. “Not even a path.”

“I know how secretive you Wall Street men are,” said Miss Rell, “but I wonder if you would do me a favor. Just before I left home, I heard Father talking about some stock that I think he said he had a tip on – he’s got a lot of influential friends that tell him things like that, but of course nobody like you who is right in Wall Street. Now it would be perfectly wonderful if you would tell me whether this stock is any good or not and then when I go home, I can tell Father what you said and who you are and he’ll think his child isn’t so dumb after all. Will you?”

“What’s the stock?”

“Isn’t it marvelous that I remember the name of it? It’s General Motors.”

“General Motors! Well, listen, if you’ll keep this under your hat—”

“Oh, that reminds me, I saw your Mayor Jimmy Walker in the parade today and I told Grace I thought he was the only man in the world who could wear a high hat without looking silly. Do you know him? I’ll bet he’s fascinating to know. He’s cute! I wish we had a cute mayor. I suppose you New Yorkers must think our town is a regular wild West show. It really isn’t as bad as all that.

“Lou – that’s my brother – he said the funniest thing the night before I came away. No, it was Wednesday night he said it and I didn’t leave till Friday noon on the Century. What was I saying? Oh, yes. Father and Lou and I were waiting for dinner – you know we live on the North Side, just a block south of the park  – and anyway there were some noises out on the street that sounded just like pistol-shots and Father hurried to the window and looked out and announced that it was just back-fire from a truck.

“Then Lou said, ‘Well, I’m glad they’re beginning to defend themselves.’ He meant the trucks were firing back at whoever was shooting at them. Or would it be whomever? I never can get who and whom straight. But Lou is awfully witty; I mean he really is. He has had two or three things in ‘College Humor.’ What was your college?”

“The Electoral College.”

“Oh, you’re an engineer! And what are you doing on Wall Street? I suppose you gave up your profession ‘for gold.’ You ought to be ashamed of yourself! You might be accomplishing big things like building bridges. Which reminds me, do you play bridge?”

“Yes.”

“You ought to, honestly. I’m not very good, but it’s lots of fun. I belong to a club and we just have a circus. The other girls used to laugh at me, I was so dumb, but this last winter I got good; I mean really not bad at all. And then, just when I was doing so well, they decided to play this contract and I can’t get it at all. You don’t bid anything but slams and I just can’t do that. I simply haven’t the nerve.”

“Have you ever been up with Lindbergh?” asked Harry.

“Yes. I’m not joking. I really mean it. It was while he was in Washington. My father arranged it through Congressman Burleigh. That’s the Burleigh Paint Company in South Chicago. Mr. Burleigh is a congressman and one of Father’s closest friends. It was the most thrilling experience I ever had in my life. And I wasn’t frightened at all, only a little bit, like when you go in swimming and dive for the first time.”

“Can you dive?”

“You ought to see me! Honestly, not boasting, I’m a regular Gertrude Ederle; you know, the girl that swam across the English Channel so many times. I wouldn’t want to swim that Channel, though. It’s bad enough in a boat. I’m a pretty good sailor, but the last time my brother and I crossed from Calais to Dover, well, ‘it happens in the best of families,’ as Briggs says, or is it Mutt and Jeff?

“Do you read the funny pages? I suppose I oughtn’t to confess it, but I read them religiously. Father often jokes me about it and pretends the money he spent sending me to college was all wasted because all I got out of it was a taste for ‘the funnies.’ I answer him back by saying he went to college, too, and all he cares anything about now is golf. It’s all joking of course. Father and I are the best friends and chums! What was your college?”

“The War College.”

“Oh, West Point! I’d just love to go up there and watch them drill sometime! I’ve seen it across the river going by on the train and it looks lovely. And fall before last, Father and Lou and I went to the big football game between West Point and the Annapolis Navy. You know they had it in Chicago, at Soldiers’ Field, in Grant Park. It’s an enormous place and lots of people couldn’t see the game at all, but our seats were grand. Father got them through Congressman Burleigh.”

“Is that,” asked Harry, “the Burleigh who’s in the paint business in South Chicago?”

“Do you know him?”

“I bought a can of paint from him once when I was redecorating my garage.”

“Why, he’s one of Father’s best friends. He’s in Congress. How funny that you should really know him!”

“You can meet congressmen if you go at it the right way.”

Miss Coakley was talking.

“Oh, Mr. Buckley, will you— ? Mr. Walsh and I— Just what was it you said, Mr. — ?”

“I don’t remember saying anything,” replied Dave Wallace on her left.

“Why, you He did, too, Mr. He said the Mauretania was the— And I said the Paris or the Majestic, or the Berengaria— Now we want you to give us your honest—”

“I never crossed on anything but the Santa Maria,” said Harry.

“Oh, Italy, how I love it! I could simply— There’s no other country— it just seems as if If it weren’t for my sister in Baltimore— maybe some day— But a girl is foolish—”

“Grace,” said Harry, “how’s the Scotch holding out?”

“The whole week must have been tough,” said Grace.

“I don’t see how you men live through it,” said Miss Rell, “standing there on the floor of the Exchange all day, shouting at each other. Why, it simply kills me just to stand and wait five minutes in a shop! To have to do it all day, I’d perish! How do you endure it?”

“Well, you know those little stools that golf fans carry around with them. I never go on the floor without one,” said Harry.

“My father is the greatest golf fan in the world; I mean I really believe he is, without exception. He never plays less than four times a week and he’s a fine player, I mean for a man his age. He’s fifty-four years old and he goes around Onwentsia in a hundred and twenty. Can that be right?”

“Easily.”

Dinner was over and they went into the living-room. Harry and Dave Wallace were together a moment.

“I notice you didn’t talk much,” remarked Dave.

“But what I said made a big impression.”

“I’d have traded you Coakley for your dame. Your gal just goes along as if she were speaking into a mike, but Miss Coakley is a perpetual missing-word contest and it’s impossible to keep out of it – every little while you feel as if you just had to guess what’s left out.”

“She called me Burton and Buckley.”

“She called me everything from Welling to Wolheim.”

Harry tried to hide behind the piano, but Miss Rell soon found him.

“If we could get two more, don’t you think Grace would let us play bridge?”

“I don’t know the game,” said Harry.

“But I’d just love to teach you. I can teach you regular auction, but not this new contract, where you just bid and bid till you’re dizzy.”

“I haven’t any card sense and besides, I think that liquor Grace gave me was bad.”

“Oh, truly?”

“I’m going to ask her where she got it.”

“I know a man, or at least my father does, who gets the real thing straight from Canada. Only he’s out in Chicago.”

Harry peremptorily summoned Grace into the hall.

“Grace, that’s terrible Scotch you’ve got. It’s given me the first headache I’ve had in years.”

“I understand, and I’ll tell them you were sick and had to go home. You were a darling to come and I’ll never forget it.”

“Neither will I.”

At the door he said:

“Remember, old girl, I’ve left your schoolmates just as I found them. They’re still free.”

• 26 •

The Maysville Minstrel

Maysville was a town of five thousand inhabitants and its gas company served eight hundred homes, offices and stores. The company’s office force consisted of two men  – Ed Hunter, trouble shooter and reader of meters, and Stephen Gale, whose title was bookkeeper, but whose job was a lot harder than that sounds.

From the first to the tenth of the month, Stephen stayed in the office, accepted checks and money from the few thrifty customers who wanted their discount of five percent, soft-soaped and argued with the many customers who thought they were being robbed, and tried to sell new stoves, plates and lamps to customers who were constantly complaining of defects in the stoves, plates and lamps they had bought fifteen or twenty years ago.

After the tenth, he kept the front door locked and went all over town calling on delinquents, many of whom were a year or more behind and had no intention of trying to catch up. This tiring, futile task usually lasted until the twenty-seventh, when Hunter started reading meters and Stephen copied the readings and made out the bills.

On the twenty-ninth, Hunter usually got drunk and Stephen had to hustle out and read the unread meters and hustle back and make out the rest of the bills.

When Townsend, the Old Man, who owned the business and five other gas businesses in larger towns, paid his semi-monthly visit to Maysville, Stephen had to take a severe bawling out for failing to squeeze blood from Maysville’s turnips and allowing Hunter to get drunk.

All in all, Stephen earned the $22.50 per week which he had been getting the eight years he had worked for the gas company. He was now thirty-one. At twelve, he had been obliged to quit school and go to work as a Western Union messenger boy. His father was dead and his mother, who established herself, without much profit, as a dressmaker, easily could use the few dollars Stephen drew from the telegraph company. Later on he had jobs as driver of a grocery wagon, soda clerk in a drug store and freight wrestler at the Lackawanna depot. The $22.50 offer from the gas office was manna from somewhere; it topped his highest previous salary by seven dollars and a half.

The $22.50 offer from the gas office was manna from somewhere; it topped his highest previous salary by seven dollars and a half.

Stephen’s mother died and Stephen married Stella Nichols, to whom lack of money was no novelty. But they had a couple of children and soon fell into debt, which made Stephen less efficient than ever as a collector of the company’s back bills. He couldn’t blame other people for not settling when he was stalling off creditors himself.

All he could do was wish to heaven that the Old Man would come across with a substantial raise, and he knew there was as much chance of that as of Stella’s swimming the English Channel with a kid under each arm.

The Gales were too poor to go to picture shows; besides, there was no one to leave the children with. So Stephen and Stella stayed at home evenings and read books from the town library. The books Stephen read were books of poetry.

And often, after Stella had gone to bed, he wrote poetry of his own.

He wrote a poem to Stella and gave it to her on one of her birthdays and she said it was great and he ought to quit the darn old gas company and write poetry for a living.

He laughed that off, remarking that he was as poor now as he cared to be.

He didn’t show Stella his other poems – poems about Nature, flowers, the Lackawanna Railroad, the beauties of Maysville, et cetera – but kept them locked in a drawer of his desk at the gas office.

There was a man named Charley Roberts who traveled out of New York for an instantaneous water-heater concern. For years he had been trying to sell old Townsend, but old Townsend said the heater ate up too much gas and would make the customers squawk. They squawked enough as it was. Roberts was a determined young man and kept after Townsend in spite of the latter’s discouraging attitude.

Roberts was also a wise-cracking, kidding New Yorker, who, when at home, lunched where his heroes lunched, just to be near them, look at them and overhear some of their wise-cracks which he could repeat to his fellow drummers on the road. These heroes of his were comic-strip artists, playwrights and editors of humorous columns in the metropolitan press.

His favorite column was the one conducted by George Balch in the Standard and when he was in the small towns, he frequently clipped silly items from the local papers and sent them to George, who substituted his own captions for Charley’s and pasted them up.

Charley had a tip that Old Man Townsend would be in Maysville on a certain day, and as he was in the neighborhood, he took an interurban car thither and called at the gas office. Stephen had just got back from a fruitless tour among the deadheads and was in the shop, behind the office, telling Ed Hunter that Mrs. Harper’s pilot-light wouldn’t stay lighted.

Roberts, alone in the office, looked idly at Stephen’s desk and saw a book.

It was a volume of poems by Amy Lowell. A moment later Stephen reentered from the shop.

“Hello there, Gale,” said Roberts.

“How are you, Mr. Roberts?” said Stephen.

“I heard the Old Man was here,” said Roberts.

“You’ve missed him,” said Stephen. “He was here yesterday afternoon and left for Haines City last night.”

“Will he be here tomorrow?”

“I couldn’t tell you. He’s hard to keep track of.”

“He’s hard to sell, too. But I’ll run over there and take a chance. I notice you’ve been reading highbrow poetry.”

“I got this from the library.”

“How do you like it?”

“I’m not strong for poetry that don’t rhyme,” said Stephen.

“I guess it’s easier to write,” said Roberts.

“I don’t believe so. It isn’t much trouble rhyming if you’ve got it in you. Look at Edgar Guest.”

“How do you know he doesn’t have trouble?”

“His works don’t read like it,” said Stephen, and after a pause: “Besides, I’ve tried it myself.”

“Oh, so you’re a poet, are you?” asked Roberts.

“I wouldn’t exactly claim that, but I’ve written a few verses and it was more like fun than work. Maybe other people would think they were rotten, but I get pleasure writing them just the same.”

“I’d like to read them, Gale,” said Roberts eagerly.

“I don’t know if I’d like you to or not. And I don’t know if I’ve saved any. I wrote a poem to my wife on her birthday three years ago. She thought it was pretty good. I might let you read that, only I don’t know if I’ve got a copy of it around here.”

He knew very well he had a copy of it around there.

“See if you can find it,” said Roberts.

Stephen looked in two or three drawers before he unlocked the one that contained his manuscripts.

“It’s just a little thing I wrote for my wife on her birthday. You’ll probably think it’s rotten. It’s called ‘To Stella.’ That’s my wife’s first name.”

Charley Roberts read the poem:

Stella you today are twenty-three years old

And yet your hair is still pure gold.

Stella they tell me your name in Latin means a star

And to me that is what you are

With your eyes and your hair so yellow

I rate myself a lucky fellow Stella.

You know I cannot afford a costly gift

As you know it costs us all I make to live

And as you know we are already in debt,

But if you will stay well and healthy

Until I am rich and wealthy

Maybe I will be more able then to give you a present

Better than I can at present.

So now Stella good-by for the present

And I hope next year I can make things more pleasant.

May you live to be old and ripe and mellow

Is my kind birthday wish for you Stella.

“Do you mean to tell me,” said Roberts, “that it was no trouble to write that?”

“It only took me less than a half-hour,” said Stephen.

“Listen,” said Roberts. “Let me have it.”

“What do you want with it?”

“I can get it published for you.”

“Where at?”

“In the New York Standard. I’ve got a friend, George Balch, who would run it in his column. He doesn’t pay anything, but if this was printed and your name signed to it, it might attract attention from people who do pay for poetry. Then you could make a lot of money on the side.”

“How much do they pay?”

“Well, some of the big magazines pay as high as a dollar a line.”

“I forget how many lines there is in that.”

Roberts counted them.

“Seventeen,” he said. “And from what I’ve seen of old Townsend, I bet he doesn’t pay you much more a week.”

“And it only took me less than a half-hour to write,” said Stephen.

“Will you let me send it to Balch?”

“I don’t know if I’ve got another copy.”

“Your wife must have a copy.”

“I guess maybe she has.”

He wasn’t just guessing.

“I’ll mail this to Balch tonight, along with a note. If he prints it, I’ll send you the paper.”

“I’ve got one that’s even longer than that,” said Stephen.

“Well, let’s have it.”

“No, I guess I’d better hang onto it – if your friend don’t pay for them.”

“You’re absolutely right. A man’s a sucker to work for nothing. You keep your other stuff till this is published and you hear from some magazine editor, as I’m sure you will. Then you can sell what you’ve already written, and write more, till you’re making so much dough that you can buy the Maysville Gas Company from that old skinflint.”

“I don’t want any gas company. I want to get out of it. I just want to write.”

“Why shouldn’t you!”

“I’ve got to be sure of a living.”

“Living! If you can make seventeen dollars in half an hour, that’s thirty-four dollars an hour, or—— How many hours do you put in here?”

“Ten.”

“Three hundred and forty dollars a day! If that isn’t a living, I’m selling manicure sets to fish.”

“I couldn’t keep up no such pace. I have to wait for inspiration,” said Stephen.

“A dollar a line would be enough inspiration for me. But the times when you didn’t feel like doing it yourself, you could hire somebody to do it for you.”

“That wouldn’t be square, and people would know the difference anyway. It’s hard to imitate another man’s style. I tried once to write like Edgar Guest, but it wouldn’t have fooled people that was familiar with his works.”

“Nobody can write like Guest. And you don’t need to. Your own style is just as good as his and maybe better. And speaking of Guest, do you think he’s starving to death? He gives away dimes to the Fords.”

Stephen was wild to tell Stella what had happened, but he was afraid this Balch might not like the poem as well as Roberts had; might not think it worth publishing, and she would be disappointed.

He would wait until he actually had it in print, if ever, and then show it to her.

He didn’t have to wait long. In less than a week he received by mail from New York a copy of the Standard, and in George Balch’s column was his verse with his name signed to it and a caption reading “To Stella – A Maysville Minstrel Gives His Mrs. a Birthday Treat.”

