Image provided by: University of Nebraska-Lincoln Libraries, Lincoln, NE
About The Omaha morning bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 1922-1927 | View Entire Issue (July 1, 1924)
I (Continued From Ywterdey.) ▲ muffled chash and the wall of tha saxophone came through the trees as the girl turned Into the ehore path. Long before she reached the gang plank It waa easy to picture Mor timer Tice at the drums. It had grown cooler, hut Tice, so Impressive as a floorwalker In the department store, would be In hie shlrteleeves, with face up, his mouth twisting, and all of him working ecstatically at the complicat ed game of the little drum and the big drum, the triangle, the cymbals, and the wooden notes of the xylo phone, Mrs. Tice, with her head swing ing In emphasis, would be at the trembling piano In the corner. And Henry Tice, fifteen and long for his age. with a look of piercing solem nity behind the horn-rlmmed glasses, would be blowing his soul Into the vast, shining, bulbous "sax.’’ At closer quarters Jo Ellen caught the added treble that meant Tice's old violin. Who was playing It? Per haps tha Blakely boy’s father; or Mrs. Tice’s sister, who lived iivHo' boken and once had a whole eourse of lessona at a conservatory in Jersey City. Then Jo Ellen detected a certain thin, wavering inflection that some how meant Marty Simms. Very likely the Marty Simms part of It had been known to Mrs. Tice. Jo Ellen halted on the bank as the fox trot ended, and a squealing laugh, that was recognizable as coming from Papa Tice, burst forth at the moment when there might have been applause. She wondered whether It wasn't duty to feel offended, whether she shouldn’t simply turn about and go home. It was like a trick, the sort of thing busybodles did when they thought they knew something. . . . Pushing people together. If it hadn't been for Mrs. Tice, Jo Ellen was sure she would have been offended. Under the circumstances It seemed to satisfy her that she should hold off a little. As soon as she came paet the oak tree and the boat shed Mrs. Tice would spy her. so she seated herself on the humped turn of a root with her feet straight out. The punishment for this fell sud denly, for Sedley Mason came loping around the turn she had Just passed. His Ice-cream trousers were brilliant ly visible. Possibly he had seen her ahead of him and would In that case think she had seen him and was wait ing, which would be disagreeable. However, he seemed surprised at sight of her. She didn’t move. "Hello, Ellen! Going to the Tice’s?" She nodded. "There’s tlms for plenty of It." "O sure!" Evidently he was about to sit be side her when she got up, suffused by a happy realization. Strolling In with Sedley would be Just the thing. She began to feel very gay at once. They went forward. Sedley hovering for an opportunity to touch her arm at any step that might be reasonably con New York --Day by Day ------ »y o. o. McIntyre. New York, July 1.—The ultimate screech In shoe shops has opened on the avenue. It Is swanklshly called a bootery. Tiny oval windows In the front display but one pair of shoes and there is no other indication of vulgar trade. One enters a long reception hall, delicately flooded by indirect lighting. It is a glamorous haze that catches the breath. The polished floor is cov ered with oriental rugs that should he hung up on the wait to look upon Instead of step upon. High back medieval chairs and long divans are against the wall. There Is a slim mahogany table, bear ing a single handsome tooled book. An elegantly frock-coated gentleman receives the visitor. He Is ns austere ns the big reception room Itself. His vest is edged in white and his Van Dyke glistens. Beyond through the arched door way is the “shop.” Not a shoe is in sight. A mural graces the ceiling and ponderous chandeliers dripping with cut glass are at either end. The walls are ebony paneled and hung with curtains of white plush. Only the distant rumble of street traffic, keeps one from believing he might be in the most aristocratic mansion on Park avenue. The clerks are smartly groomed and spatted. They go through little doors to bring forth their wares—only one pair at a time. They are carried in on teak wood trays. The