Evening Star Newspaper, May 17, 1925, Page 36

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C. Standing T Room Only BY IRVIN S. COBB. + (Copyright, 1925, by Consolidated Magazine Corporation.) LTI ST I ’One of a series of the year’s best short stories. (Continued from Yesterday’s Star.) “By Hickery Jackson,” he said, I'm getting onto her. She's one man’s town where you can't set down &nd talk with the nelghbors or any How just set and watch the neighbors| pass. In the first place, there’s no regular place for you to there is, I ain’t been able to find it and Lord knows I've hunted high and Jow and down the middle. And in the second place, there ain't any neighbors—they just all people. That's all, peopl This was a sample day out of Mr. Reuben Oldham’s life in the great city where there is always so much o do. He would get up early, around, 8 o'clock. Summer or Winter, it made ¥io difference. Getting up early was a Mecumseh Center habit which even New York couldn't cure him of. The ook and general houseworker—the Tates' two-in-one — would still be esleep, and Oscar, his son-inlaw, aidn’t roll out of bed until 8 on week days and not until nearly noon on Sundays; Gussie took her breakfast in bed somewhere between 9 and 10. He put on his dressing gown and his slippers and went out to the empty | the gas range. He was handy at cooking. He cooked his breakfast and ate it on the zinc- covered table there in the kitchen. He yrolonged both operations, the cooking and the eating, and he took his time about washing up afterward, after that he read the morning paper all the way through, not because every thing in the paper interested, but be- cause kitchen and lit cause he had such a long day ahead | of him. Then he went back to his room and shaved himself very pains- takingly and dressed. If the weather was fine he would be out of the apart- ment before any one of the other three occupants was astir. e was back from his morning walk by 11, usually, and generally he went to his room and stayed until funch time because, what with the girl tidying up the living room and the dining room, there was a good deal of dust and confusion. After Junch—a hurried, caught-up kind of meal which he ate alone if Gussie had | gone out, or with her if she had no midday engagement—he took a nap and then he had another walk and came back and read the evening paper. But if Gussle had com- pany in for cards or tea he read it in his room. At 7 there was dinner and sometimes after dinner he went 1o the movies with Gussie and Oscar, provided they had no plans. Other evenings at about half- past nine he would turn in. He was Mot much of a hand for reading books; the newspapers and an occasional magazine satisfied his literary crav- ings. Evenings when there was 2 card game on he withdrew even earlier than 9:30. The jam about the poker table and the chatter and cigarette #moke and the squealing of the women and all seemed to sort of choke up the place. his room, which was small being what you would call cozy. Anyhow, he didn't seem to have much in “common with these New York folks. Mentally he included Oscar and Gussie when he thought of the up collectively as New York fojks. 'or ‘they were quite seasoned New TYorkers: and he didn’t seem to have yery much in common with them, either, even though one of them was his daughter. It wasn't that the: were uncivil to him or consciously selfish, either. They put themselves out sometimes on his account. He could feel it. The strain on them hoth when they tried to entertain him was almost a visible trouble was that the things which seemed to interest them didn't interest him so very much. It was as though they spoke a different language of a sifferent world. So, as 1 was saying, often when there was no company in, and nearly Blways when there was. he would ex- cuse himself early. “Well, folks.” he would say, “I feel a mite drow: Had two good long constitutionals to- day and sat quite a spell over here in that little park by th- river—the @ir must've made me sleepy. Guess T11“be turning in. Well, good night, folks. Ten minutes from now I'll be @noring my head off.” But he didn't always keep his word. Sometimes he would sit in his room for an hour or two hours before he went to bed—not reading, not doing #nything particularly, but just sitting there and figuring things out and Watching for the times when that re. ctrrent little shivering sensation made Jlight objects on his bureau quiver and e pictures on the wall pendulate a Ttle bit. “That would be an average day for him. There is no denying it, they were long days, days that had a way of