Evening Star Newspaper, April 26, 1925, Page 76

THIS SPORTING LIFE BY WILLIAM O. McGEEHAN. The Story of a Good Sport and Gracefl{l Loser. A HE outlook was dark for the) Colonel and the Se or. The horses were in the paddock for the first race at Belmont | Park. Their handlers were walking them in circles at the sad dling stations under the trees. There was colorful acti y evel _’\\h?r? in the paddock excepting in the vicinity of the Colonel and the Senator, who were conversing sorrowfully in regard to a very deplorable situation. Titles” mean nothing in the dem- ocratic world of racing. There were those who would tell vou that the Colonel never saw military service of any sort, not even in the State mili- tia, and that the nearest that the Sen- ator had come to engaging actively in statecraft was when he once threat- ened to become a candidate for the State Senate. These same inconsid- e persons might refer to them as just a couple of touts.” The turf does not care who follows it, and the followers do not care how they follow | as long as they are allowed to fol low it The Colonel wore a gray mustache and goatee and affected a Southern accent, though scandal had it that he| had been no farther South than the authors of the “mammy songs.” Any one familiar with cinema types would know that he was a Kentuckian or a Virginian at a glance. You cannot mistake types. He was spare and erect even in his dejection. Military training, even when it is imaginary, always keeps 2 man well set up. The Senator wore a statesman’s slouch hat even in Summer. He was inclined to be flabby, but once had looked like William Jennings Bryan at the Cross of Gold period. It is just as hard fo mistake the statesman type as it is to mistake the Southern 1ype. That is why the Colonel and the Senator nearly always could find clients, even in a profession that al-| ways has been crowded. The Colonel and the Senator kept to the paddock because of the pressure of circumstances. On the New York tracks you may not bet with cash. You must be the friend or acquaint- ance of the bookmaker to such an ex tent that he will extend credit and ac cept your memorandum slip, not ac- companied by cash or check. The next vou collect from him before the racing or, if you have been unfortu- nate enough to lose, you settle. And, by the way, it is not good form to call them bookmakers. _ There are no bookies on the New York tracks. They are oralists or broker The Colonel and the Senator felt a certain delicacy about appearing on the lawn or In the clubhouse inclosure because they owed every oralist at the | track. It would be awkward to be dunned or even to have the appear ance of being dunned. They had not welched. They intended to pay. Every- | body at the race track intends to pa There was only one reason why the Colonel and the Senator had not paid long ago. They did not have the funds. Information was becoming harder and harder to retail, and the returns were uncertain. At the moment they were discussing the results of an unfortunate alliance they had formed temporarily the day hefore. At the suggestion of the Judge, who frankly was a tout, and who did not shrink at that indelicate appella- on, they had combined with him on a three-horse race, the steeplechase. The Colonel had recommended Sunbeam, the favorite. The Senator had told a certain party he had met through making the first advance that Black Bart, the second choice, could notMose. The Judge had touted somebody on Killarney, the long shot, and Killarney had won The custom is for the tout to collect & fee by cajolery or by threat. The ement with the Judge was that whoever collected was to divide three ways The Judge wouldn't kic bawled him ad reported, “The sucker in with nothing. T out good. but he threat- ened to call the Pinks and 1 had to let him go. He won two grand, too.” The Colonel and the Senator felt that the Judge was lying. In fact, they had heard that the Judge had been passed money for the tip. But there was no legal redress, and they dared rot start an open controversy for fear of being ruled off. That fear to a fol- lower of the turf is greater terror than bankruptcy or death. “I know that the hound is holding out on us,” said the Senator. “That's what we get for having anything to do with a low-down tout.” “T dislike to feel that our tgust has been misplaced,” said the Colonel. “But it cannot be helped. In the sport- ing life one meets all sorts, you know."” “Rut what are we going to do, col onel?” demanded the Senator “Well. we are here, Senator.” re- plied the Colonel. “We can watch the horses run for the sheer joy of the thing. “You can_just having Senator “Frequently try 1 hatting don’'t mean watch even a to say horses run dime bet?” that you without said the in the Blue G ave watched races without said the Colonel. “When 1 had my own string I seldom bet uniess somebody insisted ‘Not me,” said the S can't get credit or I'm going to throw and quit the turf. polities and work rotten ec omic system changed heen campaigning for racing all life and it owes me something." “The charm of the sporting life, my dear Senat " said the Colonel, the life itse . It is always turning up something interesting.” S s coun- nator. cash “If we