Evening Star Newspaper, June 9, 1929, Page 89

Fiction PART 7. Searcting T e Heart of N ashington The Sunday Star m_agagine WASHINGTON, D. €., SUNDAY, JUNE 9, 1929, Features — 29 24 PAGES. NEWAR 5 vBUsTe- Yes, the National Capital Has a Heart, and It Beats Like Other Hearts, but Do Not Ask the Man on the Street 11 here 1t NMay Be Fi ound—I1ts 1empo C/Ifll{gej lf{'it/z the 11 cather and Only the W ise BY DON GLASSMAN. HERE is the city’s heart? The policeman on the National Highway pointed out a sign. “Follow that,” he said. “It will take you to the heart of Wash- ington.” : diiitur The sign read: -——Seven Angels Garage—— IN THE HEART OF WASHINGTON Autos Boarded, Wrecked and Painted. Assure yourself. Washington has a heart. The city sleeps, awakes, groans, talks, sings, breathes and boasts, Every morning it yawns— what a yawn!—like a symphony of fog horns, resounding from Anacostia to Chevy Chase. And the city’s nervous system! Pick up the telephone receiver, and a hundred miles of fibrous nerve tingle with excitement. After the annual Potomac flood the city suffers from Spring fever. The city worries about paying gas bills, feed- ing babies, saving sinners and killing flies. In short, having such human qualities, the city cannot be inanimate. It must own a heart. Between a man and a city anybody can draw countless parallels; even to the extent of mar- riage on the rocks, for the city pays Congress alimony. YHE cycle policeman was right about Wash- ington having a heart, but the sign was wrong in assuming it contained the Seven Angels Garage. I appeared at this gasoline boarding stable and asked: “Is this the heart of Washington?” “Pardon me,’ said the man at the desk, “there’s Tom Pontoon. He's honkin’' like the devil for a shot of grease and he’s particular about quality. 'Scuse me.” Finally he returned. “Was you askin’ about rates by the week or month? We got a nice stall for your gas buggy on the eleventh floor. Plenty of ventilation, no freezin’ in Winter, and open 24 hours every day except holidays.” He had a better line than a book salesman, considering he was selling only garage space. “But—but, your sign advertises this garage as being in the heart of Washington,” I pro- tested. “Well, ain't we? The Seven Angels Garage “I don’t see any heart.” “Thunderation, man, Angels ain't got any hearts. They carry too much wings.” “No—no, you've got it all wrong. It's the heart of Washington I want—not the heart of the garage.” “Well, couldn’t you say so when you came in? Huh? There's two customers outside now, bawlin® for gas ’'n’ oil,” grumbling. “Now, listen, you’ll find the heart of Washington any- wheres ‘tween Twelfth and Fourteenth, on F street. That's the main drag.” “The main what?"” “Can’t you understand—the whole shebang, Searcher Will Recognize and Under- stand It—The Experiwzc‘cn‘ of One Star Magazine I riter. the woiks, the white way, the sheelala lily, the Roo de la Pay, where the cowboys hang out. Good-by!” dashing to the gasoline pump. Well, if you've ever been on F street—the “main drag”—you know what a problem it is to find the city’s heart. I asked the car in- spector, storekeepers, newspaper hawkers and waiters. They had never heard of the city’s heart, and if they had, now regarded the in- formation as a bootlegger’s telephone number, I’I‘ was exhausting! In utter desperation I turned to the traffic policeman, who sends 10-ton trucks and ambassadors’' equipages hel- ter-skelter with a regal waft of his white« gloved hands, “Mr. Policeman,” I boomed. “Yeah,” he said, flicking dust off his badge. *“Is this the heart of Washington?" “No left turn here, ma'am,” he warned a woman driver. Then to me, “You're all upset, eh? What part of West Virginia are you from? You won't find any cheap hotels in this burg like you do down home, Congress drove against 'em long time ago. And the whole force cleaned 'em out. Stammering: “Is this the heart of Wash- ington?” “The heart of what? Oh, yes—yes!” My heart fluttered. “You want the Washington Monument. All the folks from West Virginia sight-see over there. Turn down Pennsyl- vania.” He was so obliging in trying to help, I had to thank him, even offer a Havana select stogie —but he refused. It broke down the morale of the force to accept stogiles from strangers. Some other time. Reaching the corner, I stopped, electrified. “Wait!” exploded the Count. Painted on the pavement was a huge red heart? On it a sign, “Give Once for 57.” Seemingly, this told of a peculiar traffic in hearts. Somew body with a big heart traded it off for 57 little hearts. They were encouraging the business, It started me thinking. As a matter of self« analysis and evaluation, based on the last Fed< eral survey, my heart would have to be among the 57. Alas! A heart painted on the pavement is not the heart of Washington. For a heart must beat, speed up at times and slow down; too, Its tempo changes with the weather and the moods of people. That's why I called on my friend Clancy, who invented a can-opener attachment and a de< vice for detecting submarines out of sight. “Clancy,” I asked, “is your submarine de< tector efficient?” “Listen, bo! There ain't a grasshopper that can sneeze in or near the District that this detectograph won't hear. The other nighg somebody dropped a remark about naval armae ment in Potomac Park. My detectograph picked it up before the remark fell to the ground. Beat that!” “Fine! I suppose you've heard about theé heart of Washington.” “Sure—sure. First thing T saw when me nnd the wife came here from Great Neck.” “Where was it?” “It's still there,” assured Clancy. “Where?" “Jumpin’ kyoodles! Right smack under thd center of the Capitol dome, where the fouf parts of Washington come together into a pins point. The heart's there because——" “Did you hear it beat?” “I got an idea!” thrilled Clancy. * 'Course us inventors always has ideas.” Clancy fiddled his watch charm, a white elephant. “If the heart’s still there,” he declared prophetically, “the de< tectograph will sound her out, eh?” CLANC\' lost no time in repairing to the meeting point of civic quadrants, where n(;rt!\wost, southwest, northeast and southeast Join, “It takes me to think these technical mate ters out,” mused Clancy, stringing out a 3,000~ foot antenna under the Capitol dome. “You're a genius.” “Hey!" cried Clancy., “I hear it already.” “What?” s “What do you think? The heart! Heart of Washington.” Clancy adjusted the earphones and exclaimed, “I hear a thumping.” Through the diaphragm it was distinct. It lagged and swelled. At times it was extremely faint, even absent. Well, Clancy had solved it. He would go down in history as the heart detector, The syndicates would send his name—— “I see you fellows got it all right,” said the doorman as we were passing out. “Yea,” replied Clancy, “the city's got a loud- speaking heart. Sounds like a pile driver, Wow! did you hear it? She's a thunderer.” The -doorman went into a paroxysm of laughter. He doubled up. He couldn’t contain