dragging. Yet these days, which passed so slowly, made up vears Which somehow went by swiftly. They gay, i ough, that this is not a rare feeling among those who have passed the peaks of their lives—the years &allop by pretty fast then. About those walks he took: They weren't what you would call #atisfying. They stretched the legs— hut after you reach a certain age the Jlegs don't appear to requige a great deal of stretching—and they did keep & fellow out in the open air. But be- ing a seagull keeps you out in the open air, too, and who in thunder wants to be a seagull? There was so much noise, so much €rowding on the avenues nearer the river, so much of a sort of cold, stand- offish, leave-me-alone-and-I'll-leave-you- @lone air about the avenues nearer the park. 1f a fellow stopped on the side- walk to look at a pile of fruit on a stand, say, or to look at things in a show window, people bumped into him, and the boss of the store seemed 0 resent your standing there too long or else he came out and tried to get you to step inside so he could sell you something. It depended on whether bis shop was one of the tony ones over on Park or one of the cheaper ones on Second or Third. Anyway, there wasn't a whole lot of fun in looking into windows, without you had some- body along to be sort of sociable with, you know, and argue with you whether the things you were looking at were 8 bargain or not. He often remarked 28 much to himself. At first, when he didn't know the New York way of doing things, he bad tried the plan of speaking to peo- ‘ple who ranged up alongside and Jooked where he was looking. They would do that all right—they'd look. But if you started in to pass the time of day with one of them, chances were he'd act suspicious and stare at you 28 though you were some strange kind of animal and give a grunt and Il away and leave you there. Or f he didn’t do that—if he answered You back—he'd seem to get uneasy |After a minute or two, as though he Hiad it in his mind that your speaking %0 him out of a clear sky was the be- nning of a scheme on your part to orrow money from him or pick his ifocket, and then he’d mumbie some- {thing about just remembering some- thing and shy off and go about his own business. Or else he would be one of these fresh young fellows who'd answer back with something that he ‘thought was funny. .| Then again, when something hap- pened that was really interesting—an \accident or a row or a monkey teasing litter of young puppies in the win- @ow of a bird-and-animal store—why, “Jikely as not, about the time you worked your way into the jam to see What was going on, a policeman would ‘b¢ coming alemg and telling every- set—or if | and | he was through and also be- | other | So he would slip away to | without thing. The | + | They were great hands for beer in that - | town. Dbody to move on and then begin shov- ing people this way and then that. Not that snoving them seemed to do much good. It .was like trying to drive back high water with a mop. No sooner had he cleared one spot than a fresh wave would pour back over | it “the very minute his back was | turned. There was an awful lot of curiosity, but there didn’t seem to be much sympathy, If anybody was really in trouble; and as for impoliteness— stepping on your toes and shoving you out of a good place and never saying so much as ‘‘excuse me"—well impoliteness was no name for it! He did get acquainted with one mighty nice fellow—a policeman named MeclIntyre. He found out a great deal about this policeman. He was born in Brooklyn and Le lived up in the Bronx and he haa four children, two girls and two boys, and his oldest daughter was a trained nurse and his oldest boy was studying to be a law- ver somewhere downtown. He found these things out a scrap at a time. McIntyre was a traffic p-id@nan on duty at a corner where thera was a public school and what with keeping track of all those automobiles and trucks that came helling along, up and down and cross ways, and what | with holding the road open so the | children could get by without being run over, when school was taking in or letting out, he didn't have much time for talking with anybody. | _ “Well. Grandpops,” he would s: “I'm glad to ‘a’ had a woid wit’ you' | —he had a funny way of pronouncing what he said—"but don’t you think you_better be glttin’ out of this jam | betfre some smart guy tries to walk | over you wit' his car? For this job | here T need four eyes and an extra | mouth. Get me?” | Still, it was a break in the monotony | to have even fragmentary and broken conversation with some one who knew Mr. Oldham’s name