For the first time in his career at the gas office, Stephen quit five minutes early and almost ran home. His wife was as excited as he had hoped she would be.

“But why does he call you a minstrel?” she asked. “He must have heard some way about that night at the Elks.”

Stephen told her the rest of the story – how Roberts had predicted that the poem would attract the attention of magazine editors and create a demand for his verses at a dollar a line. And he confessed that he had other poems all ready to send when the call came.

He had brought two of them home from the office and he read them aloud for her approval:

1. The Lackawanna Railroad.

“The Lackawanna Railroad where does it go?

It goes from Jersey City to Buffalo.

Some of the trains stop at Maysville but they are few

Most of them go right through

Except the 8:22

Going west but the 10:12 bound for Jersey City

That is the train we like the best

As it takes you to Jersey City

Where you can take a ferry or tube for New York City.

The Lackawanna runs many freights

Sometimes they run late

But that does not make so much difference with a freight

Except the people who have to wait for their freight.

Maysville people patronize the Interurban a specially the farmers

So the Interurban cuts into the business of the Lackawanna,

But if you are going to New York City or Buffalo

The Lackawanna is the way to go.

Will say in conclusion that we consider it an honor

That the City of Maysville is on the Lackawanna.

2. The Gas Business.

“The Maysville Gas Co. has eight hundred meters

The biggest consumer in town is Mrs. Arnold Peters

Who owns the big house on Taylor Hill

And is always giving parties come who will.

Our collections amount to about $2600.00 per month

Five per cent discount if paid before the tenth of the month.

Mr. Townsend the owner considers people a fool

Who do not at least use gas for fuel.

As for lighting he claims it beats electricity

As electric storms often cut off the electricity

And when you have no light at night

And have to burn candles all night.

This is hardly right

A specially if you have company

Who will ask you what is the matter with the electricity.

So patronize the Gas Company which storms do not effect

And your friends will have no reason to object.”

Stella raved over both the poems, but made a very practical suggestion.

“You are cheating yourself, dear,” she said. “The poem about the railroad, for instance, the way you have got it, it is nineteen lines, or nineteen dollars if they really pay a dollar a line. But it would be almost double the amount if you would fix the lines different.”

“How do you mean?”

She got a pencil and piece of paper and showed him:

The Lackawanna Railroad

Where does it go?

It goes from Jersey City

To Buffalo.

“You see,” she said, “you could cut most of the lines in half and make thirty-eight dollars instead of nineteen.”

But Stephen, with one eye on profit and the other on Art, could only increase the lines of “The Lackawanna” from nineteen to thirty and those of “The Gas Business” from seventeen to twenty-one.

Three days later a special delivery came for Stephen.

It said:

Dear Mr. Gale:

On September second there was a poem entitled “To Stella” in the New York Standard. The poem was signed by you. It impressed me greatly and if you have written or will write others as good, our magazine will be glad to buy them, paying you one dollar a line.

Please let me hear from you and send along any poems you may have on hand.

Sincerely,

Wallace James,
editor, “James’s Weekly,”
New York City.

Stephen had never heard of “James’s Weekly” and did not notice that the letter was postmarked Philadelphia and written on the stationery of a Philadelphia hotel.

He rushed to his house, addressed and mailed the railroad and gas verses, and after a brief and excited conference with Stella, decided to resign his job.

Old Man Townsend, dropping into Maysville the following morning, heard the decision and was not a bit pleased. He realized he never could get anyone else to do Stephen’s work at Stephen’s salary.

“I’ll raise you to twenty-four dollars,” he said.

“I’m not asking for a raise. I’ve got to quit so I can devote all my time to my poetry.”

“Your poetry!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you mean to say you’re going to write poetry for a living?” asked the Old Man.

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ll starve to death.”

“Edgar Guest is still alive.”

“I don’t care if he is or not,” said the Old Man. “It’s the twelfth of the month and Hunter can tend to his job and yours both for a couple of weeks. If you want to come back at the end of that time, I’ll raise you to twenty-three dollars.”

It was Stephen’s intention to polish up some of his older poems and write one or two fresh ones so his supply would be ready for “James’s” demand.

But he found it next to impossible to write while the fate of the two verses he had sent in was uncertain and, deciding to leave the old manuscripts as they were, he was able to make only a feeble start on a new one:

The Delaware River

Not a great many miles from Maysville is the Delaware River

But there is no fish in this part of the River.

The upper part of the River is narrow and shallow

But they claim it is much wider near Philadelphia.

On the twentieth the envelope containing “The Lackawanna Railroad” and “The Gas Business” was returned from New York. There were several inscriptions stamped and written on it, such as “Not Found” and “Not in Directory.”

And it dawned on Stephen that he was the victim of quite a joke.

To the accompaniment of Stella’s sobs, he proceeded to tear up all his manuscripts save “To Stella,” which she had hidden away where he couldn’t find it.

“Mr. Townsend came in on the eight-thirty interurban,” he said. “I’ll have to go see him.”

“All right,” said the Old Man when Stephen walked into the office. “I’ll take you back at your old salary, but don’t let’s have no more foolishness. Get out now and try and coax a little money out of that Harper woman. She ain’t paid a nickel for eight months.”

“I wanted to speak to you about those instantaneous water-heaters,” said Stephen.

“What about them?”

“I was going to advise you not to buy them. They eat up too much gas.”

“Thanks for your advice, but I ordered some from Roberts in Haines City. I told him to send half a dozen of them here,” said the Old Man.

“Will he be here to demonstrate them?” asked Stephen grimly.

“He said he would.”

“I hope he will.”

But even as he spoke, Stephen realized there was nothing he could do about it.

• 27 •

Ex Parte

Most always when a man leaves his wife, there’s no excuse in the world for him. She may have made whoop-whoop-whoopee with the whole ten commandments, but if he shows his disapproval to the extent of walking out on her, he will thereafter be a total stranger to all his friends excepting the two or three bums who will tour the night clubs with him so long as he sticks to his habits of paying for everything.

When a woman leaves her husband, she must have good and sufficient reasons. He drinks all the time, or he runs around, or he doesn’t give her any money, or he uses her as the heavy bag in his home gymnasium work. No more is he invited to his former playmates’ houses for dinner and bridge. He is an outcast just the same as if he had done the deserting. Whichever way it happens, it’s his fault. He can state his side of the case if he wants to, but there is nobody around listening.

Now I claim to have a little chivalry in me, as well as a little pride. So in spite of the fact that Florence had broadcast her grievances over the red and blue network both, I intend to keep mine to myself till death do me part.

But after I’m gone, I want some of my old pals to know that this thing wasn’t as lopsided as she has made out, so I will write the true story, put it in an envelope with my will and appoint Ed Osborne executor. He used to be my best friend and would be yet if his wife would let him. He’ll have to read all my papers, including this, and he’ll tell everybody else about it and maybe they’ll be a little sorry that they treated me like an open manhole. (Ed, please don’t consider this an attempt to be literary. You know I haven’t written for publication since our days on “The Crimson and White,” and I wasn’t so hot then. Just look on it as a statement of facts. If I were still alive, I’d take a bible oath that nothing herein is exaggerated. And whatever else may have been my imperfections, I never lied save to shield a woman or myself.)

Well, a year ago last May I had to go to New York. I called up Joe Paxton and he asked me out to dinner. I went, and met Florence. She and Marjorie Paxton had been at school together and she was there for a visit. We fell in love with each other and got engaged. I stopped off in Chicago on the way home, to see her people. They liked me all right, but they hated to have Florence marry a man who lived so far away. They wanted to postpone her leaving home as long as possible and they made us wait till April this year.

I had a room at the Belden and Florence and I agreed that when we were married, we would stay there awhile and take our time about picking out a house. But the last day of March, two weeks before the date of our wedding, I ran into Jeff Cooper and he told me his news, that the Standard Oil was sending him to China in some big job that looked permanent.

“I’m perfectly willing to go,” he said. “So is Bess. It’s a lot more money and we think it will be an interesting experience. But here I am with a brand-new place on my hands that cost me $45,000, including the furniture, and no chance to sell it in a hurry except at a loss. We were just beginning to feel settled. Otherwise we would have no regrets about leaving this town. Bess hasn’t any real friends here and you’re the only one I can claim.”

“How much would you take for your house, furniture and all?” I asked him.

“I’d take a loss of $5,000,” he said. “I’d take $40,000 with the buyer assuming my mortgage of $15,000, held by the Phillips Trust and Mortgage Company in Seattle.”

I asked him if he would show me the place. They had only been living there a month and I hadn’t had time to call. He said, what did I want to look at it for and I told him I would buy it if it looked O.K. Then I confessed that I was going to be married; you know I had kept it a secret around here.

Well, he took me home with him and he and Bess showed me everything, all new and shiny and a bargain if you ever saw one. In the first place, there’s the location, on the best residential street in town, handy to my office and yet with a whole acre of ground, and a bed of cannas coming up in the front yard that Bess had planted when they bought the property last fall. As for the house, I always liked stucco, and this one is built! You could depend on old Jeff to see to that.

But the furniture was what decided me. Jeff had done the smart thing and ordered the whole works from Wolfe Brothers, taking their advice on most of the stuff, as neither he nor Bess knew much about it. Their total bill, furnishing the entire place, rugs, beds, tables, chairs, everything, was only $8,500, including a mahogany upright player-piano that they ordered from Seattle. I had my mother’s old mahogany piano in storage and I kind of hoped Jeff wouldn’t want me to buy this, but it was all or nothing, and with a bargain like that staring me in the face, I didn’t stop to argue, not when I looked over the rest of the furniture and saw what I was getting.”

The living-room had, and still has, three big easy chairs and a couch, all over-stuffed, as they call it, to say nothing of an Oriental rug that alone had cost $500. There was a long mahogany table behind the couch, with lamps at both ends in case you wanted to lie down and read. The dining-room set was solid mahogany – a table and eight chairs that had separated Jeff from $1,000.

The floors downstairs were all oak parquet. Also he had blown himself to an oak mantelpiece and oak woodwork that must have run into heavy dough. Jeff told me what it cost him extra, but I don’t recall the amount.

The Coopers were strong for mahogany and wanted another set for their bedroom, but Jake Wolfe told them it would get monotonous if there was too much of it. So he sold them five pieces – a bed, two chairs, a chiffonier and a dresser – of some kind of wood tinted green, with flowers painted on it. This was $1,000 more, but it certainly was worth it. You never saw anything prettier than that bed when the lace spreads were on.

Well, we closed the deal and at first I thought I wouldn’t tell Florence, but would let her believe we were going to live at the Belden and then give her a surprise by taking her right from the train to our own home. When I got to Chicago, though, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I gave it away and it was I, not she, that had the surprise.

Instead of acting tickled to death, as I figured she would, she just looked kind of funny and said she hoped I had as good taste in houses as I had in clothes. She tried to make me describe the house and the furniture to her, but I wouldn’t do it. To appreciate a layout like that, you have to see it for yourself.

We were married and stopped in Yellowstone for a week on our way here. That was the only really happy week we had together. From the minute we arrived home till she left for good, she was a different woman than the one I thought I knew. She never smiled and several times I caught her crying. She wouldn’t tell me what ailed her and when I asked if she was just homesick, she said no and choked up and cried some more.

You can imagine that things were not as I expected they would be. In New York and in Chicago and Yellowstone, she had had more life than any girl I ever met. Now she acted all the while as if she were playing the title rôle at a funeral.

One night late in May the telephone rang. It was Mrs. Dwan and she wanted Florence. If I had known what this was going to mean, I would have slapped the receiver back on the hook and let her keep on wanting.

I had met Dwan a couple of times and had heard about their place out on the Turnpike. But I had never seen it or his wife either.

Well, it developed that Mildred Dwan had gone to school with Florence and Marjorie Paxton, and she had just learned from Marjorie that Florence was my wife and living here. She said she and her husband would be in town and call on us the next Sunday afternoon.

Florence didn’t seem to like the idea and kind of discouraged it. She said we would drive out and call on them instead. Mrs. Dwan said no, that Florence was the newcomer and it was her (Mrs. Dwan’s) first move. So Florence gave in.

They came and they hadn’t been in the house more than a minute when Florence began to cry. Mrs. Dwan cried, too, and Dwan and I stood there first on one foot and then the other, trying to pretend we didn’t know the girls were crying. Finally, to relieve the tension, I invited him to come and see the rest of the place. I showed him all over and he was quite enthusiastic. When we returned to the living-room, the girls had dried their eyes and were back in school together.

Florence accepted an invitation for one-o’clock dinner a week from that day. I told her, after they had left, that I would go along only on condition that she and our hostess would both control their tear-ducts. I was so accustomed to solo sobbing that I didn’t mind it any more, but I couldn’t stand a duet of it either in harmony or unison.

Well, when we got out there and had driven down their private lane through the trees and caught a glimpse of their house, which people around town had been talking about as something wonderful, I laughed harder than any time since I was single. It looked just like what it was, a reorganized barn. Florence asked me what was funny, and when I told her, she pulled even a longer face than usual.

“I think it’s beautiful,” she said.

Tie that!

I insisted on her going up the steps alone. I was afraid if the two of us stood on the porch at once, we’d fall through and maybe founder before help came. I warned her not to smack the knocker too hard or the door might crash in and frighten the horses.

“If you make jokes like that in front of the Dwans,” she said, “I’ll never speak to you again.

“I’d forgotten you ever did,” said I.

I was expecting a hostler to let us in, but Mrs. Dwan came in person.

“Are we late?” said Florence.

“A little,” said Mrs. Dwan, “but so is dinner. Helga didn’t get home from church till half past twelve.”

“I’m glad of it,” said Florence. “I want you to take me all through this beautiful, beautiful house right this minute.”

Mrs. Dwan called her husband and insisted that he stop in the middle of mixing a cocktail so he could join us in a tour of the beautiful, beautiful house.

“You wouldn’t guess it,” said Mrs. Dwan, “but it used to be a barn.”

I was going to say I had guessed it. Florence gave me a look that changed my mind.

“When Jim and I first came here,” said Mrs. Dwan, “we lived in an ugly little rented house on Oliver Street. It was only temporary, of course; we were just waiting till we found what we really wanted. We used to drive around the country Saturday afternoons and Sundays, hoping we would run across the right sort of thing. It was in the late fall when we first saw this place. The leaves were off the trees and it was visible from the Turnpike.

“‘Oh, Jim!’ I exclaimed. ‘Look at that simply gorgeous old barn! With those wide shingles! And I’ll bet you it’s got hand-hewn beams in that middle, main section.’ Jim bet me I was wrong, so we left the car, walked up the driveway, found the door open and came brazenly in. I won my bet as you can see.”

She pointed to some dirty old rotten beams that ran across the living-room ceiling and looked as if five or six generations of rats had used them for gnawing practice.

“They’re beautiful!” said Florence.

“The instant I saw them,” said Mrs. Dwan, “I knew this was going to be our home!”

“I can imagine!” said Florence.

“We made inquiries and learned that the place belonged to a family named Taylor,” said Mrs. Dwan. “The house had burned down and they had moved away. It was suspected that they had started the fire themselves, as they were terribly hard up and it was insured. Jim wrote to old Mr. Taylor in Seattle and asked him to set a price on the barn and the land, which is about four acres. They exchanged several letters and finally Mr. Taylor accepted Jim’s offer. We got it for a song.”

“Wonderful!” said Florence.

“And then, of course,” Mrs. Dwan continued, “we engaged a house-wrecking company to tear down the other four sections of the barn – the stalls, the cow-shed, the tool-shed, and so forth – and take them away, leaving us just this one room. We had a man from Seattle come and put in these old pine walls and the flooring, and plaster the ceiling. He was recommended by a friend of Jim’s and he certainly knew his business.”

“I can see he did,” said Florence.

“He made the hay-loft over for us, too, and we got the wings built by day-labor, with Jim and me supervising. It was so much fun that I was honestly sorry when it was finished.”

“I can imagine!” said Florence.

Well, I am not very well up in Early American, which was the name they had for pretty nearly everything in the place, but for the benefit of those who are not on terms with the Dwans I will try and describe from memory the objets d’art they bragged of the most and which brought forth the loudest squeals from Florence.