somewhere away my b T'll go back into to get this present AS thoush in corroboration of this statement, Mr. Kidney Mulcahey came up to the pair excitedly Kidney Mulcahey was a stock youth in checks and the conventional yegg 2ap. “Colonel,” he said, “there is a new| bookie on the lawn and the softest | gap I ever saw. He asked me to get him trade. I'm practically his run- ner. T'll steer you up against him it you guys will do the right thing. And don’t make any small bets either. He told me that he wanted only big| betters. Honest, it's almost a shame | to take him. He won't last long, | though."” “Kidney, him, “your You seem to great joy.” The young Kidney Stew so called because of fondness for this delica the tracks he was dressed as Kidney. “If only some of the knockers do not tip us off,” said the Senator, pes- simistically. “There is a lot of knock- ing going on, especially around the lawn.” “Nobody will tip anybody off,” de-| red Kidney. “The rest of the book- fes are just dying to have this sucker took."” “Kidney,” said the Colonel sternly, “T wish that you would restrain your- self. Your implications are insuiting. 1 hope you do not wish to imply that either the Senator or myself would welch on a gaming debt. I trust that you are aware that we always settle our obligations of honor, no matter how long it may take.” “Qb, sure,” said Kidney, said the Colonel, chiding language is coarse, but be bringing tidings of name was and he was an _inordinate ¥, but around informally ad-| with & |1 told grin. “You'd better come and be in- troduced to this bird before post time for the first race if you have any in- formation on it.” The trio hurried to the lawn, where the press of humanity was starting to thicken. The Colonkl and the Sen- ator pretended not to be aware that certain_gentlemen stationed near the posts that supported the stands were looking at them, some curiously and some rather sternly. These gentle- men were bookmakers who had been waiting for various periods for the Senator and the Colonel to come and settle. The new bookmaker was first ap- proached by Mr. Kidney Mulcahey. He was a German with a cherubic countenance and rather vacant blue eyes of the type that bulged and be- spoke innocence. “Mr. Schultz,” sald Kidney, in a stage whisper, “T am staking vou 1o two of the biggest betters on the track. They usually do all of thair betting in the clubhouse, but when him I had a friend in the business they said they would give you their business just to help me out. Give them a shade in the odds and you can make steady customers out of them.” The new bookmaker beamed. He had been a very successful delicatos- sen storekeeper in Yonkers. Cus- tomers were customers to him. The Colonel's hand was just a. shaky as he made out a ticked on the favorite in the first race. “Did I understand you to say 5 to 2, sir?” he demanded. “For yoy it will be 3 to 1.” said the new bobkmaker. ‘“Just so that we should gefter acquainted.” The Colonel scribbled on of a pad. ittle the sheet “At that price I will take 300,” he said. “It's not much of a race. A bad lot. A little later the Senator and I may really start to bet. I trust that the book will be strong enough to stand a few substantial wagers. 1 do not like to be put to the trouble of rushing my men around to the various books, shopping for odds. It savors too much of sor- did commercialism. It is not sport.” You can bet just as much as you like right here” declared the new bookmaker. “For my regular custom- ers I will give them a little shade on the odds.” Ak TTHE Colonel handed over the slip. The bookmaker thrust it into a wallet. The bet was registered. In the meantime the Senator had writ- ten a slip for the same amount on the same horse. The post bugle sounded as the Colonel and the Sen- ator hurried back to the paddock, where they were joined by Kidney Mulcahey. “Isn’t it soft?” demanded Kidney. “I'm going to introduce the whole mob, One-Eye Hennessey, the Mitt- and-a-Half Kid, Dopey Dave and all of them.” “Kidney,” said the Colonel sternly, “you wiil' do no sych thing. Some of the persons you have mentioned are little better than welchers.” “I will, too,” said Kidney stub- bornly. “Here is the idea. With a lot of the mob betting somebody is sure to win, and whoever wins cuts with Kidney. You guys might lose and then you go overboard the next day. What becomes of me after I go and find the sucker?” There was a confused murmur from the lawn. “They're off,” cried the Senator, and rushed toward the lawn. The other two followed just in time to see the favorite come under the wire in the first race. “We win 600 apiece, Senator. me, Kidney. must be over. “Kidney,” pleaded the Colonel, * beg of you not to do this thing. Some of those fellows certainly would not show up. It might be that after such a thing Mr. Schultz might even begin to be suspicious of even the Senator and myself. My boy, do as I ask and we will fee you hand- somely.’ “But supposing that you two guy lose and take a runout powder,” d murred Mr. Mulcahey. “Kidney,” said the Colonel, solemnly, “the Senator and I always pay.” “Like Kathleen Mavourneen,” said Kidney. “It may be. for years and it may be forever.” “Be sportsman.” pleaded Colonel. “Have a little faith in sporting life.” All right,” sald Kidney at las PIl string with you and the Sen- ator. But remember that I'm in You are in, as vou put it,” sald the Colonel. “On the word of a gentle- man and a soldier, you are in.” “And Mr. Schultz is out,” put in the Senator jocularly, a jest at which the Colonel frowned. “You said it,” agreed Kidney. “The bologney sausage man is out any way you take it.” ~ “I trust, Kidney,” said the Colonel, “that vou do not infer that the Sen ator and I would neglect any obliga- tion we might incur to Mr. Schultz?" “You guys will be the death of me, replied Kidney Mulcahey with utter irrelevance. “But see me after the pay-off or you'll hear my squawk from here to Havana." “Come on, Colonel,” said the Sen- ator impatiently. “Let's shop around the paddock for a little information exulted the “Or am I dreaming? Pinch The long, hard Winter the the | certainty. on the jump. River Shannon ought to win.” The pair threaded their way in and out through trees, pausing a white at the different saddling sta- tions. They made the longest half before the spot where River Shan- non was being cooled out. “Reminds me of a hunter I had when I was a youngster down on the old Virginia plantation,” said the Colonel. The Colonel's plantation was a movable estate. Sometimes it was in the Blue Grass region of Kentucky, sometimes in the heart of Maryland. Then again it would be transformed into the original farm owned by Gen. George Washington. “We will bet 600 on River Shan- non,” continued the Colonel. “It will be largely sentimental with me. The horse is the living picture of my old hunter.” Wait a minute,” objected the Sen- ator. “We're ahead of the game on nothing. Why take a chance and shoot it all back?” “My dear Senator,” said the Col- onel, “can it be that you are weak- ening after all yvour years of the sporting life? For shame, Senator. Today I believe in my destiny.” fes, but I've been doubled cross- ed by destiny so often that I don't want to make it work overtime,” grumbled the Senator. 'Six hundred will get us 1,800, nator,” persisted the Colonel soft- ly. “Don’t weaken. Don't be a quar- ter horse.” “Oh, well, it's bologn: money,” said the Senator. piece.” sausage * koK ¥ THE Colonel was blandly familiar when he approached Mr. Schultz with the send slip. “I am pressing the luck a little,” he announced. “I have some very excellent information on this one. I would advise you purely out of friendship not to lay too much against him. He is the same strain as my old hunter I rode | in Maryland. I of that breeding.” As thé Colonel and the Senator tried to slip through down the lawn am sure the Colonel was buttonholed rather | firmly by a runner for one of the established books. “Cook wants to know how about it,” demanded the interloper. “You may assure Mr. Cook,” said the Colonel, “that the Senator and myself will be on hand early at pay time tomorrow and settle that little account. It merely escaped our at- tention.” “Cook says that you had better not let it escape tomorrow,” said the runner. likely to tip off the sucker. Remem- be! “A most impertinent fellow,” said the Colonel. “We must pay that fel- low off tomorrow.’ “You said it,” said the Senator. “And he said it. We'd better square ourselves with all of the mad dogs in the morning if the luck holds out.” In tk parlance of the New York betting rings a mad dog is a book- maker who has not been settled with. He is, of course, to be avoided by the debtors as they would avoid a mad dog, There was a nasty spill in steeplechase that afternoon, but it did not Involve River Shannon. On the contrary, it made his victory a The Colonel watched the race with quiet dignity, but the Sena- the | tor could not restrain himself from indulging in a Httle jig on the lawn. The dance stopped very suddenly. Dynamite Smith tapped the Senator on the shoulder. "I see that you win a little,” said Mr. Smith. *“Do not forget that hundred. 1 will be able to use, it tomorrov © “Just because we have a little luck the duns have to collect like a lot of buzzards,” complained the Senator. you are right, Senator,” agreed the Colonel. “We shall pay every one of the scoundrels tomorrow and we shall in future give every cent of our commission to Mr. Schultz. Let us go back to the paddock, awa: from these vermin and bloodsuckers As they walked beneath the trees the Senator hailed a negro with a pink and green sweater. Because of his political title the Senator was quite democratic. “Hello, Mushmouth,” he cried. “Do u know of anything in this one?" I just been talking to Craps Dice White in the Lone Pine stable,” said Mushmouth. “He tell me they got Fragrancy all hopped up for ‘this one and he sure will be in the money. T got my rent money down on him to show, and if he doesn't I'm just go- ing to carve Craps Dice White all up, that's ail.” The Colonel looked at his program. “Vagrancy is 4 to 1 for show,” he said. “These black scoundrels are luck. I had a boy like that on my farm in Virginia, but he knew his place better. Senator, let us wager a thousand on Vagrancy to show. The Senator gasped. “A whole grand?” he demurred. ‘“Aren’t we pressing this delicatessen man too strong?” “Senator.” said the Colonel, “in this sporting life one must be ever bold. What is a thousand? 