and called him i by it. So far as he could tell about half the people he saw, or maybe two- | thirds of them, didn’t speak English | at all. If they did speak it they mixedq | it all up with Dutch-sounding words | or Eyetalian or something. v. look here, Mac,” he ventured v, seeking the answer to a mystery which was puzzling him more and more as his burden of loneliness ew heavier, “ain’t there a place in this whole town where a fellow that's | sort of getting along in life can set | down about once in a coon's age and | gas for a spell and rest his face and | hands, as they uster say? {1 don't | mean ‘at home—home’s all right, but | you get tired of it. I niean some place | Where he'd be liable to meet old fel- | lows same as him, that ain't got much | to do and like to discuss things back | and forth with one another.” | McIntyre ghook his head. | “Now you're askin’ me something, | grandpops,” he said. ““They used to | be places like that before we got pro- | bitlon—liquor stores—but not anv |more. But I take it you never was | much f'r hangin’ 'round liquor stores, | anyways, was you, now?" Yes, I was, too,” stated Mr. Old- ham, and his eyes lit up. “Back there |in Tecumseh Center—you remember that's the place 1 was telling you | about the other day, where I uster be | {in the retail drug business?’—I uster | drop into a saloon quite frequent— | Milky Hartman's place. His name | was Joe, but evervbody called him ilky for short. Mighty clever fel- |low he was, too, and ran his place | nice and genteel. ' T never drank hard { licker myself; never touched it in my |lite, as T remember of, unless 'twas | in ‘medicine for a bad cold or some- | [ thing. | “But I'd drop in there sometimes of {an evening when I didn't have any- | thing special to do, and set awhile in | | the back room with Milky and some | other old-timey friends of mine. And | they’d have beer or something stronger { but I'd always take a cigar or maybe | a bottle of pop or this here root beer. ‘Oldham's belly-wash’ they uster call | t and tell me I'd drown myself some | | drinking that stuff. | of these days Not that any of my crowd ever | got tight, to speak of. But they did | | get kind of talky about once in so | {often. But I always stuck to my | belly-wash.” He gave a little sigh. | | “I guess that old crowd's purty well | |busted up and scattered by now— | | some of 'em dead and one or two of | ‘em_moved off, like me.” “Yes, thim days is gawn.” said McIntyre; “gawn in your old town and gawn in this town, too. I miss them meself of an evenin' off post. I'm doubtful of this homemade hooch. And the hard stuff the bootlegge | peddle is worse. Well, you might try | settin’ in the park, thin? God knows me own feet ache sometimes till I'd be willin' to set on the bare earth, I would that. Cit'’zens don’t know the strain that's on a fella's feet after he gets on the cops.” Mr. Oldham had tried the parks— Central Park and another smaller park over by the river. They were not al- together satisfying either. As parks | 0, they might be all very well; and certainly he had heard considerable praise of Central Park from persons who rarely seemed to go there them- selves. Their admiration was based on the fact that there was such a noble park set down so convenlently right in the heart of New York, not upon any personal enjoyment they de- rived from jts beautles. And those people who did use it did not appear to have the knack of getting together. In fair weather, and sometimes when the weather was not so fair, shabby men dozed on the benches aiong the footpaths, or when they didn’t doze they read and reread newspapers onened usually at one of the help- | wanted pages, else they just hunched { down and stared moodily at what was | directly in front of them. You rarely saw two of these brooding chaps in | company; each one had his own bench or his own end of a bench. It was the same with the better- dressed older men who came there on bright days; they nearly always were alone, too. They would look at him with timid, wistful eyes and he, shuf- fling on by, would look back, not knowing that his eves were timid and wistful, too; not knowing that rebuffs had made them weary of seeking chance acquaintances out of the seven millions, only knowing that many re- buffs had so worked upon him Sweet- hearts did pair off; they were quite the spot a young fellow and his girl would be sitting or strolling, but, of course, their eyes and their minds—and their {arms—were only for each other, which ‘was all as it should be. There was an air of peacefulness about the big park, with its trees and its lawns and its