The living-room walls were brown bare boards without a picture or scrap of wallpaper. On the floor were two or three “hooked rugs,” whatever that means, but they needed five or six more of them, or one big carpet, to cover up all the knots in the wood. There was a maple “low-boy”; a “dough-trough” table they didn’t have space for in the kitchen; a pine “stretcher” table with sticks connecting the four legs near the bottom so you couldn’t put your feet anywhere; a “Dutch” chest that looked as if it had been ordered from the undertaker by one of Singer’s Midgets, but he got well; and some “Windsor” chairs in which the only position you could get comfortable was to stand up behind them and lean your elbows on their back – Not one piece that matched another, and not one piece of mahogany anywhere. And the ceiling, between the beams, had apparently been plastered by a workman who was that way, too.

“Some day soon I hope to have a piano,” said Mrs. Dwan. “I can’t live much longer without one. But so far I haven’t been able to find one that would fit in.”

“Listen,” I said. “I’ve got a piano in storage that belonged to my mother. It’s a mahogany upright and not so big that it wouldn’t fit in this room, especially when you get that ‘trough’ table out. It isn’t doing me any good and I’ll sell it to you for $250. Mother paid $1,250 for it new.”

“Oh, I couldn’t think of taking it!” said Mrs. Dwan.

“I’ll make it $200 even just because you’re a friend of Florence’s,” I said.

“Really, I couldn’t!” said Mrs. Dwan.

“You wouldn’t have to pay for it all at once,” I said.

“Don’t you see,” said Florence, “that a mahogany upright piano would be a perfect horror in here? Mildred wouldn’t have it as a gift, let alone buy it. It isn’t in the period.”

“She could get it tuned,” I said.

The answer to this was, “I’ll show you the upstairs now and we can look at the dining-room later on.”

We were led to the guest-chamber. The bed was a maple four-poster, with pineapple posts, and a “tester” running from pillar to post. You would think a “tester” might be a man that went around trying out beds, but it’s really a kind of frame that holds a canopy over the bed in case it rains and the roof leaks. There was a quilt made by Mrs. Dwan’s great-grandmother, Mrs. Anthony Adams, in 1859, at Lowell, Mass. How is that for a memory?

“This used to be the hay-loft,” said Mrs. Dwan.

“You ought to have left some of the hay so the guests could hit it,” I said.

The dressers, chests of drawers, and the chairs were all made of maple. And the same in the Dwans’ own room; everything maple.

“If you had maple in one room and mahogany in the other,” I said, “people wouldn’t get confused when you told them that so and so was up in Maple’s room.”

Dwan laughed, but the women didn’t.

The maid hollered up that dinner was ready.

“The cocktails aren’t ready,” said Dwan.

“You will have to go without them,” said Mrs. Dwan. “The soup will be cold.”

This put me in a great mood to admire the “sawbuck” table and the “slatback” chairs, which were evidently the chef-d’ceuvre and the pièce de résistance of the chez Dwan.

“It came all the way from Pennsylvania,” said Mildred, when Florence’s outcries, brought on by her first look at the table, had died down. “Mother picked it up at a little place near Stroudsburg and sent it to me. It only cost $550, and the chairs were $45 apiece.”

“How reasonable!” exclaimed Florence.

That was before she had sat in one of them. Only one thing was more unreasonable than the chairs, and that was the table itself, consisting of big planks nailed together and laid onto a railroad tie, supported underneath by a whole forest of cross-pieces and beams. The surface was as smooth on top as the trip to Catalina Island and all around the edges, great big divots had been taken out with some blunt instrument, probably a bayonet. There were stains and scorch marks that Florence fairly crowed over, but when I tried to add to the general ensemble by laying a lighted cigarette right down beside my soup-plate, she and both the Dwans yelled murder and made me take it off.

They planted me in an end seat, a location just right for a man who had stretched himself across a railway track and had both legs cut off at the abdomen. Not being that kind of man, I had to sit so far back that very few of my comestibles carried more than half-way to their target.

After dinner I was all ready to go home and get something to eat, but it had been darkening up outdoors for half an hour and now such a storm broke that I knew it was useless trying to persuade Florence to make a start.

“We’ll play some bridge,” said Dwan, and to my surprise he produced a card-table that was nowhere near “in the period.”

At my house there was a big center chandelier that lighted up a bridge game no matter in what part of the room the table was put. But here we had to waste forty minutes moving lamps and wires and stands and when they were all fixed, you could tell a red suit from a black suit, but not a spade from a club. Aside from that and the granite-bottomed “Windsor” chairs and the fact that we played “families” for a cent a point and Florence and I won $12 and didn’t get paid, it was one of the pleasantest afternoons I ever spent gambling.

The rain stopped at five o’clock and we splashed through the puddles of Dwan’s driveway, I remarked to Florence that I had never known she was such a kidder.

“What do you mean?” she asked me.

“Why, your pretending to admire all that junk,” I said.

“Junk!” said Florence. “That is one of the most beautifully furnished homes I have ever seen!”

And so far as I can recall, that was her last utterance in my presence for six nights and five days.

At lunch on Saturday I said: “You know I like the silent drama one evening a week, but not twenty-four hours a day every day. What’s the matter with you? If it’s laryngitis, you might write me notes.”

“I’ll tell you what’s the matter!” she burst out. “I hate this house and everything in it! It’s too new! Everything shines! I loathe new things! I want a home like Mildred’s, with things in it that I can look at without blushing for shame. I can’t invite anyone here. It’s too hideous. And I’ll never be happy here a single minute as long as I live!”

Well, I don’t mind telling that this kind of got under my skin. As if I hadn’t intended to give her a pleasant surprise! As if Wolfe Brothers, in business thirty years, didn’t know how to furnish a home complete! I was pretty badly hurt, but I choked it down and said, as calmly as I could:

“If you’ll be a little patient, I’ll try to sell this house and its contents for what I paid for it and them. It oughtn’t to be much trouble; there are plenty of people around who know a bargain. But it’s too bad you didn’t confess your barn complex to me long ago. Only last February, old Ken Garrett had to sell his establishment and the men who bought it turned it into a garage. It was a livery-stable which I could have got for the introduction of a song, or maybe just the vamp. And we wouldn’t have had to spend a nickel to make it as nice and comfortable and homey as your friend Mildred’s dump.”

Florence was on her way upstairs before I had finished my speech.

I went down to Earl Benham’s to see if my new suit was ready. It was and I put it on and left the old one to be cleaned and pressed.

On the street I met Harry Cross.

“Come up to my office,” he said. “There’s something in my desk that may interest you.”

I accepted his invitation and from three different drawers he pulled out three different quart bottles of Early American rye.

Just before six o’clock I dropped in Kane’s store and bought myself a pair of shears, a blow torch and an ax. I started home, but stopped among the trees inside my front gate and cut big holes in my coat and trousers. Alongside the path to the house was a sizable mud puddle. I waded in it. And I bathed my gray felt hat.

Florence was sitting on the floor of the living-room, reading. She seemed a little upset by my appearance.

“Good heavens! What’s happened?”

“Nothing much,” said I. “I just didn’t want to look too new.”

“What are those things you’re carrying?”

“Just a pair of shears, a blow torch and an ax. I’m going to try and antique this place and I think I’ll begin on the dining-room table.”

Florence went into her scream, dashed upstairs and locked herself in. I went about my work and had the dinner-table looking pretty Early when the maid smelled fire and rushed in. She rushed out again and came back with a pitcher of water. But using my vest as a snuffer, I had had the flames under control all the while and there was nothing for her to do.

“I’ll just nick it up a little with this ax,” I told her, “and by the time I’m through, dinner ought to be ready.”

“It will never be ready as far as I’m concerned,” she said. “I’m leaving just as soon as I can pack.”

And Florence had the same idea – vindicating the old adage about great minds.

I heard the front door slam and the back door slam, and I felt kind of tired and sleepy, so I knocked off work and went up to bed.

That’s my side of the story, Eddie, and it’s true so help me my bootlegger. Which reminds me that the man who sold Harry the rye makes this town once a week, or did when this was written. He’s at the Belden every Tuesday from nine to six and his name is Mike Farrell.

• 28 •

Old Folks’ Christmas

Tom and Grace Carter sat in their living-room on Christmas Eve, sometimes talking, sometimes pretending to read and all the time thinking things they didn’t want to think. Their two children, Junior, aged nineteen, and Grace, two years younger, had come home that day from their schools for the Christmas vacation. Junior was in his first year at the university and Grace attending a boarding-school that would fit her for college.

I won’t call them Grace and Junior any more, though that is the way they had been christened. Junior had changed his name to Ted and Grace was now Caroline, and thus they insisted on being addressed, even by their parents. This was one of the things Tom and Grace the elder were thinking of as they sat in their living-room Christmas Eve.

Other university freshmen who had lived here had returned on the twenty-first, the day when the vacation was supposed to begin. Ted had telegraphed that he would be three days late owing to a special examination which, if he passed it, would lighten the terrific burden of the next term. He had arrived at home looking so pale, heavy-eyed and shaky that his mother doubted the wisdom of the concentrated mental effort, while his father secretly hoped the stuff had been non-poisonous and would not have lasting effects. Caroline, too, had been behind schedule, explaining that her laundry had gone astray and she had not dared trust others to trace it for her.

Grace and Tom had attempted, with fair success, to conceal their disappointment over this delayed home-coming and had continued with their preparations for a Christmas that would thrill their children and consequently themselves. They had bought an imposing lot of presents, costing twice or three times as much as had been Tom’s father’s annual income when Tom was Ted’s age, or Tom’s own income a year ago, before General Motors’ acceptance of his new weather-proof paint had enabled him to buy this suburban home and luxuries such as his own parents and Grace’s had never dreamed of, and to give Ted and Caroline advantages that he and Grace had perforce gone without.

Behind the closed door of the music-room was the elaborately decked tree. The piano and piano bench and the floor around the tree were covered with beribboned packages of all sizes, shapes and weights, one of them addressed to Tom, another to Grace, a few to the servants and the rest to Ted and Caroline. A huge box contained a sealskin coat for Caroline, a coat that had cost as much as the Carters had formerly paid a year for rent. Even more expensive was a “set” of jewelry consisting of an opal brooch, a bracelet of opals and gold filigree, and an opal ring surrounded by diamonds.

Grace always had preferred opals to any other stone, but now that she could afford them, some inhibition prevented her from buying them for herself; she could enjoy them much more adorning her pretty daughter. There were boxes of silk stockings, lingerie, gloves and handkerchiefs. And for Ted, a three-hundred-dollar watch, a deluxe edition of Balzac, an expensive bag of shiny, new steel-shafted golf-clubs and the last word in portable phonographs.

But the big surprise for the boy was locked in the garage, a black Gorham sedan, a model more up to date and better-looking than Tom’s own year-old car that stood beside it. Ted could use it during the vacation if the mild weather continued and could look forward to driving it around home next spring and summer, there being a rule at the university forbidding undergraduates the possession or use of private automobiles.

Every year for sixteen years, since Ted was three and Caroline one, it had been the Christmas Eve custom of the Carters’ to hang up their children’s stockings and fill them with inexpensive toys. Tom and Grace had thought it would be fun to continue the custom this year; the contents of the stockings – a mechanical negro dancing doll, music-boxes, a kitten that meowed when you pressed a spot on her back, et cetera – would make the “kids” laugh. And one of Grace’s first pronouncements to her returned offspring was that they must go to bed early so Santa Claus would not be frightened away.

But it seemed they couldn’t promise to make it so terribly early. They both had long-standing dates in town. Caroline was going to dinner and a play with Beatrice Murdock and Beatrice’s nineteen-year-old brother Paul. The latter would call for her in his car at half past six. Ted had accepted an invitation to see the hockey match with two classmates, Herb Castle and Bernard King. He wanted to take his father’s Gorham, but Tom told him untruthfully that the foot-brake was not working; Ted must be kept out of the garage till tomorrow morning.

Ted and Caroline had taken naps in the afternoon and gone off together in Paul Murdock’s stylish roadster, giving their word that they would be back by midnight or a little later and that tomorrow night they would stay home.

And now their mother and father were sitting up for them, because the stockings could not be filled and hung till they were safely in bed, and also because trying to go to sleep is a painful and hopeless business when you are kind of jumpy.

“What time is it?” asked Grace, looking up from the third page of a book that she had begun to “read” soon after dinner.

“Half past two,” said her husband. (He had answered the same question every fifteen or twenty minutes since midnight.)

“You don’t suppose anything could have happened?” said Grace.

“We’d have heard if there had,” said Tom.

“It isn’t likely, of course,” said Grace, “but they might have had an accident some place where nobody was there to report it or telephone or anything. We don’t know what kind of a driver the Murdock boy is.”

“He’s Ted’s age. Boys that age may be inclined to drive too fast, but they drive pretty well.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, I’ve watched some of them drive.”

“Yes, but not all of them.”

“I doubt whether anybody in the world has seen every nineteen-year-old boy drive.”

“Boys these days seem so kind of irresponsible.”

“Oh, don’t worry! They probably met some of their young friends and stopped for a bite to eat or something.” Tom got up and walked to the window with studied carelessness. “It’s a pretty night,” he said. “You can see every star in the sky.”

But he wasn’t looking at the stars. He was looking down the road for headlights. There were none in sight and after a few moments he returned to his chair.

“What time is it?” asked Grace.

“Twenty-two of,” he said.

“Of what?”

“Of three.”

“Your watch must have stopped. Nearly an hour ago you told me it was half past two.”

“My watch is all right. You probably dozed off.”

“I haven’t closed my eyes.”

“Well, it’s time you did. Why don’t you go to bed?”

“Why don’t you?”

“I’m not sleepy.”

“Neither am I. But honestly, Tom, it’s silly for you to stay up. I’m just doing it so I can fix the stockings, and because I feel so wakeful. But there’s no use of your losing your sleep.”

“I couldn’t sleep a wink till they’re home.”

“That’s foolishness! There’s nothing to worry about. They’re just having a good time. You were young once yourself.”

“That’s just it! When I was young, I was young.” He picked up his paper and tried to get interested in the shipping news,

“What time is it?” asked Grace.

“Five minutes of three.”

“Maybe they’re staying at the Murdocks’ all night”

“They’d have let us know.”

“They were afraid to wake us up, telephoning.”

At three-twenty a car stopped at the front gate.

“There they are!”

“I told you there was nothing to worry about.”

Tom went to the window. He could just discern the outlines of the Murdock boy’s roadster, whose lighting system seemed to have broken down.

“He hasn’t any lights,” said Tom. “Maybe I’d better go out and see if I can fix them.”

“No, don’t!” said Grace sharply. “He can fix them himself. He’s just saving them while he stands still.”

“Why don’t they come in?”

“They’re probably making plans.”

“They can make them in here. I’ll go out and tell them we’re still up.”

“No, don’t!” said Grace as before, and Tom obediently remained at the window.

It was nearly four when the car lights flashed on and the car drove away. Caroline walked into the house and stared dazedly at her parents.

“Heavens! What are you doing up?”

Tom was about to say something, but Grace forestalled him.

“We were talking over old Christmases,” she said. “Is it very late?”

“I haven’t any idea,” said Caroline.

“Where is Ted?”

“Isn’t he home? I haven’t seen him since we dropped him at the hockey place.”

“Well, you go right to bed,” said her mother. “You must be worn out.”

“I am, kind of. We danced after the play. What time is breakfast?”

“Eight o’clock.”

“Oh, Mother, can’t you make it nine?”

“I guess so. You used to want to get up early on Christmas.”

“I know, but—”

“Who brought you home?” asked Tom.

“Why, Paul Murdock – and Beatrice.”

“You look rumpled.”

“They made me sit in the ‘rumple’ seat.”

She laughed at her joke, said good night and went upstairs. She had not come even within hand-shaking distance of her father and mother.

“The Murdocks,” said Tom, “must have great manners, making their guest ride in that uncomfortable seat.”

Grace was silent.

“You go to bed, too,” said Tom. “I’ll wait for Ted.”

“You couldn’t fix the stockings.”

“I won’t try. We’ll have time for that in the morning; I mean, later in the morning.”

“I’m not going to bed till you do,” said Grace.

