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About The Omaha morning bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 1922-1927 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 1, 1924)
# 1 |i (Continued From Tonterday.) "A little help—yes. But don’t yoi think you can do things you can’t do Probably you’re un unusually strong girl, though I’d say it was mon energy than muscle. You migh think you could yank him easily. Lot! ot nice nurses have made mistake* like that, and their backs are gone He’ll find ways of getting himsell around. That’ll be his' business—tc manage himself and invent ways oi being independent of help. ’You’l both be astonished to find how muct of such an obstacle can be overcome I could tell you remarkable Instance: —but I won’t. You and Marty have some sort of a life ahead of you. Tht team has four good arms—” “And only two legs,” added Jo El len, with a grimace that was meant to be whimsical. She felt the need to keep Dr. Parker from being gloomy —particularly to keep him from pre tending to be cheerful. "And two good legs," returned Parker defiantly. "Think how much worse everything might be." This became ono of the sharp pains of the situation—listening to talk about how much worse. There would be years of consolation . . . The wheel chair brightened Marty at once. He steered himself Into every corner of the apartment, accom pllshlng amazing maneuvers. “About—face!” And he spun around within an in credibly narrow margin of room. He sat beside Jo Ellen in the kitch en, and had theories about helping. He put some of these theories into practice, until she protested that he was in the way. It was a very small kitchen. “Think of that!" he cried at eutlng time. “Never need to have * chair set for me. Wheel up my coach, and there I am. The fellow who invented wheel chairs was all right. I’m for decorating him. But probably he’s dead. When were wheel chairs In vented, anyway?" Jo Ellen noted his new habit of watching her narrowly, as If to sup plement what sha said with some thing that might be Been. She won dered what he was thinking while hu looked at her In this way. When his chair was at the window, It was easy to fancy that he dreamed of an Inaccessible world, or that he was trying to fit the world and himself together in a new way. It was pos sible that at the time of the original disaster, when he was in Europe, he had begun to do this. Any man who hnd been in hospital would have counted chances. Beyond all that, or nearer than all that, was the mat t New York —Day by Day— - -— By O. O. MINTYRK. New York. Aug. 1.—Thoughts while strolling around New York: Lexing ton avenue's curio and second hand shops. Proprietors who wear frock coats, Gladstonlan collars and narrow string ties. They live and die In a musty world they never leave. Park avenue's sun-dappled mall. Children of the rich. Nurse maids and silk haired dogs. West Indian servants with a Cockney twang. The sleek old boys around the Racquet club. Bud Fisher In a green roadster. Two new hotels—with only motor entrances. Swank? No end. Bold, bad cutles stopping to redden their lips. Prim old ladies rustling taffetas of long ago. The smart dress making places near the St. Regis. Million dollar homes turned into shops. No signs. Wigged door open ers In knickerbockers. Cornelius' Vanderbilt. T wish his mother would have the family man sion windows washed. And the cur tains changed. Kindly old men feed ing sparrows in Plaza park. A rider less horse. Someone thrown on the bridle path. The pink-cheeked loung ers on the Athletic club porticos. Wish someone would ask me to a home-cooked dinner! With hot bis cuits, home-made jelly and cream gravy. And, O, yes, floating island. If I keep this up I'll bust out crying. Wonder If Bill Hoggs’ home. A drug store advertises a marked down goldfish sale. The colored belt west of Columbus Circle. Smart little shops for the dusky belle. Manicure parlors and coiffure salons. A raggy gay section where smiles predominate. And I be lieve they get more -out of life than most folk. A livery stable and a blacksmith shop. The brackish tang of sea air. Sidewheelers heading for Albany. Lit tle Jersey towns begin to pop with lights. New York is going home. And so am I. A speckled blue sign with white letters announces Michael’s school at 145 West Forty-third street. It is the only school for acrobats In the city. The school Is In one of the old brown stone houses ready to crumble Into dust. The house contains down stairs, at the right, a fruit shop: at the left, a horpeopathlc drug store; upstairs at the right, a laundry, at the left, a beauty parlor. But straight to the rear, the door open, is Michael's. He Is the father of what vaudeville knows as "dumb acts." He teaches agile folk to do somersault* and handstands, nip-ups and flip flop*. He, for years, was a