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About The Omaha morning bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 1922-1927 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 5, 1924)
J.V JO ELLEN By ALEXANDER BLACK. Copyright, 19:4. j (Continued From Yesterday.) "Yet there Is a dramatic excite ment about being cast for a gorge ously antithetical part. To be indi cated, by a superb irony, for the character of the worm. Like the great Cannerton, to be, for a moment, the Early Worm, waiting to be splen didly devoured! What refined Joy!—a kind of miorocosmic cataclysm—pierc ingly exquisite—the very radium of the ridiculous—the ultimate white center of humor. And you couldn’t be sure you saw it unless you had a few drinks. Ever notice that? The Jeflance of drink, itself a liberation—” "You’re taking a big chance," sug gested Jo Ellen with a look toward Eberly's office. "Thank God! A big chance. That's me. Something stupendous. Like writing a good play. But don’t di vert me. A drink loosens the incrus tations of caution by which all of tis are overlaid. At the fourth or fifth drink we shake off the shell and step forth in the divine simplicity of self —a soul alcoholically cleansed." “I don’t see how you get anything done," said Jo Ellen. "Done? Nothing is ever done. The rapture is In the effort. Creation is an unfinished dream. Look at hu manity. A rough sketch of some thing still awaiting objective coher ence. Man, in his present outlines, is only an impulsive experiment, a flippant outline, a biological note not jet to be transcribed. I don't blame the Creator at all. Any artist will tell you that the Joyous sketch is more entertaining than anything he is ever able to make of the thing afterward. Take me. Why should I be finished? You, for example, adore me as I am—" ”1 don’t adore you as you are," declared Jo Ellen. "It doesn’t matter what you say. You have to say that. A girl who didn't deny would be dangerous. Gen\ oral deniai is what makes her charm ing. Of course, she's dangerous any way. Back in the days when a man apologized to his stenographer for saying'damn,' my respected secretary -/I had a secretary in those days— denied adoring me. But what did she up and do? Married me—when 1 wasn't looking. Made the poor thing a lot of trouble. Her present hus band—” "I wish you’d stop talking non sense," pleaded Jo Ellen. 'Tm awful ly busy. And if jou had any sense you wouldn’t see the chief today. “Ah! my dear! There are so many tilings I wouldn't risk if I had any sense! And if I had any sense they wouldn’t marry me the way they do." . , . . Cannerton seemed to be seized by a profound curiosity. _._—--» New York --Day by Day I_ / ' By o. o. McIntyre. New York, Aug. 5.—Gray’s drug store on Broadway and Forty-third street Is a monument to a business romance of the Rialto. It is no dif ferent from the hundred and one other chain drug stores selling every thing from pins to lawnmowers. save In the side door entrance on Forty third street. This entrance leads to one of the most picturesque auction places to be found anywhere. Two hours before the theaters open nightly and at matinees the unsold scats are dump ed there to he sold at cut rate prices. The initiated go there Instead of to the ticket speculator. The side door leads to a long ramp which In turn leads up to the auction counters. A dozen clerks with charts of the various attractions call out the aeats that are left. There are only one or two "sell outs" In town so It Is always possible to get a seat at cut rates. Four or five policemen are on hand j to keep order among the crowds. The, auctioneers call out their seats and hands fly up to signify purchase. In the beginning the cut rate auction | room was a mere hole In the wall, operated by Joseph Le Blang, ldng of the cut rate ticket men. I.e Blang wields a big power In the theatrical world. He has been angel for many plays. He has bolstered up many productions nearing collapse, and theater men depend upon him to fill their balconies and seats In the1 rear downstairs. It is said "Le Blang can make or: hreak a show." When Ids business! began to grow he tried to get more j room In the drug store hut could not. \ ft was the most desirable corner for | sis operations, so he finally bought j the drug store and enlarged It. The drug store In Itself is a pros perous business, but it is only sec ondary to the cut rate auctioneering that goes on In the rear. It Is said 'his business alone makes its owner i clear profit of something like a naif million dollars a year. There are 5.000 young men In New York training at gymnasiums In the hope of becoming future world champions of the pugilistic arena. Most of them make a vicarious 11 v lng as "preliminary boys” at figHn where more noteworthy st-i**s shine. They wear sweaters and cat.