1 have lost that in a single hand at draw. 1l right, all right,” said the Sena- tor. “Let’s go. We're clearing the hurdles pretty well. We'll press the luck, if you say so. Vagrancy led to the turn, then be- IT WAS ONE OF THE MOST ANEMIC DIMES EVER SEEN ON A RACE TRACK. hoot the | “If you do, somebody is | | maker,” gan to weaken. It was a close finish, and Vagrancy was just nosed out by the favorite, but finished second by a. good length. The Senator was white and shaky. “Colonel, let’s quit right now. I think we have all the money in the world.” A bagatelle, my dear Senator, said the Colonel, airily. “We have not vet begun to bet.” “I have not only begun, but T have finished betting,” said the Senator, in a panic. “I want to pull out. I want to have enough to take a trip upstate and see my poor old mother.” “I understand your sentiments, my dear Senator,” sald the Colonel. ““And I honor them. I. too, would like to revisit the old plantation in Virginia and see my old black aunty. But I would return as a Southern gentle man should. 1If you want to dog it in the stretch——"" s “Darn_it, Colonel, gasped the Senator. “Spoken like a gentleman statesman, sir,” said the Colonel jove, I'll revive my racing stable and you shall be a haif owner. My colors are still registered with the Jockey Clut Yes 3 aid_the Senator “Only promise me one thing that if the worst comes to the worst before the last race you will hold out ham and bean money. I'm terribly un dernourished. h,” hissed the staring at Mrs. J. 7 who was_walking The photograph of Mrs. Arburton, 2d, ap peared in some New York newspaper least once a week. She was the I—I'll stick,” and a Colonel. He was M. Arburton, 2 their way. | most ornamental figure at the tracks of the Fast. She had Inherited the love of thoroughbreds from a grand- father, who owned a famous stable in the old days of the Amercian turf. The pearls she wore would have paid for the entire stable. A ok HE Senator, in awe, slunk behind the Colonel. Evidently Mrs. Ar burton, 2d, was about to speak to them. This was not extraordinary on the race track. She might have condescended to ask questions of Mushmouth. “Could you tell me the odds on Fairy Belle?” she asked. The Colonel's ancient Panama was off. and the sun gleamed on his long, lvery hair. He consulted his pro- gram. “The odds are two to one, madam,” he said. She fumbled in her purse and pro- duced a bill. “Would you please bet fifty for me on Fairy Belle,” she asked. With a courtly gesture the Colonel lightly waved the bill aside. T will instrict my betting commissioner to | place the wager with my book- he said. “Later I can have my commissioner settle with you or hand you a memorandum. It is no trouble at all, Mrs. Arburton sure you.” Mrs. Arburton, 2d, smiled and_pass- ed on through the paddock. When she was out of earshot the Colonel turned to the Senator, whose jaw was still_sagging in bewilderment. “Senator.” said the Colonel, “I think, as gentlemen of sentiment, we could do no less than bet $5,000 on Fairy Belle.” : The Senator looked at him, almost stricken dumb with amazement there was something that fas and thrilled the listener in the airy tone in which he mentioned this un heard-of sum. I am sure, Senator. s a man of gallantry, that you will agree,” he insisted The Senator mumbled, “I must be weak from hunger or something. but I say, ‘Let it ride’ I don't_think I could hold food now anyhow. The Colonel walked back to the ring humming a little tune and with the Panama tilted to an almost rakish angle. When he handed his slip to Schultz the new bookmaker gave a little gasp. He seemed dubious for just an instant, but the Colonel’s hyp- notic presence seemed to place him in a trance aMlo. He placed the slip in_his wallet. The Senator watched that race in a sort of dull haze. The golden chest nut head of Fairy Belle swept under the wire just a struggling contenders. The_Senator clutched a rail for support until the board went up. “A beautiful filly.” said the Colonel. “Senator, did it ever occur to you that this sporting life simply teems with beauty and excitement “I was thinking of food,” moaned the Senator. The Colonel’s pale face became fiushed with the fever of gambling and the pulse-quickening stimulus of success. He was walking close to the side of the fickle goddess who had eluded him all these years, and the touch of her hand was on his arm. I do not fancy anything much in the fifth,” said the Colonel. “Sup- posing we put a few thousand on Plutonian for place “Whatever you like, Colonel,” said the Senator dully. “Oh, if we only had some of this in cash. Confound this fool law that doesn't let the bet- tors deal in cash. The Senator was a bit hazy. He forgot that had their operations re quired cash they would not be oper- ating at all. He would have the law altered so that the books would pay in cash after each race, while the law would continue to forbid the betting with cash. Plutonian, picked for place by the Colonel in his conservatism, won the fifth race. When the Colonel bet four thousand more at even money that Annie Rooney would be third in sixth race that very inconsistent filly fin- ished exactly as the