The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, June 5, 1898, Page 23

[54] [ THE SAN TFTRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, JUNE 5, 1898 THE WOME ainything you cel leman ably short space of time. vesult of the races, only the women who crowd about the betting stand—at corner; we are not yet so emanci- pated that we do not prefer, sheeplike, 4o follow where some female pioneerhas led—only the women who spend every Saturda g about the —and the nything g 'em, you know and Sunday at Ingleside or What is there at the Park at the new Union Park dare eak 1t you avold the S G the'ha of “byes” and “‘go-by of a Enalite v e women? [ noicon " and an ‘“‘undecided.” and the mad the women % i < was out at a party last night, o : est, deepest | (013 4 tall woman, with more powde plun DY & vhound than was necessary on her clear-fea- but a machine, an ugly machine, built | tured face. took breakfast down- | just for one purpose—the getting over town, got home just in time to change a large space of ground in an incon- | my dress and came out here.” As to the | | fluttered to the floor, already covered | shouted out the odds. “How’s your luck?” asked a cemely, dark-haired woman, whose 0dd costume | every motive that goes to make up the —a large black derby hat, coat and vest | harmony of the coursing. For their of manly cut and a light box coat worn | knowledge of technical terms, for their with an ordinary black skirt—would have made any other woman look like a fright. The first woman did not answer. She tore a pink ticket that she had held in two, savagely, resentfully. The pieces discriminating c; dog values, one admiration, the tical appreciation kind wheo, by the way with such scattered remnants of might- have-beens, and the woman who had lost made her way again through the crowd of bettors to the stand where the alluring voice of the bookmaker agreeablen ure who d s their performance. There are two ways of coursing—the upstairs and the downstairs. These women, despite the foolish, in- rather a family affair. HERE I8 THE HEAVIEST MAN IN THE WORLD. His Name Is Henri Maurice Cannon and He Was Born in 1850 and Comes of a Family of Heavyweights—Here Are His Measurements: Height, 5 Feet 10 1-2 Inches. Weight, 613 Pounds. Circumference of Waist, 96 Inches. Circumference of Chest, 72 Inches. Circumference of Thigh, 54 Inches. Circumference of Calf, 38 Inches. Gt i s \w\\\\\ %, it «l\!“\‘\\\ ENRI MAURICE CANNON, the fat man of Europe, is in this city. He claims not only to be the heavy-weight of Europe, but challenges the nations of the world to produce a man who can tip the beam at any- where near his weight. which ig 613 pounds. e is here for the money there is In it and brings his wife along, for he has to have some one to lace up his shoes. There is a marked contrast between the physique of Herr Cannon and that of his faithful spouse. He is a regular human Jumbo in size, while she looks more like a slip of a school girl than the wife of a fat man. Herr Cannon is nothing great considered longitudinally; it is in his meas- urements latitudinally that he excels. He is only 5 feet 10% Inches between the north and south poles, but at his equator he measures 9 inches. He has a chest development of 70 inches, his thigh measures 54 inches and his leg is 40 inches at the calf. Herr Cannon was born in Switzerland some 43 years ago. His mothef is a normal sized ‘woman, while his father weighs 800 pounds. He has an elder brother who is something of a fat man on his own account. For a time It was nip and tuck between the brothers as to which could take on flesh the faster. The brother got to 3% pounds easily enough, but there he stuck and could not gain another pound, while Maurice kept on growing as though he had inherited the flesh of the whole family. From the time when he turned the G600-pound mark he has never fallen below it. The most he has ever weighed is 621 pounds, and when he gets down to 609 pounds he considers himself a light weight. Last Monday he weighed just 613 pounds, but that was just after a trip across the continent. His usual weight is about 618 pounds. Strange to say Herr Cannon is quite active on his feet and can walk all day providing that he keeps on the dead level. To travel either up hill or down winds him quickly. He is a good riffe shot and can swim. He challenges any athlete one-half his weight to perform feats that he can. He uses the dumbbells every morning, and as to appetite he would surprise a boarding-house keeper, not in the great amount that he can eat, but in the diminutive portion that satisfles hm. In his younger days and his native country he held the nosition of brewer- ies inspector, and in those days could drink two gallons or more of beer daily. Since that he has sojourned in France and developed into a wine drinker. He takes a quart bottie of red or white wine with each meal, but