“All right, we’ll both go. Ted ought not to be long now. I suppose his friends will bring him home. We’ll hear him when he comes in.”

There was no chance not to hear him when, at ten minutes before six, he came in. He had done his Christmas shopping late and brought home a package.

Grace was downstairs again at half past seven, telling the servants breakfast would be postponed till nine. She nailed the stockings beside the fireplace, went into the music-room to see that nothing had been disturbed and removed Ted’s hat and overcoat from where he had carefully hung them on the hall floor.

Tom appeared a little before nine and suggested that the children ought to be awakened.

“I’ll wake them,” said Grace, and went upstairs. She opened Ted’s door, looked, and softly closed it again. She entered her daughter’s room and found Caroline semiconscious.

“Do I have to get up now? Honestly I can’t eat anything. If you could just have Molla bring me some coffee. Ted and I are both invited to the Murdocks’ for breakfast at half past twelve, and I could sleep for another hour or two.”

“But dearie, don’t you know we have Christmas dinner at one?”

“It’s a shame, Mother, but I thought of course our dinner would be at night.”

“Don’t you want to see your presents?”

“Certainly I do, but can’t they wait?”

Grace was about to go to the kitchen to tell the cook that dinner would be at seven instead of one, but she remembered having promised Signe the afternoon and evening off, as a cold, light supper would be all anyone wanted after the heavy midday meal.

Tom and Grace breakfasted alone and once more sat in the living-room, talking, thinking and pretending to read.

“You ought to speak to Caroline,” said Tom.

“I will, but not today. It’s Christmas.”

“And I intend to say a few words to Ted.”

“Yes, dear, you must. But not today.”

“I suppose they’ll be out again tonight.”

“No, they promised to stay home. We’ll have a nice cozy evening.”

“Don’t bet too much on that,” said Tom.

At noon the “children” made their entrance and responded to their parents’ salutations with almost the proper warmth. Ted declined a cup of coffee and he and Caroline apologized for making a “breakfast” date at the Murdocks’.

“Sis and I both thought you’d be having dinner at seven, as usual.”

“We’ve always had it at one o’clock on Christmas,” said Tom.

“I’d forgotten it was Christmas,” said Ted.

“Well, those stockings ought to remind you.”

Ted and Caroline looked at the bulging stockings.

“Isn’t there a tree?” asked Caroline.

“Of course,” said her mother. “But the stockings come first.”

“We’ve only a little time,” said Caroline. “We’ll be terribly late as it is. So can’t we see the tree now?”

“I guess so,” said Grace, and led the way into the music-room.

The servants were summoned and the tree stared at and admired.

“You must open your presents,” said Grace to her daughter.

“I can’t open them all now,” said Caroline. “Tell me which is special.”

The cover was removed from the huge box and Grace held up the coat.

“Oh, Mother!” said Caroline. “A sealskin coat!”

“Put it on,” said her father.

“Not now. We haven’t time.”

“Then look at this!” said Grace, and opened the case of jewels.

“Oh, Mother! Opals!” said Caroline.

“They’re my favorite stone,” said Grace quietly.

“If nobody minds,” said Ted, “I’ll postpone my personal investigation till we get back. I know I’ll like everything you’ve given me. But if we have no car in working order, I’ve got to call a taxi and catch a train.”

“You can drive in,” said his father.

“Did you fix the brake?”

“I think it’s all right. Come up to the garage and we’ll see.”

Ted got his hat and coat and kissed his mother good-by.

“Mother,” he said, “I know you’ll forgive me for not having any presents for you and Dad. I was so rushed the last three days at school. And I thought I’d have time to shop a little when we got in yesterday, but I was in too much of a hurry to be home. Last night, everything was closed.”

“Don’t worry,” said Grace. “Christmas is for young people. Dad and I have everything we want.”

The servants had found their gifts and disappeared, expressing effusive Scandinavian thanks.

Caroline and her mother were left alone.

“Mother, where did the coat come from?”

“Lloyd and Henry’s.”

“They keep all kinds of furs, don’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Would you mind horribly if I exchanged this?”

“Certainly not, dear. You pick out anything you like, and if it’s a little more expensive, it won’t make any difference. We can go in town tomorrow or next day. But don’t you want to wear your opals to the Murdocks’?”

“I don’t believe so. They might get lost or something. And I’m not – well, I’m not so crazy about—”

“I think they can be exchanged, too,” said Grace. “You run along now and get ready to start.”

Caroline obeyed with alacrity, and Grace spent a welcome moment by herself.

Tom opened the garage door.

“Why, you’ve got two cars!” said Ted.

“The new one isn’t mine,” said Tom.

“Whose is it?”

“Yours. It’s the new model.”

“Dad, that’s wonderfull But it looks just like the old one.”

“Well, the old one’s pretty good. Just the same, yours is better. You’ll find that out when you drive it. Hop in and get started. I had her filled with gas.”

“I think I’d rather drive the old one.”

“Why?”

“Well, what I really wanted, Dad, was a Barnes sport roadster, something like Paul Murdock’s, only a different color scheme. And if I don’t drive this Gorham at all, maybe you could get them to take it back or make some kind of a deal with the Barnes people.”

Tom didn’t speak till he was sure of his voice. Then: “All right, son. Take my car and I’ll see what can be done about yours.”

Caroline, waiting for Ted, remembered something and called to her mother. “Here’s what I got for you and Dad,” she said. “It’s two tickets to ‘Jolly Jane,’ the play I saw last night. You’ll love it!”

“When are they for?” asked Grace.

“Tonight,” said Caroline.

“But dearie,” said her mother, “we don’t want to go out tonight, when you promised to stay home.”

“We’ll keep our promise,” said Caroline, “but the Murdocks may drop in and bring some friends and we’ll dance and there’ll be music. And Ted and I both thought you’d rather be away somewhere so our noise wouldn’t disturb you.”

“It was sweet of you to do this,” said her mother, “but your father and I don’t mind noise as long as you’re enjoying yourselves.”

“It’s time anyway that you and Dad had a treat.”

“The real treat,” said Grace, “would be to spend a quiet evening here with just you two.”

“The Murdocks practically invited themselves and I couldn’t say no after they’d been so nice to me. And honestly, Mother, you’ll love this play!”

“Will you be home for supper?”

“I’m pretty sure we will, but if we’re a little late, don’t you and Dad wait for us. Take the seven-twenty so you won’t miss anything. The first act is really the best. We probably won’t be hungry, but have Signe leave something out for us in case we are.”

Tom and Grace sat down to the elaborate Christmas dinner and didn’t make much impression on it. Even if they had had any appetite, the sixteen-pound turkey would have looked almost like new when they had eaten their fill. Conversation was intermittent and related chiefly to Signe’s excellence as a cook and the mildness of the weather. Children and Christmas were barely touched on.

Tom merely suggested that on account of its being a holiday and their having theatre tickets, they ought to take the six-ten and eat supper at the Metropole. His wife said no; Ted and Caroline might come home and be disappointed at not finding them. Tom seemed about to make some remark, but changed his mind.

The afternoon was the longest Grace had ever known. The children were still absent at seven and she and Tom taxied to the train. Neither talked much on the way to town. As for the play, which Grace was sure to love, it turned out to be a rehash of “Cradle Snatchers” and “Sex,” retaining the worst features of each.

When it was over, Tom said: “Now I’m inviting you to the Cove Club. You didn’t eat any breakfast or dinner or supper and I can’t have you starving to death on a feast-day. Besides, I’m thirsty as well as hungry.”

They ordered the special table d’hote and struggled hard to get away with it. Tom drank six high-balls, but they failed to produce the usual effect of making him jovial. Grace had one highball and some kind of cordial that gave her a warm, contented feeling for a moment. But the warmth and contentment left her before the train was half way home.

The living-room looked as if Von Kluck’s army had just passed through. Ted and Caroline had kept their promise up to a certain point. They had spent part of the evening at home, and the Murdocks must have brought all their own friends and everybody else’s, judging from the results. The tables and floors were strewn with empty glasses, ashes and cigaret stubs. The stockings had been torn off their nails and the wrecked contents were all over the place. Two sizable holes had been burnt in Grace’s favorite rug.

Tom took his wife by the arm and led her into the music-room.

“You never took the trouble to open your own present,” he said.

“And I think there’s one for you, too,” said Grace. “They didn’t come in here,” she added, “so I guess there wasn’t much dancing or music.”

Tom found his gift from Grace, a set of diamond studs and cuff buttons for festive wear. Grace’s present from him was an opal ring.

“Oh, Tom!” she said.

“We’ll have to go out somewhere tomorrow night, so I can break these in,” said Tom.

“Well, if we do that, we’d better get a good night’s rest.”

“I’ll beat you upstairs,” said Tom.

• 29 •

Poodle

When I got to the office on Tuesday, there was a fresh note from the boss, saying that a sudden change in the business outlook made it necessary to reduce expenses 60 per cent.

I was the highest salaried man in his employ and it was simply impossible to pay me what I’d been getting; on the other hand, or maybe the same one, he wouldn’t insult such a valuable and important employee by asking me to take a cut, so this was a notice that he would have to worry along without my services after February the 4th, and he hoped I’d understand that he, and not I, was the one who would really suffer.

Now I may as well admit that I was afraid to break the news to my wife. To report that my future earnings would be nothing per annum. well, you don’t go up to a ravenous wolf and offer him a railway restaurant feed.

I was in a tough spot and it was necessary to practice deception, which is as foreign to my nature as rolling on a duck’s back. The system in our family has always been for me to give Mary my check and for her to give me 10 dollars a week for subway fare and lunch and side trips to the old Spanish missions. At the end of the month she makes out a check for the next month’s railroad ticket, but she makes it out to the Long Island Railroad Company. That didn’t matter anyway, because if my secret was to be a secret I had to go to town and come home on my regular train, job or no job; besides, I could think of many a more economical way of spending the winter than to hang around the house all day long and wait for Mary to run out of hallelujahs.

A risk I couldn’t afford to take was in regards to being called up at the office; I mean, after February 4th. Mary hardly ever phoned, but she might. I had to fix it with the switchboard gal to say I was out or in conference and couldn’t be disturbed, and was there any message. The gal was as dumb as they come, but she would lie for me because I never squawked when she made a mistake, which was every day from eight-thirty to five, with a half hour off for lunch, when she probably got somebody else’s order.

When Mary gave me my allowance the morning of the sixth I realized I’d better go light on lunch myself; it don’t take more than two or three hours to answer all the help-wanted ads, and in the middle of winter, with the kind of weather we’ve had, you get bored waiting for time to go home. You ain’t in any frame of mind to read, except the ads, so the Public Library is no good. The waiting-room in the Long Island station, or any other station, or the lobby of a hotel  – any place that’s indoors and free  – they all lose their kick after a few days. So I tried all the cheap movies.

—

WHEN I got home at the end of the first week of “vacation” I had to explain why there was no cheque at all. As I’ve already said, I’m not an expert at deception; just the same, Mary believed my story.

It appears that Mr. Waldron, my boss, had decided to pay me my salary monthly instead of weekly. I would receive my next check the 1st of April, and so on.

I was afraid Mary would be sore about this. She was just the opposite. I never saw her enjoy herself as much as she did that night, dividing different amounts by twelve and then multiplying to see if they came out the same way.

She had money in the bank and she didn’t mind advancing me 10 dollars every Monday morning till the new deal went into effect.

I wish I’d kept a list of the jobs I tried to get and couldn’t hold on to them if I’d got them.

I applied for positions that I don’t even know what the words mean: “Galalith,” for instance, if that’s how you pronounce it; “Furniture tracer, to locate furniture skips,” and “Fanfold biller,” “Silk disponent,” and “Beveler.”

Now try and stay awake long enough to listen to what happened today. I came in town as usual. The papers only had three new want ads I could answer in person, and I wasn’t qualified for any of the jobs they offered even if they gave me a trial. Just the same, I answered them so as not to spoil my record.

This part of the performance was finished at ten and I spent the next two hours writing to people who wanted their ads answered by mail. That’s really the best way to go job hunting. You don’t have to listen to thirty or forty hard-luck stories from bozos that are as bad off as you are, or pretend you’re pulling for them to land the same job that you hope to land for yourself. You don’t have to act indifferent or force a smile when the master of ceremonies announces that “there’s no need detaining you gentlemen; the vacancy has been filled.”

I was at the movies one day, and a newsreel was showing a bunch of Greeks, all twins, fishing for sponges at Tarpon Springs, Florida, when the guy next to me nudged me in the elbow and said, “Well, Poodle, how do you like the big town?”

“Listen, Cuckoo,” I said, “you’ve got me mixed up with some other dog. You and I are strangers,” I said, “and it suits me fine to continue the relationship.”

So he said “Your parents would hate to see the change in you,” he said. “They never would have got the swell head just because they live in New York.”

I said “People don’t get the swell head on account of living in New York. They get embarrassed unless they’re crazy, like you.”

So he said, “I’m not crazy, Poodle,” he said, “but I AM under observation.”

“Why not?” I said. “You’re talking as loud as a Congressman and even sillier.”

So he said, “I mean I’m under observation at Graves’s Hospital, on Fifth-seventh,” he said. “I don’t want you to mention that when you write home.”

“I’m not liable to,” I said. “I don’t write home because there’s nobody left to write to, and if I did, I couldn’t mention you because I don’t know your name.”

He dropped his voice to a shout. “I’ll tell you my name,” he said, “though you know it as well as I do. I’m Phil Hughes. There!” he said. “How does that strikes you?”

“It’s prettier than Poodle,” I said, “but it’s the first time I ever heard it.”

So he said, “I haven’t any idea why you want to keep up this sham. Your mother’s son couldn’t be very bad, but if you’re mixed up in a shady business of any kind, I won’t squeal on you,” he said. “I won’t even say I saw you if I ever go back to Oconomowoc.”

I asked him if that was where we came from and he said, “Just as if you didn’t know!” So I asked him what was my name and he said, “Ben Collins, the same as your dad’s, but everybody called you Poodle because you looked like a poodle and still do.”

I thanked him and then I said, “Now listen once more: my real name is none of your business. But it ain’t Ben Collins and nobody but you calls me Poodle or ever called me Poodle much as I may look like one, and besides that, the only Oconomowoc I ever heard of is in Wisconsin  – there couldn’t be two of them – and I was never west of Parkesburg, Pennsylvania, in all my life.”

So he said, “You better not talk so loud, Poodle, or they’ll put you out.” he said. “You’ve got some reason for changing your identity. I don’t like to pry into your affairs, though I’d like to know what you’re doing and I hope it’s honest for your mother’s sake.”

So I said “I’ll tell you. I’m making an honest effort to hear Whiteman’s band, but the competition has got me licked.” So he said “I’d like to know what you’re doing for a living,” and I said “I’ll tell you another piece of truth: I was making an honest living, but I ain’t making any living at all right now because I lost my job.”

So he said “If that’s true, and you can prove it’s true, I’ll give you a job, but we’ll have to leave here and go somewhere else to discuss it.” And as the ushers reached the same decision at the same time, my pal, Phil Hughes, and his pal, Poodle, marched out of the theater to the strains of “Rhapsody in Blue.”

I thought that when he saw me in broad daylight he might realize his mistake and admit it. But no; I was still Poodle on Seventh-avenue, and still Poodle when we got out of the taxi at Graves’s Hospital on Fifty-Seventh-street. He took me up to the seventh floor and introduced me to a nurse as Mr. Collins, a young man he used to know in Oconomowoc.

He asked the nurse to send for Dr. Gregory. The nurse said that the doctor was somewhere in the hospital, and he said to send him to his room. The room is a nice big room and full of books about travel in this country and Europe.

—

FINALLY the doctor showed up and Mr. Hughes introduced me to him: “Dr. Gregory, this is a boy from my home town. We used to call him Poodle Collins and now he resents the nickname and denies the rest of it. But if he meets with your approval, I’ll take him as a companion, and we’ve already agreed on terms.”

The doctor said he would like to talk to me alone, and we went out to some visitors’ room or something, and I thought that as soon as I told him the truth, Poodle would die the death of a dog and I’d be as far out of a job as I was this morning. But get this: the doctor said his own name was Tyson, not Gregory, only Mr. Hughes insisted that he was Dr. Gregory and that he’d known him in Cleveland, where Dr. Tyson had never been.