Colonel had bet. By Jove, Senator,” he said, “‘we have swept the card. This happened to me only once before, when I picked six straight winners at the Tanforan track, in San Francisco. It was guite a national sensation at the time. You may recall having read about it. “Did they pay you off in cash asked the Senator, eagerly. “I hardly remember that detail.” said the Colonel. “I believe that they mailed a check to my bankers. They used silver and gold out there in those days. I hardly could have carried my winnings away with me, even though I did ride back in my own carriage.” “If they would pay us off even in pennies right now I would make a desperate effort to carry it out,” said the Senator insistently. The Colonel became a trifle annoy- ed. “My dear Senator, as a state man vou should have more patience. Tomorrow we will get a statement, and I think that our winnings will approximate something like thirty thousand.” If T get my hands on that,” said the Senator feverishly, “I am going home to Tuckahoe and start a garage and I'm quitting the turf for life.” “As you please, my dear Senator,” said the Colonel. “Perhaps that would be for the best. I do not think that you really have the temperament for the sporting life. I do not mean any offense, of course, my dear fellow. But the racing s in my Southern blood.” * K ok % 'HEY crowded into one of the cars of the race train, where the oc- cupants were analyzing the results of the races that had just been run or were marking the entries for the ext day. The Colonel was triumph- nt. He was rehearsing in his mind I as-| foot ahead of two W 2 THE SENATOR'S VERY VITALS SEEMED TO SAG AS HE SAW THE COLONEL HOLD OUT THE HUNDRED-DOLLAR BILL. the gesture he would use when he handed Mrs. Arburton, 2d, her win nings on Fairy Belle. Lack of cash and of time precluded the possibility of handing it to her in an envelope engraved with his monogram. But he would make the most of the situ- ation even without the requisite props. He was undecided as to whether the presentation should be made in her box at the clubhouse or in the paddock when it was filled. He liked the idea of the paddock. It would be more public and more im pressive The Colonel and the Senator took an early train to the track the next day. They were accompanied by Mr. Kidney Mulcahey, who met them at the station. Mr. Mulcahey wanted to get hold of his commission as soon as possible. As he put it, “Me and real money have been strangers since birth. T just want to put my fingers on one grand note and to kiss it.” The Judge was in the same car. The Colonel and the Senator looked | at him with decided disfavor. He wa |a fat and flabbv individual with very red nose. The judicial title wa given to him because he frequentl rendered opinions mere or less au thoritative upon the quality of liquor. “My dear Senator.” said the Col- onel, ‘looking over the Judge's head, “don’t you think that a welcher ought to_be ruled off the track?” The Judge, who was about to make overtures because the news had been passed around that the Colonel and the Senator had made a killing, slunk back. He was far from sensitive, but he gathered that this was in the nature of a hint mingled with a threat. Nearly all of the bookmakers were at their places making their settle ments when the trio reached the track. Mr. Schultz had not yet ar- rived. The Senator was visibly frightened “I don't like this,” he whispered to the Colonel “And look at all o those other mad dogs watching us. His face was bathed with perspira- tion. ¢ My dear Senator,” said the Colonel, vou are quite jumpy. Have a little patience. Mr. Schuitz will soon here. I should advise that you leave immediately for Saratoga Springs. The waters up there are very Sooth ing to the nerves Fifteen minutes later Mr. | Mulcahey also burst into perspiration. He gasped, that the sucker has lammed. taken a runout powder on fair.” Sven the Colonel hecame annoyed. A runner from one of the other hooks approached him and whispered, “Well, how about it Immediately Kidney profuse think le has us for sir.”" said the Colonel. “I am expecting my broker at any minute.” But nobody from the new book appeared on the horizon. The Colonel mopped a damp brow. “I can’t stand it,” moaned the Sen ator. ““The scoundrel has welched on us. Let's get out of here before we are torn to pieces by the mad dogs, “I can’t believe it.” said the Col- onel as they withdrew to the pad- dock, every now and then looking back for signs of Schultz or some of his agents. It’s your fault,” snaried the Sen- ator, turning on Kidney Mulcahey. “If you had only introduced us to an honest book we would be all right. We would be getting the money we risked. Tl kill that welcher on sight.” “Don’t make too many cracks about welchers,” said Kidney Mulcahey truculent] “Every bookie on the track is a mad dog to you two guys. You got a swell chance of making a holler.” The_Senator made a rush at him, but Kidney Mulcahey's footwork saved him. told you guys not to g0 too strong,” said Kidney from a safe distance.. “I got you a sucker, but you got too greedy. Stick around till Mr. Schultz comes. IMl copper on you to everybody on the turf. Laugh that off. Mr. Kidney Mulcahey withdrew angrily. The