proletariat enters with a vague feeling of uncertainty—and that is perhaps the effect the owners wish to achieve. They want patrons who select shoes as they would handker chiefs—in lots. A half dozen at a time Is considered a small order. The nearest approach to its aloof ness is the English tobacconist whose shop Is further down on the avenue and where the clerks wear spotlessly white dusters and "blend tobncco” to fit Individual tastes of the consumer. Two roguishly rouged chorines— ham and egg girls looking for food under glass—dropped into a supper club the other evening unescorted. The head waiter arched his eyebrows In disdain. "Some one Is waiting for you?" he inquired. “We hope eo,” was the reply. “Pick us out some aged filbert who Is ripe for cracking and tell him we are a couple of good kinds and crave food. We haven’t eaten for two daye—” and with this one of the girls slumped to the floor In a faint. There are more private grudges among theatrical producere than al most any other class of men. Most of the eminent producere only grunt at fellow membere of their Ilk. Very few theatrical partnerships have been lasting. It Is a business that Is al ways at high strain and what they call temperament is saally touched off. _ No ferry ride la oomplete without a shoe shine. Just as surely as one must take a few turns about the promenade deck so must one suc cumb to the appeal of the Industrious shoe shiners. They are a merry crew —these ragged little gamine who wield the brush so Industriously on New York fsrriss. Horatio Alger never pictures more plueky types. They are up at dawn and often work for Into the night. They are Beet Side urchins who In many cases sup port families with their earnings. Each ferry also hae Its strolling mu sician*—the harpist and fiddler—who grind out the tunes of long ago. “Sweet Rosts O’Orady” and "In the Good Old Bummer Time’’ are the favorites. Oepyrlghi »*»« strued as hazardous. Her gayety con tinued while Sedley was saying some thing about Uncle Ben, about the weather, and about a new dance—not exactly a toddle but something like it—that Tyler said was going to be the whole cheese. It continued during Mrs. Tice’s shrill welcome, during Mortimer Tice's handshake (in his department store manner) and doubt less Influenced even her estimate of Morris Meyer’s plastered shin. Morris had been in an encounter with the Broadway Gang and some special honor, not yet made known, attached to his wounds. Marty Smith seemed to be getting taller. He greeted Jo Ellen with an in tent look, as If he might be saying to himself that she was getting taller. He had been working now for over a year, and Jo Ellen noticed that there was some slight and not altogether satisfactory change in his manner. He wasn't uppish; he even flushed as he shook hands. Perhaps It was some thing connected with his being taller and brushing his hair like the collar ads. Jo Elien had noticed that people often changed when they went to work. She had made up her mind that when she went to work she would not become different in the slightest degree. People would say of her, ■with an effect of an astonished conviction, "She hasn't changed at all!" Or perhaps, "The same old To Ellen!” . . . There wasn't room for all of the audience in the Tice's living room. The piano and Tice’s drum made large demand on the floor space, and after Henry and Marty Simms had places and working room there remained a chair, a stool, and the wall seat. Jo Ellen afterward wished she had chosen a place on the square of deck beyond the door, where Puss Kinney and her brother (who had come in a skiff) giggled with Myrtle and the Blakely boy. “Remember the Tinkle Trot, Marty?" cried Tice. “I've got something on the bells for that.” "I tell you, Pop,” said Henry solemnly, Just before the last of the "Irst part there’s two bars where you ought to stop the drum.” "Ah! Yes!” exclaimed Tice. "And the old sax chirps alone! I know Ready, Ma?” "You bet!” The high spot of the Tinkle Trot was where Tice, by a flip of his elbow, and with the assistance of a lever, struck a chord of bells hanging from the celling, though that was a tense mo ment in which Henry, for the two un accompanied bars, twittered wheezily In the depths of