flowers and all, but it was a misleading air. Automobiles went skyhooting past, raising dust and leaving greasy smells behind them and threatening destruction to the squirrels that darted ahead of them across the drives; in Midsummer, when the young, reckless squirrels left the nests, the asphalt would be dotted with their little crushed gray carcasses. And if a fellow dropped down to soak up a little sunshine or to catch up with his breathing, chil- dren on screechy-roller skates or. what was worse, on those swift little wagons they called scooters, would be whizzing into you. Not that Mr. Oldham minded the {children. He willingly took the risk {of being tripped up or of having his toes mashed. But they did make things sort of confused and rackety— there were so many of the little exceptions. Here or there in somequiet | they played noisy, quarreling gameg among themselves. And those who had nursemaids to mind them seemed such aloof, self-contained little hodies. He almost made friends once wjth a mighty sweet little girl, but just after be had found out that her name was Elgle and had volunteered to tell her the story of the Three Bears, and she had snuggled up close to listen, her nurse came and .gave Mr. Oldham a hostile look and hurried the child away, scolding her about something as she went. s M On the whole, if a choice was to be madé as between Central Park and the little park over by the river, he infinitely preferred the little park. It was such a little park that it didn't seem to have a regular name, or if it had one Mr. Oldham never heard what the name was. It was mostly a bare, rocky hillock, 8o that the ce- mented walkways curved into and out of knobs of stone outcrop. At the back behind the guard rails which were supposed to keep you off the grass, although there wasn't enough grass to brag about, a marching or- phan asylum of spindly little trees crossed the knoll single file. In the front, looking eastward to Blackwell's Island, where the work- houses were, and northeastward across Bowery Bay and on up to where the Hell Gate rocks once had been, a high stone wall ran, with the water lap- ping and curling at its base. Inside the wall were benches, and a fellow who had nothing much to do could kill quite a lot of time by sitting there to watch the river craft passing and the sound steamers trading up and down. The youngsters who played here seemed friendlier, taking them by and large, than the run of the Cen- tral Park youngsters were. Or maybe they were more careless. (Continued in Tomorrow’s Star.) LABOR WELL ABSORBED. Unemployment in Baltimore Cut to Very Low Figure. Spectal Dispatch to The Star. BALTIMORE, May 16.—Employ- ment conditions in Baltimore have shown marked improvement during the last two months, according to reports from a number of sources. Demand for both skilled and unskilled labor has reduced unemployment to a minimum, represented practically en tirely by “floaters,” who work only intermittently. “We tried to get a number of workers for a temporary job recently and it 20 to 35 men,” said one man who is in close contact with the labor situ- ation here. MINE STRIKE AID VOTED. Union Executive Board Pledges Money for Coal Fields. INDIANAPOLIS, May 16 (®.—An appropriation for aiding in the con- duct_of strikes progress in coal fields of West Virginia, Kentucky and Nova Scotia was voted by the inter- national executive board of the United Mine Workers, which ad- journed today. The board has been in_session since Tuesday. Officials and board members de- clined to state the amount. They de- clared no change had been made in the policy of giving the strikes full support. EXCHANGES HOLD FIRM. French Francs Are Receiving Stronger Support. NEW YORK, May 16 (#).—For- eign exchanges this week displayed a firm tone, demand sterling held above the commonly accepted “gold export point” and French francs re- ceived better support on the an- nouncement that official discussions would soon teke place on the fund- ing of America’s war debt. Argen- tine exchange made a sharp response |to the announcement that a free gold market would be restored in that country next month. ¥ be hondipd gt 8 took us two days to collect | COLLEGIAN who came here re- cently with a glee club, went away with the impression that ‘Washington is not a man's city. It is too dreamlike in its queenly magnificence — which sounds pleasant, but s not the reason that voteless residents give. Anyhow, the youngster had soul enough to sense the white glory of archi- tecture, the prom- ise of newly leaved trees and the wide gayness of streets as spotless as ballroom