never a dron be- tween- times. He landed in New York March 27 and in San Francisco May 2. He likes America better than Europe, and for several reasons. In Europe he has to travel in a freight car, as the compartments in the passenger cars are not designed for human Jumbos. In America he finds no difficulty in traveling, ex- cept with the hackmen, as he occasionally breaks down a hack and there is the “deuce” and dollar to pav. He says that American tailors pleage him best. What impresses him most is that when he calls in a tailor the American one says nothing, but goes about his work as though making clothes for fat men were an every-day occurrence, whereas, the European tallor comes in, takes a look at Herr Cannon, holds up his hands in horror, goes away and promises to come back, but does not. What's more, the American taflor delivers the clothes at the time agreed. Herr Cannon has not as yet had occasion to experiment with the skill and veracity of the .merican shoemakers, Herr Cannon does not object to the attention he attracts as a fat man pro- viding people pay for it, but he does object to making a free show of him- self. He travels on his £ ape. It is his stock in trade, and for this reasca he privately lives a very secluded life. He is not a big eater. Two chops or a small steak constitutes his breakfast, a light lunch and a dinner that would only make a fair lunch for a workingman is the dally meal ticket routine of Herr Cannon. He has never been sick a day In his life, and has therefore never called in a physician. However, his case has always attracted the attention of physiclans and any number have called on him. Many have attempted to diag- nose his case, but none have provided a remedy. Perhaps Herr Cannon oes not waat it ¢ ) effectual, absurd bets they make, know of compelled to express of admiration evoked by those wonderful pupples who perform unheard-of two-legged feats. are always just one step in advance in intelligence and in »f the two-legged creat- looking at point of view Upstairs, on the grand stand, it is Mothers, with CO0OCO0C000CCO0VBOVGO00000000000D00000000C0OC00000ODCCOCO00000000000D0200 A Character. Study. lunch baskets; children going about with half-devo red sandwiches; older boys and girls che- ing gum, and the trail of sticky popcorn and empty pea- nut shells is over it all. Upstairs you'd almost think that these thousands of people had spent from an hour to an hour and a half reaching this their goal for the purpose of seeing a patent, highly elastic, lightning-like forty o fifty pounds of dog overtake a small, fuzzy, bewildered bunch of hare. . “I like to come out here and look at the sport,” said a fresh-faced, slim woman, ‘“after being shut up all the week in the store. My old man, he'd like to bet; but I told him that he’d have to wait till I'd got my Easter dress before he did any more betting. His money’s earned too hard to be lost this way. So I told him I wouldn’t come out here unless he'd give me the money to_keep.” Downstairs, though, there is no delu- sion as to the attraction of the cours- ing park. It's that old, unreasoning, deathless desire to wager and to win that filled lLiark Twain’s jumping frog with shot in the immortal Calaveras tale. Just to bet; that's all these eager- eyed men and women, with their lined faces and alternations of hope and de- spair, crave. To bet; it doesn’t make any difference, apparently, to them whether they bet one way or the other. ‘“‘Say, let’s each chip in a half and bet on Susie! What do you say?” a frowsy woman, with more gold in her teeth than in her pocket, asked another woman, “Why,” said the shrewd little body that carried the fai 1ly purse, “Susie’s five to one—or six to one.” “No she ain’t. I just heard him shout one to flve. Will you chip in?” But the woman wh) wants her Eas- ter dress shook her head. ‘“My old man” had been deprived of the delight 6f bet- ting; it wouldn’t be fair for his old woman to allow herself that pleasure— to-day. But another woman, who didn’t want an Easter dress—though, it was only too apparent how badly she needed one—joined the first speaker, who dis- appeared in the crowd about, the bet- ting stand. But she came back, re- gretfully, and handed back the half- dollar, saying: ‘‘She was right. It’s five to one.” = “I thought so,” sald somebody’s “old woman.” “Why, Susie’s just the pick of ’em. I tell you,” she went on ex- citedly, forgetting her resolution, “if Susie was one to five, I'd put up five dollars on her.” “You think I'm going to put up five dollars to win one,” said the frowsy woman, the lust of wagering in_her eye. “I'll tell you what we’ll do. Let's all put in a quarter aplece. Just for fun! Huh? What d've say? We won'’t lose much—an’,” she laughed nervous- ly, “we won't make much.” “That Van Cloie’s a good dawg,” said a stout Irish woman, with the frank- est brogue and the unfrankest eyes— all