his horn. The drums, the Intermittent brassy clang, and the chucking noise evoked with the drum sticks against a slab of wood, kept Tice in feverish action. Hia face shone, the cords in his neck stood out as the din deepened, his foot beat against the treadle that affected the steady booming of the bass drum, he hummed a tenor In certain passages with his mouth to one side, and nod ded an emphasis into Mrs. Tice's trills. There was plenty of applause. "Some trot, what?" cried Tice. Jo Ellen did not like Marty’s play ing She told herself that it wasn't the lack of dexterity or of practice—she knew that now he seldom played his own violin at home. It was the flavor of it she didn’t like, a kind of thin sweetness, a sentimental uncertainty reflecting the side of him that irri tated her. She was glad of the piece Marty didn't know and which the Tices played with a home-practice con fidence on their own account. Doubt less because the violin seemed thus to be thrust aside, Tice asked Marty to play the Kevins thing in which Mrs. Tice used to accompany him so nicely. Marty protested, but Mrs. Tice was firm and struck off the opening piano phrases. Jo Ellen watched Marty's face while he played his solo. There was a moment when she wanted to go out and push Myrtle and the Blakely boy overboard for giggling, but she hail to admit that the piece was a strain on politeness. She wondered whether it was the violins she didn't care for or whether the special look of Marty’s brown eyes made her ner vous. "Good work!" commended Tice, as he began adjusting his machinery for another orchestra number. XI Puss Kinney and her brother hav ing crowded into the cabin, and this having necessitated a rearrangement, Jo Ellen slipped out. The din was too close. And she had had enough. Pre sently she would go back. She leapt ashore and scurried vaguely into the darkness. It was a dark darkness, although there were stars. The band had begun again, and it was ns if the sound drenched everything, making the light dimmer. You had to know the place in order to move successfully at these crazy angles, and to be respect ful to a white dress. Running away from anything made you feel free for a little while The warm bigness of night could let you alone. The Clove seemed to be walled straight up, up, to that indigo roof with the pale spangles. , . . Yes, she liked Marty Simms. But why did she nlso not like him? How could you like end not like a person at the same time? Would it be that way with everybody? No matter how much you might like anybody, would there always be something about him that made you have annoyed, or questioning, or not-liking times? Sight of the Fleck houseboat led her to wonder whether Myrtle, for in stance, would feel the same wray? Probably not. Myrtle had violent ap predations. Evidently, these were generaly annoying to Myrtle's mother, and sometimes infuriating to her father. Fleck thought dancing was a form of looseness, and on several occasions was konwn to have locked up his daughter when he suspected her of wicked intentions. Frightful scenes had occurred on the Fleck houseboat. The strange thing was that Myrtle never seemed to be sobered by these thing*. She emerged smiling and eager for fresh adventure. Her code Had be come simply that of not being caught, and she displayed a real gift for slipping around obstacles. The tricks in themselves pleased her, though she took them for granted. She assumed that every girl got around somebody. Jo Ellen knew that Myrtle always sus pected her of being too proud to admit equivalent strategies. — -—— From under an arch of branches that fell over the plankway, Jo Ellen made out a silhouette that moved. It sent her thought back to the shadow she had seen the night before at the corner of the Simms house, and this made her pause. The first thought was not of any real likeness In the shadow, so that her later suspicion came with almost as much of surprise as if It had occurred In the beginning. If this was Stan Iamur. he would have found the piped service tap of the Spouting Devil. He would not need a drink of water. But he would not be feeling free. And he would still be thinking that she had told. She could not call out. If he saw her figure he might disappear, and there would be no finding him. She had a thought. Afterward this thought could, ah# found, seem rather good or quite the opposite. But it would be something enormously dif j Cerent, it wasn't easy to convey It to J him. and getting it to him came first. * At last she walked forward with one® arm held straight aloft. In white. I she was a clear mark, and he would see that she must be signaling There was a quick movement In the silhouette; then It halted. . . . (To Be Continued Tomorrow ) The Golf Player’* Bride « '* By Briggs AIAS?