floors. To which he add- ed a deep-down-in- the-heart intention to come back when he could stay long enough to see more. Also: A Baltimore woman -came over to see a friend who was a dele- gate to the quin- quennial, and as it is glways interesting to know what others think of us, here is an opinion from the stranger who came from abroad: i “Washington is a white wonder. Her only fault is an overextravagance of free shows. In all my travels I have never had so many choices of sights—all of them open to the public and each of farreaching value. If there were a tourist tax on such places as your Capitol and Library, your tremendously valuable printing and agricultural buildings—with a toll- | pay for your green wiiderness that you call Rock Creek Park and Speedway— oh, all the places I have visited!— why, you could have enough money from it all to fili that pot at the end of the rainbow. It is emrnnclngl}' hospitable, but—not business It isn't your wealth as a nation that amazes us Europeans—it is the prodigal gen. erosity with which you share your splendors with all. 1 have both read and heard of {t—and now, I am see- ing for myself.” Another woman complained—not ex- actly complained, either, but just men- tioned—the miles one had to cover to see Washington's various sights. She had done the Capitol and Monu ment for ane day, with a glimpse at the museums—all three of them, because her husband is a scientist. and will be suw® to ask about them when she gets home—and was lald up the entire next day, when she should have been attending the coun cil. *““Washington is a panorama of free shows, but to see everything one should buy a home here and settle down to sightseeing,” she said. And that’s no joke! If you want to view Washington from bronze Free- dom’s standpoint, you have to climb steps under the Capitol dome—a nar- row stairway that curls around and around until you feel like a human corkscrew by the time you get to the top. And the Monument is just as dizzy a performance, seeing that you must either walk up 900 steps—time, 20 minutes—or ride u- in the elevator, which takes only 5—if you don’t mind the rattling of the rigging, that sounds like a gale at sea—and the faces of most passengers, whose grim lips sug- gest that they are clamped to choke down fears—though it is one of the safest trips in the world. One of these days, maybe—most cer- tainly—a sightseeing airship is going to do a big trade in tourists. Instead of your plodding up back-achy steps inside, a buzz-plane will land you on an outer edge of the dome, and, like- 1: do a slow glide all around it to show the town from all quarters. Then it will spin over to the Monu- ment to its landing place—maybe it would be called a hangar, but if you are not sure of a word it is better not to risk it. Anyhow, it would save the time and trouble of the in- side_route, and, maybe—most certain- ly—Mr. Francis Jenkins, or some other wonder-man, would invent a sort of amplifier for eyes imstead of ears, so that fagged-out sightseers could take in all the miles from earth to sky without the usual strain. No tourist could mind our museums with their broad, shallow steps and conventent elevators, but just the rov- |ing from room to room a-seeing things calls for a motor chair with a some- body to roll you around in slow com- fort, at so much per—for: When Washington obtains her local planes and motor chairs the forelgn lady will never again be able to won- der at our free shows—seeing that There is no reason for her o0 look o feel this way CONSTIPATION means SICKNESS More human suffering, physical and mental, has resulted from constipation than from any other source. The entire future life of a child can be ruined by lack of attention to the proper daily movement of the bowels. If the bowels do not act at least twice daily it means constipation— that means the bowels are clogged up with the accumu- lated residue of five to fifteen meals or more with conse- quent pollution, poison and disease. Dr. Caldwell’s SYRUP PEPSIN The Family Laxative ~relieves constipation. It is a combination of Egyptian senna, pepsin and aromatice prepared in liquid form, in- viting to the taste, and smooth, pleasant and easy in its action. It is the kind of a prescription a good doctor will give you. Used nationally over 30 years. shavers underfoot—and they were not as friendly as they might have been. Those of them who came unattended had no time to waste on old folks; Pleasing As Honey To Take! Easy As Nature In Action! For both baby and grandma. Syrup Pepsin quickly brings relief to the most severe cases of and the doses may be gradually reduced as Nature resumes her proper functions. 