The evening world. Newspaper, October 16, 1922, Page 24

| | Boyhood in the Shadow of the Growing Brooklyn Bridge With the Diversions of a ‘‘Buff’’ for a Fire Company. CHAPTER I. LITTLE more than thirty-nine years ago a proud young mother in the old Wourth Dover Street tenement to Fulton Street and bought a scrap book. On the first page she wrote, “S Ward walked from her home in a rap Book. Alfred E.«Smith And on the next page she pasted the programme of the closing exer- cises of the boys: department of St, James's Parochial School in New Bowery, on the evening of June 26, 1883 At the top of the list of child entertainers, next to the “Opening Chorus,” was the line “Recitation—Master Alfred Smith,” That was the first time the name of Alfred Smith ever appeared in print, and with the inspiration of confident parenthood his mother filed away the page. summer that the name of her son is known What hopes and expectations she entertained that pleasant day have been more than fulfilled, for she has knowledge throughout the larfd and respected. She has seen him in the office of Governor of the greatest State in the Union. I accidentally ran across that old scrap book in a bale of scrap books fn the archives of the Smith family in the ex-Governor's home at No. 25 Oliver Street a few days ago. No other clipping about Alfred Gmith was pasted in the book for many years. ‘Then there was a notice of his mar- riage to Catherine Dunn in 1900. Sev- eral clippings mentioned his activity in behalf of Tom Foley in the Foley- Divyer fight for the Tammany leader- ship in 1901. Small clippings told of his election to the Legislature in 1903, and from that time on the bulk of the clippings, scissored out of the newspapers by his mother and later by his wife and children, ac- cumulated with the years until there are literally thousands of them. ‘The mother had particular reason for saving up that programme. It recorded the first public appearance of her boy, whose talents as a speaker and entertainer had been apparent to her from the time he was able to walk and talk. He was on the pro- gramme as a special feature, as he ‘was not a member of the graduating class, being only ten years old. All the other boys were winding up their school days, and he and his mother thdught he was just starting in with his,. The sisters and Father Kean, the pastor, to add strength to the en- tertainment, added the line: “Recitation—Master Alfred Smith.” Al Smith does not remember what that recitation was, but he will call it to mind some day. It 1s about the only fragment of happenings attend- ing his career that he does not re- member. And what a caree?® he has had—this boy born on the New York water front in a turbulent, rough neighborhood swarming with rough, turbulent men ashore from ships from all the ports of the world! Most of our great public men, even those who figure in the af- fairs of the great citles, were born on farms or in small towns and were reared in an asmosphere of peace and serenity. The earliest memories of Al Smith are associated with the rum- ble of truck wheels and the clatter of horses’ hoofs on the gobblestones of the streets leading down to the East River below the Brooklyn Bridge, the crack of whips and the vivid Janguage of truckmen. His youth was spent on the streets. The water front was lined with sa- logs, and policemen in that part of town were picked for their ability to hold thelr own with inebriated sea- men. His earliest memories are dot- ted with picturés of fighting men and screaming women , being dragged through the streets to the police sta- tions. As a toddler, ranging away from the doorstep of his home, he heard and was curious about the tinkle of plano music, the strains of violins and accordeons, the sounds of mingled shrill and deep laughter and, THE EVENING WORLD, MONDAY, OOTOBER\16, 1922, — the shuffle of dancing feet behind windows painted red and screen doors that swung continually during the long summer evenings. Thousands of rigidly réspectable families in the Fourth Ward lived in this environment, but, at the same time, apart from {t, Things were just that way in those days and few thought of changing them. Among these families was the Smiths, the founder of which landed in New York almost a century ago and settled in what was at that time a growing Irish neighborhood, Blocks and block of tenements with stores on the ground floor were gradually shoulder ing out old mansions that had been the homes of the leading families of the city in Colonial times. These were many private stables in the ter ritory os well as many shel tering the horses and trucks of the men who