* and talk out of the side of the mouth A "serap" to them Is not work but play. They learned the art of rough and tumbling fighting on the sidewalks where they were raised. They take a "sock on the Jaw” with a laugh. There Is a young actor. wrne way, by the name of Jay Gould—not a relative of the Illustrious family by that name—who eight times a week In a musical show receives enough "socks on the Jaw" to kill an ordinary man. He Is one of the fighters In the most realistic prize fight scene ever staged In New York. There Is no fak ing. For two rounds he Is hammered In such a way the ladles turn their heeds and the men rise In their seats with enthusiasm. He appears In the next aet—having won the girl mid those who expected to see a bruised face, moused eye and cauliflower ear instead saw perfectly flawless fee tures topped by an exquisite sta rofnb effect. It Is being shown more end more that thP masterpieces In playwrltlng sre neglected Two plays, turned down by every manager In town, were produced by private rapltnl and developed Into big successes. The playwright’s nstne, not. the play, 1a (he big factor among pSHaengor''. They seern to have an Idea th.i* the man who has once written a hiicccss Jul play will always have a following even though his after efforts are of • very low grade t<.up;rlgbt, IW.) ; 1 "Why do you suppose they do marry me?” Jo Ellen bent over her machine. “They must like talk," she said. "I should think a phonograph would be ch eaper.” Cannerton shook his head with an effort of being deeply wounded. But he brightened again. "And yet, can't you see the trib ute? To marry a man for himself alone—what Is there in that to be compared with marrying him for his art? You cheer me. You intoxicate me!” "You don't need that,” laughed Jo Ellen. "Be good, and go away.” Nevertheless, she usually liked Can nerton. She liked him better than Brintell, one of the most favored of the actors, who never said anything either foolish or offensive, but whose precise clothes and stagy Inflection made her feel creepy. Brintell came in three times during the afternoon. Eberly arrived so late that no one reached him on that day. After a very brief greeting he read many let ters and dictated many others. Jo Ellen had planned with Marty her first home-coming at six or so, with the celebrating dinner as soon there after as possible. It was seven o’clock when Eberly asked her if It would be convenient for her to come back at eight. II. "Of course," said Marty, after Jo Ellen's breathless explanation, “I thought you'd been hit by a car. If I didn’t hear from some hospital I wondered how I would hear.” “And you were getting hungrier and hungrier.” “Not when I began to think—” “It was his first /lay,” called Jo El len from the kitchen. “You must go back?” "By eight. He seldom does that. He seemed very nervous.” ■'He’ll make you nervous—trying to eat and get back in an hour." Marty had laid out the table things. ”1 don't know whether I have the forks and spoons right,” he said. "We won't worry about the art," Jo Ellen murmured over the chops. "I might have called up and told you to put these on.” "That would have been a good unless you were afraid I’d spoil ’em.” "Naturally he didn't think of my going home. “To a husband.” “A worrying husband.” “Guess he's like the rest. Just thinks about himself.” "He thought I'd slip out to a res taurant. He has his own troubles.” "You excuse him a lot.” "You have to be an exeuser,” Jo Ellen said as she carried In the plates, "or you won't get anywhere.” Marty ruminated upon the word as he followed Jo Ellen's quick move ments. "I guess that’s so.” "There!” Jo Ellen had everything ready at last. “And it's only half past. I can get back In ten minutes —twelve, anyway.” "Looks good, doesn’t It?" exclaimed Marty, wheeling adroitly to his place. "It's beating the game to have it at all,” Jo Ellen laughed excitedly. "Everything happens the way we don't expect It.” There was a trace of bitter In Mar ty's tone. He added: “I mustn't count on your getting back home tonight at a particular time." 'Better not.” Jo Ellen returned “But you can't lose me.” Marty repeated his gesture of reaching out to stroke one of her hands. "I feel,” he said, "as if I lost you each time you go out.”