Dr. Tyson said that if I was on the level it didn’t make any difference what my name was or where I came from, he wanted Mr. Hughes to have somebody with him when he’s wandering around, to prevent him buying the corner of Forty-Second and Fifth-avenue and starting a rival Radio City.

He gets a big monthly check from a trust fund and he tries to get rid of it as fast as he can. My six hundred a month may save him six times that amount and spare Dr. Tyson a lot of worry.

The fella is harmless and no bad habits. He likes to go to matinees and picture shows and baseball in the summer. Won’t that be tough, if Poodle can hold his job! And Dr. Tyson thinks I can if I pretend I came from Oconomowoc and know everybody I’m supposed to know, though the doctor says their records show that Mr. Hughes didn’t live in Oconomowoc and only spent a couple of summers there.

So that’s about all. I’m a seventy-two-hundred-dollar day nurse named Poodle. I spend eight hours a day with a crazy person that pays me and the rest of the time with one that doesn’t. Only she ain’t around just now and maybe she won’t be for quite a while. Because it seems that she called up where I used to work a half-hour before my regular lunch hour today, and they had a new switchboard gal, which I don’t blame them for, but the gal they fired had forgotten to leave instructions with the new one protecting me, and the new one had never heard my name, but said to wait and she would make inquiries.

Evidently she told Mary the truth, which was that I hadn’t been connected with the place since February 4. So when I got to Bayside this evening, there was no sedan to meet me at the station and for the first time in months I had to use my key to open the Love Nest door. On the table in the hall there was 20 dollars and a note. It’s short and I’ll read it to you.

“I am going home to my mother and I wish I had never left her and never had met a man like you. I did not know there was such people in the world, people who can deliberately lie and lie to the person they have promised to love and cherish and who have made as many sacrifices for you as I. I do not know and certainly don’t wish to know the name of the woman with whom you have been associating all the weeks when you pretended you were still at work.

“When you have given her up and when you have secured a position and can support a true and loyal wife as she should be supported and when you have convinced me that you are through once and for all with the lies and deceptions and frauds and infidelity which you have been practicing and laughing in your sleeve at the loving wife who has sacrificed her whole life to make you happy, perhaps then and only then I may perhaps come back and resume my own humiliating position as your slave whom you have treated worse than the harems of Italy and Europe.

“Until that time I ask for you to not communicate with me in any way, shape or manner as you will receive no reply. Kindly be careful not to throw ashes and lighted cigarettes on the floor and I imagine that when this money which I am giving you runs out your huzzy will gladly supply you with ample to supply your needs, extravagant as they may be and as I know they are. Please do not insult me further by bringing that woman into this house.”

Well, I guess Mary deserves her vacation and I’m going to let her have one at least as long as the one I’ve enjoyed; maybe a couple of months longer.

In My Humble Opinion

1 … Symptoms of Being 35
2 … When It Comes to Dogs
3 … My Week in Cuba
4 … Say It with Oil
5 … Change The Week-End
6 … Tee Time

• 1 •

Symptoms of Being 35

ON REACHING my dottage I ain’t makeing no complaints to the management and I’m willing to accomodate with a few rules which has enabled me to reach the age of 35 annums and which if stuck to faithful will bring you the same results.

—

The other night one of my friends whose name is Legion got me on the telephone some way another and wanted I should come over and call, but that is all I done the last 3 or 4 times I had went over there and it costs a lot of money even in a 4 bit limit. So I said no that I was busy on a book which I had promised my publisher I would write it.

“What is it about” says Legion. So I told him “How it feels to be 35.”

“That guy must think you got a good memory” says Legion and hung up on me.

Well friends 35 is how young I am no matter how old I look, but I am so use to haveing smart Alex make wise cracks when I tell them my age that it don’t have no more effect on me now than the 6 day bicycle race. Only I can’t figure why they think I would lie about it like I was trying to pose as a boy chess marvel or something. When a man has got a legal wife and 4 and no one hundredths children what does he care if he is 35 or double that amt. Besides which they claim that 35 is about the average of all the grown ups in the world. If I was above the average would I keep it a secret? Don’t be silly.

And don’t judge a person by their hair gents. Many a man that can remember the first Ford has got more foliage on their egg than myself and also I know several ball players in the big league today that is anywheres from 5 to 30 yrs. younger than the present writer that when the fish applauds them for makeing a 2 handed catch with 1 hand, you wonder why they don’t take off their cap. Personly I am not sensitive about my plummage. When my features got to the decision that one of them would half to retract all I done was thank God they picked the forehead and not the chin. The only hardship connected with pyorrhea of the scalp is trying to act supprised when the barber says you are looseing your hair.

But I guess it ain’t only the loss of a few ebony ringlets that makes me look senile. It seems like I was over estimated long before I begin to molt. For inst. I can recall when I was 16 and had a thatch on my dome like a virtuoso and I used to pal around with a boy who we will call Geo. Dougan because that was his name and Geo. was going on 21. Well this was in Niles, Mich., in the days when they sold 6 7/8 beer in vases and for $.20 you could get enough to patrol 4th St. serenading true music lovers of the opposing sex. In them hellcyon days 1 of the few things that was vs. the law was selling it to minors and 2 or 3 of the retail mchts. around town was pretty strick and time and again I and Geo. would be out shopping and go in a store and order 2 vats and Dave or Punk or who ever it happened to be would set one up for me to knock over and then give Geo. a wise cracking smile and ask him would he like a bottle of white pop. Incidentally I had a taste of that lucius ambrosia at a ball game once and if the penalty for selling honest old beer to minors was a $100 fine why 2 to 14 yrs. in a meat grinder would be mild for a guy that sells white pop on the theory that its a drink.

Well Geo. would say “Aw come on Dave I am older than him.” But you couldn’t fool Dave and the result was that we would half to take our custom down to Pigeon’s where everybody that had a dime was the same age and the only minors was the boys that tried to start a charge acct.

I must hand it to Geo. for one thing. No matter how sore it made him to get turned down he never told them the truth about me. And they wouldn’t of believed him if he had of. No more than you birds believe me now.

But now in regards to this book: When the publisher asked me to write it up I said I didn’t see how more than only a few people would be interested because they was only a few that is this old. So he told me that as a matter of fact pretty near everybody in the world that can read is either 35 or a few mos. one way or the other and if I didn’t think that was so to go and look it up in a book. So I looked up in the encyclopedia and they was nothing in there like he said but I found out a whole lot of other things that was news to me and maybe the reader don’t know them neither so I will write them down.

In the 1st. place it says that most people dies when they are 1 yr. old and the 1st. 10 yrs. is the most fatalist. But if they’s a 100 thousand people that can manage to get to be 10 yrs. old why then 749 of them is pretty libel to die the next yr. After that the older you get the longer you live up to when you are 59 and then you can just about count on liveing 14 and seven-tenths yrs. more. In other wds. if you ain’t one of the 749 that crokes between 10 and 11 why you are safe till about June of the yr. when you are 73. So a person is a sucker to try and take care of themself at my age and from now on I am going to be a loose fish and run wild.

Out in Benton Harbor, Mich, however, near where I use to live, they have got a sex that calls themselfs the Holy Terrors or something that claims you live as long as you are good and as soon as you do wrong you die. But I notice that they all wear a beard so as the encyclopedia can’t tell if they are 73 or 21.

Another thing it says in the book is that figures compiled in Norway and Sweden shows the death rate amongst bachelors is a lot more than amongst married men even includeing murder. So anybody that is between 11 and 73 yrs. old and got a wife is practically death proof especially if you are a Swede.

But all that is either here or there. The idear is to tell how it feels to be my age and I may as well get to it. Well in the 1st. place I am speaking for myself only. I don’t know how the other 35 yr. olders feels about it and don’t care. Probably the most of them don’t feel near as old as the writer. Laughter is supposed to keep a man young but if its forced laughter it works the opp. When a guy is named Ring W. and is expected to split their sides when ever somebody asks if your middle name is Worm which is an average of 365 times per annum over a period of 35 annums, why it can’t help from telling on you. Or it don’t lighten the wgt. of the yrs. none to half to snicker every time they say Ring give me a ring or Ring why ain’t you a ring master in Ringling Bros. And yet a number of birds has asked me if that was my real name or did I assume it. They would probably ask the kaiser if he moved to Holland to be near the tulips.

I suppose that on the morning of their 21st. birthday the right kind of a American citizen wakes up full of excitement and says to themself “Now I am of age and can vote and everything.” And when they come to what I often call the 35th. mile stone they are even more smoked up with the thought that now they are eligible to be President and go around all day stoop shouldered with the new responsibility.

Well I don’t recall how I woke up the day I was 21 if at all but my last birthday is still green and sour in my memory. I spent the most of it in Mineola signing mortgages and if I thought of the White House it was just to wonder if it would do any good to write and tell President Wilson about the Long Island R. R.

At the present writeing I have got so use to being 35 that I don’t know if it feels any different from 34 or 33. But I can at lease state that being 35 don’t feel nothing like being under 30. For inst. when the telephone rings now days I am scared to death that its somebody asking us to go somewheres for dinner or somewheres. Six yrs. ago I was afraid it wasn’t. At 29 home was like they say on the vaudeville stage, a place to go when all the other joints was closed up. At 35 its a place you never leave without a loud squawk.

A man don’t appreciate their home till you are up around par for 9 holes. Under 30 you think of it as a dump where you can’t pick out what you want to eat like roast Vt. turkey or a filet mignon or some of that prune fed muskrat a la Biltmore. If Kathleen decides in the A.M. that you are going to crave spare ribs at night why you can either crave spare ribs at night or put on a hunger strike that won’t get you no more sympathy than the hiccups.

In them ribald days home is just a kind of a pest where you half to choke down breakfast or they will think something ails you and talk about sending for a Dr. And 1 or 2 evenings per wk. when you can’t think of no reason to go out, its where you half to set around and wait for 9 o’clock so as you begin to talk about going to bed and sometimes things gets so desperate that you half to read a book or something.

But at 35 you spell it with a big H. Its where you can take off your shoes. Its where you can have more soup. Its where you don’t half to say nothing when they’s nothing to say. Its where they don’t wait till the meal is all over and then give you a eye dropper full of coffee raw. Its where you don’t half to listen. Its where they don’t smear everything with cheese dressing. Its where you can pan everybody without it going no further. Its where they know you like doughnuts and what you think about a banana.

When you was 29 you didn’t care for the band to play Home Sweet Home. It was old stuff and a rotten tune any way. Now you hope they won’t play it neither. Its a pretty tune but it makes you bust out crying.

Bud Kelland that lives over to Port Washington wrote a piece for a magazine a wile ago where he said in it that it kind of shocked him to find out that young people didn’t act like he was one of them no more. Well he ain’t but it took the old gaffer a long time to find it out. Here he is pretty near 39 and I guess the old Methuselum wants folks to hide I Mary Mac Lane when he comes in the rm.

Well it was 5 or 6 yrs. ago when I realized that I was past my nonages as they say. It come to me all of a sudden that the only compliments I had for a long wile was what a pretty tie yon got or something. Nothing about my natural charms no more. It was an egg’s age since anybody had called me to 1 side and whispered “I got a T. L. for you. Gertie thinks your ears is immense.”

I seen then that I wasn’t no longer a larva and I guess maybe it hurt at first. But its like falling hair or the telephone service or anything else. When you have lived with it a wile you don’t mind. Which is just as well because they ain’t a wk. passes when you wouldn’t get touched on the raw if they was any raw left.

Like for inst. a few wks. back I was up in Boston where I got a young and beautiful sister in law. When it come time to part from she and her husband she kissed me 6 times which was suppose to be once for me and once apiece for the Mrs. and 4 kiddies. Well I thought it was pretty nice and got kind of excited about it till I looked at her husband to see how he took it. He took it without batting an eye. To him it was like as if she was kissing an old cab horse on a bet for the benefit of the Red Cross. And when I had left and they was alone together, instead of lepping at her throat with a terrible curse he probably says “Janey, you're a good game gal,” and she give him a kiss that meant something.

Now an incidence like this would of spoilt my whole trip if I didn’t look at it in a sensible way which is to say to yourself, “Well if I wasn’t in the Sears and yellow I wouldn’t of got them 6 kisses. And 6 kisses is 1/2 a dozen kisses in any language.”

Or for inst. out on the golf course. Suppose I and Grant Rice is playing with some young whipper snapper like say Jack Wheeler and they’s only 1 caddy for the 3 of us. “Take them two” says Jack pointing to my and Grant’s bags but the caddy has all ready took them any way as soon as he found out which ones belonged to which. Or when one of my young brother in laws is around the house and I come in the rm. and they are setting in the easy chair, why they jump up like food shot from guns and say “Here take this chair.”

All and all when you get hardened to it they’s many advantages in reaching your dottage. When they’s 7 passengers for a 7 passenger car its never you that has to take one of them little torture seats. When your brother in law is here on a visit and the Mrs. thinks it would be nice to have a fire in the fire place, you ain’t the one that has got to ruin his clothes. Yes friends the benefits is many fold but if them 1/2 dozen kisses and a few stray others pretty near as good was all, why you could still think to yourself Youth may get good service, but 35 ain’t makeing no complaints to the management neither.

As for the gen. symptoms of 35 and vicinity as I have found them and not speaking for nobody only myself you understand, the following points may interest science:

1. The patient sometimes finds himself and one lady the only people left at the table and all the others is danceing. They seems to be nothing for it but to get up and dance. You start and the music stops and the young buddies on the flr. claps their hands for a encore. The patient claps his hands too but not very loud and he hopes to high heaven the leader will take it in a jokeing way.

2. For some reason another its necessary to find some old papers and in going through the trunk the patient runs acrost a bunch of souvenirs and keep sakes like a note a gal wrote him in high school, a picture of himself in a dirty football suit, a program of the 1907 May festival in South Bend and etc. “Why keep this junk” he says and dumps them all in the waste basket.

3. The case develops nausea in the presents of all story tellers except maybe Irvin Cobb and Riley Wilson and Bert Williams, Any others has to work pretty fast to get him cornered. Violent chills attends the sound of those saddest wds. of tongue or pen “I don’t know if you heard this one or not but it struck me funny. It seems they was a woman went in a drygoods store in Detroit to buy some towels. Stop me if you heard it before.” You couldn’t stop them with big Bertha. The best funny storys is Balzac’s because they are in a book and you don’t half to buy it. But when you get up vs. one of these here voluntary stag entertainers you either got to listen and laugh or they put you down as a dumb bell.

4. The invalid goes to a ball game and along comes the last 1/2 of the 14th. innings and the score is 1 and 1 and the 1st. guy up makes a base hit. The patient happens to look at his watch and it says 11 minutes to 6 and if he leaves the park right away he can make the 6:27 home where as if he waits a few min. he will half to take the 6:54. Without no hesitation he leaves the park right away and makes the 6:27.

5. The subject is woke up at 3 A.M. by the fire whistle. He sniffles but can’t smell no smoke. He thinks well it ain’t our house and goes back to sleep.

6. He sets down after breakfast to read the paper. The mail man comes and brings him 3 letters. One of them looks like it was a gal’s writeing. He reads the paper.

7. He buys a magazine in April and reads the first instalment of a misery serial. The instalment winds up with the servants finding their master’s body in bed and his head in the ash tray. Everything pts. to the young wife. Our patient forgets to buy the May number.

8. Somebody calls up and says they are giveing a party Thursday night for Mabel Normand and can you come. Our hero says he is sorry but he will be in Washington on business. He hasn’t no more business in Washington than Gov. Cox.

9. They’s a show in town that you got to see like Frank Graven or “Mecca.” “It’s a dandy night” says the Mrs. “Shall we drive in or take the train?” “We will take the train” says our hero.

These is a few of the symptoms as I have observed them and as I say I am speaking for just myself and maybe I am a peculiar case. They may not be another 35 yr. older in the world that is affected the same way and in fact I know several suffers about that age which I am as different than as day and night. Take Jess Willard for inst. He was somewheres around 35 in July 1919 and Dempsey knocked him down 7 times in one rd. He wouldn’t do that to me, not 7 times he wouldn’t. Or look at Ty Cobb. Do you think they would get me to play center field and manage a ball club for $30,000? Or would Jim Thorpe’s brother in law look on him as too frail to hobble down in the basement and get a few sticks of wood?