moved the cargoes from the ships that nosed into the shore in a solid line from Coenties Slip to Corlears Hook. BOTH PARENTS BORN YORK. Al. Smith's father was born in tenement in Water Street near Oliver Street some time in the 4( His mother was born at the corner of Dover and Water Streets in 1850 Both attended St, James's Parochial School in New Bowery and they were childhood sweethearts, but they did not marry until 1871. By that time AV father had established and was. running a small trucking bustness and was a man of substance among his neighbors. The family lived in a ten ement in South Street near the cor ner of Roosevelt Street, directly un der the Brooklyn Birdge. Al was born in this house in 1873 The New York tower of the Bridge was completed on his first birthday and the celebration of the Smith fam ily of the anniversary of the birth of the qhild ran coincident with the cele- bration that marked the placing of the last stone on top of the column that was one of the wonders of the world. . “The Brooklyn Bridze and I grew up together,"’ said Al one day re- cently. ‘It attracted my infantile at- tention and I spent a lot of time sort of superintending the job in my boy hood. I have never lost the sense of admiration and enyy I felt toward the men who swarmed like flics stringing the caMes and putting in the road- ways as the Bridge slowly took shape Ten years after I was born and nine years after the New York tower was finished they opened the Bridge, and I recall the intense excitement down in our part of town when word came that many people had been killed in a jam on the structure. “That was on May 80, 1883, ration Day. The Bridge had stable IN NEW Deco- been The Master MysteryStory of New formally over ferry on the Bridge crossing in both direc- My recollection is that some- body in the crowd at the New York end yelled that the Bridge was falling ‘There was a rush for the New York® side, and this rush, meeting a At throng coming from Park Row, in| which tions. down. gr produced Martin Green. opened a few vate in the afternoon of Decora- tion Day there was an immense crowd CAPT JOHN BINNS, days before and my father and mother and sister nd I were among the first to cross Brooklyn on the Bridge and come back home by the Fulton Street eighteen or twenty people were tram- pled to death. “A gang of us boys from along the water front hurried up to Park Row when we heard of the accident. It was growing dark. We got as close to the centre of things as the polic would let us. They were taking away TAI? SwrH 1685: Incidentally, it may be recalled that it was in 1883, an epochal year In the history of the city, marking the dedi- cation of the first great New York bridge, that Master Alfred Smith stepped out on the stage in St. James's School HA and made his debut as a public speaker, MEOT MARTIN COOK AL SMITH WHEN HE RAN WITH OLD ENGINE COMPANY 32 1N JOHN STREET. a jam about bodies and wounded people and police- men were piling up great quantities of hats and clothing that had been torn from the vetims. “That was my first view of a great calamity, I didn't sleep well for a couple of nights from the shock and excitement."* ? It {8 scarécly necessary to say that Al Smith was a lively, imagina- tive boy, full of curiosity. The self confidence that has been an outstand- ing characteristic in his political career marked him early. a sturdy little fellow, with a large head that appeared to be almost too He wasS,Platt Street. fourth Ward Boy WhoBecameGovernot Picturesque Life Story of ‘‘A1” Smith. heavy for his neck. wore his first hat on the right side# Chief of the Fire Department. He habitually of his head and he has worn every hat he has owned since on the right side of his head. THE REASON FOR THE TILT OF THE HAT. On the day he became Speaker of the Assembly he walked down from the Capitol to the Ten Eyck Hotel and into the lobby with a huge derby hat leaning over his right ear and a huge black cigar gripped in the left side of his mouth, A New York Judge who had known him from boyhood publicly took exception to the tilt of the Smith derby hat. “You are in a dignified position now, Al,” gaid the jurist, who was ‘an addict to propriety in attire, “and you ought to wear your hat in a dignified way. This isn't the Bowery.” “Judge,” replied Al, and his voice boomed through the lobby, “I wear my hat on the side of my head be- cause if I wear it pulled gown on my forehead it makes my headache. And Vil be damned if I'm going to go around with a headache all the time to satisfy people who desire to dic- tate to me how I shall rest my indi- vidual lid on my individual bean,” Down along