awry and crossed. “Susie’s a burrd; but that Van Clofe aln’t no fool.” So the modest pool was formed and the Irish woman marched off to breast the waves of male gamblers dashing themselves and their dollars against the rocks of the pool sellers. “Say, better watch her,” whispered one of the mighty syndicate. “Per- haps she’ll get away with the money. D’ye know her?” ““No, do you?” asked the frowsy wo- man, a suspicious gleam coming in her own eye as she spoke. Not one of the four knew another, But the Irish woman came back with the magic pink card, which a small, well-dressed member of the corporation seized immediately and held. I wonder if by any chance fleet Susie had been beaten by her rival, whether there would have been war in the Van Clole syndicate? She wasn’t, of course, There was no possibility of such a thing, according to the woman who knows so much of coursing and of hu- man nature, that she keeps her hus- band’s purse in her own pocket. But these women are mad to bet. If not one It ain’t one to five. { way, then in the name of all that’s su- perstitious and miraculous, on the | other. They take defeat philosophically, though. All except the old Irtsh wo- | man, who turned pugnaciously to her | neighbor and demanded: “Didn’t ye see that Van Clcie got t? He did, I tell ye. An’ that judge’s crooked, or I can't see straight.” | as hers, one must conclude that Judge Bull, mounted on his pretty brown steed, brave in his pink coat and tight white, short trousers, his jaunty high the center of a coursing sward. But the tragedies of the Coursing Park succeeded each other so closely | that the woman who bets hasn’t time | to dry her tears—her figurative tears, for though her face becomes lined and probably. ; Here’s a white-haired woman, angu- Her: bonnet is old-fashioned and old, her coat of sealette is too narrow across the shoulders and in its dead dinginess looks a protest against being still com- being consigned to the repose of the old-clothes cemetery, or the honorable oblivion of the rag-bag grematory. Her poor, old trembling hands are covered with cloth gloves, and just now they are counting out money enough into a tout’s outstretched palm to partly re- habilitate her dingy wardrobe. “Yes,” she says, in answer to an in- quiring glance. There are no sdcial barriers out at the Coursing Park. One touch of nature—the searing brand of avarice—has made them all kin. “Yes, I lost again. I don’t see how. I really don’t see” she shakes her misérable old head stupidly, “how I didn’t win.” “Why the race was the ‘Buck’s’ hands down,” said a red-faced, husky-voiced man behind. “Ye'd ought to know that.” But she didn’t—that, or anything else. And when the book-makers be- gan again to shout hoarsely, they kept a wise, wary eye over to the corner where the women were congregated in desperate knots, knowing that here were fish that would rise to the scant- {est bait, the most apparent of hooks. “Tod—Tod—Tod,” a woman was moaning, rising ecstatically upon her toes and falling back again upon her heels, praying if ever human creature prayed with mind and body intent upon one thing. But Tod was beaten and she slipped her way to the betting stand again. But now the Plunger had joined the crowd; the woman in half-masculine attire and wholly masculine uncon- sclousness of embarrassment or lack of ease In the howling crowd of betting men. There is no necessity for introduc- tion. These women meet week after week at one track or the other. “Let me see,” she says, reaching out a plump white hand; she has removed her gloves and tipped her mannish hat back from a pretty forehead marked with a red rim. “Let me see how they stand. I've lost mine.” With a practiced eye she glances over the carefully kept book., where second ties and third tles and fourth ties are religiously noted down, mark- ing the gradual elimination of the beaten hounds. She hands it back with a sigh. :‘&m’t yo‘;l betting?” they ask her. “Why,” she says pouting, * “$2 on Miramonte. = © S “Ye shouldn’t bet so much g shouldn’t bet $20 on wan race. ’Tal:'i right,” said the Irish woman, folding her hands with disapproving gravity under her gray shawl. ‘But you can afford it said the Wwhite-haired woman enviously, her ghaklng hands fumbling in her black ag. The Plunger liked this. The envy of other women, even of old battered women such as this one, was welcome to her. She smiled sauclly. She wouldn’t for the world have denied what her well-made clothes said so plainly. “But, you see,” she said, “I lost the other twenty, too. That makes forty to-day. A friend of/mine’s looking for Some one now to cash a check for me. If it was out at Ingleside, now, they all know me there—but here—I can't get a check cashed.” She moved away, walking along con- fident, the light of business solely in her eye. She was thinking as she left the crowd of bettors regretfully of the chance to bet