Colonel took the half- hysterical Senator by the arm. “Come, come,” he said. “You will have,both |of us ruled off.” “I don't care,” sald the Senator des- perately. “I'm hanged if I haven't half a mind to get a job and go to work." L HE Colonel led him through the paddock behind a hedge and pressed him into a sitting position. There were tears of rage running down the Senator's flabby cheeks. “There’s nothing but welchers in the game,” he raged. “We win a fortune honestly and we get swindled out of it by a felonious deli- catessen dealer. To think that we should be taken by a sucker. “There, there,” said the Colonel soothingly. “We will have to wait developments. We must confer. We can see from here in case Schultz should have been unavoidably delayed and happen to_appear.” “I'd hate to be left hanging till he does show,” said the Senator, refus- ing to be pacified. “Moreover,” said the Colonel, “in | addition to our mutual trouble I per- | sonally am in a fix. I must raise $100 to make good to Mrs. Arbur- ton. If I do not I shall be ruled off, and I would deserve to be literally kicked off the turf, sir.” “Why not make it a thousand?" de- manded the Senator bitterly. “And how about me? I'm so hungry I could chew up this hedge. If I don’t eat soon I'll sneak into one of the stables and eat a bale of hay.” “] can sympathize with you, my be ! crooks and ! dear Senator,” said the Colonel. “I, too, have a gnawing feeling, but it is |in my soul. My honor demands a obtained.” They sat there brooding and silent as the bugle sounded post call for the first race. They heard the murmurs and the roar of the crowds. peeped out into the paddock and watched the crowds with which they could not mingle. Indeed, the chances of their ever being able to enter that paddock again seemed dimmer and dimmer. The Senator began to doze fitfully, but the Colonel watched through the opening of the hedge, like one who had faith that a miracle might be performed. Post call had sounded for the last race. The senator had roused him- self and was peering forlornly through the hedge. ing in the! direction ;d(’*el‘l(‘d paddock “‘It's the Judge, the welcher,” said the Senator. “He has $100 of our | money on him, too. Mushmouth saw him with a $100 bill making a flash ilast night.” The frame of the Colonel galva ed ‘““Are you surt manded. “Mushmouth saw the bill,” Senator “Then, by Jjust dues,” sald the Colonel in a tense whisper. *“We'll ambush him.” The Judge came straight to {opening in the hedge on his way to | beat the rush for the early train.” As he pressed through, the Colonel sprang to his feet. With one vigorous blow to the jaw he dropped the Judge. The Senator hurled himself upon the | flabby form and s |ibly ‘on the Judge's stomach. The | Senator’'s nimble fingers felt for the inside vest pocket of the Judge and produced a $100 bill through the seemed he de. said the the BY CHARLES A. LYONS, JR. OR the dreamer the majestic piles of Washington's Govern- ment buildings held an irre- sistible fascination. Contem- plating them, dignified in their silence when the day's werk is done, one becomes aware that they are haunted. And haunted they are, as are all buildings where beings have lived, worked and dreamed. Each one, departing. has laft behind some- thing of himself that can never be Llost. So the dreamer, yielding to his Prevery. finds himself brushed by in- tangible presences, his ears catching the half-heard words of long-forgot- ten persons, his whole being -strain- ing for closer and more complete un- derstanding. Let us, then, with the dreamer in his revery, follow the des- tinies of one wraith. The dome of the Capitol is spar- kling in the cold sunlight, for it is November, 1854. The Coast Survey is new figure is observed entering its portals. A debonair youth of diminu- tive figure, but with an air of bound- less confidencg, pauses for a moment on the sidewalk to contemplate the chaste exterior of the buflding. A moment of contemplation, the thresh- old is crossed, and the name of James MeNeill Whistler, aged 20, finds its way to the limited pay roll of the in- stitution, now to be honored with the position of draftsman and a remu- L neration of $1.50 per day. i This young man had lately graced the cloisters of West Point, but the exigencies of the chemical examina- tion had been too severe. In his own words, “If silicon had been a gas, he would have been a soldier.” But the laws of chemistry are immutable; the threads of destiny, once woven can- not change, and behold—a new drafts- man in the Coast Survey. Certainly, for his new fleld, he could have chosen no more colorful me- tropolis than Washington of the 50s. Statesmanship had but lately come to its golden age, abolition had recently become one of the leading issues, and a careless word on Senate floor or in committee room meant—not a con- gressional investigation—but a ride across the Potomac and coffee and pistols for two. The salons of Washington boasted the wit, beauty and chivalry of the world. at the embassy balls, was displayed the last glow of old-world courtliness, | and society was something more than a high light of ostentation on a drab background of formality. In such a field, what could not a young man of