the water front Al ed the life of the other boys. He dived into the East River from the docks in the summer time, and in winter, when it snowed, he annexed a big shovel and went from door to door to solicit the job of shovelling the snow from the sidewalk. He was a good salesman, too, from all ac- counts, and people were glad to have him do service for them and rewarded him more liberally than other boys were rewarded because of his cheer- fulness and sharp wit. On summer evenings he played baseball in South Street, under the figureheads and poles of the clipper ships that jammed the spaces be- tween the piers, These poles, pro- truding from the bows, extended often more than half way across wide South Street. Often he went abeard the vessels when good natured sea- men would allow and explored their mysteries, Strangely enough, al- though reared in the shadow of a forest of masts and in an odor of ‘spicy products from far off places, he never hankered for a life at sea. “Little old New York was good enough for me then, just as it 1s now,” he explains, in talking of his boy- hood, But he did aspire to be a fireman. When he was eight or nine years old he began to frequent the house of Engine Company No. 82, then located in John Street, near the corner of The Captain of the company at that time was a husky young man named John Binns. To- day John Binns is a veteran Deputy Al spent much of his time in and around this fire house up to the time he attained his early manhood. As a boy he was a favorite of the fire« men because of his ability to sing and dance and tell stories and ree} off recitations. He had a singularly resonant volce for a boy and, in no spirit of disparagement be it said that he gras fond of .using it. He had pronounced opinions on all local sub- jects and voiced them with aston- ishing fluency. A USEFUL FIGURE AT THE FIRES. When Ai was in the firehouse and an alarm was sounded he had a part to play as a “buff” as important, in his estimation, as the part played by the firemen. He would count the strokes of the bell and then make a rush for a big coffee can and a sand- wich basket which were kept in a space alongside the entrance. As the clumsy, iron tired engine with copper and brass work glittering and whistle shrieking rolled out, drawn by three horses whose hoofs struck sparks from the pavement, Al would close the doors. Then, know- ing from the count of the strokes of the alarm where the fire was, he would sprint after the engine with the coffee can and the gandwici basket. If the fire was trivial he would ride back to the house on the engine, the proudest and most envied boy in New York. If the fire proved to be a big, hot one—and they had many of that soft—he would carry coffee and sandwiches to the firemen from nearby restaurants. He was so weil known to festaurant keepers that he did not need money, Sometimes the restaurant keeper would demand pa after the fire was over, but general! the coffee and sandwiches were f and All came to learn where he cou get them for nothing and sometimes would make long trips with the can and basket on that account, On the return of the engine to tl house it was Al's privilege to open the big doors. While the engine was being backed tn and the horsea were being unhitched he woufd+wash and polish the coffee can and clean the sandwich basket and put them away Then he would go home and tell his mother about the fire, “The sound of a fire engine siren even to this day,” sald Al recentl) “prings back to me the thrill I use’! to feel when No, 82 clattered an snorted out the door and turned east or west on John Street, and I gvt ready to chase it with the battere. old can.” (CONTINUED TO-MORROW.) (More of Al Smith’s Boyhood in the Qld Fourth Ward.) Phil Durrane Appears at His Adirondack Lodge and Visits the Dixons. MARY SPURNS FORTUNE. Declines to Accept the Van Cortland Estate, Hers Under Murdered Man’s Will. THE STORY TO DATE. ROWN, the butler of the Fifth Avenue mansion of Anthony Van Cortland, finds his em- Ployer dead and twelve guests unconscious around a table where the thirteen had gathered for a convivial celebration of the Ace Club the night before. A goldfish in a bowl in the room is floating, dead. A strange odor pervades the room. t. Stuart, an army officer, calls for Van Cortland to go for a ride in Central Park and discovers the state of affairs. After talking with Morrison, the chauffeur; Roberts, the valet; Ma- the maid, and Brown, Capt. Stuart IIs Police Headquarters and in a few Minutes a queer-looking little man ap- jee at the mansion and introduces imself as Mr, Furneaux of the detec- tive force. Capt. Stuart, chosen