On the other hand they might be 2 or 3 brother eagles in the mediocer 30s that is even more mildewed than me, but I am afraid they’s a whole lot more of them feels like a colt. They take care of themselfs. When they get up in the A.M. they take a cold plunge and then hang by their eye teeth on a hook in the closet while they count 50 in Squinch. And noons when they come back from their lunch of hot milk and ferns, they roll over on the office rug 10 times without bending their shin.

I can’t compete with these babies. I slice a few golf balls in season but bet. Nov. and May the only exercise I get or want to get is twice a wk. when I take the buttons out of shirt A and stick them in shirt B.

They’s still another crowd yet that renews their youth by going back every yr. to commencement or a class reunion or something. Well I don’t know if I want to renew my youth or not. Leave bad enough alone is my slogum. And in the 2d. place I don’t half to go nowheres to a class reunion. I could hold it in the bath tub. I was the only one that graduated when I did as it was in March of my freshman yr. and they didn’t seem to be haveing no commencement exercises for nobody else. I guess I must have been one of these here infantile proteges like that 11 mos. old junior they got up to Columbia.

No book of this kind would be complete without shooting a few wds. of unwanted advice at my youngers and betters. For inst. John D. tells the boys how to build up a fortune and John Jones tells them how to rise from a white wings to a steeple jack. So it looks like it was up to me to tell them how to get to be what I am, 35 yrs. old.

Well my lads they’s 4 rules that I made and have stuck to them and I think you will find they’ll bring you the same results. The 1st. rule is don’t die the 1st. yr. The 2d. rule is don’t be one of the 749 that dies when they are 11. The 3d rule is don’t pick a quarrel with a man like Dempsey. And the 4th. and last rule is marry a girl like Sue.

In explanations of that last rule I will say that the one I married ain’t Sue but the name don’t make no differents if she is the right kind of a gal. And the reason I say that is because its customary in these intimate capital I talks to throw in a paragraph of blurb about the little woman. What ever success a man has had he has got to pretend he owes it to Her. So if they’s any glory to be gleaned out of my success in reaching 35 and looking even older why she can have it.

• 2 •

When It Comes to Dogs

Every little wile you hear people talking about a man they don’t nobody seem to have much use for him on acct. of him not paying his debts or beating his wife or something, and everybody takes a rap at him about this and that until finely one of the party speaks up and says theys must be some good in him because he likes animals.

“A man can’t be all bad when he is so kind to dogs.” That is what they generally always say and that is the reason you see so many men stop on the st. when they see a dog and pet it because they figure that maybe somebody will be looking at him do it, and the next time they are getting panned, why who ever seen it will speak up and say: “He can’t be all bad because he likes dogs.”

Well, friends, when you come right down to cases they’s about as much sence to this as a good many other delusions that we get here in this country, like for inst. the one about nobody wanting to win the first pot and the one about the whole lot of authors not being able to do their best work unless they are 1/2 pickled.

But if liking animals ain’t a virtue in itself I don’t see how it proves that a man has got any virtues, and personly, if I had a daughter and she wanted to get married and I asked her what kind of bird the guy was and she said she don’t know nothing about him except that one day she seen him kiss a leopard, why I would hold up my blessing till a few of the missing precincts was heard from.

But as long as our best people has got it in their skull that a friendly feeling toward dumb brutes takes the curse off a bad egg, why I or nobody else is going to be sucker enough to come out and admit that all the horses, rams and oxens in the world could drop dead tomorrow morning without us batting an eye.

Pretty near everybody wants to be well thought of and if liking dogs or sheep is a helping along these lines, why even if I don’t like them, I wouldn’t never lose a opportunity to be seen in their company and act as if I was having the time of my life.

But while I was raised in a Kennel, you might say, and some of my most intimate childhood friends was of the canine gender, still in all I believe dogs is better in some climates than others, the same as oysters, and I don’t think it should ought to be held against a man if he don’t feel the same towards N.Y. dogs as he felt towards Michigan dogs, and I am free to confess that the 4 dogs who I have grew to know personally here on Long Island have failed to arouse tender yearnings anyways near similar to those inspired by the flea bearers of my youth.

And in case they should be any tendency on the part of my readers to denounce me for failing to respond whole heartedly to the wiles of the Long Island breed let me present a brief sketch of some so as true lovers of the canine tribe can judge for themselfs if the fault is all mind.

No. 1.

This was the dainty boy that belonged to Gene Buck and it was a bull dog no bigger than a 2 car garage and it wouldn’t harm a hair of nobody’s head only other animals and people. Children were as safe with this pet as walking in the Pittsburgh freight yards and he wouldn’t think no more of wronging a cat than scratching himself.

In fairness to Mr. Buck I’ll state that a pal of his give him the dog as a present without no comment. Well they wasn’t no trouble till Gene had the dog pretty near 1/2 hour when they let him out. He was gone 10 minutes during which Gene received a couple of phone calls announcing more in anger than sorrow the sudden death of 2 adjacent cats of noble berth so when the dog came back Gene spanked him and give him a terrible scolding and after that he didn’t kill no more cats except when he got outdoors.

But the next day De Wolf Hopper come over to call and brought his kid which the dog thought would look better with one leg and it took 5 people to get him not to operate, so after that Gene called up the Supt. of a dogs reform school and the man said he would take him and cure him of the cat habit by tying one of his victims around his neck and leaving it there for a week but he don’t know how to cure the taste for young Hoppers unless De Wolf could spare the kid for a wk. after they was finished with the cat.

This proposition fell through but anyway Gene sent the dog to the reformatory and is still paying board for same.

No. 2.

The people that lived three houses from the undersigned decided to move to England where it seems like you can’t take dogs no more, as they asked us did we want the dog and it was very nice around children and we took it and sure enough it was O.K. in regards to children but it shared this new owners feelings toward motorcycles and every time one went past the house the dog would run out and spill the contents and on Sundays when the traffic was heavy they would sometimes be as many as 4 or 5 motorcycles jehus standing on their heads in the middle of the road.

One of them finely took offense and told on the dog and the justice of the peace called me up and said I would have to kill it within 24 hrs. and the only way I could think of to do the same was drown it in the bath tub and if you done that, why the bath tub wouldn’t be no good no more, because it was a good sized dog and no matter how often you pulled the stopper it would still be there.

No. 3.

The next door neighbors has a pro-German police dog that win a blue ribbon once but now it acts as body guard for the lady of the house and one day we was over there and the host says to slap his Mrs. on the arm and see what happened so I slapped her on the arm and I can still show you what happened.

When you dance with mine hostess this sweet little pet dances along with you and watches your step and if you tred on the lady’s toes he fines you a mouthfull and if you and her is partners in a bridge game he lays under the table and you either bid right and play right or you get nipped.

No. 4.

This is our present incumbrance which we didn’t ask for him and nobody give him to us but here he is and he has got insomnia and he has picked a spot outside my window to enjoy it but not only that but he has learnt that if you jump at a screen often enough it will finely give way and the result is that they ain’t a door or window on the first floor that you couldn’t drive a rhinoceros through it and all the bugs that didn’t already live in the house is moveing in and bringing their family.

That is a true record of the dogs who I have met since taking up my abode in Nassau County so when people ask me do I like dogs I say I’m crazy about them and I think they are all right in their place but it ain’t Long Island.

• 3 •

My Week in Cuba

It seems to of leaked out some way another that I spent a week in Havana, Cuba, and those of my admirers that has never visited the little isle has been pestering me to death to tell them all about it so I kind of thought maybe if I wrote up a little article in regards to same and if you would publish it in your paper, why the boys and gals could read it and I would not half to answer no more silly questions.

Well, when a man comes back from Cuba and you ask him how long he was there and he tells you he was there one week, why you can generally always figure he was there two weeks. But the first week he was unconscious.

The above refers to the normal man. On acct. of being subnormal I know I was only there a week and conscious practically all the wile and to prove it I will tell you a whole lot of things about the place which no man could of found out so much unless they was conscious.

In regards to the lenth of the visit, this can be proved by consulting the files of the steamship Co. which will show that we left Port Tampa ground-hog’s day on the good ship Cuba, I don’t know who commanding, but I took my orders from Mr. Cole, the purser. I felt kind of undressed as I did not have no decorations of any kind wile most of the brother passengers wore a badge with Dubois Tourists on it.

We reached Key West early the next a.m. and laid there till ten o’clock waiting for the train from N. Y. which added about 100 passengers to our list. Amongst the last named was the man that invented the safety razor and several fresh young blades. A few of the arrivals from the big town passed up our ship and made the jump to Havana on the flying boat. They bruise you fifty dollars for that trip and I made the remark that if we done all right at the races we would come back to Key West that way. Our return trip was made on the S.S. Gov. Cobb.

I am not giving away no secrets when I say that the sea between Key West and Havana ain’t always what you could call a putting green, but on this occasion they was not even a ripple and all hands contained themselfs. Coming back on the Cobb a week later was not so good and they’s one place in particular where everybody feels pretty near incurable so they have nicknamed it the Tropic of Cancer.

I will not attempt to describe the entree to Havana Harbor which is a sight for sore eyes but has all ready been wrote up till they ain’t no more words left unless one was permitted to quote from an apt phrase maker amongst the Dubois Tourists. “The most magnificent sight on God’s green footstool” was how this baby expressed it and the first thought that occurred to me was that he had hit the nail right on the kisser.

They don’t leave you embark off the boat till you have appeared before a Dr. and been orally examined for bugs. If you ain’t got any that is strangers in Cuba you are O.K. It is said the same Dr. has been on the job fifteen years and is still hitting .000.

Now I have not been in no war up to date as the U.S. seems to have a grudge vs. me and always stages them when I am either too young or too old, but when they fought Spain if you could call it a fight I done my bit by wearing a button that said on it “Cuba Libre!” which my folks told me meant Free Cuba and that was what we was fighting Spain for, was to make Cuba free. Furthermore my recollections was that we beat Spain and that made Cuba free. So you can imagine my surprise on landing at Havana when the guy said $0.50 for moving two trunks from the dock to the hotel. You could of knocked me over with the tip I give him.

Will say in justice to the embezzler that the hotel where we went to is six or seven miles from the town and he probably had to get a horse to help him with the trunks and I don’t suppose you could get a horse in Cuba for under $9.50 unless you bought one of the favorites over to the race track and if you done that, you would half to have them push the trunk in stead of pull it as they ain’t at home nowheres but behind.

My readers has probably discovered by this time that I ain’t use to writing travel articles but am doing the best I can which I often say is the best anyone can do and it seems to me like the best way to go on with this article would be to divide up the gen. topic into sub topics like I was writing for the encyclopedia or something and I suppose History is as good a sub topic to start out with as anything else.

History:  The island of Cuba was discovered in 1492 by Columbus and in writing home to a girl friend he described it as “the most beautiful land God ever created.” Unfortunately his letter fell into the hands of a home seeking mosquito.

The first Cubans Columbus seen told him it was an island but he thought they was joking as he had been broughten up to believe that an island was a place entirely surrounded by water not rum. To convince him they had to ride him all around the shore line, a distants of 2500 miles. The trip was made in a Havana taxicab and took pretty near two days.

Climate:  The climate of Cuba is one of the talking points and it is supposed to be the kind that keeps you pepped up, but personly just before we left Florida I had been told how young I was looking whereas I had not been in Cuba a day till everybody was calling me Senior.

Language:  It took me almost three weeks to master the French language, but the Cuban ain’t nowheres near as tough. They only got two or three words of their own and the rest is formed by taking our words and adding an O onto the end of them. Like for inst., “Your horso finisho lasto.”

They also use a B where we would use a V and vice versa, or as they would say, bice bersa. For example they call Havana, Habana. An automobile is an automovil and goes a whole lot faster. About the only other difference is that our language is spoken and theirs is screamed.

Fauna:  Next to the mosquitoes the most prominent fauna in Havana is the goats, most of whom lives in the middle of the popular motor boulevards though they’s some of them spends their time out to the race track masquerading as horses.

Another fauna present in large quantities is what the Cubans call a jigger, but it ain’t like the jigger we use on Long Island. It feels more like a driving iron.

In justice to the mosquitoes it ought to be noted that when they bite you they don’t hurt much but act kind of as if they was not in earnest, like the horses out to the race track.

They was no screens in the windows at our hotel, but they had fixed a netting on a frame over the beds and when you got in bed you let the netting down and it draped itself over you and the meshes in the netting was so small that a mosquito could not get through them except on an empty stomach. So when you woke up in the morning they was plenty of mosquitoes under the netting but by this time they had all had dinner and was at your mercy.

Population:  Besides the dozens of people that call Cuba their home they’s always a huge [missing text] of visitors on hand, most of whom finds the race track the main attraction. The crowd [missing text] be constantly changing and on the clubhouse veranda you make hundreds of new acquaintances every day. I remarked on this to one of the officials at the track, but he says no, it’s the same people you was introduced to yesterday and the day before but you both look different.

Transportation:  In Havana, when a person is in a hurry they take a taxi. If they ain’t in no hurry they take out a jockey license and ride a favorite.

The taxis down there is mostly all of one make which is called Flivingo. The ingo must refer to the upholstery which is so rococo that you don’t mind the way the guy is driving 1/2 so much because you say to your self “I will die in luxury.” Aside from the scroll work the Flivingo looks exactly like the car that grows wild here in the States but the Cuban species has more bouquet.

Finance:  The Cubans has got dollars and dimes and nickels pretty near like ours, but they have twenty and forty cent pieces instead of quarters and halfs. The object of this is to get people balled up. Their paper money is the same like ours only it ain’t clean. So if you have got just a one dollar bill in your pocket you can say you are dirty with money.

A dime won’t buy nothing but a glass of beer which tastes like they had tapped a maple tree for the hops. Thirty cents gets you any kind of a cocktail or highball and for forty cents you can buy a mint julep which you may remember hearing of same. You can pick out your own brand of Bourbon as the bottles is all right there in plain sight. And people that thinks they been getting real stuff around here the last three years will know better when they have had a couple in Cuba and want to play the piano. These statements is based on hearsay.

But speaking about a highball, they use to be a place in Chi where a person could go in and ask for a highball and put down a quarter and the man would give you back a dime change and if you was smart you left the dime lay on the bar and ordered another highball and the guy would ring up the dime. In this way you got two for a quarter though you was alone. Well, that gag don’t go so good in Havana where if you leave any coin on the bar long enough so as it can be said to be at rest and not in motion towards neither goal, the guy behind the bar says thanks and slips it in his pocket.

Industries:  The main industries of Cuba seems to be cigars and cigarettes, lottery, roulette, sugar, jai alai, rum, horse racing and funerals.

Amusements:  They tell me that Havana has got its full meat of good theaters, but the only show we had time for was Sousa’s Band who the Cubans made a big fuss over and hailed him as the March king though it was still Feb. Mr. Sousa has got a band that can play so loud that in most places the concert might of been give outdoors, but you can’t give open air concerts in Cuba because they’s no telling when a couple of Cubans might pass past the band stand talking and drownd out the trumpets.

Another amusement is trying to find out what time it is as all the clocks is different and though of course most of the tourists from the U.S. arrives on the scene with a 1st. class watch in their pocket, why the 1st. night there they forget to wind it on acct. of going to bed before they undress. The result is that you don’t never know what name to call the next meal and even the roosters is so baffled that they’s never a minute night or day when at least one of them ain’t sounding revelry.

Pretty near all the natives spends their evenings at the jai alai games which is a kind of handball played with slapsticks. There is generally always a couple matches between men teams and wile they are resting the gal players get a chance. “Pretty Girls Will Play” is a line you always see in the ads, but like in many other sports in which the plaintive sex participates, the best players ain’t never libel to be mistaken for Anita Stewart.

I suppose the races should also ought to be classed as amusements though luxuries would be a better description as far as I was concerned. Anyway they must be a big attraction as we was out there every day but Monday, when they don’t have none, and it wasn’t the scenery that lured us though the layout is prettier than anything we have got in the U.S. This fact was appreciated even by the horses, or at least the ones I bet on seemed to think they was on a sight-seeing tour.