. . . It was a quarter to nine before Eberly came back. For most of the interval Jo Ellen was alone. When she went to the window she felt the oddness of being idly alone under a glare. The while spectacle seemed to mean pairing. This world was two. multiplied, an infinity of couples. A seething, phosphorescent stream of life eddied in and out of Broadway. The froth of it had a way of splitting up finally into couples, all sorts of queer couples when you came to s ngle them out. You got to won dering what any man could see In a certain girl . . . and the other way, about. You got to wondering as to a figure that moved along alone whether there was the other one somewhere, and how they would meet Some of them might he eager; others might be escaping. You never could tell. Generally It was the woman who was waiting somewhere. ... It was never likely that It would be the man. There were girls alone. Sometimes you would see one powder ing her nose, cocking her head before the bit of mirror In the midst of the turmoil. There was no one to notice, unless the costume were extraordi nary and the lips were terrifically daubed. If you wanted to be nothc ! ji. was easy to have your wish. If you wanted to be left alone you could have that wish, too. The facilities for loneliness were enormous. The very expectation of couples sharpened the situation of the lonesome one. The Days of Real Sport By Briggs | * * ^gJJT THE AGENT Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hershheld Too Hot tor \r*iiniont. I HEAP your' , tOb^E IS. QCIK.Q- _ 1 *TO mvE AM QC'MQ \ f^PPAIR A8E ^9 IV '_;_g=- ♦_l •W--^ t QOlNiQ *VO l OUR. \*WMR,K&e? ■ J Her QC.KC fN0;ov ^ H Ye IV ^ ^ PKCSIDEKT CP MX UXXJP:: f 1 ^ " BuT ,F 1 'll * ‘ SAlb 'HO' Vb HAVE 11 'no F\(JHT Twice ] * cv;fr \y - ONCE NOW, I A>Nt> CNCE AT THE / lexjf the • - . AWMR-.R ./ ^ © Shaffer came in with an alert caa uainess. "Bos* not here yet?” he asked, knowing the answer. •'Just the night I didn't want to hang around. A lit tle party at the house. Wife's sister and her husband on their honeymoon trip. Showing them the old towTn and so on. You know how honeymooners are. Giggling. Strangle holds and ‘dearie’ stuff. Funny. They think the baby's a knockout. I know the wife's sister wants to see a few snap py shows. Orville's rather cautious about such things. Doesn’t want the bride to be corrupted. He's a rell giouB Elk. What kind of a show do you think newlyweds ought to see?" "Ask the bride," Bald Jo Ellen. "O Pansy’d never tell me. Of course, it would be the kind ahe wouldn’t ask for. I’ve got to guess." "Some good musical show," Jo El len suggested. ■‘They’ll have to have one—so's they can come out humming and hold ing’ hands. But Orville—he’ll want a Play.’’ "All you've got to find out," said Jo Ellen, "is what sort of play reli gious Elks like." “Quit your Joshing,'* protested Shaffer. "I hoped you'd come ecroe* jrith a fcood steer. Just Imagine yourself newly married." "I can't," and Jo Ellen began to wonder whether even Shaffer might notice her color. "You would be bet ter at. Imagining that." "Me? I'm an old married man and father. Besides, Kitty was In the profession. We re both hard boiled. You couldn’t no by us.” *• "Be safe—make It a clean play. "Said like a woman of the world. You’re right. Something homey. I’ll—” _ (To Be Continued Tomorrow.)_ THE NEBBS F0RE! Directed for The Omaha Bee by Sol Hess - -,—r-—-v “1 /WELL I'M ftwAS TO nmnGlE WITH \ NATURE AND BASK VNTHC BEAUTIFULS SUNSHINE AMD INCIDENTALS KNOCK THE I PILL AROUND A B\T_ IN ThE MEANTIME b LOOK AFTER EVERVTHING AnO SEE THAT ALL THE ORDERS ARE iTAKEN CARE Or "71' i / l SUPPOSE VOURE GOING TO GwIZ \ J NOUR EEET A UTTLE EXERCISE NOw \ -TmEV'VE BEEN SLEEPING On the \ 1 DESK ALL MORNVNG -TRV TOTH\NtC ! \ A UTTLE WHEN NOU'RC OUT.TOUR / \ BRAIN NEEDS A TATTLE EXERDSETOO/ //o rrDFtfnr>NT\ HC* GO'nG TOR \ V A REST—OUST “TO \ iwF?A MAN° ^ AS‘ H G'VC VOUR MOUTH \ KIheIs MAH \ A aEST AND W YOU 5uS-, I DON'T talk: -to YOUR-/ M Snrfr° SEir ^ou Ought to to / 'N GREAT SHAPE r^ogrA*5* ^2^*2^ JUST N INTO \ EN \ SOnG„ TENIN CtJ iw y •r \jfr i m S>A 1 m? j j _■ T1 A'V ' / * (Copyright, 1924. by T^e Bell Syndicate. Tnc) _ Barney Google and Spark Plug THE JUDGE REACHES A QUICK DECISION. Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Billy DeBeck (Copyright 1924) y YOCJP HOHOR.XLC.Tfeu You THE CHHOIE STT3RS A WHS IM HERE.I HEARD A AQOUT A RUSSIA*! MORSE A UlMOS CM MCS WAS* To _ SK AMERICA To RACE MS "’4 A SPARKS AMO __' j^irv^T t £A ^ got sche uers Jn:;T t 5 #l^g;^£§§ imterevtcmg 8 I I jM < r. I fl I I OASES OA ilia T“ BRINGING UP FATHER Ref titered U. S. Patent Office SEE JIGGS AND MAGGIE IN FULL ( PAGE OF COLORS IN THE SUNDAY BEE Drawn for The Omaha Bee by McManus (Copyright 1924) THt*> IDEA OF LIVIN' IN the COUNTRY l^> THE. OONK • I’VE <OT TO WALK TWO MILE la AFTER I CITOFF the g.tr L AWFUL IN RAINY WEATHER! — | \ ALWATb bTAT IN TOWN 1-v |F IT RMNb • MT WIFE DOESN'T / E.VPECT. me hone : -' "" ’ 1 - _' I bHOULO HOF*E NOT , > - ) THE ONE A^TE^ i|' WHAT TRAIN 1-) THE. ONE t *— j ^ DO YOU CENERAL.UY j -I^OTTA \/ CATCH? -' VTEP 50HE V^/. HOW - IT5 t}/£ five clock : , t/, "A & WHAT A BEAUTIFUL EVENIN'! I Ct>i4 »v Int t Fr»ru«e Service. Inc. ^ //'S / Great Britain rtthtt reserved. g tj JERRY ON THE JOB LESSONS FOR TWO. Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hoban (Copyright 19J4) _ sr The. "Tuozb VJentf 1 j Ai&r Gar mo vviaSSS* \ 1 /diKlT <5o»iTb SLmv ^Souuo Meat Al\^ Twe.'TlI'AE. *>o, / ■? MCTUlftf - I'M MO ’ v_w-^-^ ^bou.y. -_* ♦•«»' *.'»•••" ~ ? f_