skilled acrobat until age slowed him down. The most important part of all the equipment In Michael’s school la the phonograph. Kvery motion is timed to music, and It Is that which gives rhythm and grace to the perform ance. There la an old man up In Har lem, by the way, who teaches the art of clowning. He has not more than a handful of pupils, hut there Is a pathetic earnestness about his In structlon. Courtney Ilyley Cooper, the writer, Is off with the circus this summer. Few who saw the amusing clown In the ring knew It was the author. Cooper goes with the clr cua to gather material for his In tanaely Interesting circus stories. He la probably the greatest living au thorlty on elephants. One night 1 aat up all night listening to ele phtntlna wonders as told by Arhmed Abdulla and Cooper. Arhmed would outdo Cooper and vice versa, and I now In retrospection rather believe they were kidding me. And to those who like elephants I recommend a short story culled "The Elephant Never Forgets." I have been unable at the moment to remember the author, hut It Is In eluded In one of the O. Henry Short Story Prise winning hooka nnd Is In my opinion about the best animal story aver written. (Copyrllht, 1*24 ) ter of his thought about Jo Ellen. When he seemed to be listening with his eyes, as If to catch the whisper of the Inaudible, she wondered; and a sense of this scrutiny made her wary. If, after she answered his questions and had given her assur ances, there remained something to be watched, something that s'gnaled from the innermost part of herself there had to be protection for what ever was to lie withheld. Naturally, an artificial cheerfulness was a basic part of the protection. She said to herself that cheerfulness was Impera tive. You began with that. Being cheerful fitted in with the excite ment of something that amounted to an extraordinary adventure. Keeping house was an adventure; keeping house with a stricken husband who contributed his share of the artificial cheerfulness—and did it bo well that she .often fancied It was mostly real— was quite out of the ordinary in honeymoons. When it came to the thoughts and feelings that were really hidden, it was true thnt excitement and depression were fearfully mixed. The novelty of disaster might not last very long; on the other hand, the thing you had endured for a while might not hurt so much. Jo Ellen did no reasoning about these things. There was neither time nor space for withdrawal. She was busy, and Marty wns at her el bow. A flashing sense of some things' left others to come as by a slow ache. Chiefly she felt the restraint put upon the forward look. She had always liked to mount into her mental con ning tower three steps at a time. There were moments now when she felt as if she were locked in a cellar. Fortunately, there were other mo menta when the sun seemed very gay, when even the meager city symbols of summeY showed a kind of young levity. Maybe you had to be a child, or like a child, to blossom in a back yard. When she went out to the stores she felt as If she could no long er freely follow the girlhood habit of thinking about the other end of streets. It was worse to have known the sweep of Broadway, for example . . . to have gone forth and then to have been called back. X. One day when she returned from a domestic expedition Marty said he had telephoned to Arnold Pearson, and that his regimental chum was to call that evening. "You ought to have asked him to supper," said Jo Ellen. "I will next time," said Marty. "I wasn't quite sure how you'd like it.” “You mean, like him?” "I meant the supper part—the trouble. You liked him. didn't you?" "A lot. Can't you get him again and ask him to come to supper—we ll make it a dinner for him." "Good work!” Marty was thrilled by the idea. His buddy to a dinner served by the bride! “I know we were going to do that some time," he said. "Naturally. But everything's so different from what we planned out—” "Everything isn't different," said Jo Ellen. "Not everything. I don't think we ought to begin believing thnt." "No!” cried Marty, slapping the arms of his tyheel chair. “You said it, Jo Ellen. Not everything!" He looked up at her with suffused eyes. “If you'll only keep on thinking it isn't everything!” "It's a bargain—” and Jo Ellen hustled away to her kitchen. . . . Arnold Pearson came at six o'clock He was a bit taller than Marty. His dark hair was brushed straight back ward. Ills eyes were quick, like the movements of his lithe body. When his face flushed, as it did when he shook hands with Jo Ellen, a wound scar on his chin stood out sharply. “Well, old man . . . !" He rushed at Marty, seizing him by the shoul ders. "What do you mean "ltotten, er?" Whatever Marty may have said over the telephone left something that smote Pearson harshly. Inevitably it left something more, thnt was not