That is, all except Geo. W. who is a horse I never heard of till one a.m. I was standing in the hotel lobby waiting for Mr. Boyle to cash another check and a man I used to know in old Chi come up and told me they was tips out that day on Geo. W. and another horse named Second Cousin.

“I ain’t so sure about Second Cousin,” he says, “but Geo. W. looks pretty good and the jockey told me he was going to try.”

“Told you who was going to try?” I asked him.

“Geo. W.,” says my friend.

So I figured if the horse was going to try, that was something.

Well, I ain’t like some people and try to hog it all, so I told the gang out to the clubhouse about the two tips and we all went to Geo. W. and he win at three to one.

“I guess my friend has got the right dope,” I says.

So we played it all back on Second Cousin. But the last named was several times removed.

I might say at this point that a few days after we left Cuba I looked in the paper and seen where Geo. W. had win again. And this time he was twelve to one. Either he had not told the jockey he was going to try or they couldn’t believe any horse would try twice in succession.

When the races was over for the day the program was to go back to the hotel and put on your trousseau and take a Flivingo to a swell joint where they was music, dancing and roulette as well as food for the ladies. It was in this place that I learned the secret of the wheel namely that you can’t lose if you keep playing the 4, 8 and 11 a specially in the tropics. I found this out the first night and the result was that we could always pay the hat check gal and still have enough left for a Flivingo back to the tavern. But how a person can keep beating thirty-five to one shots at a roulette table and then go out the next day and lose your shirt on a three to five shot at the track is a misery to me.

Seeing Havana:  As I said, they don’t have no races on Monday so that day we says we would see the town. We was introduced by Mr. Judkins to a expert guide whose card read :

Agustine Bravo
English Spoking Chauffeur.

Mr. Bravo asked us where did we want to go and we told him to suit himself and the first place he took us to was a hospital, then a cathedral and then a cemetery. I suppose they’s a lot of American tourists that goes through it in the same order only they start with a bar and their last two jumps is made in a hearse instead of an English spoking Flivingo.

I never seen so many funerals in my life and will say that if the hearses is 1/2 as elegant inside as out it must be a pleasure to ride in them.

I have no idear who all was getting buried, but the most of them was evidently relatives of Mr. Bravo. They was no use trying to coax him out of the cemetery once we was in there and I made the remark that anybody that depended on him to show them Havana might get a wrong impression of the place. They would think it was a dead town.

When the undertakers was through work for the day they was still time to cover a good deal of territory and Mr. Bravo took us past the swell homes which is built of a white shiny material that pretty near knocks your eye out. Cuban house wifes has invented a great trick which I will tell about though it is too late for American matrons to profit by same. The big front door of the houses is left wide open practically all the wile and the entrances is fitted out with swinging 1/2 doors like a saloon. So it often happens that a husband who ain’t got no intentions of going home will walk into his own house after another shot and before he realizes his mistake, the madam crowns him with a jai alai mallet and he is in for the night.

We also visited the new country club and golf course which is patronized chiefly by Americans. As yet golf has not been generally took up by the natives who get plenty of exercise dodging Flivingos and acting as pall bearers.

Exit:  About the saddest sight you ever seen is the faces of the gents and ladies waiting to go aboard the steamer back to Key West. It ain’t only that they hate to leave Cuba. That is bad enough, but the worst of it is that in order to leave at all you have got to leave at ten o’clock A.M. This means you have got to be up and dressed and down to the dock by nine to see about your baggage and last night was kind of tough because it was your last night on the island and this witching hour spent standing up on the wharf before they will let you on the ship certainly adds to the general spirit of geniality. The banter and buffoonery indulged in by the departing guests can’t help but remind a person of an international chess tournament.

However they ain’t no fun in the world without a little agony goes with it and I am glad to comply with the request of Mr. Porter King, who fixes you up with tickets home whether you are broke or ain’t, and recommend Cuba to my loving friends. It might even be a great place to live after you get used to the humidity.

And oh yes! I come near forgetting that Dutch, who placed all our bets out to the race track, felt kind of sorry for us and said he would be down to the boat to see us off and would bring us a parting gift. So sure enough, there he was waiting along side of the gang plank and handed us a big package which we opened up on board the Gov. Cobb and it turned out to be nine or ten kinds of fancy soap. Like he didn’t know I was clean.

• 4 •

Say It with Oil

The editor of this hardy perennial asked me would I write a article on my impressions in regards to wives.

“Well,” I says, “I have only got the one wife, and wile I admit she has made quite an impression, still and all it seems to me like you ought to get a hold of a husband with more experience.” So he says: “Yes, I know you have only got one yourself, but you must be acquainted with a whole lot of them.”

“I suppose I am,” I said, blushing furiously; “I guess I am personly acquainted with practally every A-No. 1 wife around N. Y. City except Nina Wilcox Putnam.”

The Editor jumped as if stang by a bee.

“That is almost uncanny you mentioning her name,” he said. “She is the lady who has wrote up a article in regards to husbands, and what I am asking you to write is a kind of a reply to what she wrote. Because I would not be loyal to my sex was I to permit her scatheing arrangement of the male gender and not give no space to our defense.”

“All right,” I said; “but I can’t conduct no defense without knowing what is the charges, so before I reply to her article I would better see it first.”

So he showed me the article, and I read it, and you can read it for yourselfs as it is printed elsewheres in this issue under the dainty nom de plume of “Say It With Bricks,” only I suppose the proof-readers has kind of fixed it up since I seen it, as it struck me that the lady in question has studied husbands at the expense of grammar and spelling.

But before dealing with her article, and wile still cool, I would like to state the cold facts which the gen. public is well aware of same, but for one reason and another don’t care to confess it even to themselfs. One fact is that a man defending husbands vs. wives, or men vs. women has got about as much chance as a traffic policeman trying to stop a mad dog by blowing 2 whistles. Another fact is that, with all the recent jokeing about give us equal rights and etc. the wives has got the husbands licked to a pulp and has had them licked for hundreds of yrs., and same can be proved by consulting the works of any writer young or old that touches on the subjcct.

We will take for inst. the dictionary, and what does it say about a husband? The 1st. definition is a husbandman, which don’t mean nothing. The 2d. definition is a frugal person, an economist. The 3d. definition is a man who has a wife. In other wds. Mr. Webster realized that his book wouldn’t have no sale unless it tickled the women-folks, so before he dast come out and say that a husband is a man with a wife, he had to call him a tightwad.

Now what is the definition of a wife?

Well, he says she is the lawful consort of a man, and it don’t require no Shylock Holmes to figure out that what he meant to say, but was scared to say, was, artful consort.

Back toward the end of the same book you will run across the wd. uxoricide which means the murder of a wife by her husband. But nowheres in the book will you find a wd. that means the murder of a husband by a wife. Unless it’s the wd. congratulations.

In this connection it might be well to point out the fine bunch of equal rights with which the happy pair embarks on the matrimonial seas. If either one of them ain’t satisfied with the other, why they have got equal rights to shoot. But if it’s the wife that gets bumped off, the husband has got exclusive rights to a seat in the electric chair, or strap hanging by his Adam’s apple, or spending the rest of his life in a bird cage. If, however, the husband was the target, why the worst that can happen to mother is that she will half to poll the jury with kisses, which can’t be such a hardship even granting that statistics is accurate, and that 10 out of every 12 good men and true is kindly disposed toward eating-tobacco.

But to return to the writers, why you can’t find more than a couple of them great or small but what has came out in print or in speeches before the Rotary Club to the effect that their success and everybody else’s was due to their wives or sweethearts. They know a whole lot better, but don’t dast say so. The prominent exceptions to this rule is Francis Bacon and Rudyard Kipling. Mr. Bacon made the remark that “he that hath wife and children hath given hostages to fortune, for they are impediments to great enterprises, either of virtue or mischief.” And Mr. Kipling wrote one about a good man married being a good man marred, and another one to the effect that he travels the fastest who travels alone.

Some nerve these two babies had, but where did it land them? Mr. Bacon is quite dead and Mr. Kipling wasn’t even invited to Princess Mary’s wedding. The writers of the present day has learnt better than take chances like that, and you can’t read a story or tend the theatre now days without getting a fresh sample of log rolling in favor of the squalling sex. Like for inst. take the play “To the Ladies” where Marc Connelly and Geo. Kaufman has their leading female character say a line something like “No man that wasn’t married ever made a name for himself.” Well they was a whole lot of us guys in the audience with our wives, and when the line was sprang why we just kind of giggled and smirked as much as to say “How true that is.” Where as if we had of dared to be nasty we would of rose up on our legs and said “What about H. L. Mencken and Tris Speaker and Geo. Ade?” Even the authors of the marriage ceremony has woke up to the situation and agreed to rewrite same and fix themselfs right with the ladies by leaving out the wd. obey. This is just another public recognition of how bad we are licked. As a matter of fact the obey rule got obsolete along about the same time as 1st. bounce is out. And another thing the boys is going to eliminate is the giving of a woman in marriage, because the gals don’t like to have it even hinted that anybody has got the right to give them away like they was a cut glass gold fish bowl or a pen wipper. So instead of “Who giveth this dame to this guy,” why from now on they are going to can those lines and substitute a hymn or anthem which will probably be some song like O what a gal was Mary.

So much for Man’s positlon in the Standing of the Clubs and the fat chance I or any other male has got to defend our self vs. attacks by Mrs. Putnam or any other member of her lodge. But when I undertake to do a job why I am one of these here he-blooded Americans that never quits till they are counted out which can’t possibly happen till I been in the arena 10 seconds. In this case however I expect to last longer than that for one little reason. The wife I have got don’t read my stuff. Incidently that just about describes her. But any way the knowledge that she don’t read my stuff gives me courage to say a few wds. about wives and what they are that I wouldn’t dast say if I thought she was going to read it.

—

WELL then here is some of my idears about wives as I have studied them at home and abroad.

Wives is people that thinks you ought to eat at 8 o’clock, one o’clock, and 7 o’clock. If you express yourself as having an appetite for turkey at midnight they think you are crazy.

Wives is people that always wants to go home when you don’t and vice versa.

Wives is people that ain’t never satisfied as they are always too fat or too thin. Of all the wives ever talked to I never run acrost one yet that was just right.

Wives is people that thinks 2 ash trays should ought to be plenty for a 12 rm. house.

Wives is people that asks you what time the 12:55 train gets to New York. “At 1:37,” you tell them. “How do you know?” they ask.

Wives is people that sets on the right side of the front seat in their husband’s costly motor and when he turns down a street to the left they tell him he ought to of kept straight ahead.

They are people that you ask them to go to a ball game and they act tickled to death. So along about the 7th. innings you look at them and they are fast asleep and you remind them with a delicate punch in the ribs that they are supposed to be excited. “Oh, yes,’ they say. “I love it.” So you ask them what is the score and they say “St. Louis is ahead ain’t they?” “Well,” you say, “I don’t know if St. Louis is ahead or ain’t ahead, but the game you are watching is between Boston and New York.”

That reminds me of one time I took the little woman (I can’t always remember her first name) to a game in old Chi and it was Cleveland vs. the White Sox and it was a close game something like 2 to 1 in favor of somebody and along come the 8th. innings, and Mother, which is how I sometimes think of her, was sleeping pretty and all of a sudden they was a big jam down around 1st. base between a citizen named Tris Speaker, mentioned before in this article and now mentioned again, and Chick Gandil of blessed memory. As they was taking the shirtless remains of Chick off of the field I nudged Mamma in the jaw and said: “Did you see that? It looked to me like Graney took a wallop at him for good measure.”

“Who is ahead?” says the little gal.

Wives is people who you make an outlay of $50, so as they can set somewheres in New Jersey during the so-called Dempsey-Carpentier fight and when it is over, you meet them and ask them how they liked it and they say Oh, they was thrilled.

“Did you see that last punch?” you ask them. “No,” they say. “I was watching Irma Goldberg.” Who of course is worth watching even at $50.

—

THEY are people who you get invited out somewheres with them and you ask them if they think you ought to shave and they say no, you look all right. But when you get to wherever you are going they ask everybody to please forgive Lute as he didn’t have time to shave.

They are people that kid you because when the morning paper comes the first thing you look at is the sporting sheet. You leave the paper home and buy another one to read on the way down town. When you get home that evening, in trying to make conversation you remark that it was kind of sad, the Kaiser’s wife dying in exile. “I didn’t know she was dead,” says Ma. “Well,” you tell her, “it was in the morning paper.” “I didn’t notice it,” she says. “It must of been on the front page.”

They are people that never have nothing that is fit to wear.

They are people that think when the telephone bell rings it is against the law to not answer it.

They are people whose watch is always a 1/4 of a hr. off either one way or the other. But they wouldn’t have no idear what time it was any way as this daylight savings gets them all balled up.

—

The above observations is made without resentment as I have no complaint vs. wives in gen. or anybody’s wife in particular. Personly I get along fine with whatever her name is and am perfectly satisfied with my home, which I often call my castle. I also refer to it sometimes as jail, but only in a joking way.

But here I am in jail and supposed to be defending my sex vs. the opponents and as I said before What a fat chance. However I promised the old boy that I would answer Mrs. Putnam’s article, and a promise is a promise especially when you get paid for it.

So will point out in the beginning that Mrs. Putnam denies all through her article that it is a article and she certainly hit the nail on the hammer that time. What it reads like to me is pure fiction. Like for inst. she gives you the impression that whenever she seen her husbands before she married them, they always had on a dress suit. Well friends I think you will find the fact is that when a kid is 16 or 17 yrs. of age he gets a dress suit and by the time he is 19 yrs. of age he couldn’t get it on with a shoe horn, and from that age to when he gets married he don’t have no more dress suit than Robinson Crusoe and he wouldn’t never have no more dress suit as long as he lived if she didn’t insist on him joining the Rotarians.

The lady’s complaint is that after being used to him in nothing but dress suits wile he was doing the alleged courting, why it is a kind of a blow to see him walking around the rm. in his shaving uniform with his suspenders drapped over his hips. In reply to that will say that the lady shouldn’t ought to of had no trouble picking out a husband with something on his hip besides suspenders.

Another complaint is how much noise a husband makes with his tooth brush. Well if a man is at all musical they’s no instrument he won’t attempt to play on and besides what good is brushing your teeth if you are going to keep it a secret.

And another complaint is that husbands prefers toothpicks to any other form of dessert. I don’t think this is entirely fair because they’s some desserts that you get in hotels and restaurants that a person would really relish more than a toothpick, whereas they’s desserts that is served in some private homes than whom a person would not only rather have toothpicks but sulphur matches if necessary.

The lady says it is husbands that is always delaying the game and when they are told that dinner is ready dear, why it is then and then only that they start to wash their hands and brush their hair. Our reply to that is that when the little woman says dinner is ready you can generally always figure on anywheres from 10 minutes to a 1/2 hr. before they’s anything on the table but flies.

As for husbands causing the missing of the first act, judgeing from the most of the plays I seen lately she should ought to be grateful for that and if he is even slower and makes her miss the whole show she ought to kiss him.

Now then along toward the finish of her story the lady says something which I will half to quote as it is such a pretty sentiment namely, “Any complaint you can make about husbands and marriage would be a true one. And only one thing about them (meaning husbands) has got me buffaloed. Would I be willing to do with out them? And the answer to that is ‘No.’”

Well friends it is hard to bear ill will toward a writer that kind of softens her tirade with such a neat little compliment as that and it looks to me like it would be no more than gentlemanly on my part to reply to same in kind. For inst.

“Pretty near any complaint you make about wives, why it is true though they will probably resent it. But I often ask myself the question could I get along without them? And the answer to that is that I got along without none for twenty five yrs. and never felt better in my life. Believe you me.”

• 5 •

Change The Week-End

HOW TO AVOID WET SUNDAYS

During the last couple of months I have received hundreds of verbal and written complaints from all over the country in regards to the kind of weather which the Government provides for Saturday afternoons and Sundays, which is the time when 90 per cent. of our citizens enjoys a weekly vacation from their work, and depends on them two days for practically all the pleasure they get out of life.