\A/HAT a 5ADSIGHT IS THIS ! the UNHAPPy CRFATUftE HAS JUST DISCOVERED, TOO 1ATE, HER. HUSBAND 13 A 31MZ TO GOLF AND 15 EVEN HOW, ERE SHE 1105 REMOVED HER WEDDING GARMENTS,ON HIS WAY TQ' ^THE UNK5 10 JOIN ROISTERING COMPANIONS .... SUCH SCENES AS THIS MAY BE AVOIDED |F ONLY . YOUNG olRLS/.WOULD HEED THE COUNSEL OF.THEIR ELDERS AND pEWARl O' HASTY MARRIAGES. CffiruM, I»14 N T. T.iUn •**. I , -■* - ■** -- . - - i -1 - - - - - - - --..-■—— ABIE THE AGENT Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hershfielc Tnklnc it Oliitnrft. /VTHEf'RE THe X. SAT NO?T\ SUTS i &OUQHY SlRE, BR>N^ WOM Not LAST THEM OVER • NEAR* UMLL VOU ANN*T>«W<t FfeR \ ALTER THEM A REQuLAR <j >XV PCR ME ?3 CwSTtsMER'-i J T -- . _ - '—»R—rr /r*ANK> Hts. QCIKK, 'Y~~/v ' THAT S SCREW ^ rUt OFFER him"5 { TO Fix TVIUA OVER ; / WHAT MCt OF HlfA, ■ MoKEY «. &uY if SORVOUWI , HEq^tME T0 6c-m« j T^, „ lLL KOTri^.hA? ■ \ To \ - - -“ \lJV4T>EMTANby Wer AUJFIX so**" OrSS THE NEBBS GOODA-BYE FEDORA. Directed for The Omaha Bee by aoi new - -——■ ... i -' ■ .-T-^ \ s ■ > .niDCF- I've r,rrr .O c1 i *nstrugt t*he oupv CUE MYSTERIOUS WITNESS ARRlvm Q- "DO YOU REMEMBER DUPING THE TIME YOU A WILL AS* THC \ (TOUR HONOR. I N (V^^s ON EACH TOOT S TO RETIRE AND BR'nG TuS MOR.NING AND W(|S CALLED WERE PRACTICING 'N NORTWVtLLE KYTEND- PLAINTIFF "TO STEP \f AM EMBARRASSED AO 1 CAUGHT "ME 2'SITFAY AVCRO'CT FOP "TMj^ _ -totuI 5-aSd^v OTTo0Mr?MSi\rS ing tc a boy by the name of setwi nebb 7 To the stand- \_in not so sure defense - andtnd\ to the STAND BY attorney NIBLICK l ^MEMBER rr very DISTINCTLY— \T REMOVE WlSSHOE |MV SOCK IS NOT , want to-thank you REST OF nORTHVULC ——---- wac ONE OF MY FIRST CASES AFTER And STOCKING AnO\ TORN AnD WOULD FOR YOUR KWONCSS - KAY RETURN TO *«EI R 2- *£5£g5?ss&} ^^SS^SSSS^SSS^F- SJSSSfSS? \saSBBS ' S:Ssa^Sa?4w5oo«ow.T ft-ffia^essas?rr,s5f~ wsaEsaw 2&S£^L skskEasSL A. uEBE IN vjobTvaville KIceseiSk■TO»wlniwcrr_T?M* (^hwueiSJJE,, SSSYTi wiu. K"g£.T“tco“SSL a- DID YOU tYER PRACTICE MEDICINE CAUSED BY JUMPING INTO THE WATER p^D VOTE TOR YOU . f IN NORJYNVILLE 7 AND STRIKING A BROKEN BOTTLE - ft- NCS- FOR ABOUT TEN YEARS . Q .UioCARRlEDMlM TO YOUR OFFICE ? A- NOO DID s&S 1 Copy ri g ht. 1924, bjTft/seU Syndicate.’ Inc J i.TO'' l F Bamev Google and Spark Plug BARNEY’S ECONOMIZING NOW. Drawn for The Omaha Boe by B.lly DeBeck J 6 r 0 - - - ■ —-r . 11 r. ,-rr - r~r yu.. k'HOUflll LAST MIGHT BARNE'I HOC K ED ‘ SUNSHINE'S GOLD TOOTH FOR *5' AT ujiooAM. He WAS ON DECK AS The BANK OPENED \ AND MAD6 THE .DEPOSIT* WHICH <SWES 0OR HERO * IOS V Ti 44IS GREOtr • ONLV * ^|ORC IS NEEDED 7o?NSURF SPARK VS ENTR'I IN Tfc* TBONE Stakes . one-week FROM Th'S COMING SATURDAY* - / &UCKS t. PCflM'tfeP I (N ThB BANK This ( MORNIN<x;- t j SH0UV.0 have help \ DOT A urrte \ FOR w lunch V TbOAV - / s _ s ! I "fEW • « OJANJUA DRAW A BUCK AVJ) ?£'> A HAt* ! our of t*y Sav/m&s | oduvT/^HVI/^1 I TD CATUCP n«fi.ier«a see jiGGs and maggie in full Drawn for The Omaha Bee by McManus Df\llNvJlllVS UI r r\ I jniLlX U. S. Patent Olfle. PAGE OF COLORS IN THE SUNDAY BEE (Copyr-»tat 1924) WELL-WHAT DO TOO think T-~ NOW I WANT TO “SHOW __ " —IT or THlb CLOAK MOOF-l blTA TOO ANOTHER MOOEL ^ 1 CANT mr or rur J OF A COAT THAT 1*3 _) WAIT AROUND T PRETTIER THAN TH.b f ALLOA J. NTHE-bTORE- y r-> ONE - YOU'LL BE GLAD J —_n TOO WENT IN C P ^A THItl BO-blNEbb-i^ ^ ' ■ v r KjjCpb JERRY ON THE JOB THREE CHEERS FOR THE BUCKET SHORTAGE Drlwn f°r The Omaha 1/ ■ — ■■§ I These Bocks’zee. f u* a iAtts> ao-iutst- \ )AF 05OOVEO AS lA*OjmS, vwu v-'O0 Si«?J AkJ EEL V4<TM A ‘ \ 9eS.S0»nEl 1 'IViMK -/ ACwfc j K Thcm'RJ A Bit GjQ.IV ■ j ho bettsq. Tio A See \huat Sou / wa GnicEV TsTux “IUink. Plot to tqm ^ 1 uuft Out oe mis ) fcAlLOOAO I