genfus and personality accomplish? Full of high hopes of social and ar- tistic triumphs, he entered upon his new duties with a surpassing confi- dence. * ok x * MODEST boarding house at Twelfth and E streets northwest was honored with his presence.. Lit- tle, if anything, is known of its qual- ity, or of his life there. It is very doubtful, however, if his landlord ap- preciated the distinction. In fact, it is known that he remonstrated with the young man for his irregular meal times and expressed considerable dis- quiet at his guest's habit of drawing pictures on the walls of the hostelry. Whistler, with his delightful naivete, reassured him by saying, ‘That will be quite all right, I won't charge you a thing for the decorations.” History 1s silent following this remark, and 80, very probably, was the landlord. They | A stout figure was com- | heaven, we'll collect our | ated himself fore- | assuming its matinal activity when a | To the strains of the polka | ;' “Shut up,” hissed the Senator, “or |ment, | T choke you to death, you double- |took the bill | crossing rat. We're only taking what glad to be allowed to live.” | “Let me up,” pleaded | “We'll call it all fair.” | ‘The Senator slowly released him. | You better call it all fair,” he warned. If you turn squealer and turn us in to the Pinks we've got enough on you |to hang you. Beat it.”. The proceeded to obey the admonition ! There was a roar from the track The last race was over. The crowd fswarmed out of the stands and the | clubhouses. | started. The Colonel | ea and seized the bill. | “Our honor is saved,” the Judge. |on a trot “Honor be blowed,” said the Sena- tor, panting after him food?” i * * ox % | 'HE Colonel ignored him and_hur- | | ried through the throng, shunt-| ing aside the human waves that beat at him as a swimmer would thrust |aside a rush of heavy waters. The | | bewildered Senator clung to his wake. | The Colonel fought his way to {limousine just as Mrs. Arburton, 2d, was being handed into it by Perry | Newberry, the famous polo player. | |~ “One moment, Mrs. Arburton,” said | | the Colonel. *“Here is the small com- | mission which I executed for you ves- ' terday. I have been looking for you | {everywhere, but missed you in |crush. 1 would have sent my man, | {but T wanted the pleasure of handing | this to you myselt.’ The Senator's ver sag as he saw the ¢ | hundred-do™ar bill Mr. Newberry frowned |burton, 2d, looked blank lonel hold out the | Mrs. Ar-| for a mo-! 1 To his duties at the Coast Survey| Whistler brought not only a high da~} gree of technical skill, but a sur | prisingly original conception of how | the work should be done. Dignified, | | even among the staid Government | | bureaus of Washington, the Coast| | Survey was a temple of science, a | palace of the practical. Many of the| world's greatest minds had lent their brilliance to forwarding the hydro- graphio research of a young nation Certainly no genius such as Whistler could drop in its midst without dXS-! turbing its placid depths. 1 The copyving of charts, no matter | how high a degres of skill they may | require, cannot satisfy the artist's| craving to create. as he bent| | over his drawing board, the young draftsman’s fancy roamed through fields which only an artist may know Through his brain tripped pictures of unbelievable beauty, masterpiec: too great for mortal artist to imprison on canvas. | Lost in his dreams, he neglected his work, while his facile fingers must place on the nearest surface, which was usually the luckless chart on which he was engaged. the creatures of his fancy. Many a chart, rnaohm:‘i | a shocked chief, bore on its margin drawings no respectable hydrographic chart ever before boasted. Little | sketches full of life, sometimes pa theti¢, always original, vet meeting with but small appreciation from a practical superior. Indeed, it is not difficult o under- stand why one who had lavished time and thought on an exact chart should fail to appreciate the draw- ings with which its margin was adorned. Here an old soldier, there an old woman, a scene from some forgotten page in the young man's memory; all' contrasted most vividly with the symmetry of lines of figures of the chart proper. r Needless to say, Whistler's inabil- ity to allow a chart to leave him with the same severe chasteness of line with which it entered his hands came very close to placing a sudden | perfod to his services. Certain it is | that he very soon became a source of wonder, amusement and much bu- reaucratic profanity. e e OR was this the only clash of a! temperamental personalit an unpoetic atmosphere. Whistler | had the artist’s supreme contempt for the timeclock. His principle was that time was made for man, not man for time. Time was by the best philosophy. merely & mode of thought, If the powers that were persisted in the idiotic belief that duty must begin at a certamn hour, end at another and continue unabated be- tween these times, he, not having been consulted, could not conscien- tiously conform thereto. As a con- sequence, his erratic hours were another imminent peril to apoplectic bureaucrats. We can plcture his life there, the eternal conflict between his creative urge, his instinct for leadership and | his subordination to the creation of others. There can be no doubt that it was a trying experience, not so much for Whistler as for those at- tempting to develop him into a com- petent; subordinate. Knowing his caustic wit as we do, the unfortunate superiors who attempted to remon- strate with him must have had an extremely unhappy time. However, the life had its compen- sations. Thgh far from the Latin to the Colone! ten,” said the gz Judse | the eves of Mr | haps,’ 1 lift as far as Fi The automoblle horns | burton.” reached over | “But | are dining with the Secretar: he sald ex-|at | ultantly, and started toward the track [am taking him there in my car. Good | atternoon.» “How about | bareheaded look |ing | moaned | get back? and p was on dimes ever can walk he said us my another then smiled graciously as she “You see, Perry,” she said to he mere hundred dollars, and it must be |is coming to us, and you ought te hc:ssnr.n, “my judgment is very gooc I won collar for Fifi on yo you so much,” who stood &t en.” I could not have forgot lant Colonel, chievous Arburtor Mr. Newberr: and h avenue “That is very kind of vou, Mrs. Ar said the Colonel unabashed friend, the Senator, and of State Club, and 1 ay filly. Thank 1 had forg Of course, There was a mi * she said could give yc my the Army and Navy The Colonel was standing there g after the depart limousine. “Oh, my stomach the Senator “How wiil we I haven't a dime.” The Colonel reached into h oduced just that sum, ar the most anaemic-looking seen at a race track )k his companion’s arm. “We to the nearest trollex line,” “It is bare two miles, and over the bridge will soot Such the sporting life Senator. But tomorrow is day He winced suddenly He tc the vide 5 both dear A sharp pebble had pierced the thin sole of his sheo But this | stride like a He smiled seen | ton ana vitals seemed to|him to ride. immediately he recovered his game old thoroughbred brightly. At least 300 had him talking to The Mrs. Arbur- a score had heard her invite “I could not ride wit mon cattle today, Senator,” “I have been too lucky (Copyright, those com- he said Whistler, Master of Art, Began Career in Humble Position Here Quarter, the hemia never tist. Across in that far-off tecting shadow the . invitingly saloon, where cold and the genial. Thirty from desk vial dies within the conv spirit of Bo- the true ar- avenue, snuggled day, beneath the pro- of ‘the Capitol, sto swinging of a the beer was always company always con brisk walk and Whistler migh be carefully inspecting the ceiling through the bottom of a tall glass while he discussed the leading is- sues of the day with genial states- men. Tt is also easy to picture the debonair figure, dominating the knights of the bar-rail, whila his brilliant epigrams brought gales of laughter that rattled the glasses along the polished mahogany, as his work lay neglected and forgotten across tha street This practice was so much o Whistler's liking that he continued ft with the not surprising result that his chief began to wonder whera he kept himself. The indoor sport of keeping tab on Whistler eventually resolved itself Into a procedure like this: When he was wanted the o hatrack was examined: should his hat and coat occupy its wonted place was plain that was abont building and would return shortl If. however, as was more often +he case, his hat and coat were conspicu ous by their absence it was clear that he had developed a sudden thirst which case the time of his return was problematic The outraged chief then the offending draftsman celerity than politeness After several similar embarrass- ments the young man discovered the system used In his detection. Then the remedy was plain, even to an . and the next time he came to he brought with him two sep arate and distinct hats and coats. e his e the recalled with more HE fate of the square peg In th round hole is inevitable. Time affer time the scufing feet of the young draftsman wore thin places in the brussels rug ornamenting some executive's office. The month of Feb ruary, 1855, saw the end of official patience and of Whistler's services. It is easy to picture the final scene. when some grave official—long since forgotten—in unctuously regretful tones, explained in detall the where fore of the action. It is easy also to belleve that he went to great pains to give the voung scapegrace a few helpful precepts. Carefully going over the many indiscretions and ir- regularities of the young man, the time-worn bromides with wh he was showered are easily traced Urged to abandon the folly of his ways, take the lesson of the consci- entious official to heart, settle down and amount to something, urged gravely, regretfully and possibly pro- fanely, no doubt he who was to be- come America's greatest artist listen- ed with a qualm. Fate must have smiled as she prepared the wreath of laurels for “ue creator of My Motper.” The lask 8cene in our revery It is a cold February day; out through the doorway of the Coast Survey steps the same debonair youth, chilled with the cold, but his eyes holding the rapt gleam of the genius who looks ahead and upward, sure in his destiny, though his feet falter in the Arst steps on the path that will lead bim ta the heighta,