and the difficulty of get- ting credit when one is unknown. The Lother women looked after her, sighing | As she possibly can’t with such eyes | bunting boots and scarlet cap is as| fair, as honest a Judge as ever graced | set, she is good gambler enough never | to break down over one loss before | she must nerve herself to face another | lar, tall, with a parchment-llke face. | O .. c;ch somebody, in her excited de | termination to win, sl. ’s own sister to pelled to live a coat’s life, instead of |tongue | last muscle-straining | might be sufferiig the most exqu out of the crowd, determinedly making | IN JHE BEJJING RING AT THE GOURSING MATJGHES BY MIRIAM MIGHELSON. enviously. She was what they would like to be. - I looked in vain up stairs or down for a woman who would consider the case of the hares. The doggy woman differs from the horséy ome in many respects. She is not nearly so well dressed, for one thing. There is no style at Union Park, no flauntir~ of fine feathers. She is a maid in somebody’s kitchen or she works in a shop very often. She brings the babies with her, too; an_odd place for babies. The father of the family, becoming seized with the betting ma- nia—and lacking that treasure of wives “My old man” possesses—elbows his way through the betting crowd, the latest flower cf the family perched u-on his shoulder, ard lays down his dollars upon the altar of Chance, while voung Hopeful from his elevated perch is in a position to see and be tmpressed by the edifying spectacle, The woman who kncws about dogs looks not like a drone, mnot like a queen bee, either, but like a worker. But in'her-earnestness, in her devotion to the betting book, in her desire to the woman:whose patter about jockeys land horses ' ¢corresponds to the foreign \ /) \4 ’ i, in which they communicatg ideas out at the coursing park. These downstalirs women are perfectly unconscious of any and of every thing but the fluctuation of the gambling market. Those flying bunches out in the fleld, now shooting swiftly ahead, now bounding over the ground in tha effort to escape, site of tortures and these women would continue to bet their sesterces on their blood. They simply become so one- idead that when you attempt to turn their minds on the Fkare question they look at you almost uncomprehendingly for a moment be ore they become im= patiently conscious that this has noth< ing to do with the business of the day. Upstairs, I believe, the women would as willingly watch mechanical toys scuttling over the sward, with the hounds tearing after them, if nature had endowed greyhounds with as keen a distaste of flying automata, as they have for bunched-up, quivering, doub= ling, panic-stricken, flying hares. From the two pretty girls, violete bedecked, who walk up and down in their light-gray jackets, dark skirts and premature white sailors, to the old woman in the sealette cloak, whose face is a wrinl-led mask; from the cold- eyed, red-faced, husky-voiced “lover of sport”” to the spoiled, flaxen-haired three-year-old, who shrieks and stamps till his worthy mamma lifts him to his old position, his arms and chubby legs curled about a post above the fence im- mediately surrounding the course, there is—not a deliberate cruelty, but a complete unconsciousness that the thing is cruel. They will tell you out at the coursing park that there is no more speedy, no more merc “ul death than that the hounds inflict. e CONGRESS OF HISTORY. N International Congress of His« tory will be held at The Hague in the early part of September, when the Netherlands celebrate the majority and the coronation of their young Queen. The congress is organized under the auspices of Her Majesty, and it will be presided over by His Excellency the Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Netherlands, and by M. de Maul de la Claviere, general secretary of the So« ciety of Diplomatic History of Paris. The congress, which will be opened on September 12, 1898, will be composed of diplomatists, historians and men of let- ters. Bach nation may use its own language in the discussions and in the papers presented. Ladies may become members. The subscription is fixed at twenty francs, or four dollars. The pa- pers read before the congress will be printed and distributed to the members. Among those who are organizing the sections of the several countries are the following: In Holland, the local committee at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs; in France, the central com- mittee, of which M. le Glay is secre- tary; in England, Professor Oscar Browning of King's College, Cambridge; in Belgium, Baron Jules d'Anethan; in Servia, Professor Vesnitch; in Greece, M. Bikelas; in Switzerland, Professor de Crue de Stoutz; in Sweden, M. de Burenstam; in Spain, His Excellency M. de Villa Urrutia; in Turkey, His Ex- cellency Caratheodori-Effendi; in South Africa, His Excellency M. de Peralta.