Miscellany: Nov. 9, 1925

Affront

In Manassa, Colo., (birth town of Pugilist Jack Dempsey) members of the school board proposed to name the new high school “The Jack Dempsey School.” Came a fierce protest from the American Legion. “A direct affront—yes, an insult—to every World War veteran,” said the Chairman of the Denver District Rehabilitation Committee.

Lions

In Bloomsburg, Pa., a wild animal show came to town; the lions roared all night. Soon citizens began to miss their dogs. Then a small boy spied a dog-collar in the lion cage; others saw pieces of paws, etc.; the gloating lions roared no longer. Indignant police told the circus to leave town. Out it went.

Shrewd

In Binghamton, N. Y., one E. M. Tierney Jr., manager of the Arlington Hotel, achieved nationwide publicity for his hostelry by causing to be printed on the breakfast menu-card:

“In order that American traditions may be preserved and that the customs of our forefathers may endure, we have placed pie upon our breakfast menu—apple, mince and pumpkin.”

Wine, Spaghetti

In Manhattan, sloe-eyed Italian children competed in a baby show. Some were knock-kneed, some astigmatic, round-shouldered, swivel-hocked, unduly thin; some spilled their milk with mild equability, as if a saucepan in their stomachs were softly frothing over. But well-nigh perfect was Anthony Chieco. He was fat. He was serene. “What do you feed him on?” doctors asked the mother. “Spaghetti,” shrugged enormous Mrs. Chieco. “He eats moocha spaghetti, and he drinks da vino— wine. Madre di Dio, he drinks it, oouf! like ees water.”

Scheme

In Sacramento, knowledge came to William M. Bowman, pioneer settler, that he like other men must die. He chose his pallbearers, dug a grave, lined it with cement, built a coffin, hewed a stone from native granite. That was 18 years ago when he was 73. Since the Grim Reaper continued to elude him, Mr. Bowman thought of a scheme. He built a flagpole over his grave and attached a flag and halyard. When he feels life departing, he will crawl into the coffin, raise the flag, and the people in the valley, knowing his signal, will climb the hill and shovel the earth over him.

Drastic

In Pueblo, Col., one Dale Sechrist, high school pupil, bought a pair of baggy Oxford trousers, donned them, went to school. … In half an hour Dale Sechrist wore no trousers at all, was unconscious. From an upper branch of a nearby tree, flouted by the wind, derided from below, Dale’s baggy bags flew high. Ku Kluxing klassmates had not liked them.

“Old Cuckoo”

In Vienna, Count Ludwig Salm von Hoogstraten, bounding tennis-player, so-called “tennis-playing bounder,” was asked whether he intended to marry Suzanne Lenglen. Said he:

“I am happily married, but if I were not I should not marry the best tennis player in the world. . . .Do I look like a nurserymaid, watching my wife play by the hour with women? As for watching her play with men, I should have to be an old cuckoo first.”

In Japan

In Osaka, Japan, one Senichiro Tokuriki, shoemaker, lived with his wife until his two sons, Kazuo and Saburo, had reached the age of 18 and 19 respectively. Then, thinking that they were doubtless competent to fend for the woman, he chose another wife (a very lotus blossom for fairness) and moved away. The mother grieved herself to the edge of death, and the two lads, seeing that it was no laughing matter, took counsel together. They thought of a way to make their father come home. One night when there was no moon they stole out of the house and made for the railroad track, each hiding a scroll of paper under the butterfly filigree of his kimono. An express train approached. The lads cast themselves down before it. Policemen, finding letters in the bloody tatters that covered their bodies, informed Shoemaker Tokuriki that it was now his duty to live with their mother. (Whether or not he complied, despatches failed to state.)