10,000,000 bottles used annually prove oo old | tcdoas promisd. T MAY 17 AROUND THE CITY By Nannie Lancaste: planes and motors are not run that- away. T * ok ok % go back to the Monument, for one time: A couple who might have been Mr. and Mrs. Caudle, if you recall that archalc pair, were standing at one of the high-chinned little windows. He doubtless had his faults, being human, but the kindli- ness with which he tried to soothe naggy Mrs. C. entitled him to a niche in the hall of fame for perfect mor- tals—allowing we ever have one. In trying to qulet one of the fussy out- breaks, he called her attention to_the stupendous view—"so high up—" “Not as high as the prices at that hotel—the idea of having to pay $3 for our breakfast—" “Oh, forget it, honey. We are on a holiday and I want you should have a good time—' “And it wasn’'t a good breakfast at that.” And while she fussed and kept on tussing, the Caudle man looked down at the silver flash that was Potomac and the greens and blues that were grass and trees and sky. And there was a smile that looked as if it in- sisted on keeping its curve, so that the few people around would think his wife was just joking—in case they heard; which they couldn’t help. And a nearby native, who has no cause to be proud of her ears, but was keeping tab on every word, won- dered what Mrs. Caudle would do one of these days if her husband's short, fatty neck should go back on him, 'and she had to experience the lonesomeness of having no loving soul to find fault with—— But you never can tell would, and then, again. wouldp't. and yet so very much alike. PR WOMAN stood in the aisle of a street car. She wore mourning and a gold star was pinned on her breast. And, as most everybody knows what a gold star on a woman's breast stands for, it seemed a wonder that no passenger around offered her Maybe she maybe she People are so different— | | nouncement 1925—PART 1. a geat. Yes, there was one quite stylish young man_ who looked up from his paper as ghe swayed beside him, but, at sight of her, he went back to his headlines. If you are acquainted with what one might call the jazz standard, you will know why —and in respect to that standard you will have to admit that gray hair is not as attractive as a youthful bob. But anyhow: The womar stood and stood until the time came to get out —and that was all there was to it, unless, in the capacity of another standing woman—not gray, but old enough--you might juggle with the situation about like “this: The custom that permits a man to keep his seat in a car while a woman stands Is perfectly all right. It is a long time back since the average man felt that he owed it to his dignity and strength to be chivalrous to what we used to call the weaker sex. And, if you consider how the average mother encourages her walloping half-grown son to keep his seat with women standing around, and plumps her baby she_didn't have to pay for next the window, depriving ~some passenger—who has paid fare—you will feel that the present code will continue—but: In accordance with a more impor- tant law, it is up to every young man or woman to give up a seat to any old and feeble passenger who may be standing beside. It is a law that has nothing whatever to do with sex, seeing that kindness has no gender. Concerning the gold star mother, she doubtless felt that, though the loss of her son had broken her heart, she would rather have him under the sod of the France he died for than to see him live to refuse a seat to a woman because she was old_and gray. Even death has its compensations. COFFEE AND SUGAR UP. Saturday Market Strong Because of Move to Boost Trade. NEW YORK, May 16 (®.—An that concerted efforts would be made by Bi jan producers and American importers to stimulate the demand for coffee caused a sharp upturn in prices on the New York coffee and sugar exchange today. Quotations advamced more than one. half cent a pound, with active cover ing as well as trade buying acceler- | gators here to steady conditions and ating the movement. a similar move on the part of the Trade interests expressed the belief | American coffee roasters in dispatch that the decision of Brazil to send investi- the market would be helped by |ing a Brazil, conciliation commission Cruise on Largest and fastest ships to California Action—all vacation long! See- ing—exploring—marveling. A visit in gay-peopled Havana— a daytime sail through the Pan- ama Canal—San Diego—Los Angeles—San Francisco —and home across the continent! 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