by Furneaux to notify Miss Mary Dixon, Van Cort- 's fiancee, of his death, performs the disagreeable task, but is impressed by fe fact that she shows nc deep “3 Discovery is made of a threatening typewritten pote in which Van Cortlan was told he could never marry Mary ux’s theory is that the mur- derer, after paenicneering a irockont draught to the party and pouring the into the gold fish bowl, admin- ¢ a deadly dose to Van Cortland. butler tells of a visit by Miss and her father to Van Cortland and a conversation in which the dead made light of the threatening note. overhears a conversation in Megtagu Toyn says that Mary, ; Ma / Dixon agreed to marry Van Cortland because he saved her father from fail- ure in a deal in rubber stocks. Capt. Crossley, precinct commander, causes the arrest of a tramp who has a ring he claims to have found in Central Park: opposite the Van Cort- land mansion, Officer Flanagan, who made the arrest, is scratched while ex- amining the ring and dies just as Van Cortland died. Willie Dixon invites Capt. Stuart to stay in the Dixon flat while his father and sister are in the Adirondacks and makes it clear that the invitation is ex- tended at Mary's suggestian. Mary Dixon adds the fact that Frank Haker's collection comprised a poison ting but she believes him innocent of Van Cortland’s death. Capt. Stuart is murprived to learn that Mary Dixon has cherished a news- paper clipping showing his decoration y a French general with the croix de guerre. The inquest develops nothing new but the toxicologist reports that the contents of the ning were arsenic and belladonna with perhaps an addition of snake poison, At a dinner to former Ace Club members Durrane explains the theory that Van Cortlandt’s death was brought about by an outsider, CHAPTER Xil. The House Without a Care. HE three young people who so unexpectedly found themselves enjoying a holiday in the sum- mer playgrouyd of New York State enjoyed every, hour of the fol- lowing week. ‘ During these long rambles, and in many a quiet hour by the side of the lake, Stuart found himself almost insensibly gaining Mary Dixon's con- fidence, Of course, when her brother and he had told her all they had gleaned with reference to the mys- tery of van Cortland’s death, they soon tabooed the subject altogether. But it cropped up in unforeseen ways. Once, while going ashore--they in- variably referred in that fashion to @ visit to the little township where hotel, postoffice, railroad station and a few shops and houses clus! to- ork Life gether—they met a boatload of hired furniture coming to ‘Sans Souci, the Greens’ house. Preparations wer being made for Durrane’s reception. “I don't think I would care to live in a place of that name,"’ commented Stuart. ‘It seems rather like defying the god: “What's wrong with it?’ demanded Dixon. ‘It generally gets San Sowsy here and leads to ribald remarks, but the Greens drank ginger pop all the time. . “I have a very ignorant brother, Alec," said Mary, smiling. “Well, if Baker comes along, this outfit will gain a new glory, because that lad can shift Scotch like a cow- boy."" “Surely Mr. Durrane will never in- vite Frank Baker to join him here?" cried Mary. “Why not?? said her brother. “They're thick as thieves these days." The girl simply dropped the sub- ject, but Stuart did not forget. That same day, during the return journey across the lake, they met a smart motor-boat coming around the point which hid the two houses, *'Bel- lagio” and “Sans Souct,"’ from gen- eral view. It was empty save for the engineer, a small, dark-skinned man in the blue overalls of his occupa- tion, who waved a hand in galute as he passed. isn't that the Greens’ Skip?" enquired Willie Dixon. Skip said it was. . “Then where 1s Evans?" “Took a holiday, That's his wife's sister's husband, a Frenchy from Montreal, name o' Pierre." “-rhat's news," said Dixon, “When did Pierre show up?" “Yestiddy, Bob an’ his wife have gone in a tin Lizzie to Saratoga fur a launch, spell." On the following morning, the Dixon family having met in rather prolonged conclave after breakfast, Stuart stuffed a New York paper into a pocket, went to the boathouse, and got out a canoe, in the manage- ment of which somewhat cranky craft he was an expert. He paddicd past “Sans Soucl,"’ and saw out of the corner of his eye that the house was tenanted, Was Durrane in residence already? The launch was tied to a mooring-post, so had been in uw He turned at once and brought the chnoe into its accustomed berth, but, COPYRIGHT BY EDWARD. J: CLODE “Well, we'll be seeing a lot of you now you're here,” said Mary. “I sup- wishing to read the