The complainants set forth that all the doctors and board of health, etc., are always advising everybody to exercise and get plenty of fresh air and that Saturday and Sunday is the only time when most people have a chance to carry out this advice; but when it begins pouring rain every Saturday morning at 11 o’clock, and keeps on pouring rain till three o’clock on Monday morning, why how in the h——ll is anybody going to get the benefits of the great outdoors unless he is a toad or an angle worm?

BOYS’ SPORTS SUFFER

The boys who are hit hardest by the week-end rain are the golf and tennis players and the boys that are interested in baseball, either as a player or spectator.

There is no sadder sight than a street car or train on a Saturday or Sunday loaded with men carrying their clubs and rackets or wearing that vacant look peculiar to the baseball fan, and see all those poor folks staring out of the window at a blinding rain storm, which they are praying it will let up, but they know well it will not, and another bunch that is hard hit is the girls who have dressed up in their best bibs and tuckers, with the idea of going to Coney or somewhere, and grabbing themselves off a handsome spender, and while they are still searching for same, along comes the heavenly shower bath and makes their holiday clothes look like a veteran deck swab.

Well, friends, I do not stand so good with the weather supply company that I can tell them what days to have sunshine, and vice versa; but I have got a suggestion that looks like solving the difficulty and providing people with good weather for their play time and also make things more convenient around, and my suggestion is to leave the weather like it is at present, but change the schedule of days, so as to make the weekend start on Wednesday at noon, and last till Friday morning, instead of Saturday noon to Monday morning like they have got it now.

NO RAIN ON THURSDAY

It is a well known fact that it does not hardly ever rain on a Thursday and very seldom on a Wednesday afternoon. So, if all offices were to close up on Wednesday at noon, and not open again till Friday morning, why, employers and employees alike would be pretty sure to have the sun shine on their weekly holiday. This would be a wise move if it did nothing beyond furnish a solution for the weather problem: but think of how many other ways it would help everybody, like, for instance, suppose you have an automobile in which you are in the habit of taking the family out for a ride on Saturday or Sunday. If the weather is bad, there is no pleasure in riding, and if the weather is good, why, the roads are so congested with other pleasure-seekers that you cannot get anywhere before it is time to start back.

But I have noticed that on Wednesday afternoon and Thursday there is hardly any traffic on country roads, and, not only that, but the motor policemen generally are not so thick on those two days, though the ones you do meet are pretty thick, regardless of what day you meet them.

If you do not own a car, why, in order to get to the golf course or the beach, or wherever you are going, you have to take a train, and it has been my observation that there is no time in the week when the trains bound for golf courses, beaches, and etc., are half so crowded as Saturday afternoon and Sunday.

BETTER TRAIN SERVICE

Further, and more, the trains on most railroads have a different schedule for Sundays, which does not include any express trains. So, the trains stop everywhere, and always late, and all the trips are hot and dusty, especially if you are a gentleman and have to stand up. Whereas if the weekly holiday was on Wednesday and Thursday, why you would be riding on a regular week-day schedule, and make very few stops, and pretty sure to find a place to set during the ride.

As for the question of ease and comfort, after you get to where you are going, I guess nobody will deny that Saturday and Sunday are the two days when the golf courses are the most crowded, and the tennis courts and beaches the same, to say nothing about the grandstand and bleachers out to the ball park. But if you visit these same places on Wednesday or Thursday, you will not got anywhere near such a jam.

Another point I might bring up is the question of theaters. Practically all theaters have a matinee on Saturday, but a person that has Saturday afternoon off cannot hope to go to more than one good matinee at once, whereas if he has Wednesday and Thursday afternoons off he can go to the same matinee which he would of gone to Saturday and another one besides.

In addition to all these points, there is the matter of shopping. A whole lot of times people will start off on their holiday, and find out that they have forgotten their handkerchiefs, or they have not got any tennis shoes or something. Well, if it is Saturday afternoon or Sunday, the stores are all closed, and you are up against it, whereas if it is Wednesday or Thursday, everything is open except a few saloons.

And one more point, my friends. How often has your minister met you in the street and asked you why you were not at church last Sunday morning, and you had to tell him you were playing golf? But if you worked Sunday, when there is church, and played Wednesdays and Thursdays, when there is no church, the minister would not know you well enough to speak to you, let alone ask threatening questions.

• 6 •

Tee Time

The few devotees of golf who are not entirely unhinged realize that lessons, regular or occasional, from a competent instructor will improve their game. Even Bobby Jones, I am told, seeks advice and comfort from his old teacher when trouble with one or two clubs is making it impossible for him to get below 66 on an ordinary championship course. And the lesser lights are dissatisfied with themselves often enough to keep all our professionals busy from dawn till dark, from March till December and beyond.

Unfortunately, the trouble with the majority of golfers is not confined to one club or two but is limited only by the number of clubs they have in their bag. The average pro pays no attention to this and insists on attempting to correct your midiron faults or your driving eccentricities, to the exclusion of everything else. And more unfortunately still, the average pro fancies himself as a raconteur and when you pay ten dollars presumably for a half-hour golf lesson, what you get is a five-minute golf lesson and twenty-five minutes of funny things MacGregor and MacPherson did at St. Andrews.

In this lecture, which costs you five cents, I will try to cover as many phases of the ancient “sport” as my space allotment will allow, promising to lay off of any reference to twa Scotchmen till I can no longer resist. Let it be understood that I do not claim to have originated all the bits of advice and hints herein set down; some of them I have picked up from other experts and used with slight changes for the better.

As a game of golf usually begins on the first tee and as the first hole at most courses is at least a par four, I will start out with a few words about the drive. In a recent issue of The American Golfer, Miss Collett had an article titled “How Far Can a Woman Drive?” I could only skim it through while sorting the laundry, but the gist seemed to be that there was no limit if she would remember to stop once in a while at a filling station. I have suggested to The American Golfer‘s editor, a southern boy, that a still more interesting article could be written not by a member of Miss Collett’s sex on “How Far Can a Woman Drive a Man?” However that is apart from our topic.

The initial tee shot is made with a driver provided the people ahead of you are fifty yards or more away from the tee. If they are less than fifty yards, it is better to use a mashie or niblick and attempt to shoot over their heads instead of between them.

A mashie isn’t a bad bet anyway, especially if your ball remains on the tee after you have driven. If you hit a ball with a mashie it will sometimes go farther than if you miss it with a driver.

THE ALL-IMPORTANT BALANCE

The essential of good driving is balance, and when the word balance is employed in reference to golf, it is obvious that physical balance is meant. Your weight should be evenly distributed and that often takes years because the average person with a fat stomach usually has narrow legs and the matter of transferring part of the tonnage from one site to another can only be accomplished by studying evenings. Balance is important in other sports as well; in baseball for example. Babe Ruth has a whopping torso and ankles like a flea’s. But for this uneven apportionment of weight he might develop a balance that would enable him to meet a ball squarely instead of half topping it.

Assuming that the reader is not a novice and can get off the tee in two strokes, I will take up the third shot which is generally puzzling on account of the ball being in a field of timothy or a moat or lolling against the foot of a tree.

If you haven’t time to wait for the harvest or a drought or the felling of the tree, remember there is no rule forbidding the use of two clubs at once and a little practice will enable you to handle a driving iron and a putting cleek as if they were a pair of tongs. In this manner the ball may be placed in a more favorable lie or filliped onto the fairway, and from there you ought to reach the trap nearest the green with two brassies and a jigger.

Quoting again from The American Golfer, Chick Evans says the real shot to learn (for getting out of a trap) is the explosion shot, but “sand, because of rain and dew, has different weights, and the weight of the sand has much to do with the distance,” meaning the distance you should hit behind the ball.

It is almost impossible these days to find a caddy who will carry a set of scales besides your clubs, umbrella, books, picnic lunch, spare tire, and overnight bag, but most modern locker rooms are equipped with steelyards; if yours is not, a penny or nickel weighing machine will usually be found in the nearest railroad or subway station and enough sand may be carted there in a wheelbarrow to give you an idea how much length and strength to put into your stroke. Personally I have made a majority of my explosion shots on the fairway and with not very good results, owing, no doubt, to an unwillingness to hold up the game while the grass was being weighed.

How often we hear it said of an otherwise fine golfer that he is lamentably weak on short putts! I have never had one and so am hardly competent to instruct others how to overcome the weakness, but it seems logical to me that the player thus afflicted can get round the difficulty by not sending his approaches so near the hole.

Putting on a smooth, level green is comparatively simple and almost anybody ought to be able in three putts to get close enough so that the opponent will concede.

A different problem is presented on an uneven, rolling, tricky green, but I believe that our best golfers employ wrong methods in dealing with same. I have observed Bobby Jones, Walter Hagen and other so-called stars waste precious moments walking around, behind the ball and in front of it, to different positions from which to study the contour of the ground, thinking their eyes can be trusted to tell them how much to allow for this mound or that depression.

RESORTING TO STRATEGY

The practical way is to let the ball decide matters for itself; in other words, putt two or three times to see what happens before you go for the hole. If your first or second putt drops into the cup so much the better; if not, you at least know what the trouble was.

The golfer who finds himself in a battle with an opponent who is mechanically his superior may often win a match by the use of strategy.

For example, suppose it is your shot and the other guy’s ball is ahead of yours, on the green, in the rough, or on the fairway. You say to him, “Please move your ball,” being careful to kind of mumble your words.

The instant he complies, you can claim the hole if it is a match play or have him disqualified if it is a medal play. If he attempts to defend himself by asserting he only committed the foul because you asked him to, you can pretend he misunderstood, that what you actually said was, “We move this fall.”

LEGITIMATE METHODS

Three or four years ago I inadvertently got into a match with the late Walter Travis at Belleair, Fla. I was on the edge of the eighth green, about forty feet from the hole, in so many strokes. Mr. Travis was fifty yards behind me in one. “Please move your ball,’ he said. I did so in a spirit of levity. Mr. Travis then played a roundup shot which would have struck my ball if I hadn’t moved it. As it was the ball stopped four inches from the cup. This was not an attempt at fraud on Mr. Travis’ part but it gave him the match, as I picked up and went back to the clubhouse, conceding him the next eleven holes.

Another thing to remember is that while the ethics of golf forbid coughing, talking, sneezing, snoring, or making any other sort of noise while the opponent addresses the ball, it is not illegal to use mustard gas or throw flares or tickle his ears with a wisp of straw.

Mr. Alex J. Morrison (The American Golfer once more) writes that a man is most successful in negotiating golf shots when he is tired and therefore relaxed. It would seem, then, that a golfer facing an important match should first tire himself out. The individual probably knows best how to accomplish this in his own case. Personally I have found the following methods almost equally effective: crawling on hands and knees from your office or home to the golf club; dancing all night with Aunt Jemima; moving the piano into the bathroom and the bathtub into the garage; arguing with a football coach.

Which reminds me of the story of the countless Scotchmen, most of them named Sandy. They were playing at St. Andrews for the first time.

“Weel,” said Sandy, “gin ye swing mair hooly, Sandy, ye’ll nae rax the sheugh.”

“Weel,” was Sandy’s reply, “gin ye hae ane bittle, ye mecht misken yon clatch.”

About

Lardner on the Loose

A COLLECTION OF SHORT FICTION BY
Ringgold Wilmer Lardner
(1885–1933)

Ring Lardner was an American sports columnist and short story writer best known for his satirical writings about sports, marriage, and the theatre. He was a contemporary of Ernest Hemingway, Virginia Woolf and F. Scott Fitzgerald, all of whom professed strong admiration for his writing.

In 1916, Lardner published his first successful book, You Know Me Al, an epistolary novel written in the form of letters from “Jack Keefe”, a bush-league baseball player, to a friend back home. The letters made much use of the fictional author’s idiosyncratic vernacular, with semi-literate grammar and phonetic spelling. Like most of Lardner’s stories, You Know Me Al employs satire, in this case to show the stupidity and avarice of a certain type of athlete. Until 1920, Lardner continued to write follow-up stories about Jack Keefe, some of which were collected in the books Treat ‘Em Rough and The Real Dope, narrating Jack’s Army experiences in World War I.

Lardner later published such stories as “Haircut”, “Some Like Them Cold”, “The Golden Honeymoon”, “Alibi Ike”, “A Day with Conrad Green”, and dozens more. Sometimes narrated by a “wise boob”, with slyly satirical commentary on manners and morals (The Big Town), sometimes taking a poignant view (“Now and Then”, “Old Folk’s Christmas”), sometimes sliding into sheer noir (“Champion”), always entertaining. His frequent use of vernacular influenced sports fiction writing for generations to come.

(—Extracted and adapted from Wikipedia.)

The contents of this book were first published 1914 ~ 1933.

This is my own compilation. NOTE: Much of Lardner’s work after 1922 is not available in digital archives, so this collection is far from complete.

This ebook was created by E.C.M. for MobileRead.com, February 2017, and may be freely distributed for non-commercial purposes.

The text of this book is in the public domain in countries where copyright is “Life+80” or less.

Text was obtained from Project Gutenberg, the Internet Archive, magazine archives at HathiTrust, and newspaper archives at the Library of Congress and the National Library of Australia.

Transcription and OCR errors were corrected; punctuation, italics, and diacritics formatted. Table of Contents provides links to section titlepages; individual story titles and links can be found there, as well as in the Index of Titles. Stories in each section are presented in chronological order. Decorative fonts “Landsdowne” by Paul J. Lloyd and “Text Me One” by Julia Petretta used for titling.

Validation by Pagina Epub Checker.

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Index of Titles

A •  B •  C •  D •  E •  F •  G •  H •  I •  J •  L •  M •  N •  O •  P •  Q •  R •  S •  T •  U •  W •  Y •  Z

A
Alibi Ike
Along Came Ruth
And Many a Stormy Wind Shall Blow
Anniversary
TOP
B
Back to Baltimore
Ball-A-Hole
Battle (The) of Long Island
Battle (The) of Texas
Battle of the Century
Beautiful Katie
Big Town, The
Busher Abroad (The), Part 1
Busher Abroad (The), Part 2
Busher Abroad (The), Part 3
Busher Abroad (The), Part 4
Busher (The) Beats It Hence
Busher (The) Comes Back
Busher (The) Pulls a Mays
Busher (The) Reenlists
Busher’s Honeymoon, The
Busher’s Kid, The
Busher’s Letters Home, A
Busher’s Welcome Home, The
TOP
C
Caddy’s Diary, A
Call for Mr. Keefe!
Carmen
Champion
Change The Week-End
Comic
Contract
Corporal Punishment
Courtship (The) of T. Dorgan
Crook, The
TOP
D
Day (A) with Conrad Green
Decorated
Dinner
TOP
E
Ex Parte
TOP
F
Facts, The
Frame-Up, A
Friendly Game, A
TOP
G
Golden Honeymoon, The
Good for the Soul
Gullible’s Travels
TOP
H
Haircut
Harmony
Hold-out, The
Horseshoes
Hurry Kane
TOP
I
I Can’t Breathe
It’s the Only Life
TOP
J
Jack the Kaiser Killer
TOP
L
Last Laugh, The
Liberty Hall
Love Nest, The
TOP
M
Man Not Overboard
Maysville Minstrel, The
Mr. and Mrs. Fix-It
Mr. Frisbie
My Roomy
My Week in Cuba
TOP
N
New Busher (A) Breaks In
Nora
Now and Then
TOP
O
Old Folks’ Christmas
Only One
Own Your Own Home
TOP
P
Phil and His 4d
Poodle
Poor Simp, The
Private Valentine
Purls Before Swine
TOP
Q
Quick Returns
TOP
R
Reunion
Rhythm
TOP
S
Sammy Boy
Say It with Oil
Sick ’Em
Simple Simon
Some Like Them Cold
Stragety and Tragedy
Sun Cured
Symptoms of Being 35
TOP
T
Tee Time
There Are Smiles
Three Kings and a Pair
Three Without, Doubled
Tour No. 2
Travelogue
TOP
U
Uncivil War
TOP
W
Water Cure, The
Welcome to Our City
When It Comes to Dogs
Where Do You Get That Noise?
Who Dealt?
Women
TOP
Y
Yellow Kid, The
You Know Me Al
Young Immigrunts, The
TOP
Z
Zone of Quiet
TOP