The Bismarck Tribune Newspaper, October 17, 1927, Page 3

( _ AGypsy Rom How FAME SCHAFER ~ _ Followed the ROMANY PATTERAN and Died uN ° \ iff With a Kiss on The white moth to the glosing vine, il da pm ool ve Seguin ed ypsy t Ever the wide waldo. Ever the wide world over, lass, Ever the trail held true, Over the world and under the world, And back at the last to you. limpse of the long, windis id that stretches sass cvirthe ‘roll. ing prairies tq the green fields and wid groves at the very end of the wor! usually “The were not kind to kame Schater. She answered the call of the distant horizon and died for it. | But. going, she became the appealing central figure in a strange romance that the tribes of still discuss around their campfires at dusk, while the ‘west wind ripples over the limitless prairies. The town ot eget Nebraska, speak kindly afaae Schafer. ey i do not af you will gather that che was a gi young regular harum-scarum, in fact, ft a to run away and mix with unprincipled 7 sers. You will hear that, after all, got sre than was coming to her for ber flouting o! ventions. Maybe the gossips are But Fame, who died shen she was 18, thirsted for life—vibrant, a fe, filled with bright sunlight and black shadows. —for the Red Gods grant this much—she got a meas- ure of it before the end came. vee HE. town of Schiryler ts a county seat, with a popu- lation of some 2500 i Like many western towns, it is often visited nds of roving 1e8. Nearly every week one or another of the gay ny caravans will pitch its camp in a field or grove near the town, and the gypsy is a familiar sight to the peo- ple of Schuyler. " It was just about a year ago that kame, a eyed high school girl, heard the call of the pictu wanderers. Just how she got with members of the caravan that was the town no one seems to know; she had dants, But, one day in sprig, the town to hear that she had married young Duffy son of the chief of the tribe. It turned out to be a very luckless venture, and you may be sure town gossips made the most Duffy and Fame separated on the after thei riage. Fame went back home—to be received, Hi in something of a scandalized silence. CAPTIVATED BY FREE LIFE OF THE GYPSIES F if if wi z ee i ep if [ [ . i E i i z i oy ga E f i : E i E i i F i. ri L it an automobile for a Christmas present. -Fame laughed. “I would rather have a wedding ting,” she replied. And so it was agreed that they would get married—as soon as Fame could get a di- vosce from Mason's son, Duffy. CONVENTIONS IGNORED BY GYPSY TRIBESMEN Meanwhile—well, gypsy ways are not the ways ot the towns. The gypsies never count passing of time; they have no calendars and know no dates, as far as their private lives are concerned. Nor do they know all of the strict conventions of civilization. So Mason could see no reason why Fame should not live with him until she got her divorce; and Fame, enter- ing eagerly on the gypsy life, agreed with him. left Omaha and went to Fremont, where a day was spent decorating the Christmas tree on the grave of Mason's baby grandson; for it was the middle of «December. Then they got on a train to go to Leigh. Several passengers on that train noticed them and tound them an interesting couple. The girl—young, slim and attractive—was in high spirits, laughing and chatting constantly. The man was more quiet, un- Seren | soceauisallly. in a dignified chuckle. He and Fame discussed plans for the future; now and then she tead him stories out of a magazine—for Mason, like most gypsies, had scorned to learn how to read or write. The two reached Leigh that evening and went di- rectly to the camp of the Mason clan, on the edge of Now these camps were far from being the disrepu- table, Frowajclockeng affairs that stent pictures Frank Mason connection with ies. Mason's tribe was well- Teele feats ted yd «specially ba wagon that wagons are more luxurious pr The wagon in which Fame and Mason were to make Ze ose tne pote ra and a lattice with cretonne curtains divided it into two rooms... the T gypsy. as we know him, 1s doomed. deren They hae ak a pone te i hey orginally Rls baer) in tere gs io Gs coe that have passed since they left “the The front room served as a sort of combination kitchenette-living room. There was a small iron stove, used both tor cooking and heating. There were built-in boxes containing dishes, coming utensils and food supplies. here was a folding table covered with white oilcioth; a wicker hamper with tablecloth. napkins, silverware and the like. re was a mirror on the wall; clean Turkish towels ee on a rack alongside it. A bright tag rug was spread over the clean linoleum floor. GYPSY WAGON HOME PROVES LUXURIOUS The other was the bedroom. A built-in bed, with a comfortable mattress: on box springs, ctr the greater part of the space. On it were neatly-tolded wool blankets that could not have cost less than $50 apiece. Under the bed were built-in drawers contain- ing sheets, pillow cases and extra bedding. In both tooms were neatly curtained glass windows. All in all, this gypsy wagon was as neat, cozy and homelike a nest as any bride could wish. ‘ Now when Fame and Mason reached the camp, they were greeted warmly by all of the clan except Mason's two sons, Duffy ied Ted. These two stayed apart and sulked darkly. . Duffy was not in the least jealous. Ihe tact that he was to lose his wife to his own father worried him not at all. But there are certain ties of loyalty and senti- ment that are even stronger, perhaps, in the gypsy tribes than they are in the towns of civilization. What angered Duffy and Ted was the fact that another woman was to take their mother's place. * & * EVERYTHING might have gone smoothly had not Ted wandered into his father’s wagon just as Fame was preparing to cook supper. , He found her I Hy Weed] In his eyes those articles were sacred; no woman could use them. In hot anger he told Fame to put them down. ° Even then trouble might have been avoided if fame had been a little older and wiser. But she was young, headst: and impetuous. She threw the implements down _) heatedly ordered Ted out of the wagon. Worst of all, she taunted him and told him that soon she would be his stepmother. Ted Mason went out without a word. He lett the went to a hardware store in town and -hought