paper without pose you have heaps to do in your being interrupted, sat com- house before you settle in com- ple ened from observation ex- fortably. Alec, I want a cept by any one who chanced to pass word with you for one minute. Par- in a boat. don me, Phil, for leaving you the He soon found the paragraph he Moment you put In an appearance, sought, under the caption: “Van but what I have to say to Capt. Cortland Probe” ‘Then heart Stuart cannot walt, as I have to go seemed to miss a beat as his fasci- “shore.” Three ‘people were momentarily nated gaze dwelt on the next head- “Dead “man's line: promised bride.” othe! duress grave and now was actually doing. Stuart now knew that what had been a dream was a reality, loved Mary Dixon, generosity of the man who desired her, and whom she had neyer wished had raised barrier which he gnight never dare 3e it Tremembered, to marry, to scale. Stuart was an idealist. So, with a little laugh that would have caused his mother much suf- have heard fering he got up to the day. if she the his resolve, o saw it expected visitor. the just display the tact with which credited him had strained, proached two might house, train for New He meant, out of the canoe and walked resolving York cam’ to pass, proached the house from the Philp Durrane coming through the trees, an unwelcome If hardly un- Evidently, crossed the rail fence which divided properties. Stuart loathed the sight of the man no humor to then and was in conversation the house, Mary Dixon soon broke up the party. millions There was yet an- “Mary Dixoh now one of New York's wealthiest debutantes.” Stuart lald down the paper. many another mgn of his race, he had learned in Francd the trick of finding solace in tobacco during times of he produced pipe and tobacco pouch without hav- ing the remotest notion of what he Like but the superb impos'ng Alec that very if necessary, to be brusque, even with Mary, in stating as he ap- lake, he had Furneaux but the two ap- They were greeted by the Dixons, who appeared to have been engaged in some sort of family conference. After struck dumb by the girl's calm self- assurance, Her brother, in his own phrase, would never have believed that this kid sister could hand the frozen mitt to Phil Durrane in that to style. Durrane himself was obvi- ously taken aback. As for Stuart, he had an uneasy feeling that his projected stampede to New York was about to be made exceedingly difficult, And, for once, he was not mistaken. “Haye you seen the newspapc was Mary's first question when out of earshot of the others. “Yes,” “And money “Ian’t It awful?” she demanded. “Awful? To be given millions of dollars?"" Yes, It's blood-money ‘Mary, you should not say that." He read all about that horrid i, “But it 4s, It's buying me, body * and goul.” take . He had misunderstood her; for- tunately she had not read his in- terpretation of her words. “You are exelted by your good for- tune," he said laboriously, “and prob- ably feeling a trifle overwhelmed by the responajbilities attached to it, You"—— Sho shook him in quite unsisterly faghion, supposing she had adopted that relationship. Alec!"’ she cried, “Just stop that, I've had ‘half-an hour of it froin father and Willie, Of course, I won't aecept Anthony van Cortland's mil- ions.” It was Stuart's first experience of 4 woman's skill in putting a man on the defensive when sho is stating an argument intended to convince him, and probably herself. “It 1s not for me to advise you, Mary, ia an affair of cuch great im- Frederic Dorr Sizele portance," he said, ‘In any event, it 1s a grave matter, and not one to be dealt with impetuously.” Whereupon Mary dropped’ his arm, stamped a vehement foot, and burst out crying. ‘They were on the landing-stage by this time, and out of sight from the veranda, Stuart nearly yielded to a frantic longing to take this fair crea- ture in his urms and kiss away her tears. The very sound of her grief maddened him, She was more ador- able than ever in her distress, “Please don't do that, Mary," he said, his voice vibrating” strangely. “TI can't stand it. It's not—fair."* “What isn’t fair?’ she asked, lift- ing her swimming eyes to his. “That you—should weep. You are not—meant for tears. And, confound it, what is there to-cry about?” She wriggled free of his clutch, and a wan smile broke through the 4 i I'm sorry,” she faltered, “I just collapsed, But you have horribly strong fingers. There will be ten little black spots on my, skin to-mor- row.” The two started apart as though subjected to an electric shock. Peer- ing at them around the front of the low building, but ensconced in the trees some yards away, was Pierre, the Montreal brother-in-law of the “Sans Souci"? boatman, Mary was the first to recognize him, and she flushed with indigna- tion, “How dare you come spying on this property?” she demanded. ‘Don’t shout at me, Miss Dixon,"’ came the unabashed reply. ‘You might be heard at the house, and that wouldn't do, at all, as they say in Cork." at Scott!"