to be picked up in a moment hy even the most eager eyes. Jo Ellen never forgot a stunned, fumbled look that marked Pearson for an instant. The sorry part of the look she could understand. There was more of it that carried over into his glance at her, a nervous, fright ened glance that made her feel that the meeting of the two men would have been different if she were not there. Afterward It seemed quite reasonable to imagine a meeting with out her in which these two cronies would have acted differently, with any new man-to-man feeling entirely free to say its say. The third one always brought some sort of restraint and, of course, she was the most sig nificant possible third one—the wjf one, the new wife one. A man friend had to get used to the adjustment . . . Yes, it was all quite reasonable Up to a certain point you could ex plain It perfectly. Beyond that point you went groping . . . like Pearson Of course, she didn't know- much about Pearson. She understood that wives often hated friends of their husbands. Pearson didn't seem to be the sort you would hate. Marty had used the word "loyal” in speaking of him, which had the necessary sen timental sound. A buddy was ex pected to be loyal. Pearson had car ried Marty after he was wounded, rhere was an implication of sacri fice. Marty naturally adored him. STou could think of all this in esti natlng Pearson’s stupifaction when lie began to know just what had finally happened to Marty. No mat ter what Marty had said to him at the telephone, it would be a certain scrt of shock to see him. to see him with Jo Ellen standing by. There was the effect of his feeling that the first hurt had happened to Marty, and that this second cne, this one that completely toppled him, had hap pened to two. It was as If hi* feel lng must go out to both of them, and as if this was hard for him. In the end he could only stammer. "Marty, old man, this is tough." The sight of his friend excited Marty. “Don't be so solemn, Arnold,” he said with a forced loudness, "it isn’t a funeral. We're going tc surprise you. Business as usual. A get-to gether of us three. Never mind thg^ old legs.” “I'm mighty glad—” "Of course. Glad not to find the newly-weds moping. Wouldn't It be foolish?" "It sure would." assented Arnold. "I think It’s a great big compli ment. Our' ftrst married invitation. Why not? The best man. The bride insisted.’’ "The bride ought to have though! of It," said Jo Ellen, "but—” (T.I Be ronMimed Tomorrow.) THE NEBBS PARDNERS Directed for The Umaha Bee by Sol Mesa W MR. NEB6,I SEE YOU ARE DOING ' EXTENSIVE ADVERTISING - "MY FIRM^W HAS BRANCHES IN ALMOST EVERY LARGE ■* CtTY AMO WE WOULD LIKE TO GET THE EY-1 CLuSlVE AGENCY FOR YOUR WATER TAROU&Ur OUR MARVELOUS ORGANISATION WL CAN|2 HANDLE it cheaper than YOU can and! WE ARE WILLING To UP A BONDTQ CARRY OUT ANY CON-/^ES^- ,-sss: TRACT WE. I T ,_ l^MAY MAKE/ jp—— | you scud -the V PROPOSITION TO y\E IN \ Vja\TVNG AND l VvntE \ TfVVCE \T UNDER CONSID ERATION _ ADDRESS / ^TTO fAC personald// nrnT~ <TIF you HATE ANT PROPORTION TO ( MAKE REGARDING The handling O not age -TO SATE Time - MAKE IT T THE FIRM OF NEBS AND SUDER AS NC TRANSACTION Can be CONiPuETEO WITHOUT MV APPROVAL — My NAN l IS- SLIDER - The ACTING PARTNE \ IN THIS CONCERN —-T,'~ ^ ^ mxmz A JIG |N X WIW3fiS /CTH (Copyright. 1924. by Tht Bell Syndicata, Inc.)I l * v Barney Google and Spark Plug It Does’nt Look Like the Naked Truth. Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Billy DeBeck Boss — S^HKW'S GOM^ - AM CAKiT FfMO HIM MO HOW AM UllSH we t> MESJAH COM6 Of To DESS WEam CANADA WOODS -^sg MV Poor B<?0UJM*€V£O Ba?v /Vw\ ViMr»y ! Copyright 1924, by King Feature* Syndicate, tnc.j | Creat Britain right* re*erved BRINGING UP FATHER ^USS.. D""™ for The o-.jj.te by McM.„u, n- . . .... .. .---- --j—*-1 r —...._ ..■ ...—-■ i. .i- . ■ ■ . i. YOO TOLO ME IF* l WELL • TOO STAYED 'M L/VbT ARECOIM^OOT NIC,HT - I COOLD >ro° ARE. co oot today- moinc, with me J WHILE I HAVE . r I^ a dermanemt , WAVE POT IM my (hair: tr JhLLA sr-sssa&n ^F fr [Pp7 ppT' JT-^ P^P &E»JJTT PARLOR fc I a I JICGWOU COME BACK here:? 1 l JERRY ON THE JOB THE UNCERTAINTY OF THE U. S. M. Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hoban (Copyright 1924) If Ok, Man! By Briggs1 WHATTYA • •?A'i to &OfA£ NICE COLt> VMATE* NBUOM Ertf HOW feoOTCHA I •MeMBett WM6n \ tm6y VJ® USED "to I iju£.ft® .SW/iPE f'AELONS / WARM OUT OP OLD / 6uT OH joh^ AULeM’5 7 eoVt places y-n diOn't They ^ --^ \ HIT THO Ntce 8«J [ Cornet OnJ SS,Woo Melom; Juicy ' ^. y" (MELO^ “ Y acu *jje > COOLt) MOUt>) =L? MOO , 1 UJOM^ER^HO^ = ipi HE'S IWVJPTED To THF . ’“’AN '* 'TOMIQKT5*3 yf' ? HOW MAhiV QA.RDS DC You ujanX mister \ ^ABiBSLE 3 * ^ ^ » Th«bb L'TTLC RKO 5PHe«C5 O'* MCUONJ l tfioM THE WAT TOO QUT\ STARTED To MSCARfc STVMMskv • YOU (jfAVJE "THE OAV. 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