shells for his .38 caliber revolver. Frank Mason then entered the wagon. Finding Fame in tears, he got her to tell him what had hap- pened; and, to take her mind off the set-to and to avoid ties tte coffee pot and skillet that had belonged to his . other are getting stiffer. For the steady worker, the modern world holds rewards such as the worker of a century ago never dreamed; but for the misit—the wanderer, drifter, the ne’er-do-well—it is turning into a rather tough place. It takes money nowadays even to @ roamer. And all of this is having its effect. First of all, it has driven the gypsy from his horse- drawn wagon to the foun car. 2 At the on day only a small percentage of the in the United States continue to travel in horse- awn Wi They now pilot rickety Fords, sccond- hand Buicks and the like. HORSES WERE ASSETS The reason for this lies in no ianate preference for the motor car. The Spey was far more comfortable in ‘his covered wagon the vast majority of auto tourists ere in their portable camps. But the gypsy of old valued his horses in two ways: as means of transportation and as units of trading value. (Copyright, 1927, NEA Service, Inc.) “than the Fame Schafer a repetition of it that night, he took her to the town for supper. SETTING THE STAGE FOR THE TRAGEDY a ned 5 in a restaurant and then went to.a barber shop. Fame, gypsy queen or no, was to retain her modern haircut. She sat in the Tater chair and Mason stood beside her, chatting with her, then the door of the barber shop opened and Ted and Duffy Mason entered. esis Not a word was said. But Ted ste up behind the girl, put the muzzle of his revolver within six inches of ks head and fired. AG the girl fell back in the chair Frank Mason gave one piercing cry that was heard blocks away. "Then, ignoring his sons, ‘he seized the girl’s body in his arms and pressed a long kiss on her lips. And that was the end of Fame Schater—death in the arms of her gypsy lover, killed by the fierce iial ealeuts and loyalties that she had not foreseen ° lerstood. ae THE test of the story is soon told. The two Mason boys went across the street to a pool hall, where Ted announced his crime and asked the proprietor to call police. He and his brother were arrested and locked in jail, where they asked the sheriff to them. ic coll nett a winkeye ote ene ae glimpse of the open blue sky. : Among the visitors that went to the jail to see them It is safe to say that most gypsies, in the old days, earned most of their money By tradi horses. e world never developed a more skilled horse dealer gypsy. An animal that was spavined, pig bi in one eye could be . for the purpose of trading, to look and act like a b! Arsen The gypsy bought ancient wrecks of nags for ‘a aptiory them at very tasty noes aed thus not on! of transportation but a caeoabee livelihood: ea : as All of that—or most of it, at any rate—is over. The automobile has robbed the horse of much of his value, and made him less common, Many jes - now deal in second-hand autos instead. In te far Heb le £7 hares tradiog sae still Cel but sew! tty mi peared, thae ey are ly Simiashing | 1p numbers, sto The World War dealt ies a terrific blow. When the as oh ope ene cxtimal jimated to be 600,000 gypsies in Europe. Today it is said asthmatic GYPSY WANDERERS was a young Lutheran minister named Alfred Bergt. He sat on a bunk with them and began to expostulate with them for breaking God's commandment. “And who is‘God?” asked Ted Mason. “We have never heard of him.” jut when the minister left they asked the jailer to “‘let that fellow come back again.” And before the winter was over both boys were baptized into the Lutheran church, there in the jail. FRANK MASON WANDERS ON DOWN LONELY ROADS Duffy Mason was freed. Ted Mason was convicted of first degree murder and sentenced to life imprison- ment. He took his sentence without a quaver; he had resorted to the only law he knew to honor the memory of his dead mother, and he was willing to take what- ever consequences might be in store for him. When they took him to the penitentiary at Lincoln, to live the rest of his roving life in a narrow cell, he was composed and calm. So Ted is now a “lifer.” Duffy Mason has given up the gypsy life and has hired out to a farmer. He is going to school and plans to lead a settled, steady life , henceforward. And Frank Mason? The roads of the west are long and lonely. They lead forever over purple horizons, under clear blue skies, with a west wind to ruffle the jorses’ manes, and gleaming mountain peaks, ie- meanirably remote, shimmering in the distance. Over them, in these spring days, goes the wagon of the old gypsy chief—with a lonely, tired man sitting alone on the seat. . . wandering alone. . . . And Fame? Well. perhaps the Schuyler gossips were right. She stepped into a life that was not hers, entered a tribe into which she was not born, confronted dark passions with which she could not cope, and she paid the price. But still, when the wagons draw round the camp- res on the great open plains, and the nightwind drifts lazily across the grasses bearing the scents of uttermost ends of the earth, gypsy tribes tell the story of Fame Schafer—the white girl who followed Romany patteran, and died with a gypsy's kiss on her mouth. The heart of a man to the heart of a maid—- Light of my tents, be fleet! Morning waits at the end of the world, And the world is all at our feet! e* * *% that not a tenth of that number is still living a gypsy life. Vast numbers of gypsies were pressed into armies. Even those who were not, found their old freedom of movement gone. The years of repression and restraint apparently broke their spirit, in many cases. At ‘all events, the gypsy- life of Europe is nothing compared to what it was before 1914. A NEW KIND OF GYPSY One curious American by-product of civilization 1s the working gypsy—the gypsy who travels by train and who never camps in the open, There are many such. They work in shops and factories for a tew weeks or months—generally. just long enough to save up money for train fare to the next town—and then _move on. Thy are still footloose and nomadic—but what a far cry from their state to the picturesque. light- ted wanderers of the swaying caravans! Yet each year more and more gypsies come to this