? exclaimed Stuart, ear was more faithful than his “It's Furncaux, the detective!" classical phrase!" chortled the little man, his brown face wrinkling in a very ecstasy of enjoyment. “Oh, that Winter were here, even in the height of summer! But you, my gal- lant swashbuckler, what shall I say to you, who so misuse the gifts of the gods that you can only soothe a woman's sorrow by trying to wring her neck?" whos eye. Now, Furneaux's name and oddities ‘Bf speech and manner were already so familiar to Mary by hearsay that she accepted Stuart's astonishing stafement without demur. Neverthe- less, she was startled, and a little confused, it may be. “Did you come here to speak to Capt. Stuart or me?” Mary asked, tremulously. “Not exactly. I was on the trail of my valued employer, but, seeing you coming this way, I crept down through the trees. You did the rest. A nice pair of conspirators you are, to be sure—bleating out your secrets for all the world to hear!"’ “This happens to be an exceptional occasion,” salé Stuart. “It sure is.’ He disappeared, and they caught no sound save the rustling of the branches among the close-packed trees. What queer little person he ts, but he’s a dear, and I'm sure I shall love him," said Mary. “Come on! Let's hurry! He evidently wants to tell us something, and Phil Durrane has quite enough nerve to stroll down here and interrupt us.’ But Phil Durrane was then using his nerve to other purpose. He was extracting all possible information from Willie Dixon. How come tt that Capt. Stuart was in the Adiron- dacks? What had the ‘Bellagio’ party been doing with themselves during the past week? What led to the sudden decision to leave New York? How did Mr, Dixon, senior, regard the presence of a stranger? To this, and more, Willie Dixon could reply glibly. Mary thought Pop needed cheering up, and the Prei dent of the Amalgamated adopted a sympathetic attitude. And Stuart was one of the best. He'd never see a fellow stranded, and promptly abandoned a hunting trip in Maine to help in the rejuvenation of Pop, who liked Stuart immensely. ‘nd it was such @ treat for Mar: Durrane Istened, merely putting In a leading question when necessary. He led his companton to the edge of the tennis lawn, which was banked up at one end, and a clearing in the trees gave a bird's-eye view of part / i 4 | of the Jake. So, in a few minutes, he saw the canoe and its occupants. “Mary seemed rather upset morning,” he said casually, ‘Tell if I'm buttitg in on matters that vl) not concern me—was it about thi money? “Yes,” said Willle, wishing himself well rid of a persistent cross exam iner. Then, not without a spice malice, he adde 3ut Stuart is jolly level headed. She say: she doesn’t want it, won't have it, will chucl: it right back at the other heirs and that sort of tosh. He'll talk her into re son, see if he doesn't.’” “I rather agree with Mary." Dixon was annoyed, and did ni care if he showed it. “Dash it all, the other crowd have plenty. Why shouldn’t poor old ‘Tony's wish be gratified?" “I think I can fathom your sister's mind in that respect. She's a sweet girl, well worthy of all that a man can endow her with, but she would prefer such gifts to come from on whom she loved," The other was so dumfounded that he said nothing, though he was nearly compelled to bite his tongue to stop an acid comment as to the very dif ferent views he had heard his friend express on other occasions, Relief came from an unforeseen quarter, The chug-otug of an en~ gine reached their ears, and soon Durrane's motor-boat shot into sight “Hello!” he cried, ‘What's that damn little Frenchman after now?" “A plece of cheese missing in your place, I guess," said Willle. “Why are you making such a kick about a run ashore? Are you short of gas? Or what?" “No. I want to go to the Post Omce myself. Take me in your launch," “Sorry, it's out of commission,’ lied the boy cheerfully. ‘Something gone wrong with the works. ‘That's why Stuart is paddling for Mary." Long afterwards, in recounting the incident, Willle Dixon declared that he had displayed an almost human intelligence at a moment's notice And he had. It was good for the worl4 at large that Durrane should be tem porarily marooned that morning ar Sans Soucl, the house without care. (Continued To-Morrow,) ¢)